#// but i also just luv how it has constant fighting

[herofics]

Yooo, remember a WHILE back when you made those Sloth HC’s for Mina and Kiri? (Took me a lot of scrolling, you make TONS of great stuff luv.)

Could you somehow transfer that to JJK with Todo and Maki? I just love the concept of it and how you’d incorporate that in their world.

A/N: Thank you, if you want to find posts easier, the masterlists are linked in the pinned post. The post/request can be found here and it was pretty fun to write back then. It was also pretty fun to write now too. These are based on how the characters are in the anime, rather than in the manga, because the manga is so much ahead. Did HCs since it’s the easier option, but I gotta admit I don’t have a particularly good grasp on Todo’s personality especially, but I hope these are fine

~Zenin Maki~

•Your cursed technique stockpiles cursed energy the more slothful you are

•It comes with your physical abilities strengthening and your cursed energy becoming more intense (Idk how the hell CTs or CE works)

•You do your daily things, you train with the others and stuff like that, but you always do it the easiest way possible, the way that requires the least effort

•Maki wasn’t a big fan of you when you first started in Jujutsu High, you started at the same time and she found you quite infuriating

•You never seemed to take anything seriously, most of the time you were just lounging around, yawning, looking generally tired and being lazy

•But when she saw you fight for the first time, actually fight against a curse when you were assigned on a mission together, she was stunned to silence, which is a pretty impressive feat for anyone when it comes to Maki

•You always liked her, you thought she was badass and no matter what anyone else thought, strong

•You and Maki actually end up becoming pretty close after you saved each other’s asses on the first mission you had together

•The dating thing just kind of happened without either of you really realizing it, until Panda made some off hand comment about you two dating and you were both like “We’re not dating!”

•Which led to the conversation of “Are we dating?” and ended with the conclusion of “I guess we are”

•When you overexert yourself, you fall asleep very soon after, therefore you have to be good at distributing your cursed energy evenly so you don’t run out

•You also have to sleep for a pretty long while after to get your cursed energy back to a normal level

•Maki doesn’t really care if you’re lazy, since you still put effort into the relationship and you can hold your own and you’ve got her back in a fight

~Todo Aoi~

•Todo used to not have a very high opinion of you, because of how lazy you were

•He felt like you never put any effort into anything, especially physical training, which was very much the case but he didn’t yet understand why

•You never really talked about your cursed technique, because you didn’t see a reason to

•So Todo didn’t know about how it worked or that your lifestyle was very good for your cursed technique

•When you finally got annoyed at his attitude and the constant chastising, you told him about your cursed technique

•Now he can just complain to you about your martial arts and close combat technique, which he does

•Todo actually starts helping you with honing your technique, which includes a lot of sparring and you getting beat because you don’t want to use your cursed energy on him

•He wouldn’t kill you, and getting at least a bit beat up was a pretty daily thing for you as a jujutsu sorcerer

•Todo has had to carry you back from missions a few times when it got tough and you over exerted yourself, because you fell asleep

•He doesn’t mind, and he’s much gentler with you now that you’ve started dating

•Before he just threw you over his shoulder and carried you kind of carelessly

•When you need to recharge, you like to sleep in his bed

[shesay]

I need some advice. I recently was broken up with and I'm reeling from it. We met when i was 19 and he was 32 and we ended up hooking up 6 years ago. He didn't tell me until after we hooked up that he had a wife which started a crazy feud, but he eventually divorced his wife and convinced me to be in a relationship with him. The relationship was pretty rocky at first because he was very emotionally abusive. Like he would constantly reprimand me for doing the wrong thing and saying the wrong thing and would lecture me for hours and not let me sleep until I agreed with him. I used to live with him sometimes because my mom got evicted and i couldn't hold down a stable job because I had an untreated learning disability and he would pick fights with me every day when I would say/ do the wrong thing and sometimes he would even kick me out.

While he did all this its v confusing bc he was also very good to me at the same time?? He helped me out when I was evicted and let me live rent free with him. He helped me get my diagnosis and helped me look for a job. He helped me get over some of my insecurities and would urge me to go to therapy and helped me get my driver's license. The last 2 years he started becoming more spiritual and became a lot nicer to me (He would still reprimand me but not as often) and urged me to do yoga and meditation. He started getting serious and during that time he was throwing ideas around of leaving everything behind and going to a yoga center etc. I was so drained atp from the constant mistreatment and feeling like I wasn't a priority so I went outside the relationship to explore my options. i met a guy that I was going to meet for dinner and just talk to, but I was drugged and assaulted. I felt so guilty that I told my boyfriend and he broke up with me. This was a year ago. Since then, we've been on and off because he would come back but couldn't commit because he couldnt trust me. Early this year he moved to a different state and he reached out to me to ask if I wanted to visit him out there in the summer. I was cautious but I agreed because I missed him. We started calling and texting every day and he started hinting that he wanted a relationship with me again. I started catching feelings again and was grateful for the opportunity to make things right because I fucked up. I bought the plane tickets and two days after I bought them he told me that he was getting women flirting with him out there and that he wanted to explore his options. I was so upset and I asked him why we couldnt work things out, he told me he still couldnt trust me after what happened. He told me it's best if I get a refund on the tix and just stay home. I felt so crushed, I felt like I was lead on and I feel so ashamed and guilty over what I did. The worst part is I felt like I ruined everything and it's my fault that the relationship ended the way it did. What do I do???? I have no friends and no one to talk to.

Omg 😭 idk how 2 advice u 2bh even tho I'm 20 and girls my age have been through alot of similar situations yk long term dating etc but I haven't thankfully anyways u were only 19 so young and naive and he was 32 🤮 and married he obv has no shame and u don't deserve what he made u go through and getting drugged and assaulted I can't imagine how horrifying that must be I'm v srry manifesting and praying 4 ur happiness and peace 💗 honestly i think uv been thru alot and u should take a break from males and focus on urself and ur own journey yk and i pray that u find good women friends who luv and cherish u.

[reaperheir]

3 is my fav one gameplay wise, but 2 is my fav humor & lore wise ( as well as details - it has amazing details in the game. if that makes sense )

[lunaastoir]

fluff/relationships w the liyue crew

characters included: xiao, childe, beidou, and zhongli

ik i forgot ningguang i promise i’ll include her in part 2, i just didn’t have time :(

all x a gn! reader 

my liyue babies :,) ft. ningguang in spirit

an: i was listening to my soft playlist (more like listening to cupid’s chokehold on repeat, no i am not basic 🔪) and i thought some fluff headcanons would be cute w these sweet people

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

xiao

ok so no surprise that he hates liyue harbor

he hates anything w a lot of people in it so he prefers to stay at wangshu inn tyvm

but by contrast, you love liyue harbor sm (it’s gorgeous i mean c’mON)

you go there often to retrieve your commissions in order to stay closer to xiao (liyue harbor is closer than mondstadt he argues but you’re well aware that they’re both equally far away)

so if anyone asked, xiao would absolutely refuse to go to the harbor like i hate people??? why would you even ask???

but,,,he’s so sOFT for you

if you asked??? he would agree in a heartbeat

but since he’s >:( angsty boy, he makes you think that he won’t go even when he’s already decided that he’s coming w you

he puts up the “if you so require, then i guess i will assist you with your travels in liyue harbor” but in reality he would definