#it feels illegal drawing him without the mask

[liminal-therianthropy]

Hello!! Got any tips for dragon theriotypes? Or anything SMC related? (He wanted me to ask this for him!!) :>>

Hello hello! I can do dragon theriotypes for sure! I can only do one at a time, you can always come back to ask for SMC {I think that is shadow milk cookie? Correct me if im wrong ^^} Another note, one of my friends who is dragonkin is helping me a tad with this post! {His tumblr is @theemeralddragonking} Without further ado, lets get on with the tips ^^ 1} Depending on what kind of dragon you are, i got tips for food! Some dragons eat meat, others crystals, others fish, i think some MAYBE eat plants? Not too sure on the plants part, but im 100% sure on the rest! Now i am aware one simply can not EAT crystals, but i got an alternative to this! Try rock candy! Or gummy crystal candy. Depending if ya want a crunch or not, rock candy is colorful and crunchy! While gummy crystal candy looks like crystals, but is gummy and not crunchy usually. When it comes to meat and fish, !!!DO NOT EAT THESE RAW!!! Find them cooked, rare, jerkeyed, or eat sushi! 2} As for collecting things, i know some dragons do this as well! Not all but some. Try collecting crystals, or anything that suits yer fancy. Could be anything from shiny, to just collecting hobbies that bring you joy! 3} Try wearing the colors of what dragon you are! Also look into fishnet gloves for a scale like texture! There is also a thing called scale mail, albite expensive to my understanding, but you can buy scale mail gloves if ya save up for it! 4} Now as for wings, not all dragons have wings, but some do! You can either use a blanket to simulate a silluoitte of having wings, or buying fursuit wings! Or attack wings to like a backpack of some kind. If yer more of the wyvern, try wearing things with baggy sleeves to emulate that of wings. 5} If ya have access to one, try swinging on swings to feel like flying! Or ride roller-coasters if yer comfortable with that and are able too! 6} Try practicing dragon vocals! If yer able! 7} Try drawing yerself or making edits of yerself, or making masks! You can also request/commission others to do this for you! I personally havent seen many dragon masks and would love to see one ngl. 8} Try buying fursuit dragon tails! Or buying hats with horns! Or headband horns! 9} There are 3d printed dragons that are really cool and id recommend getting one, some come with a little egg for you to store one in. 10} Collect dragon things that look like yerself, such as plushies or figures. Or make yer own stuff! 11} Try getting claw gloves or gloves that have attachable claws! 12} Try playing dragon games! I know there are a few on roblox, such as dragon's life! I bet there are other games that are similar! 13} Try doing some nail care, to make yer claws stronger! And paint them to what ever color yer claws are! 14} Going back to tip 2, try buying fake gold coins {as this is cheaper} if you want a collection of gold coins! Or make yer own! {!!!DO NOT PAINT US COINS!!! IT IS ILLIGAL IN THE US TO PAINT COINS FOR ANY REASON!!! Under Title 18 U.S. Code 331, it is illegal to fraudulently alter, mutilate, or falsify coins in the us!} Goodness me i think this is the most tips ive ever done? Well i hope you liked them and they helped you get in the right direction! Thank you again @theemeralddragonking for helping me with these tips! I hope ya have a good day/night ^^

[theofthevalley]

RODRICK X FEM READER WHERE READER IS A GRAFFITI ARTIST PLS PLS

“Well, They're Never Gonna Get Me.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Rodrick Heffley Headcanon’s with Fem Graffiti Artist!Reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ As spray paint dripped from the shady walls of an alleyway, there you were writing symbols. You were an illegal artist; what you were doing was a statement and act of rebellion. Of course, anyone else would have just figured you were a troublemaker in the neighborhood. But it was so much more than that, and it seemed like no one understood that. Not until him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Truth be told, you sort of were a troublemaker; the cops have been trying to catch you as if you were some war criminal. It was just some paint on a wall. But everyone knows that it really is a big deal with the way you've been spreading words of telling the cops to screw off. A more sophisticated version of 'Fuck the police' if you will.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Although your reasons were justifiable, even in this 'proper' neighborhood, the cops still abused their authority; you couldn't stand for that. Kids in high school were getting arrested and beaten by cops recently, and art just so happened to be the means of spreading the message, and doing it illegally just drove the point even more.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ The day you met him was when you were in a shady alleyway behind a crappy gas station. He just so happened to need to throw something out by the garbage cans, and that's when he saw you. Mask on, using spray paint to make a drawing on the gas station's wall. He gasped, not at the fact that you were spray painting, but at the fact that he recognized your face from class. So you were the criminal they were trying to find. He found it strange; you were a pretty good student, so why would you go around doing stuff like this?

��Y/N from math? Is that you?”

You jolted in surprise at the sudden voice coming from near the garbage cans. It was Rodrick Heffley, one of the troublemakers in your class. Everyone knows who he is. You then seem to be hesitant to respond to him.

“No...?”

“I know it's you.”

He comes closer and then stands right next to you. As you turn to look at him, you sigh and roll your eyes at him and admit that yes, you are in his math class. You put the spray can you were holding down onto the ground and then asked if he was going to snitch on you. He shook his head and just told you he was curious about everything, wondering if you were worried about being caught.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You told him you weren't, you were too careful with this. And besides, there had to be much more important things the police could be doing than trying to find an unknown graffiti artist. Since then, Rodrick has been stumbling in while you work on random walls all through town. Even occasionally helping you out. He was a strange guy, but you couldn’t help but want to get to know him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ But you did get to know Rodrick, he was dorky and sweet and really cared about you, whether or not he showed it. And he also tried to put on this ‘tough guy’ act, but it never worked around you. The more time he spent with you, the more you grew closer to him. He was crushing on you hard, poor guy couldn’t even let you touch his shoulder without his heart hammering in his chest!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Months pass by as just ‘friends’, but he didn’t want to be that, he wanted to be more with you. And so he was the one who confessed first. Professing his love for you while you sat on some stairs by the skate park. His confession made you laugh and smile.

“I think you’re really cool and I like it when you laugh at my jokes and stuff…You’re really pretty too…”

“Pfft—Rodrick, you’re so funny.”

But your words made him think that you were rejecting him. Truth be told, you liked him back; you just found it cute that he was nervous about telling you his feelings for you. Instead, you kissed his cheek, which surprised him and caused his face to flush red.

“I like you too, Rodrick.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Advertisement: Hey you! Yeah you, the person who read this whole thing, do you like Rodrick? Well this blog is THE place for Rodrick fanfiction. Check my bio if I have requests open and my rules.

A/N: Ty, Anon for requesting!! I really had fun with this one so I hope you liked it. Title is from the MCR song called ‘You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison.’

Word Count: 714 words

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Do they keep a diary/a journal?

Mal - yes, actually. But no gross feelings stuff, ew. Just drawings. ...Of various levels of "disturbing". (Peak being begining of D2, of course)

Jay - nah. Better stuff to do. Also lowkey paranoid it'll be stolen.

Evie - yes, technically, multiple. She keeps one journal to jot down what was when done to any potions she's brewing (the correct scientific procedure), her fashion one, of course, for whatever designs she dreams of, and lastly, one to note down orders and payments for her shop.

Carlos - nah. He's got a collection of loose papers with important and "important" info on them. His cousins still keep finding them in Hell Hall. Jay has to move them from his parts of the room regularly. Mal found papers stuck in between her journal.

Uma - no. WAY more important shit to do, and she finds it way too sentimental. She keeps records of stuff important for the running of her crew, but doesn't consider it a journal, rather a public record.

Harry - yes. To the surprise if absolutely no one, the thing he writes most about is Uma. There are several original songs and poems for her as well. He wouldn't mind if she found it.

Gil - I wanna say yes, he tries. He's not very consistent though. The only thing he writes about is his friends and crewmates – he accidentally puts it down in the common space of the ship often, and most of the crewmates picked it up once. Cos, y'know. You see, you take. If they read it, they began blushing furiously under the excited "My friends are SO cool" Gil wrote and gave it back to him without a word.

Claudine - once she stops living with her father, yes, though it took some convincing. She doesn't write regularly, though, because she just doesn't know what to write, and is afraid of putting her thoughts on the paper. Later, she writes poems in letters so small it's illegible, since poetry masks the true self a bit.

Harriet - yes. She writes regularly, though not a lot of feelings stuff. She writes poems and vague stories draws whatever comes to her mind (mostly abstract stuff) and keeps it tightly locked up in her cabin, since that shit is DARK. Smee twins accidentally found it once and Sammy kept complaining they were afraid of her drawings for two weeks straight.

CJ - ...she tries to. It never lasts more than two days in row. But she adds new disjointed entry every time she's reminded that her older siblings do so. It's actually extremely disturbing in different way than Harriet's since she has ZERO ability to self-censor.

Freddie - two. One for music and one for dreams and card readings.

Celia - one. Dreams and Cards and Friends on the other side. Though, technically, both sisters share another one, written in cryptic code and abbreviations and moved from place to place with regularity but without a set schedule. This one is about secrets of the Isle residents, the ones they bother or dare to write down.

Dizzy - I wanna say yes, actual diary, feelings and all. To utter exasperation of all her older relatives.

Anthony - no, keeping tabs on the salon is enough, thank you.

Dulcia - look, my girl deserves a Burn Book.

Ginny - not really. If she absolutely NEEDS something noted down, she tells Anthony. Exception being medical notes at the Escape but she delegates paperwork away any time she can. Also, I feel like her handwriting is borderline illegible to anyone but her and the three people she shares mental disturbances with (Maddy, Anthony, Harriet)

Maddy - she keeps tabs on the Apothecary and like Evie, writes down the shit she's synthetising. It's only correct to do.

Ivy - Yeah she gets a burn book too. She deserves it <3. It's in one notebook with scraps from fashion magasines and and some kaligrams. (Again, that's a form of self-censure. Can't read it, so it isn't there.)

I think I ran out of Isle kids, so AKs (all regarding a diary):

Audrey - canonically she does, I have nothing else to add.

Ben - he tries to, but he doesn't manage to write regularly, what with being a CHILD KING and all. It's healthy for him tho. Took the habit from his mother.

Chad - I refuse to believe this boy has a diary. He views it as "useless" and "too feminine".

Jane - yes, actual diary full of feelings. Starting each entry with "dear diary". She locks it religiously though, since her mother can and will read it if give an oppurtunity to.

Ally - yes and frankly it should be studied and/or published (with different names for the sake of privacy, but i'd pay a lot to read a diary of Ally Liddel of Wonderland)

Lonnie - ...no. she tried to, few times, but never quite managed more than few entries in a row. She doesn't particularly like sitting still, and fancies the thought of someone actually reading what she thinks about certain stuff even less.

Jordan - ...she uses her blogs and vlogs as a diary. The more private ones. Not her Drama Channel.

[moocha-muses]

I don't know if this was asked already, but do you have, in your poetical card catalogue, a poem about Bigfoot? No worries if not. I am virtually sending some apple cake along.

Thank you for the cake! I used half of it to tempt in this Sasquatch:

Home had been a biiiiiig Bigfoot town. Once. There was a time when you couldn't walk two feet in the summer, not without tripping over a gaggle of tourists, in their khaki and their camouflage, their cameras and binoculars beating tattoos against their chests. Kyle had been heir apparent to the best bed and breakfast in town, a sprawling Victorian that had now run half to ruin, because Greenville had been a big Bigfoot town. Until someone shot him. Mark McCree took a flask of whiskey into the woods, shot Bigfoot right in the back, and killed it stone dead with a bullet to the spine. He said he thought he was shooting a bear, which was about the worst defense of all time, since bears are more illegal to shoot than Bigfeet, but he hadn't shot a bear, and the damage had been done. They did stuff and mount the corpse. Strung it up in front of the Cryptid Corner, with a bunch of animatronics in the arms so that it could wave at passers-by. Somehow, that didn't have the same draw. Kyle loved Greenville. He loved meeting new people, and hearing all about them over dinner. He'd even loved cooking them breakfast, and cleaning their rooms. He'd never gone into the woods for a Bigfoot tour, had never even seen him in the flesh until he was stuffed, but he'd loved his home town, even though they didn't have much to offer. (Not outside of all those hastily repackaged bird watching tours.) Bigfoot had left behind some awfully big shoes to fill. Or it would have. If it wore shoes. No one even knew where it had come from. One day the woods had been innocent of cryptids, and the next day someone had come into town with an unexplained Polaroid, of something big and blurry and not even all that bear-like, and suddenly Greenville had been on the map. Until it wasn't. About six years after that, about when Kyle would have gotten home from college, if he'd gone to college, (no tourists, no college money), that was when Kyle got his idea. He spent weeks, months, online. Browsing the fan pages, looking at photos, memorizing footprint measurements, ordered an expensive hair sample and peered through a magnifying glass, and eventually, bought a gorilla costume. Kyle, whose mother was an excellent cook and a terrible seamstress, had been making his own Halloween costumes for years. This one came out pretty damn spectacular. Tufts of fur on the elbows and putty on the face, and he'd worked a pair of stilts in above the infamous feet, and learned how to walk around on them naturally. He took the first picture of himself with a camera timer. Put it up online under an assumed name. Waited. The first true believers trickled into town by March, and back on went the costume, and back he went into the woods, scrambling and hiding and peeking and leading, until he felt a little claustrophobic under that reeking plastic mask, and ducked into a sort of cave all the locals knew, just for a moment of fresh air. The mask stayed on. Kyle tugged. The mask stayed on. But he was breathing better, with a hoarse, tooth-mouthed sound he didn't recognize, and his hands were moving easier in the gloves that didn't feel too clumsy, or too long, and, and he could hear his leg bones pop and crack as they grew down to pull a pair of short stilts into themselves, and he could feel the new tendons growing, and his feet. Felt. Big. And he was panicking, now, running without seeing, and- "Get the camera! There it is!"

[rengineer]

The Gravel Wars had ended, the teams disbanded. With the Mann brothers dead and the Administrator vanishing soon after, the chaos finally subsided. Though Mann Co. was still operational, their primary customers no longer needed weapons, their stocks briefly tanked.

Dr. Quincy Norman couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet relief. The war was over. People weren’t getting hurt anymore, at least not in New Mexico. But that relief was tempered by a deep sense of loss. Team Ajax was gone—his friends, his teammates, the people who had been his family for so many years. Along with that was the loss of time and effort. How many years of life wasted on this forever war?

Quincy sighed deeply, adjusting the thin medical mask over his face as he knocked on the door of the Conagher household. Gently rocking back and fourth on his feet with a nervous energy. He had gotten the address from the return label on a letter Dell had sent him weeks ago.

Quincy winced at the thought of the promise he had made. He’d told Dell he’d let him see the blueprints when the war was behind them, when Dell retired from Mann Co. Now, that day had come. It was only right that Dell finally see his father’s handiwork. The war stole Fred’s time and Dell had to grow up without a father. The least Quincy could do for Fred is try to give Dell a more complete picture. Perhaps it would be easier to sleep at night.

"Comin'!" The sound of his boots echoing faintly as he made his way to the gray wooden door. The footsteps slowed, his hand twisting the doorknob to reveal a familiar face — a friendly one, at that.

His smile widened, the crinkles and wrinkles around his eyes deepening with genuine warmth. Even after seven years, Quinn didn't seem to age a day. God bless that man's genetics, he mused.

"Howdy, Quinn," he greeted warmly, his voice carrying the easy cadence of someone glad to see an old friend. "C'mon in," he added, stepping aside to make room.

After the war, he'd bought a piece of land back in his old hometown to settle down. He spent his days helping out folks around the neighborhood — fixing up broken things like fridges, lights, and even children's toys. In between lending a hand, he finally found time to work on some of his own projects, as well as his predecessors — those half-finished ideas and prototypes that had been gathering dust for years; the owners that had died and never see them through. One of which was the EMP grenades he'd never quite managed to perfect, still a stubborn thorn in his side.

Blueprints covered one entire wall of the living room, their edges curled and surfaces layered with dust, as though they'd been unearthed from someone's grave. Some of the drawings were faded to the point of illegibility, the result of years spent forgotten. The sofas and coffee table in the room looked almost untouched — clearly meant for guests — while Dell's real workspace was in plain view. His well-worn worktable sat nearby, cluttered with tools, gears, and sketches in various stages of completion. It was clear where he spent most of his time.

"Make yourself at home. I'll rustle up somethin' for ya," Dell said as he ambled off to the kitchen.

Baking had become a regular pastime for him after the war. It scratched the same itch as engineering, with all the measuring, mixing, and precise steps. He liked the rhythm of it, and folks around town didn't seem to mind him bringin' over batches of cookies or pies now and again. Pyro, bless their heart, was his biggest fan — couldn't keep their hands off his pastries if they tried.

Moments later, Dell returned with a plate of freshly baked cookies and two steaming cups of coffee. He set them down on the coffee table and gestured to the cookies.

"Made these this mornin’. Chocolate chip, mama's recipe," he said with a touch of pride, settling into a couch near Quinn. "Help yourself."

[ethosiab]

Drawing him without his mask feels illegal

[youdontjustgiveup]

August: Chapter 16

( ao3 | ff )

Previous Chapters: [link]

Summary: With the cat officially out of the bag, tensions reach a boiling point. Nate has a lot to say about his friends' relationship, and Chuck falls back into his old self-destructive ways.

Pairing: Chuck x Blair

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: None

----------------------------

Shit.

Shit. Oh, shit. Shit.

“I knew it,” her ex-boyfriend’s voice dripped with disdain. “I didn’t want to see it, but deep down, I knew.”

The air grew heavy, a suffocating blanket pressing down on them. No one dared to move, as if hoping that time would reverse itself—a collective, desperate wish. What had just happened had not really happened. They were trapped in a waking dream, too surreal to accept. However, no words, alcohol, or illegal substances could mask the truth of what Nate and Serena had seen. The proverbial cat was not only out of the bag, but its claws had sunk even deeper into the already marred bond that held them together. Any feeble attempt to spin the situation as anything other than what it was seemed painfully stupid. Hopeless.

They had been kissing, yes, and the undeniable, ironic reality was that Blair would do it again, again and again. More than that, if anyone even cared to ask. 

Nevertheless, the weight of exposure started to settle in her stomach like a steel ball sinking deeper with each passing second. Nate looked at her. His eyes, once filled with trust, now glowed with betrayal and pain. He scrutinized Chuck, then turned back to her again. From one to the other at a rapid pace. Desperation forced Blair to cling to the boy beside her as if she could protect him from the cruel judgment of the outside world. Each finger wrapped around his shirt silently begged him not to listen.

Nate moved closer, causing Chuck to pull away from Blair as if he knew what was coming. The loss of contact left her feeling hollow, exposed, vulnerable—the safety net of their embrace stripped away.

“So, this has been the game plan all along, huh?” Nate snapped. “Juggling one of your girls on Fridays, Blair on Saturdays, and adding another for Sundays? Is that how it goes? Is that how shallow your life has become?”

There was no response.

The yacht’s stateroom felt smaller, its sleek walls closing in.

“Did you at least have fun?” He pushed Chuck in the chest. “Did you have a good laugh behind my back?” Another push followed.

The pent-up frustration exploded in a punch that landed squarely with Chuck’s face, its impact resonating through the confined space. He staggered backward. 

A muffled gasp. Her. Serena. Who knew?

“What have you been drilling into my head all these years?” Nate pressed on, his tone a cutting blade begging to draw blood. “Just tap that ass, Nathaniel; it’s not rocket science. Now that you’ve finally done it, is she living up to your oh-so-high standards?”

Blair flinched. 

Each word was a lash, a verbal assault that left an indelible mark, and Chuck did nothing. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t move; he didn’t speak. He just stood there, taking the blows without retaliation, a stoic figure in the face of Nate’s distress.

She tried desperately to close the small distance between her and Chuck, but he kept slipping away, further and further.

Why wasn’t he defending himself? Just do something. Hit him back. Move. 

Anything.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces—for the little boy who had suffered at his father’s hands, for the one who was so used to being on the receiving end that he seldom allowed himself the chance to fight back. For the one who believed happiness was out of his reach, yet wanted nothing less for those he kept in his heart. A boy who would endure anything for her, even if he hid it behind a façade of indifference.

“Nate, stop,” Blair pleaded.

“Already written her name in your sacred black book? Ticked off the best friend’s virgin girlfriend box?” Nate continued relentlessly. “Come on, say something!”

As Nate delivered his final push, Chuck’s body accidentally collided with Blair, his abrupt movement threatening her balance. Both boys turned to her hastily, the silent question about her well-being etched on their faces. A thin stream of blood oozed from Chuck’s lip from a small but distinct cut. The blood meandered along the contours of his lower lip, staining his chin as well. Blair froze. How could she be okay when he was not?

Despite her attempt to reassure him that she was fine, at least physically, Chuck only redirected his attention to Nate after giving her a quick, searching look. He refrained from any physical contact, causing her throat to constrict painfully. 

“I get it now,” Nate said to Chuck. “Your warnings against me getting back together with her—was that just a ploy to keep the big prize for yourself? What happened to all those speeches about wanting her happiness? Do you really think she’ll find it with you? That you’re the better choice?”

“Shut up!” Blair exploded, forcefully shoving Nate back. It was like pushing against a solid wall of concrete. “Just shut up.” 

“I thought you knew better.” Now, the words were hurled at her. “Do you really think he’s gonna treat you right? I’ve seen firsthand how little regard he has for girls, seen the way he handles things, how he views relationships as transactions. And let me tell you, he is not it. You deserve so much better than someone who just uses women for his own pleasure.”

“Why does everyone insist on treating me like some defenseless child who doesn’t know what she wants?”

“Because you don’t,” he said. “Just look at yourself. You are fucking Chuck Bass.”

“I think that’s enough,” Serena finally intervened, reaching out to grab Nate’s arm.

“That’s hilarious,” Blair retorted, her tone taking on a deeper edge. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I spent years being miserable with you.”

“Do you honestly think he’s better than me?”

“I don’t think; I know.”

“Please,” Nate scoffed. “I never pegged you to be that kind of girl.”

In that precise moment, Chuck snapped out of it, the fog lifting from his eyes. But before he could react, Blair quickly positioned herself in front of him.

“Step away from him,” Nate commanded. 

“No,” Blair spat.

“Get away from him, Blair. I’m not saying it twice.”

“What are you going to do? Hit him again?”

“It’s what he deserves.”

“And me? Are you considering hitting me too? Because, sweetie, just remember, it takes two to tango.”

His frustration boiled over. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Ah, no?”

“He’s Chuck Bass.”

“You’ve already enlightened me on that.” A wry smile played on her lips. “It probably slipped your mind, but you’re Nate Archibald. The epitome of a perfect gentleman, a fairy tale prince—yet the one who cheated on me with my best friend. What’s the grand point you’re trying to make?”

“He is going to hurt you.”

Her retort was sharp. “Just like you did.”

“He can’t love anyone, Blair.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Can you please stop?” she shouted. “You have been best friends since you were five.” 

An acute awareness dawned upon Nate, a realization that he was, indeed, fighting his best friend. The person who knew him better than anyone else in the world. The one who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

Chuck looked down. The thin stream of blood still left a crimson trail on his face. A few drops had fallen on his shirt, staining the fabric, yet he made no move to address it. As Blair approached, trying to examine him and assess the extent of the damage inflicted, he recoiled like a wounded animal before her hand could touch him.

“Chuck…” Blair said.

Chuck spoke for the first time. “He is right.”

“Wha— what?”

“He is right, Waldorf,” he repeated, a faint smile barely lighting his face. It was a smile tinged with profound sorrow, as if he had been anticipating this moment since that night on the sidewalk when their lips had first met. Their relationship, a short-lived, fragile thing, destined not to last. “I’m no good for you. I can’t love you nor give you what you deserve.”

Her heart tightened in her chest, the vines of despair pressing harder.

Chuck had started building an invisible but very real wall, boarding up the door that had briefly swung open between them, and Blair felt helpless to stop it.

“We’ve already gone through this,” Blair protested. If she could just get him alone, she thought, maybe she could make him listen, unlock that part of him that only responded to her uniquely crafted key. “You can’t unilaterally decide what’s best for me or dictate what I do or do not deserve. I’ve already made my choices, and I damn well know what I want. You’re not casting me aside without a fight, like we’re nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter. None of this matters.”

Yes, it does. We do.  

Blair reached out once again, her hand extending tentatively as if the mere touch could mend the fractures that had started to open. Her fingertips yearned for the warmth of his skin, an ache pulsating with the need for closeness, but he wouldn’t let her. Her mouth parted, yet words seemed to retreat. She blinked away an embarrassing prickle of tears. 

Her body trembled as if it had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

Just as the agonizing moment hung between them, a crew member from the yacht cleared his throat, announcing the imminent return to shore. Blair let out the breath she’d been holding in, but it slipped from her lips in a faint whimper. She had completely forgotten. Serena, in one of her brilliantly impulsive ideas, had extended invitations.

Great. 

Just great.

Taking advantage of the opportunity amidst the confusion over the stupid plans of her two moronic friends, Chuck abruptly moved past her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Blair followed. However, Nate intercepted her, his grip tight as he grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt at the threshold.

“Let me go,” Blair seethed as she hit Nate to free herself from his grasp.

“No,” he said. 

She violently pulled at her own arm. Why couldn’t people just back off from micromanaging every aspect of her life? No, Blair, don’t do this. Don’t do that. Don’t eat this. Or that. Be perfect. It had become unbearable, and Blair was sick of it. The never-ending scrutiny, the incessant orders. Everyone seemed entitled to decide who she should be with, everyone but herself. 

Her heart raced in her chest, and her mouth went dry.

If she wanted to go after Chuck, she would go after Chuck. 

“I said let me go,” she repeated, pulling again. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Nate, let her go,” Serena said. “You’re hurting her.”

“Someone who’s not keen on picking up all the broken pieces of Blair scattered on the floor when he inevitably hurts her. Because you know he will.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Blair said.

Reluctantly, Nate released her arm. Blair reached for the spot where his hand had been just moments before, anxiously rubbing it for a few seconds.

“It will,” he insisted. “He’s never treated a woman well in his life.” 

“Oh, really? Just so you know, he cared for me more than you ever did when we were together. He stood by me through the times my insecurities drowned me in jealousy over the two of you. He was there when I puked my guts out because of... guess who?” She chuckled a little manically. “You two.” Her tone rose. “Chuck has always been there. Always. Unlike you.”

Serena looked away. 

“He is just using you,” Nate said, unperturbed. “It’s all a game to him. A strategy to get you in the sack. When he grows tired of you and someone else catches his eye, he’ll kick you to the curb. And you’ll just be another one on his long list.”

“Then, why hasn’t he?” Blair countered, her tone sharp and probing. 

At this point, she was really holding back the urge to punch him in the face.

“What?”

“Why hasn’t he tried to get me ‘in the sack,’ as you so delicately put it?”

“You spent the night together.”

“So?”

Nate shook his head and blinked rapidly. “You haven’t... you know.”

“No. We have not.”

Far from being embarrassed by the fact that no, they hadn’t taken that step, she embraced it. Her insecurities, once a source of paralyzing fear, were now transformed into a profound sense of power. The ability to hold him at her mercy, the knowledge that he wanted her so desperately that he lost all sense of control. The passion, the admiration, the genuine care. It was as real as her existence, and Nate knew nothing about it. He had no idea.

Poor Blair Waldorf, right? 

He was so wrong about Chuck. About everything, really.

“How is that possible?” 

“I think that’s enough,” Serena interjected, stepping between Nate and Blair. “You’re behaving like a real asshole.”

Nate turned to the blonde. “Are you okay with this?” 

“I am.”

There was a weight lifted off her shoulders as she realized, for the first time, that Blair wasn’t in a silent competition with her best friend.

“But why?” Nate pressed further. 

“They’re happy. They make each other happy. Can’t you see that?”

He hesitated, searching for words. “But…”

“Let it go.” Serena took control of the situation, guiding Nate out of the room. “Come on, we have a party to prepare for.”

Blair, left alone, took a deep breath.

Shit.

-----------------------

Blair closed the cabin door with more force than intended, a silent rebellion against the farce that was unfolding outside. The polished mahogany sighed softly, gracefully absorbing the impact as if it shared her dissatisfaction.

After her friends had started to prepare for the superfluous, stupid party, she had wasted no time in looking for Chuck. 

In her search, sandals had clicked urgently against the polished deck as she had swept through the lighted corridors, her heart racing with each passing moment. 

The bow had yielded no answers; the vast sea had offered no solace. The retreating sun, fiery and distant, had danced upon the water. 

Her steps had quickened as she had moved to the stern, the soft wind tousling her hair into chaotic strands. 

The cockpit, the galley, the cabins—nothing. 

The yacht had offered no trace, no clue of the boy she had desperately sought. Chuck, elusive as ever, had slipped through her grasp like smoke. Despite the knot tightening in her chest, Blair knew he had been there. The problem was, you couldn’t find Chuck Bass if he didn’t want to be found. So, retracing her steps, Blair had ended up right back at square one.

Now, here she was. Chuck-less. Dressed in a navy blue A-line mini skirt paired with a crisp white off-the-shoulder blouse.

Perfect on the outside, miserable on the inside. 

The idea of jumping into the freezing ocean seemed like a more inviting alternative to whatever was waiting for her upstairs. 

Nate had made a mess of things. No, that was putting it mildly. He had fucked up, big time, and Blair was certain that Chuck had allowed his friend’s venomous words to take root and fester in the recesses of his mind. Each of Nate’s comments had infected him like a ruthless disease. Every uttered word had confirmed what he had always thought about himself, the insidious beliefs Bart had cunningly sown within him.

Stepping into the party, the music engulfed her. The yacht, now anchored in the harbor, was transformed into a decadent stage for the vices of their rich peers—Nate and Serena’s select guests. Blair recognized most, but did she like or care for any of them? Not one bit. They were scattered about the main and bridge decks, drinking, doing drugs, and partaking in shallow, torturous conversation.

Nate and Serena stood together, a palpable heaviness clinging to her ex-boyfriend’s shoulders. Serena’s hands rested there, seemingly intent on easing the tension through the warmth of her most charming smile and comforting words. Whatever demons Chuck might be wrestling with at that very moment, wherever he was, Blair silently prayed that Nate felt three times the weight of it all. 

Ignoring the idea of getting a drink, Blair strolled along the deck. 

However, despite the many heads swaying to the rhythm of the music, none belonged to the one she was looking for.

Where the hell could he possibly be? 

“What’s a girl like you doing here all alone?” a guy, one of Nate’s basketball friends, said with a smug grin. “Not even a drink in your hand.”

Ugh.

“It’s none of your business,” Blair huffed dismissively.

“Relax, beautiful. I just want to have a conversation.”

“You can have that conversation with your hand. And never, in your life, call me that.”

“Come on, just one drink. It won’t hurt,” he urged. 

“This isn’t a negotiation, you know.” Blair subtly shifted her weight, her gaze ice-cold. “I don’t need a drink, and I certainly don’t need the company of a brainless brute. So, step aside and find someone who appreciates insipidity more than I do.”

With a dismissive wave, she turned her attention away, hoping he’d take the hint and leave her be. 

He didn’t. “Bitch,” he spat.

“How original,” Blair scoffed, unimpressed by his choice of words. “If you’re attempting to insult me, at least put in the effort to be remotely clever.”  

The boy snarled, nostrils flaring in agitation. Before he could spew any more insults her way, one of his buddies, or so she thought, casually sauntered over. Blair crossed her arms, a disdainful snort escaping her. They appeared as if cut from the same cloth, and dealing with one of them was more than enough. Was it too much to ask for Nate to have a friend with a hint of refinement? Who was she kidding? It probably was.

“Man, have you seen Chuck Bass?” the newcomer said. “He’s totally hammered.” 

Blair’s heart leaped into her mouth at the mere mention of Chuck.

Closing the gap uncomfortably, she invaded the boy’s personal space. Like rapid-fire bullets, she launched a barrage of questions. “What? Have you seen him? Do you know where he is? Is he alone? Tell me.”

He raised his arms in a weak attempt at placating her. “Calm down, kitten.”

“Don’t tell her anything,” said the other one. 

Asshole.

Blair pointed a finger at his chest. “You shut up.” 

The guy’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, but his friend interjected, “Okay, okay. Just chill and I’ll tell you.”

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“He’s upstairs.”

Without wasting a moment, Blair left them and sprinted upstairs.

Leaning against the railing with his back to her, Chuck stared at the fading horizon. The sun, almost swallowed by darkness, still cast an orange glow on the water. In a moment of almost desperate fumbling, Chuck ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, swaying unsteadily for a brief second before regaining balance with a firm grip on the metal bar.

As Blair approached, Georgina Sparks materialized before her, like a specter summoned from the depths of her worst nightmares. What the fuck was she doing here? Who had invited her? How? With each step, Georgina moved gracefully, her strides precise and deliberate. Placing her arm on Chuck’s back, she offered him a glass, which he gladly accepted. Blair froze in her tracks. Her feet felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive.

Georgina put her hand on his face, fingertips tracing the contours of his broken lip. 

Blair’s stomach churned and the bile threatened to rise, but she fought against it. 

No. 

Not again. 

It couldn’t happen again.

“Well, well, well, looks like someone’s been playing a bit too rough.” Georgina said. “Does it hurt?” 

“It’s all right,” Chuck drawled, the words slurring together in a haze of alcohol-induced mellowness. His voice, usually sharp and precise, now meandered in a lazy cadence. To top it all off, he made no effort to remove her hand from his face. 

Blair struggled to turn away, to shield her heart from whatever was going to happen next, but she was unable to move. 

An invisible anchor pinned her to the floor.

Or perhaps it was just delusion. Delusion that the past week had truly meant something, that they were better than this. 

Georgina persistently traced the lines of his skin, Chuck passive amid the invasive touches. Her hands dug deeper, inching closer, while Chuck continued to drown himself in alcohol, as if everything around him, except finishing the last drop of each glass, was mere noise. How many glasses had he emptied that day? How many bottles? 

“What happened to you, Bass?” she asked. 

Chuck imbibed once more, swaying precariously, but Georgina steadied him. “Nothing you cannot fix,” he said.

Blair clenched her eyes shut. 

He didn’t know what he was doing. That had to be the only explanation. Drunk, he became a puppet manipulated by the strings of intoxication. Still, Blair knew it was the easy way out. Alcohol served as a convenient scapegoat for those unwilling to face their own choices and take responsibility. 

It was merely an excuse.

“Thought you were done with our little game, but here you are, back for more,” Georgina said.

“Ah, one never forgets his first,” he slurred.

The words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

“Always the sentimentalist. But let’s not dwell on ancient history. Our present holds far more... appealing prospects, wouldn’t you say?”

As Blair reluctantly opened her eyes, Georgina was staring straight at her. The latter stood there, her posture a bold display of dominance, her smile wicked and self-satisfied. Her hand traced a teasing path along Chuck’s jawline. 

It was like witnessing a catastrophic collision, the horror too intense to look away.

“It’s about time you came to your senses.” Georgina’s smile grew even wider as she pressed herself against him, her voice dripping with desire. “Blair Waldorf? Please, she is far too perfect, far too uptight for someone like you. Daddy’s little girl. You need someone wilder, someone who knows how to satisfy you,” she purred. “It’s always been that way.”

An onslaught of searing pain pierced Blair’s chest, a crushing weight that seemed unbearable.

Please, don’t say anything. Please, please, please, she begged. 

And Blair hated herself for it. 

“Shut up,” he snapped, a sudden flash of clarity in his tone. “Do not utter a word about her.” 

“You know I’m right.” 

Georgina closed the remaining distance with deliberate intent, her lips meeting the sensitive skin of his neck with precision. The bitter taste of bile surged once again. Her tongue traced a path up his jaw, a cruel dance that only intensified the pain. “Let me show you.”

It was all too much. 

Her eyes filled with tears and she just ran, ran away.

-----------------------

Blair sat on one of the two staircases leading to the upper deck, crouched, tears streaming down her cheeks. With one hand clutching her chest, as if trying to palliate some of the pain, her elbow rested on her knee, while the other hand cradled her head. To any casual observer, it might appear that she had had a little too much to drink.

Well, this was better than emptying her stomach in the bathroom, wasn’t it?

Someone joined her, placing an arm around her. Blair instinctively tried to pull away but stopped upon recognizing the familiar touch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Serena asked. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not going to fool me with the ‘I’m fine’ act. What’s going on?”

Blair hesitated before reluctantly saying, “Chuck is up there with Georgina.”

“Georgina Sparks?”

“Who else?” Blair retorted, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. “You must know, considering everyone here is practically your guest. Thank you very much.” Her attempt to sound composed fell short, the strength in her words faltering. 

“I didn’t–” 

“Save it.”

Serena looked at her with a determined expression, prompting Blair to continue.

“What more do you want me to say?” Blair exclaimed as she threw her hands up in exasperation. “He was all messed up, and she was practically throwing herself at him. Touching, getting all close, kissing his neck, and who knows what else. It was too much. Seeing them like that,” she blurted out. “I ran away before it got worse. Last I saw, Georgie is just giving him the time of his life.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Serena said, standing up, ready to give Chuck Bass a piece of her mind.  

“Don’t.” Blair clasped her arm. “He’s just feeding into Nate’s twisted narrative, trying to prove him right. He wants me to hate him as much as he hates himself.”

“Do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

They lingered in silence for a brief moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Serena finally broke it. “I kinda started this whole mess.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back when you and Nate were in the water…” Her friend looked down, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Look, I really thought Chuck was sleeping with that girl while he played mind games with you. So, I decided to piss him off and say a lot of shitty things just to get under his skin and protect you.”

Blair parted her lips in disbelief.

“I tried to patch things up later, but by then, he’d shut down. I’m really sorry, B.”

“Why can’t you both mind your own business for once?”

The damage was already done. It didn’t matter. 

“I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

“Look where that got us.”

Nate had hit his best friend. Chuck was one step away from crossing to the other side and as for Blair, it seemed as though someone had brutally torn her heart out and shredded it into pieces.

“Does Chuck make you happy?” Serena asked.

“Yes! He does,” Blair paused, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Well, maybe not right this second. But I don’t know how else I can make you understand.”

“I just wanted you to—”

But Blair was past the point of listening to her friend. The haunting image of Chuck drunk out of his mind while Georgina’s hands were all over him, entwining around like inescapable tendrils refused to go away. “He was an absolute wreck, S. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that wasted.”

Serena gently wiped away a tear from Blair’s cheek. “Do you want me to go check if they are still there?”

Blair didn’t answer, but Serena understood.  

As her best friend reached the top of the stairs, her expression morphed into fear.

“Blair!” she urgently called out.

[yeetus-feetus]

i have a random DC OC I don't write about but instead make up little stories for when I'm bored and too tired to actually type.

he's a nameless demon accidentally summoned from hell by one of Gotham's cults and was held by the cult members because they thought he could do their bidding for them. He wouldn't.

He had to fight against several other summoned demons just to escape and almost died.

But he has the ability to regenerate, unfortunately he can only do that by consuming human blood or lust (sorta like an incubus?)

The downside is, finding to someone to sleep with when your severely injured and bleeding out is hard. Especially when he has to be careful not to be captured again. And drinking human blood comes with the unwanted side effect of being able to see and feel their most painful memories and/or hear their thoughts and feel their emotions... Which can be extremely unpleasant.

The more painful the memory, the clearer and easier it comes to him. People with weak minds have their thoughts and feelings spill into him immediately upon sinking his teeth in. The more blood he draws from a person, the longer the effects last for- so he often avoids this method of feeding unless absolutely necessary.

While sex and blood help him regenerate, he can also use them to replenish the energy needed to shift between forms, or to simple live off.

He can eat human food, but eating isn't really a necessity.

Any contact with the Lazarus pits is like putting him on steroids and feeding him 30 shots of coffee and various energy drinks that should probably be illegal. Boi bounces off the walls.

He can't get drunk on human alcohol.

He can't touch holy water without it burning him, crosses don't work to deter him, and praying doesn't work unless it's spoken in Latin. Also silver does burn him, so if your cross is made of silver then I guess it work to deter him in that case.

He can see his reflection in mirrors.

He has several different forms he can shift into, including animal forms. His full demon form consists of large bat wings, a long tail, pointed ears, large horns, two rows of piercing sharp teeth, and his hands and feet are ashy black that fades into a deep blue-purple which is the colour of the rest of his skin. And his hair is like blue fire and his eyes a an incompressible colour that reflect like an animal's.

In his human form he has tan skin with freckles all over his shoulders and under his eyes, retractable fangs, and red hair that lightens towards the end like orange flames. His eyes are sparking green, and in just the right light light they reflect like a cat's. He often has this hair in a long braid during combat and paints a mask around his eyes with charcoal.

Among the other forms he can take are; a wolf, a snake, a bat, a spider, a large moth. He prefers the snake.

He's a morally grey character and a trickster type who lurks in the shadows of Gotham. He hasn't left Gotham despite risking being re-captured because it's just so much easier to hide in this city.

He likes playing games and pranks, and generally causing problems for both the Bats and all the Gotham rogues. He also has it out for the GCPD because he knows several of the pigs are members of the cult that trapped him here on earth.

Also he is deathly bored.

[villain-in-love]

cherry vanilla, matcha and blue moon for Jamil? (@canarycurse)

I'm finally done answering this... Sorry for the delay, I was fighting demons here.

cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

Does allowing me to be stick around by his side without him making a sour face count as an affection?

Just kidding. But it was, at one point, the first sign of affection that he ever showed to Prefect.

I would say that Jamil is a person who prefers to speak with his actions. I mean, this guy got a silver tongue, but it seems to be mostly reserved for nefarious purposes. He’s not that good at expressing his true feelings that way– the words that come out are awkward and he will just end up embarrassed, telling Prefect to forget it. She won’t.

Part of his affection is making sure that she’s alive and well. Maybe helping with some chores or homework, or finding ways to keep Grim busy when this cat is in the mood to annoy her. Treating her constant injuries (things got better after she gained the ability to control magic, but she will always stay a physically inept loser), making lunch not just for himself and Kalim, but also for Prefect.

He also always makes sure to make time for her in his insanely packed schedule, and wouldn’t mind Prefect accompanying him even when he’s busy with something. Even if he keeps a neutral expression and even when he's doing something else at the same time, he listens, observes, and analyses.

I would even say overanalyses. Like many people, sometimes he can’t sleep at night because he’s thinking of his beloved, except he just overanalyses Prefect’s every word and every gesture trying to deduce more information about her. As I always said, scientific interest is a form of love and he wants to study her with a scalpel under a microscope. This feeling is mutual.

He also always tries to come up with a logical the solution if she has any problems. Part of it is just the way he usually thinks, of course, but this time he’s actually invested.

Another way he shows his affection is, surprisingly, by teasing her, making sarcastic remarks and lovingly poking fun of her, mostly her questionable life choices and opportunistic nature. Though that is, honestly, more about allowing her to see that playful and sassy side of him he hides from most of the people behind the mask of seriousness. And it’s only fair because Prefect is also known for showing her affection in a form of roasting him at any chance she gets.

Jamil is not a fan of public displays of affection, so most of the physical affection stays behind closed doors. And when it comes to gestures of physical affection he’s surprisingly gentle and almost innocent, mostly just wanting to stay close and keep Prefect by his side.

matcha: what kind of gifts does your F/O give you? Are they always buying you little presents or do they invest only in larger items for birthdays or holidays?

Useful gifts. The ones that may not seem anything special from an outside glance, but in reality Jamil puts a lot of thought in his gifts. Judging by the information provided in canon, Jamil’s gifts are usually small but high in quality, and are usually the things that fit the situation. Jamil’s quite observant so he knows what people might need at the moment.

So Prefect might receive a new teapot because she's constantly drinking tea and her old one just broke down. Or much needed alchemic reagent for one of her (most likely illegal) experiments. Or a new set of graphite pencils because she’s been drawing using the same old stub for a while now and Jamil just wants to put an end to this travesty.

Also, assuming that this takes place during and after my s/i’s second year in Twisted Wonderland (because Jamil and Prefect weren’t quite at that level of friendship to exchange gifts before the second year), magical artifacts are the best gifts when he really has no other ideas – it's something Prefect can both use as intended or study for her own curiosity… or drain of magic in case of emergency.

Gifts are not something Jamil buys often as something like this just doesn’t cross his mind often. So even in the relationship Jamil will mostly give Prefect something only for the occasions when it’s customary to give gifts – like birthdays or other holidays. (Not that she minds – Prefect sucks at choosing gifts and is always running out of money, and she would hate to stay in debt)

However, if we look into the possible future, if Jamil’s wish to travel the world alone comes true, then it would become a custom for him to buy her sweets from different countries as a gift for when he comes back.

blue moon: is your F/O very routine-oriented or do they like to go with the flow? How routine-oriented are you?

Jamil is less of routine-oriented and more plan-oriented, if that makes sense? Let’s put it that way, he has to babysit look after and serve Kalim – one of the most nonsensical and unpredictable people you will ever meet. Which means that it’s rare for Jamil to get stuck in a predictable routine, for better or for worse. And that taught him to be ready for literally anything that could possibly happen (he can predict at least 100 ways something can go wrong and he’s prepared for every single one of them, but then the 101th thing he somehow wasn’t able to predict happens and then he freaks out.) I think that if left alone in a calm environment Jamil might eventually fall into the routine but I’m honestly not sure if he will actually like it that much.

Prefect is… not a routine-oriented person. In fact, she hates routine so much that she throws herself into a new misadventure at any chance she gets even if it’s dangerous. She’d rather risk her life than get stuck doing the same thing every day. It’s good for her mental health. But not so good for Jamil’s, though.

[wjokeo]

rewatched wwdits (the movie) and immediately had to draw etho as a vampire 👍

[falconearring]

why does etho wear a mask in your au? also love that it's one of those covid face masks lol, i love how you kind of "modernised" their designs, v v cool

(although I do miss Joel's green streak)

Hey hey!

It's unfortunately nothing scandalous, his teeth are a bit crooked and he would rather keep his mouth covered. He started wearing face coverings as a sort of accessory in early high school and just never stopped. If asked, he usually makes some absurd statement; "It was crazy, a polar bear bit the tip of my nose off", or "I drank shoe polish and it made my lips shrivel up" but he's just uncomfortable with the possibility of someone seeing him smile.

Here he is without his mask on, although it feels highly illegal to have drawn!

(On the subject of Joel's colored hair streak I miss it too!! If I remember correctly the main reasons I didn't keep it was because I felt too many characters had dyed hair, and it sort of draws your eye onto him because it's such a high contrast. He lives on in my heart, if I ever do any pre-apocalypse artwork of him I'll probably include it because it's such a banger physical trait)

[passable-talent]

anakin skywalker x gn!reader

redeemer: part 4

new chapters every two days at 10 am EST :) until all eight parts are posted

first | previous || next | last

Vader decides that floating beyond the galaxy isn’t getting you anywhere, and sets a course for Daiyu. It’s a city planet, like Coruscant, but the population density is lesser, and more varied. It doesn’t have the levels that Coruscant has, reaching high into the sky but descending deep into the underground. Instead, Daiyu has markets on the streets, and a fairly level skyline of four or five story structures. Between this community of vendors and the trade of both legal and illegal goods, it’s a planet with its thumb on the pulse of the galaxy. 

Vader docks the ship—still unnamed, to your knowledge—and stands from the pilot’s seat. His helmet and cape, in the past few days, migrated off of your seat and onto a switchboard to his left. He hasn’t touched either since they’ve moved, but when you stand, your gaze lingers on them. 

“What are you, to the Empire?” you ask, your back to the viewport and its red and blue neon of the Daiyu skyline. 

“A traitor,” Vader answers, raising his gaze to yours. His eyes are blue, but you know him, now. You know how he starves; how his volcanic soul longs for the pain he’s felt these ten long years to explode outward. 

“Do they know that?” you press, standing tall before Vader in a way that you could never have, before you’d soothed his nightmares. He narrows his eyes and you see rage overtake his face, but he’s not looking at you; his gaze is distant. 

“They will,” he snarls, and you take a step just beyond the copilot seat, hoping to draw him back to the present. 

“You’re being rash,” you tell him softly. “Think strategy. You have the Empire’s resources at your disposal.” Just for a moment, Vader’s eyes widen with something that you think almost looks like fear. 

“The Inquisitors can’t know about my son,” he says. “They’d bring him to the Emperor, and then-”

“They don’t need to know anything,” you interrupt, recognizing your tone for the first time in a decade as a Jedi Knight, General of the Grand Army of the Republic. “You are their superior, are you not?” 

Sometimes you soothe him, comfort him, but not when his battle-blindness is keeping him from seeing sense. He looks at you with, at first, the face of a boy being scolded, but he relaxes into the familiar mask of general and commander, the same as you, as he understands what you’re suggesting. 

“You owe them nothing. As far as they know, you’re only looking for Kenobi.” 

“Which isn’t unusual,” he says, and his gaze drifts to his helmet, tossed aside onto the switchboard. Silence soaks the cockpit for a moment, and something heavy settles in his stomach. You feel it. “They’ll still see me as Darth Vader.” 

“I won’t,” you say, and he doesn't move. “And neither will Luke.” Vader, still focused on his helmet, shocks you with what he says next. 

“I don’t deserve to be anything more than I am.” 

You take another step closer, the space between you shrinking. You understand, suddenly, his hesitation in facing down the Inquisitors, in crawling the streets of Daiyu. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than what he’s been for the past decade, and any courage to break free is being eaten by doubts that he deserves it in the first place. 

“And what are you?”

You expect him to hesitate, to have trouble putting words to the tangled emotions you’ve felt, deep inside his subconscious as he sleeps. You thought he might take a moment, but his answer comes immediately. 

“A beast.” 

Hearing it shocks you. He answered without hesitation, so you know it comes from the very core of what he thinks of himself. Every instinct you have, every fibre of kindness in you jumps to reassure him that he isn’t what he thinks, and yet. . .

Vader is a beast. He’s a genocider and murderer. You’ve seen him decimate families and planets both; you’ve felt his hatred close around your throat and felt his malice roll from his body. You can’t deny it, and you know he can’t, either. There’s no point to empty reassurances that would only rot and reveal lies. 

“Maybe,” you breathe, following his gaze to his helmet. You wonder if he fears the bloodstains that you, too, felt might soak his imperial uniform. “Does that mean you don’t deserve compassion?” 

In the silence of his non-answer, you wonder if he remembers what compassion feels like. He flinches when you bring him rations; he doubted your selfless intentions when you met him. Does he know how to treat it? Did he ever get it? In the temple, he must’ve. . . but how does a man fall so far, if he was given the reassurance he needed?

“I don’t know what happened during the birth of the Empire, I was too far from the core worlds,” you continue, “so I don’t think I can fathom what you went through. But something made you fall.” Bravely, you place a hand on his bicep, and you feel his muscles flinch, but he doesn’t move away. 

“You were dragged to the depths you’ve fallen. And you’re strong enough to drag yourself back, through every trial and test and every demanded retribution for what you’ve done. You deserve them, I know you know that. But you also deserve someone to pull you up, the same that you were pulled down. Or at the very least, wait for you at the top.” 

Over these few days that you’ve spent in this ship with him, he’s slowly adjusting to letting you help him. Is he doubting that anyone else would give him the same chance? Is he doubting that his son would accept him?

“You’re changing for Luke. You’re trying to climb back to who you used to be, for him. When he grows, and learns, he’ll understand that. And until then. . .” You think deep into your past, the slightest glimpses that you have of your parents, the flashes of memory that comprise all you have of your family. You know that Vader had more, once.

“Until then, you’ll be there. You must know how important that is for a child.” 

He still says nothing, so in the silence you glance down at your palm on his arm. Though your nerves can’t register it, you feel nonetheless the solar fire within him. 

“You weren’t born evil, Anakin. No matter who you’ve been, you can be that man again.”

Now, finally, his gaze turns to yours. Your eyes meet, steady, and you hardly blink as you watch him take you in. He takes a breath, and you scarcely hear the way his lungs tremble. 

“I haven’t heard my name in a long time,” he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him speak. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it. “I’d almost forgotten how it sounds.”

He closes his eyes and turns his head from you, but for the first time in the eternity since the ship docked, he moves more than his head. He lifts his hand, the furthest from you, and just for a moment rests his palm overtop the hand you’ve held on his arm. His skin is warm, and though marred with the saber blisters at the base of the third and fourth fingers, soft. His fingers slide over your knuckles as he steps away, swinging his cloak about himself and suiting it to his shoulders, then setting the helmet over his head. He turns back to you, once again the terror that the galaxy knows. 

“Keep your saber visible as we walk,” he says, voice once again modified by his vocoder, “but do not ignite it. If they think you’re an Inquisitor, they won’t question you.” 

“No, wait,” you say, pulling your saber from your waist and looking at it, considering it. “I don’t think I should be at your side.” 

“What?”

“Think about it,” you say, taking a step closer, closing your fist around your saber and lifting it to him as though it proves your point. “The Inquisitors haven’t found him in ten years, we can’t just do what they’ve been doing. We need to somehow get on the inside of what’s been keeping Jedi alive and connected. There has to be something- Kenobi found me somehow.” 

“So what do you think we should do?”

“I need to be a double. . . double. . . agent.” Anakin doesn’t move, but you can almost picture him raising an eyebrow. “I need to look like I’m a Jedi trying to find help. Like I’m being chased by Inquisitors. Then, if there is some sort of underground system that helps Jedi, it’ll open its doors to me.” 

“You’d make a target for yourself,” he says, and you wonder if you would’ve heard concern in his voice, hadn’t he had the vocoder. “What if actual Inquisitors find you?” 

“Then they relinquish me back to you, and we try again,” you say, a smile growing on your face. “It’ll work. Put out an order- tell the Inquisitors to look for me, tell them that you’ve tracked me to this planet. Tell them that I’m connected to Kenobi and that I’m of high priority. It’ll turn heads. I’ll find allies.” 

Anakin still doesn’t move, but eventually you hear him huff. 

“It’s a good plan. I don’t like it, but it’s a good plan.” 

You laugh and clip your saber back to your belt, turning to the door of the cockpit. You take a step beyond it to drop down into the cargo bay, searching quickly for anything that might hide your identity. You couldn’t wear an Empire officer’s uniform, as you had been. No, you need something that looks like a Jedi, trying to blend in. You find a cloak, a medium green, and toss it over your shoulder, looking further for a tunic, and this one you find in a soft blue. You loop a belt around your waist and rub your pants against the wall, hoping to smear them with dust and oil. When you climb up again, and look through the threshold into the lounge, Anakin stands in his suit before two figures projected from the data table. The first, the Grand Inquisitor. The second, your image from the Jedi archives, looking as you did a decade ago, the last time you were sent on a mission in the Clone Wars. Beneath it: your name, and the word WANTED. 

“I’ve followed them to Daiyu,” Anakin says, with the pure authority of Darth Vader. “Join me. I expect their capture shortly after your arrival.” 

“Yes, my lord,” the Grand Inquisitor says, and the transmission cuts. Anakin turns to you.

“Go. If the Empire has any moles, they’ll know of you soon.” You nod, and pull your hood over your head as you turn to the ramp and activate it, flooding the ship with the humid, warm air of Daiyu. You pause at the threshold of the ramp, suddenly filling with cold dread, but it’s not yours, you realize. It belongs to him.

“We’ll see each other again,” you promise him, looking back into the ship’s interior. “We’ll find them.” 

You rush off the ship, and disappear into the crowd.

***

first | previous || next | last

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 54: There Was Only One Bed

The case had been absolutely brutal.

Draco was completely exhausted, every muscle in his body ached, and it felt like every step might be his last before he simply passed out and fell asleep on the ground. And he was still so bloody cold, there weren't enough warming charms in the world to help him get warm.

Trudging along beside him, his feet dragging across the ground, he knew that Harry must be feeling the same. "The hotel's just up ahead," Harry murmured. "I can't wait to get a nice hot shower and then sleep for the next eight to ten hours."

He nodded in agreement, by morning the DMLE would be able to get a portkey to them so they could get back home, for now the room they were providing at the local muggle hotel would have to suffice.

The girl at the check in counter in the lobby was far too cheerful for Draco's taste, chattering away about the festival that was coming to town tomorrow and the weather (the weather of all things). Harry didn't help with his polite responses and his bloody adorable smiles.

It felt like an eternity but they finally made it upstairs and stumbled through the door only for both of them to draw up short.

"There's only one bed," Harry said.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, Potter," Draco drawled, quietly panicking.

After a beat Harry suggested, "Why don't you go shower and I'll check in with the desk about it."

Draco looked over at him, "Are you sure? You're the one who got dunked into that icy water."

Harry nodded, "Your lips are starting to turn blue."

He rolled his eyes but gave Harry a little smile, "Thanks, savior."

"Fuck off," Harry laughed. "I'll be back," he added as he headed out of the room.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco turned the water as hot as it would go and climbed in under the spray, his body shivering as he slowly warmed up. By the time he got out and wrapped himself in a fluffy bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door, Harry had returned. He'd stripped out of his wet clothes and put on the other bathrobe and was sitting at the desk, working on their report.

"What was the verdict?" Draco asked.

Harry turned and looked over at his shoulder, his eyes sliding over Draco's body covered only in a bathrobe and making Draco feel warm all over before he reminded himself that they were professionals. The other man couldn't possibly be interested in him like that, he chastised himself. He needed to get his head out of the clouds before he ruined everything.

"This is literally the only room left in the hotel," Harry said. "It's a queen size bed, though," he said with a little shrug, "We should be okay, right?" he asked, voice soft and strangely vulnerable.

Draco cleared his throat and put on his usual masks, the ones that kept anything more than friendship hidden, "Oh, I suppose," he replied and Harry gave him a relieved little smile. "As long as you promise not to steal all of the blankets."

"Promise," Harry replied, crossing a finger over his heart in a gesture that was decidedly not adorable.

Draco nudged him up from the chair, "Go shower, I'll finish these."

Harry nodded and rose, Draco watched his retreating form until he disappeared from sight. Then he turned to the reports Harry had started and picked up where he'd left off, steadfastly not thinking about Harry's naked body just on the other side of the door.

When he came back out, his long curly hair was hanging loose around his shoulders, weighed down by the water. He didn't let himself stare, didn't let himself wonder what it would be like to wrap his fingers through his hair and cover Harry's mouth with his own.

"I have some extra sweatpants," Harry said, completely oblivious to the way Draco was slowly dying inside, as he sorted through the muggle jacket he'd been wearing for the case and pulled out a little pouch. He reached inside, his arm disappearing to his elbow.

"Merlin," Draco said, watching him dig around in the bag, "Hermione's spellwork is really second to none."

Harry grinned at him over his shoulder as he dug deeper, "Right? Here," he said tossing a pair a of navy sweatpants at Draco, "These have a tie at the waist so at least they have a chance at staying up around your skinny body," he added before tossing him a DMLE t-shirt that was soft from all of the times it had been worn before.

"Thanks," Draco murmured, throat thick with the intimacy of wearing his clothes. He was fairly certain he was never going to recover from this.

"No problem," Harry replied, his dimple flashing at him.

Without another word, Draco headed back to the bathroom to change and to get a hold on his emotions because honestly, this was all feeling a bit too domestic and he needed to get a grip before he said or did something stupid.

When he came out, Harry was standing in just a pair of grey sweatpants, still digging around in the bag.

Draco's jaw literally dropped, it should be illegal for the other man to wear grey sweatpants, especially without anything else underneath. Lust spiked hot through Draco's body and his fingers itched to touch.

Harry turned to look at him, "I cannot find another tshirt in here," he said.

Draco tried to click his jaw closed and get the fucking blush that felt like it was covering his entire body under control before Harry noticed. "Sorry?" he managed.

"I can't find another tshirt." He repeated as he scratched the back of his neck, "Is it going to bother you if I sleep without one?"

Yes! Draco wanted to scream, Circe, yes. How was he meant to sleep when all of that skin and those muscles were right there?

"Draco?"

"Do you want this one?" he asked, indicating the one he was wearing.

Harry shook his head, "You get colder than I do," he said. "I run hot."

Yes, you do, Draco thought because Merlin, Harry was attractive.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What?" he replied.

"What did you say?"

Panic, absolute panic, flooded his mind when he realized he must have said that bit aloud, "Nothing," he said. "Just yes, you do run warmer than I do."

"So, it's okay for me to just sleep without a shirt?" Harry asked, sounding confused and uncertain and if the floor could just open up and swallow Draco whole, that would probably be preferable to this.

"Merlin," he said. "Sorry. No, it's fine, of course it's fine. I'm just exhausted."

Harry hummed sympathetically, "Me too." He nodded to the papers on the desk, "these can wait until tomorrow."

"Great. Bed then?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied as he tossed the bag onto the pile of his clothes in the chair. He climbed under the covers on the right side of the bed and let out a low moan as his body sank into the mattress, "Godric, that feels good."

It was karma. It had to be, Draco was paying for every single misdeed that he'd ever committed.

"What?" Harry asked, sitting up on his elbows in bed to look at Draco, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

Harry's brow furrowed, "I don't know. What's bothering you?"

"Aren't you going to do something with your hair?" he blurted because it was the first thing that came to mind.

"My hair?"

He nodded, "Doesn't it dry funny if it's wet when you go to sleep? Do you ever, I don't know, braid it or something?" That seemed reasonable, didn't it?

Harry tilted his head at him, "No. Honestly, I don't know how to braid my hair."

"Let me," Draco said, then immediately cursed himself. Was it possible to just die from embarrassment?

But Harry didn't seem to think anything of it, "Yeah, alright," he said, sitting up cross legged, and turning his back to Draco.

After taking a slow deep breath and willing his racing heart to slow, he climbed on the bed and knelt behind him, "Tilt your head back a bit," he murmured and he started french braiding the other man's hair, his curls still damp but surprisingly soft.

Harry hummed softly as Draco's nails scratched lightly at his scalp as he gathered new sections to draw into the braid. "Feels nice," Harry murmured and Draco's mind was flooded with images of Harry laid out on the bed as Draco touched and kissed every inch of him; images of heady, hazy pleasure that made the back of Draco's throat feel dry.

"Good," Draco whispered as he continued to work his thick hair into the braid. "You have really fantastic hair," he said, "My mother has thick hair, I was always jealous, mine's so fine and wispy."

"I like your hair," Harry protested. "It's so shiny and it looks so soft. You've had nice hair since third year when you stopped slicking it back against your head."

He couldn't help but smile, "Just the personality that was a bit lacking."

"You turned out alright," Harry teased softly and something in Draco's chest warmed at the praise.

He summoned an elastic from the tray of office supplies on the desk and wrapped it around the end of the braid. "There," he said, "Now you won't wake up with your hair in your face."

"Thanks," Harry replied softly.

"No problem," Draco responded.

They stayed still for another long moment before Harry said, "Right, I'm half asleep just sitting here. Ready for the lights to be turned off?"

Draco shifted and slipped under the covers, "Yes."

Wandlessly, Harry turned off the lights and slid under the blankets, "Good night, Draco," he whispered.

"Good night." And there was a longing that settled deep in his chest to simply roll onto his side and pull Harry close. His fingers twitched to reach across the mere inches between them and hold Harry's hand in his.

He didn't know how long he laid there, listening to Harry's breathing, feeling the heat radiating off of the other man's body and aching to bridge the gap between them, all he knew was that, for the first time in his life, his feet weren't cold as he drifted off.

---------

Draco was having the most amazing dream.

He was laying in bed with Harry, their bodies all tangled together, as Harry kissed him. Draco's arms wrapped tighter around him, hands caressing, the broad, smooth planes of his back.

"Mmm," Harry hummed as he sucked on Draco's lower lip. When he drew back, he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses along Draco's jaw, licking and sucking as he groaned, "Mmm, Draco."

Surely, Draco had never heard his name before, it resonated down to the core of his being and made his entire body shudder as he arched closer and tipped his head back to give Harry easier access to his neck.

His fingers slid into Harry's hair, catching on the braid. And in that instant, he realized this was not a dream and his eyes snapped open. "Shite," he managed, shoving Harry back, "I'm sorry," he gasped, even as Harry flailed and fell on the floor.

"Ouch," Harry groaned.

"Shite," he repeated, "Fuck." He ran a trembling hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands as he tried to come up with some way to fix this, to salvage their partnership, to salvage their friendship. "Salazar, Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry sat up, on the floor, "Just to be clear, what are you sorry for?"

"Kissing you," he said. "Harry I never meant for you-"

"That's what I was afraid of," Harry groaned.

"Sorry?"

Harry shook his head and summoned his glasses so he could shove them on his face, "No, I'm sorry. This is all my fault." He looked up at Draco from where he was still sitting on the floor, "Can I be honest with you?"

Draco nodded.

"I have an embarrassingly massive crush on you."

He stared at Harry uncomprehendingly.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Harry continued, "And I know that you couldn't possibly feel the same," he hastened to add, "But I'm sure that sleeping so close to you made my subconscious-"

"I feel the same," he blurted because he couldn't possibly wait for Harry to finish that sentence, not when he looked so heartbroken.

"What?"

Draco tried to get off of the bed, got tangled in the sheet, and ended up sprawling on top Harry on the floor. "I," he said, rubbing at his rib cage where it had banged into the nightstand, "Ouch. I feel the same."

"Yeah?" Harry breathed, his fingers clenching in the tshirt Draco was wearing.

Draco nodded, "For absolutely ages. I-"

Harry's mouth covered his and stopped the flow of words but that was just fine with Draco, obviously his mouth had been made to kiss Harry and nothing more. Harry started trailing kisses all over his face and Draco couldn't help it, he started to giggle.

He could feel Harry's smile against his skin but he growled teasingly before Draco found himself quite suddenly flat on his back on the mattress with Harry's body over his.

"Did you just apparate us without a wand?"

Harry's head popped up from where he was sucking what Draco was sure was going to be a fantastic bruise on his neck, "It's not like it was far."

"That is ridiculously hot," Draco said, arching up against the hard planes of Harry's body.

"Let's see what else I can do to get you to say that," he said with a wink.

Unsurprisingly, there was no shortage of things that Harry could do that Draco found ridiculously hot.

---------

On their way down to complimentary breakfast the next morning, they were greeted by the man covering the check-in desk, "Good morning, gentlemen, I trust you slept well. Especially since you didn't have any neighbors on your floor," he added with a smile.

"We slept great, thanks," Harry called as he hurriedly ushered Draco toward breakfast.

"Wait a minute," Draco said, looking over at him. "You said that every room in the hotel was full!"

Harry cringed, "I lied."

He stared at him in shock for a moment, "You Slytherin!" he accused. "Look at you, using your cunning to get what you want."

"Well, I'd say it worked out just fine, wouldn't you?" Harry asked with a pout.

And he took pity on him, because he was honestly the most adorable thing Draco had ever seen and he was pretty sure he was in love with him. "Better than fine," Draco replied, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips.

And it was better than fine, in fact, it made a fantastic story for their wedding just over a year later.

------------

Ho boy. This one got away from me. Sorry it's so long!

Day 53: First Anniversary | Day 55: Music

[elftwink]

no thoughts only taakitz superhero/villain coffeeshop au. taako’s power is shapeshifting but he has a cool gun from lup. kravitz’s power is Big Fuckin Scythe With Unspecified Abilities. also there was no time to get into it but fantasy starbucks isn’t a real starbucks it’s a borderline illegal unaffiliated bootleg starbucks that taako and lup own. like dumb starbucks was.

By all rights, it should have been a fairly routine night for the Reaper. Go out, stop some crimes, arrive just in time to prevent whatever scheme the Mongoose had cooked up this week, exchange some one liners, make some threats that essentially amounted to ‘same time next week?’, the works. A regular Tuesday as a superhero in Neverwinter.

But Kravitz is tired, and more than a little distracted, so he’s not doing so hot on the one liners, and the Mongoose’s attacks are a little closer than they would normally be. He doesn’t even have a good excuse, it’s not like he’s injured, or that he has anything pressing to think of.

It was just— this morning his barista (who he may or may not have been harbouring a small crush on) had mentioned offhand that he thought the Reaper was ‘probably hot under the stupid all-black getup’, and Kravitz didn’t really know what the protocol was for someone complimenting your alter-ego was.

“I think if you were gonna go for the strong silent type, you had to start doing it months ago. Now it’s just acting like an asshole. Are you mad at me?” the Mongoose cuts into his thoughts, firing off another few missiles from his stupid umbrella gun (Umbrastaff, he called it, although it was a gun and not a staff so Kravitz had no idea why he insisted on calling it that).

“We are literally fighting as we speak,” says Kravitz, playing up the cockney accent, spinning his scythe to deflect the missiles off the blade, sending them ricocheting around the room. He’d said something like ‘how can you tell’ to Taako— the barista (well, they’d been on a first name basis for a few weeks, so, Taako), and he’d said ‘I can just tell’ which was not at all helpful in getting Kravitz through the conversation without saying or doing something to give himself away.

He’d almost given Taako his number, but how was he going to justify that? Hey, it’s me under the all black getup. Do you want to go out sometime? As if.

“You can have fights without being fuckin’ rude,” says the Mongoose, firing off another few rounds, which Kravitz deflects again, advancing on him.

“You’re right, sorry. I’m a bit scattered. Not exactly my A game.” As if to prove his point, the Mongoose easily dodges his next couple swings with the scythe, not even bothering to leave his range.

“Clearly. I mean, normally you’re at least close enough that I can feel the breeze from your sword.”

“It’s not a sword, and you know that.” Kravitz brings down the scythe in the space where the Mongoose was only seconds before, having already backflipped out of the way and landed a few metres back. Show off. Not that Kravitz had room to complain about that. The Mongoose spins to face him again, at least this time seemingly aware of what a close call that was. He’s tense, and his hair, which Kravitz supposes has thus far been hidden underneath his costume, has come somewhat unravelled, black braid falling to the middle of his back.

It seems... familiar?

He doesn’t have time for that right now. Kravitz draws back the scythe, feeling the hum of energy under his fingers, swinging again, and—

“Wait! Time out!” the Mongoose puts up a hand and Kravitz, for who knows what reason, stops his scythe mid-swing. The familiarity sticks, so it’s not just a trick of the light. It takes him a second to place, but the hairstyle... it looks a lot like a certain barista he’d been spending all night thinking about.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s because he has Taako on the brain, is all. Besides, he has other things to worry about besides seeing his crush in his enemy. Namely the fight currently happening with said enemy. “What? You can’t call a time out.”

“I just did,” says the Mongoose, fishing through his pockets and pulling out several bobby pins, sticking them in his mouth so he can use both hands to fix his hair. Kravitz blinks, still trying to shake off the sense of deja vu, but it won’t quit nagging him. “It’s a whole safety issue to leave long hair down.”

“It’s still in a braid,” retorts Kravitz.

“Somebody never took Foodsafe.” the Mongoose gives him a lopsided grin that Kravitz fucking knows he’s seen before, and suddenly it’s more than just passing familiarity, and how could he possibly have not noticed before, and— the Mongoose finishes putting up his hair, raising an eyebrow at Kravitz and his private crisis. “Alright. Ready—”

“You work at Fantasy Starbucks,” blurts Kravitz, without even thinking about it. The Mongoose stops dead in his tracks, and Kravitz can see his eyes widen even behind the mask. He splutters for a moment, and then seems to find his footing, already ready with a snarky remark.

“Yeah, well— your accent is fake.”

Shit. He’d forgotten. At the only time so far that having it would have been useful too. Still, he pushes it out of his mind; the Mongoose hadn’t denied it. And, well, he’s already solidly derailed this fight, so he might as well get some real confirmation out of it.

“...Taako? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Just who the fuck are y—” The Mongoose— Taako— levels the Umbrastaff at him, and then stops again. “...Kravitz?”

Well. Shit. Again. Kravitz doesn’t bother to affirm that; his silence is more than enough confirmation. One of them has to say or do something, but the seconds stretch on.

“You’re telling me I said all that shit to your face this morning?” says Taako.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“Uh, yeah—” Taako is backing up now, and they’ve fought enough times that Kravitz knows when the Mongoose is looking for an escape route; Kravitz’s feet still feel glued to the floor, even when Taako reaches the window, fingers already turning to talons around the Umbrastaff. Taako breaks the glass (because of course he does, even though the windows aren’t even fucking locked), breaking eye contact with Kravitz in order to swing his legs through the window before his form changes too much. “Look, this is like, a lot right now, and I— I’m getting the fuck out of here,” he says, and then drops. Whatever had been keeping Kravitz in place, slack jawed, ends as soon as Taako leaves his sight, and he’s moving before he has time to think about it.

“Wait—!” Kravitz runs for the window, but by the time he gets there, the bird clutching the Umbrastaff is nearly out of sight.

Well. That could have gone better.

***

Kravitz doesn’t go for his coffee the next day. Or the next day, either, although the day after that he’s sick of making his own coffee. And frankly, he misses chatting with Taako. Even if the guy was trying to kill him like once a week. He couldn’t just avoid this forever.

Still, the fact that Taako is working cash when he comes in makes him want to turn tail and run back home. He conjures up the memory of yesterday’s shitty coffee and pushes onward. The shop is mostly empty still, so there’s no line.

“The usual?” says Taako, like nothing abnormal has happened.

“Please,” says Kravitz, and then, before he can chicken out entirely, adds, “Uhm, do you have a few minutes?”

“My shift isn’t over until—”

“I’ll cover you,” comes Lup’s voice from the back room; she pokes her head out and gives Taako a look that is clearly significant, but that Kravitz can’t quite puzzle out. “Take five minutes after you’re done making his coffee.”

Taako scowls at her, and she smiles brightly before heading to the back again.

“Okay. I guess I have five minutes. Talk to you after I make your coffee.”

Kravitz nods, and goes to hover around the pickup counter, pretending to be interested in things on his phone. Taako makes his coffee in a ceramic mug, which at least means he doesn’t want Kravitz to get the fuck out as soon as possible, so that’s... something.

Taako slides the finished coffee across the counter, circling around to join Kravitz on the customer side as Kravitz grabs the mug.

“Lup!” he hollers, and then starts walking towards one of the corner booths without checking to see if his sister is headed to cash or if Kravitz is following. Kravitz does, though, sliding himself into the seat opposite Taako, hands wrapped tightly around the mug.

Taako speaks first. “To be honest, I kinda thought you would rat me out.”

“That would be shitty of me, to just sic authorities on your place of work without so much as a warning.”

“So is this the warning?”

“No,” says Kravitz, taking a sip of his coffee, “I... can’t really make coffee without burning it. And this is the only place for miles with tolerable muffins.”

Taako cracks a grin, like Kravitz knew he would. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” His smile falls, and he crosses his arms and leans back. “So. Reaper. Why didn’t you rat me out?”

Why indeed. Kravitz takes another sip of his coffee and thinks for a second, not even sure himself what his explanation will be once he starts talking.

“It didn’t seem... fair. You’re less of a villain and more of a pain in my ass—” Kravitz ignores Taako’s indignant noise and keeps talking, “—and while we always have cause to fight when on the clock, you’re not doing anything that I feel needs to leave the bounds of those... work hours, I guess.”

Taako is trying to pick him apart with his gaze; it’s something he’s been subjected to several times, although normally in costume, and in retrospect it’s difficult to imagine how he spent so long not noticing the Mongoose in Taako.

Whatever Taako is looking for, he must find it, because he relaxes a bit, and shoots him a lazy grin. “Plus, Mongoose related insurance just got rolling and it would be fuckin’ rude to take me out of commission before anyone got to use theirs.”

Kravitz laughs. “Sure.” He’s silent for a second, before adding, “You aren’t planning on revealing my secret identity, are you? Awfully rude of you to double cross me like that.”

“Wha— You didn’t even give me a chance to respond! Maybe I wasn’t!”

“Were you?”

“I was,” admits Taako, not even pretending to look sheepish. Kravitz raises his eyebrows, and Taako shrugs. “Oh, like you didn’t think about revealing my secret identity? And could you imagine the hype if I unmasked the Reaper? I was tempted.” He sighs. “But I figured then you’d have no reason to keep my identity a secret. No way am I risking a backfire like that.”

It sounds callous, but Kravitz has been talking to Taako almost daily for months; at this point, he can pretty reliably pick up on when Taako isn’t being entirely truthful about something.

“Hmm. Then I suppose it’d be in my best interest not to tell you that I wouldn’t reveal your identity even if you revealed mine?”

Taako narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

Kravitz makes a face. “It’s just in poor taste. I just think we all go through all the trouble to hide who we are and use these powers for good— or whatever it is you do— that it’s always going to be such a low blow to reveal who we are. There might be times where it’s necessary, but petty revenge is not one of them.”

Taako’s expression hasn’t changed; if anything, he’s narrowed his eyes more. “God, you are like— fuckin’ irritatingly nice. Fine. I wasn’t going to reveal your identity. That would be fuckin’ annoying to deal with. Plus I’m having fun.”

“Fun?”

“Oh don’t— don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’re having fun out there too. With your stupid accent and one liners and shit.”

“Alright, alright,” says Kravitz, rolling his eyes. “But I’m not supposed to be having fun, so keep it quiet.”

“See, that’s why I market myself as a villain. No dumb rules.” He puts an elbow on the table and leans on his hand. “Why do you have a fake accent anyway?”

Heat rises to Kravitz’s face, and he’s hoping he looks less embarrassed than he feels. “It’s my— I do it so people don’t recognize my voice.”

Taako laughs. “Well, it doesn’t really do that if you immediately stop using it when you realize you might know someone.”

“I was caught off guard!” defends Kravitz. “It’s not every day you find out your nemesis is your barista.”

“Nemesis, huh?” Taako grins. “Didn’t realize it was that serious to you. You know I have other heroes to fight.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes again. “I don’t see how you have the time, considering how often you’re causing trouble for me.”

Taako laughs, and it’s so contagious and the whole conversation is so surreal Kravitz can’t help but laugh too, before they both lapse into a comfortable, if drawn out, silence.

“So, uh,” says Taako eventually, “what now?”

“Well,” says Kravitz, “I want to keep coming in for coffee in the mornings. And I assume the Mongoose will continue with... whatever chaos it is you currently have planned.”

“It’s not chaos,” insists Taako, “I have plans. But yeah. And I assume the Reaper is gonna show up and throw a wrench in those plans?”

“Yes, probably. So we’ll just be enemies by night...” Kravitz trails off, not entirely sure how to refer to their by day relationship. Friends? Potential love interests? Acquaintances? There’s a few seconds of awkward silence before Kravitz gives up entirely.

Taako pulls and pen and a napkin out of his pocket, jotting something down and pushing it towards Kravitz.

“Here’s, uh, here’s my number. If you give me a heads up five minutes before you get here, we can have your coffee ready by the time you walk in. If you’re nice to me out there.”

“I don’t take bribes,” says Kravitz, grabbing the napkin and pulling out his phone to type in the number.

“That wasn’t a bribe, it was a threat. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to your coffee if you fuck me up.”

Kravitz doesn’t bother to point out that neither of them have ever caused any extreme bodily harm to one another and instead says, “So you’re asking me to go easy on you? I thought you were having fun.” He sends Taako a ‘hey it’s kravitz’ text before he has time to second guess himself.

“Could you stop poking holes in my threats? You’re harshing my fuckin’ vibe, Krav.” He sounds irritated, but Kravitz can see the smile tugging at his lips as he texts Kravitz a couple of skull emojis. “I should get back to work before my sister kicks my ass,” he says, standing back up. “I’ll see you tonight, nemesis.” Then he turns on his heels and heads back to the counter, saying something to Lup as he walks by. Kravitz watches him disappear into the back room.

Tonight.

Kravitz had better make sure he had hung his cloak up to dry.

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME - 13 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : mentions of brutality described in previous chapter, mentions of strained breathing, curse words. For future chapters, major character death(s).

words : 4.5k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

 “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 12

taglist : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @minejungwoo @leesalts  @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl--ankhaeji @simplybree @ncttboo @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner

In the silent room, the sound of taeil's shoes reverberated as he paced back and forth. Of the seventeen men standing in the living room, most had their heads hung low while some paid side glances to Jaehyun and ten as they fell prey to Taeil's anger.

"Last time!" Fingers pointed in the air, taeil asked in a dangerously calm voice, "don't make me repeat myself. Who left the door open?"

Messing his hair, jaehyun began,

"We didn’t know she was still there in the basement. Usually she’s out by-

“just answer me already.” Taeil shouted in exasperation.

“we don’t clearly remember. Me and ten were busy interrogating him.'' Jaehyun's voice was barely above a mumble but it still managed to reach everyone in the parameter.

Taeil turned to ten, furiously rubbing his forehead, impliedly asking for a reply but he merely shrugged in shame.

“Since when you have been butchering people with doors ajar for everyone to see?” the volume of his voice sent shivers to each and every presence in the room. Taeil never lost his calm, this was, after all, his metier. But he knew when to let go of his usual demeanor and nobody plucked up the courage to question him either.

“we didn’t do it deliberately. It was a mistake. An accident. Why are you drawing this so much.” jaehyun daren’t raise his voice above a whisper but his words were alarming enough

“You all need to recall the rules we stand by. What if jisung had gone down? Would you throw the same lame excuses even then? Won’t you be sorry if he or chenle or sungchan had seen a human being cut open like that? you and ten are both equ-

“we are ready to apologise to her okay. I’m not running from responsibility here. Nobody i-”

“Accepting a mistake is not even the bare minimum. We don't need your hollow apology if you don’t mean it. just because she’s understanding doesn’t mean the blood would leave her head. There’s a reason those rooms are forbidden for some of us here.”

Jaehyun’s unexpected raspy chuckle earned multiple gasps from the room. Taeyong was about to reach him but taeil stopped him by a show of his palm.

Jaehyun pinched his nose before barking,

“when jisung and chenle are told not to enter forbidden areas, they actually do listen but your pretty sweet y/n never does that. she’s just reaping the fruit of her own reckless behaviour again. it’s not my mistake that she’s so damn nosy all the –

“WHAT IF IT WAS NARA AND NOT Y/N JUNG JAEHYUN? WOULD YOU HAVE SPILLED SAME BULLSHIT IF IT WAS HER?

Taeil knew he shouldn’t have said that. Jaehyun’s darkened eyes calmed Taeil instantly as he realised he too had crossed a line.

as he angrily took a step forward towards taeil, jaehyun was abruptly halted by johnny and taeyong as they kept the two men apart. The reason for the argument left Jaehyun's mind, the mere mention of nara was enough to blow his fuse. He was furious yet he didn’t resist the boys and let his sharp breathing convey his message to taeil.

“Stop it you both. Go back to your rooms everyone.” Johnny announced, hands still holding Jaehyun's arm and torso, almost hugging and shielding him from taeil. “let it go jae. Just calm down. Please.”

Everyone remained glued to their feet, too afraid to make any noise. Huffing loudly, Jaehyun pushed Johnny away. Jaw clenched, chest heaving in rage, he furthered himself and instead of going for taeil’s neck as everyone has thought, his hand reached for the vase and the very next moment, the beautiful curved glass met the ground, shattering into innumerable pieces, right where taeil stood.

“JAEHYUN”

Taeyong roared watching younger and the older staring each other down.

“never compare nara to her.never!” With a perilously low voice, jaehyun glowered at taeil. “measure them up on the same scale again and you won’t be alive to regret again!”

Jaehyun stormed out upstairs. Soon after, without saying or expressing anything, taeil left too, masking his emotions just like usual times.

“when are they going to talk this out. It’s been three years already.” Johnny mumbled more to himself but everyone heard him and each and every presence in the room understood him.

Sleep despised you. Even sleeping pills had turned their back on you. Sprawled on the bed, you prayed to some magical being to descend and help you but no matter how humbly you pleaded, there was no end to your misery.

"He was a drug supplier, one of the accomplice of importing life threatening drugs in korea. He had it coming when he refused to tell us about other handlers. What you need to know is we have done a favour by taking his life."

Taeyong's words were seeded into your head. Your fear was fine, he had told you. He also said you’d forget about it in no time but he couldn’t mark when the “no time” would end. The vision of what you witnessed was quite blurry by now but the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach chose not to leave you yet. From what taeyong explained, that man was a mere pawn. A hidden syndicate was exporting deleterious drugs and they were just trying to find out the people behind it.

The only thing you had gathered was that just like every normal entity, criminals like neos weren’t fond of any sort of competition. With a pack of sleeping pills given by xiaojun, meant to help you sleep through the night, you were dropped at your house by dear Mark who kept stuttering explanations while driving. They have never killed anyone innocent, Mark said and kept it repeating in different possible ways a sentence could be transformed into.

You weren’t sure if you believed him yet. But even the mere thought of getting used to the brutality was horrendous than what you had seen once.

Two days later, at black neos. 9: 50

“when do you want us to sue them y/n?” mr. jung questioned, rotating his walking stick by the wooden head.

Sitting on the sofa, just beside him, you wondered why you were always so conscious of all the eyes directed at you. or maybe you were distracting yourself from answering the man. Among all the things, his way of showing his care was not settling in.

one amusing revelation was that Jaehyun's father, mr. jung or senior jung, as hyuck called them, was the only person with the capacity of putting a noose around all the valiant necks that were ever present in the house. The wrinkles of old age held enough authority to shut each and every young mouth, including yours even though you kept your quiet.

And he adored everyone, johnny, yuta and haechan among his favourites of course. He was also persistent and you were struggling with coming up with an answer because of this very trait. He kept asking you and your eyes remained transfixed on the papers bunched up in your hands, that were shoved into your hands upon your arrival. They opened the chapters you always had doubt about but no corroboration.

You had no home, the reason you were sent into that orphanage in the first place. The little kid that witnessed her parent’s death in front of her eyes didn’t understand why her parents took so long to wake up or why they never did when she waited for so long hiding among strangers or despite having a home, why she was sent to a place where she knew no one. There was no answer to why you never saw your uncle and aunt again and why they never came to take you back. As you grew up, you gave up on them. the car crash had crushed every relation you had with the home you once dearly loved and now you were conflicted with the new information that was thrown your way. your uncle and aunt were under illegal possession of the house that allegedly belonged to your father and after his demise, to you. but what would you gain by going back? Bricks and cement could never compensate or alleviate the pain that you had learned to live with. Even with law on your side, tormenting them would be of no benefit to you. So you said what you had decided years ago.

“I-I don’t want to sue them.” you replied meekly, eyes still fixated on the thread holding the legal papers together.

A sound of disapproval caught your ears as mr. jung spoke against your decision,

“no y/n. Those leeches abandoned you to rot in an orphanage and are living comfortably with insurances and the house that belongs to you. all that money could have been used for your future. You don’t need to be afraid of them. kun would provide you the finest lawyers and within two hearings, they would be in jail for committing fraud and trespass. And as a lawyer yourself, you should know better than to let them go off like this.”

Everybody heard but no one spoke.

“no.” you raised your head to face him and swallowed hard before continuing, “I do not want to meet them”

“don’t you want to go back there? that’s your home.” Somewhere from your left, Johnny spoke.

“never.” You refused immediately. “the people who live there were never my family. They never wanted me a part of their family. I’m clearly not their blood. The people who adopted me are not alive anymore. Those who loved me left me years ago. For a ridiculous sum of money, they didn’t even say their goodbyes to me. I was left there thinking that maybe one day someone would come. But money wins over love. It always does. And i don’t give a shit about them. I have learned to live on my own. I never needed their love. And I certainly don’t want more of their hatred.”

Inhaling sharply, you spat your speech in a single breath. Your words weren’t emotionless still you didn’t feel them like others did.

“I think we should bury this matter.” this time your voice was polite.

They nodded.

Mr. jung, however, wasn’t done.

“Okay so no one would mention this but keep these papers with you. you never know when this might come handy. After all, you are the sole owner of those properties your father left. Now you see, we grease the palms of officers so we can escape the shit we create for ourselves but people like your family are worse than the devil hi-

Multiple coughs halted his train of words. His breather was immediately fished out of his pocket and handed over to him. once he regained his senses, he begin again,

“never mind. Family must be protected y/n and those who fail to do so slaps the most precious value away from them. it’s not necessary that you should cherish something when it’s really out of your reach. at least i can die peacefully knowing that you all would settle down finally. If yuta can leave his chaser personality to find love, there’s hope for everyone here and speaking of yuta, when he’s arriving?”

“in two hours”

Your eyes widened and a hiccup escaped your throat. You voiced out a hum of surprise, gathering everyone’s attention.

“You weren’t told?”

You football sized eyeballs told mr. jung that you certainly weren’t aware.

“I guess I just spoiled a surprise then. Forgive me, I'm old and I am also hungry. Show some courtesy to your guests and feed me and y/n.”

Hyuck jabbed at him before they all got up to run for their seats in the dining room. “You are old. Why do you even need to eat anymore. Go to himalayas, eat snow and acquire some peace. That’s what old people should do!”

Everyone seemed too occupied with their bickering to pay you any mind so you dragged a reluctant taeil to his room, demanding answers for the latest drama they had launched in your name.

"I'm so sorry about that. The day after reception at the office, uncle suddenly asked about your family and that got me curious too so I ended up searching in deep and that led me to this whole discovery. I swear i never meant to breach your privacy y/n." Taeil pleaded in a low whisper as he locked the knob.

"Why would he do that though?"

"He's just too sensitive when it comes to families. He even told me to find your real parents but I got no luck there because you were adopted from an open adoption center from a different country. I found no information on them but I'm sorry about that." His ramble was again reduced to a murmur..

Playing with your fingers, you signed heavily before replying,

"Thank you for your effort but you should have asked me first.”

"Did you perhaps know anything about their schemes?"

"Right since I learnt about the adoption laws. I couldn't have been adopted without a security registered under my name. Maybe that property was the house where they are living right now"

"I'm sor-

"When were you going to tell me about that little whiny bitch? He's coming back in a few hours? I have to live with him again? " Scrunching up your nose in disgust, you bellowed.

"Yeah. He and taeyong had a long love chat yesterday. He was indeed being dramatic so i wonder what happened between them that he agreed. But he's coming back yeah. It was inevitable anyway. I don't know how you want to approach this but I'd say don't choose conflict. Eventually you have to live together so why try to break each other's necks. I've said this before and I'd say it again he-

"He's not that bad? I don't understand how easily you forget that I'm in this predicament because of that man. How can you expect me to make peace with that fucking piece of shit who had his gun pointed to my head since very first day?"

"Are we that insufferable?"

"Don't change the topic"

"I'm not changing it.You said predicament. We are also part of it right. Do you really hate us that much?"

Your eyes softened, reflecting his tone. No, they were just mildly bearable. And no, there wasn't any need to admit it either.

"Taeil, you sound like the voice of reason here. Taeyong seems fishy too but he's too unpredictable. He's like a chameleon. Others don't seem to have any power in your stupid hierarchy I've come to notice so it's you right? You are the one who told taeyong to marry me to that poopface and spare my life. It is definitely you.” staring him right in the eye, you pointed your forefinger at him.

"Please do me a favour and don’t use your brain too much y/n. I already have too much on my plate. I don’t need another one. If you don’t want our uncle to die due to a heart attack caused by your and yuta’s actions, stay shut. Now let’s eat before they gobble down everything.”

Our uncle! Yeah sure, you thought.

14:00

Standing alone in the kitchen, fidgeting with your hands, you tried your best to eavesdrop but nothing coherent met your ears. You indeed expected the army of men to have a party when their estranged soldier would arrive but the welcome outside sounded more like a hue and cry. The screaming indicated anything but happiness.

Your dilemma ended when you heard your name being called, the voice belonging to senior jung. You couldn't understand why he loved shouting when clearly his lungs couldn't take anything in higher volume.

Walking into the living room, you saw everyone seated in a very civilian manner but their conversation was difficult to hear amidst the babble.

“Come sit” Mark, who had gone to fetch yuta from the airport, spoke.

As you took the seat next to taeil, your eyes fell on the raven haired man and met his own. If his blonde hair shrieked peril, the black softened all the darkness his previous hair projected. Mayhaps, it was the black rimmed glasses he wore. You didn’t even know he had eyesight issues. He looked different.

He might have looked non-barbaric for a few seconds but his intense eye roll with the twitched lips upon meeting your eyes caused you to scowl. That’s when you noticed the elbow crutch on his left arm leaning against his outstretched leg. Nothing seemed wrong. You sized up his both legs with a crease of confusion forming on your forehead. You might have been looking too hard for your unasked doubt was answered by none other than yuta himself.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You scrunch your nose at the politeness that dripped from his lips, the honeyed words clearly in contrast from the uneasiness he felt while uttering them. Though the words were directed at you, he never regarded you directly and you weren’t sure how one was supposed to act in such a pretentious setting.

“No, definitely not a scratch.” Mr. Jung interrupted your internal unrest, interpreting your silence to be worry for the boy. “His left thigh is bandaged so it needs a lot of care. You might need to take some days off given how much movement hurt him. and you! I know you don’t want to worry her but lying around won’t work. she can’t tend to you unless she knows where you need care.”

He mildly instructed him as you found yourself staring at yuta’s brown cargo pants which hid whatever injury was being mentioned. The said words were dodged by your ears even before they’d have entered. The problem laid with the response that was expected of you. you couldn’t have possibly replied to him your true intentions that included ducking every wifey duties you were supposed to fulfil but like everyone else and as taeil had explained, you didn’t want the blood of an old man on your hands so you just played along.

“yes.”

That was enough for playing, you decided. Your quietness, for the first time won't be subjected to judgement as the dejection was expected.

“I think you both should go home now. I have some business to sort out here.” he got up and walked past you, not before petting your hair lovingly. He also smacked yuta on his head and mumbled something on the lines of how he should have enjoyed his last overseas trip and whatnot.

Once he, taeil and taeyong were out of sight, chatter started again. hovering over yuta, they dropped questions like he was in some interview and you remained seated, waiting for their next request they were possibly going to annoy you with.

“did you like france?”

“what the fuck! you didn’t tell me about the hair colour. Now I want to change mine too!” that was ten.

“why are you wearing pants if your thighs hurt?”

“I’m sorry for laughing at you earlier.”

Right when you thought you were specialising in drowning the sounds, Johnny's voice caused you to jerk your head towards them. Not the voice, maybe the question he asked!

“dude! Where did you exactly fall from? The room is on the ground floor and your work didn’t even require you to switch places. How can you break your leg while monitoring the local cells?”

Only two sentences were needed for the laughter to escape the confines of your stomach and the realisation that you actually thought about a bullet or a knife being the reason of the harm only elevated the amusement you felt. understandably, you became the center of their attention.

“who the fuck are you laughing at?” yuta sneered.

“you.”

The twisted bitter smirk on yuta's face told you that he still needed some good time getting used to your unfiltered tendencies but by the suppressed snickers that chenle and hyuck let out, their voices recognisable to you by now, you were sure at least a few of them were enjoying your jabs as much as you did.

"Fuck off." He finally barked, breaking the harsh eye contact.

"Happily!" You remarked, raising yourself from the cushioned seat.

"Where are you going y/n?" Intersected jungwoo.

"Home. Tell mr.jung that college called. It's Saturday so I've to visit the library anyway."

"Wait I'll drop you both."

Glaring at Johnny, you wordlessly challenged him to repeat what he said.

"Yes. You and him are not leaving alone. Uncle is still here. God forbid if he decides to stay the night, we won't have answers for him." He rather whispered to you.

"That sounds like a problem for you. My pact was over as soon as I saw that face. And I can guarantee you the feelings are more than mutual from that side too." Rolling your eyes towards yuta, you said.

"No no no! You can't do that yet!" Johnny came closer and continued his whispering, "please y/n. I promise he'd behave. Uncle did so much for you, can you help us this one last time? And yuta was returning anyway. If not today, then four days later. Please? You'd do that for me right?"

Sometime while talking, his fingers had found your hand and you weren't sure if he was aware of it or not.

But you were. And that had caused a little temperature problem in your whole body as you felt warmness enveloping your whole being.

And it seemed like your ears had stopped working too.

"Y/n! Are you hearing me?"

"Are you fine?"

His hand on your cheek broke your trance and your eyes darted away to look at his eyes, finding the same worry in them. Why was he so genuine, you thought.

"Are you sick?"

He questioned again, to which you only stuttered.

"No. I'm fine john. What were you saying though?"

"I said yuta needs to go back home. Please. He can't stay here even if we don't want him to be alone."

Somehow, you found yourself mindlessly nodding at his words. A cheeky contagious smile appeared on Johnny's lips, your own slightly curving on both sides. He backed away after caressing your face, the action more noticeable to others than he probably had intended.

"Let's get you home baby boy." Johnny snickered at yuta earning a slap from him.

"Fuck off bitch. At least feed me something before I leave. I'm hungry!" He screeched, hitting Johnny's leg with the end of his stick.

"What about the jjajangmyun you had in the car? How can you still be hungry?” Mark chirped up innocently.

"Oh come on. Don't make excuses.I'll bring some food in the evening." Johnny offered when yuta was busy giving a stink eye to mark.

"I too need some compensatory food john.”

“What the fuck do you mean compensatory? You live in that house because of me! Don’t imply yourself as the owner of that place!” you rolled your eyes for the nth time at yuta’s words, dismissing his words with the action.

“Why dont you donate your eyeballs to someone like me who can actually make better use of them. Instead of rolling them to the back all the time, I shall happily play tennis with them.”

“If my habits annoy you that much then why are you going back to breathe the same air as me. I’d be more than happy if i don't have to see your cursed face daily!”

“Stop you both.” Johnny's back shielded your view as he spoke. “He’s still here! Renjun, go and run a checkup for him and tell me how bad his leg is in actuality or is he just crying like a baby.”

In defeat, you sat down again. Fifteen minutes passed and despite being sleepy, you tried your best to listen to donghyuck’s ramble of something that jeno did the other day. All you heard was how jungwoo and jeno had a fight over piggyback rides and after that every word was transformed into a chant of word sleep as it hit your ears. Though it was early afternoon, the whole week had been nothing but tiring.

Once again your relaxation time was robbed off by none other than yuta. Maybe this was the end of your peaceful days.

Hopping off, you hurriedly whisked away before Johnny and Jungwoo could say anything to you. Two men were enough for towing the baggage.

As you stripped yourself off your jeans, an exhausted cackle left your lips when Johnny's words echoed in your head. During the car journey, he gave you some instructions in case of some emergency. That emergency being yuta! Not that you were going to put up with any of yuta’s demands, you listened to them anyway. Amusingly, yuta wasn't injured due to falling from stairs. He was getting drunk on the roof of a random building when he had launched himself into a sharp edge of a railing that gave him stitches all over his left thigh. Now he was as good as an exhausted car freshener.

As they settled him down, you didn’t bother going out even for a second. Choosing sleep over your much needed trip to the library, you tucked yourself into white sheets as the light breaths from air con lulled you to sleep.

17:00

Sitting in the library, your fountain pen ran along the plain pages like you were writing a well known story and not your thesis. The words were flowing like water and you felt no difficulty as you finished pages with the speed of light. Everything was going smoothly. You felt happy. And suddenly your hand stopped moving. It was glued to a single point, the nib leaking out on that spot. Next moment, your thoughts were muddled and a distant shuffling distracted you. The more you tried to move your wrist, the more forceful the noise became. Your breathing got heavier and your body jammed, the whole weight punching onto the weak muscles of the hand.

Your attempts never stopped but the noise did and it transformed into loud thumping coming right from your heart.

You tried to inhale but something stopped you.

Then you heard the calls of your name.

Rapid and loud.

Your body jerked forward and your breath finally returned as your eyes opened.

You had woken up from a dream. You were still in your room and the loud thumping was the loud banging on your door.

“y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.”

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing on your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

****

Stay safe everyone. 2021 is just 2020 with a change of pajamas😑wear your mask and force others too🌝

[leejungchans]

— dance with me?

word count: 1.7k

pairing: dino (svt) x ateez oc (juliet)

warning(s): none!!

genre: an overwhelming amount of fluff bc i love lee chan

set on february 11, 2021

summary: during a late-night date on dino’s birthday, he asks juliet a special question.

juliet’s masterlist

minnie 🐭❤️ [22:16] i’m heading down now!! (◕‿◕) don’t drive off without me please ur so sexc 😩😩

From where he is, parked a street down from the building where ATEEZ’s dorm is in, Chan shakes his head fondly, looking out the window from the driver’s seat for any sign of his girlfriend.

Sure enough, just a few minutes later, Juliet emerges from the building’s entrance, glancing down the mostly empty street before spotting the familiar car.

Under the light of the street lamps, he can see that she’s wearing a huge puffer jacket with a scarf wrapped around her neck, purple hair stuffed under her beanie to avoid catching the attention of prying eyes. With all the layers she has on, she reminds him of a waddling penguin as she speed-walks towards the car.

Cute.

Chan unlocks the door as Juliet approaches, her eyes smiling while she settles into the passenger’s seat before leaning over the console to hug him. “Happy birthday, Channie,” she beams, taking off her mask to nuzzle the bottom half of her face into the thick material of her scarf.

“You already said that,” Chan teases, also smiling as he watches her fumble with the seatbelt for a bit.

“That was from almost twelve hours ago at 12 am! I think it’s illegal if I didn’t wish you a happy birthday again,” Juliet protests. “Sorry for being late, by the way. Have you been waiting long?”

“It’s only a few minutes, don’t sweat it.”

“Okay, but there’s actually a good reason! I was about to leave the building when Mingi-oppa called me because I left your present on the table, and I had to go back up to grab it! So you have him to thank that you have a birthday present.”

Juliet takes out a small gift bag, its handles tied together with ribbon so he can’t look into it, and hands it to him with a sweet grin. “Don’t open it now, though,” she warns half-jokingly.

“What? Why?” Chan whines. “I can’t even open my own present on my birthday?”

“No, because if you open it now then I’ll have to explain the meaning behind your gift, and if I do that I might actually cry. There’s a card inside explaining it.”

“What if I want to hear it from you?”

“Then you can call me when you get home,” she responds cheekily.

Chan relents. “Fine, you win. But you didn’t have to get me anything, I hope you know that,” he adds the last part seriously.

Juliet smiles reassuringly. “I know, but I wanted to. I hope you’ll like it, though.”

“I know I will.” It’s at that moment when he finally gets a good look at her face, the light from the street lamps hitting it just enough for him to note the dark circles under her eyes. “You look tired, baby. Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful no matter what, but is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” As though on cue, Juliet brings a hand up to cover her mouth as she yawns. “Just a little tired from comeback preparations and practising for Kingdom. I’ll be fine, though, don’t worry.”

“I’ll always worry about you,” Chan admits. “You shouldn’t have come so you can rest.”

Juliet frowns. “No, I wanted to see you. Plus, it’s your birthday.”

“Okay, but you have to promise that you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I always do!” A pause. “Okay, sometimes I don’t, but I’ll try,” she promises genuinely.

Chan smiles. “Good. Let’s go, then. Seatbelt on?”

“Mhm!”

“Um, where exactly are you taking me?” Juliet asks suspiciously, noting that they’re currently driving up a hill away from central Seoul.

“Patience, Minnie. You’ll find out soon,” Chan says with a mischievous smirk. “We’re almost there.”

She feigns an offended gasp. “I am always patient! I’m just asking because I’m too pretty to meet my end now.”

“If something happens, I’ll protect you.”

“Nice try, but don’t think I haven’t watched that episode of GOING SEVENTEEN with you guys in the haunted house,” Juliet teases with a raised brow. “If anything, we probably need to call Wonwoo-ssi or Minghao-ssi.”

Chan groans. “Can we not talk about my members when we’re on a date?”

This only earns a laugh from Juliet. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“You’re going to tease me even on my birthday?”

“It’s how I show affection!” she defends while the car comes to a stop at the side of a dimly lit road. “Are we here?”

Upon his nod, she unbuckles her seatbelt to hop out the car, snow crunching under her boots. Immediately, harsh winds whip at her face and she shivers, the temperature even lower due to the higher elevation.

She hears a lighthearted tsk from behind her before feeling her jacket being draped over her shoulders. “You left it in the backseat, silly,” Chan says softly while he helps her into it, referring to when she took it off during the car ride. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“No, I won’t. I have you to remind me,” Juliet says cheekily, earning herself a light flick on the forehead. She follows Chan to a clearing a few paces away from where they parked and immediately realises why he took her here.

Seoul, with its sparkling lights, is captivating at night when you’re in the heart of the city, but perhaps even more so when you’re looking at it from afar. She can’t help but admire the stark contrast between the tranquil hillside they’re at that compared to the vibrant city centre it overlooks.

“I sometimes come here with the members when we want to be away from... the loudness of it all,” Chan explains quietly as they move closer to the railing. “To think. Or just to take our mind off certain things.”

Juliet leans closer to his side to link their arms, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Don’t come to places like here often?”

She snorts. “I don’t just let anyone drive me to a dark hill in the middle of the night.”

Chan laughs, gently resting his head on hers. “You have a point. Does this mean I’m the only person allowed to take you here?”

“I’d like that. I also have a horrible sense of direction, so I don’t think I can remember the way here even if I tried.” Despite her quip, something in Juliet feels fuzzy and warm at the thought of this place being one only they know of.

It brings a sense of giddiness, the same one she felt when she was much, much younger; when she and her friends first decided on a secret hideout at their school back home in Sydney. Only this time, there’s more to it than just childhood innocence.

Juliet doesn’t know much about love. She’s had crushes here and there throughout her life, but none of them ever developed into something further. Of course, until she met Chan.

She doesn’t know much about love. But this feels like it.

And that’s more than enough for her.

His voice cuts through her thoughts. “I actually have something to ask you.”

At her hum, he continues.

“I was wondering if you’d want to be on Danceology. You know, like for a collaboration. We can choreograph and dance it together... anything you want, really.”

Juliet looks up at the boy with wide eyes, not knowing if she heard him correctly. “You’re sure?”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. Or you don’t have to decide now, I know you’re really busy these days. No pressure at all.”

“No, no,” she clarifies. “I meant if you’re sure you want to do one with me?”

The look in his eyes is so tender that she feels like crying. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Something tells her he’s not only referring to Danceology.

Juliet leans her forehead on Chan’s shoulder to hide her face from him. “You’re going to make me cry on your own birthday,” she mutters.

“Is that a yes?”

She nods against him while blinking away the hot tears prickling at her eyes, feeling his lips press against her temple.

“That’s the best present you could’ve given me.”

“Yah, you can’t say that!” Juliet says, somehow finding it in her to crack a joke. What can she say? Humour is one of her many coping mechanisms. “You’re only supposed to say that if I didn’t give you anything! What does that make the gift I got you?”

“Best of the best?” At her laugh, Chan presses again, “am I still not allowed to open it?”

“No, you’re not.”

[00:05—Outside ATEEZ’s dorm]

“Okay, fine, you can open it.”

“What made you change your mind?” Chan grins, already reaching for the small bag in the backseat.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Juliet admits, smiling as she uses the dimmest setting of her phone’s flashlight to illuminate the dark interior, the overhead light being too risky to turn on at this hour lest they want to draw unwanted attention to themselves. “I guess I want to see your reaction.”

She stares quietly as he undos the ribbon tying the handles together before looking into the bag and taking out a small box. Despite her shyness and the sudden urge to jump out of the car and run back up to the dorm, Juliet continues to hold up her phone as he takes out the silver band within it.

It’s simple, minimalist, inconspicuous enough to wear during the day but at the same time uniquely his due to the custom engraving on the outside of the band. A snowflake.

She bites the inside of her cheek from nervousness as Chan silently reads the small card that came along in the bag, subconsciously tracing over her neat handwriting with his finger.

“Like a snowflake, I fell for you hahahaha (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) You asked me to be yours during the first snow of the year. I hope that is only the start of many more years to come. Happy Birthday, always be happy and healthy ❤️ And don’t forget to take care of yourself!! (♡`Д´) If you forget I’ll come over and nag you, but maybe you’d like that more than not ㅋㅋㅋ — 🐭❤️”

Chan’s eyes are glossy when he finally meets her curious and worried gaze, trying to gauge his reaction. He beams brightly.

“Told you I’d like it.”

find their collaboration here!! 😼

a/n: blessing you guys with this gif bc look at him go!! ;-; stream dino’s dancelogy to be sexcie 😼 pls don’t let juno flop </3 also i thought it’d be too mean if i didn’t tell you what the present was bc i definitely considered not saying anything about it 👀👀 anyways let me know what you think about this chapter 🥺 personally i am <///3 bc bwhehwhs i want what they have but also i’m not very good at writing fluff whjehdhw i cringe at myself sm when writing it 🤡

thank you so much for reading 💕 please do consider leaving feedback whether it’s a reblog, a reply or an ask, it would mean the absolute world to me as feedback really motivates and supports creators 🥺 and feel free to chat with me about juliet or anything else through my asks!! as always, take care and have a good day!!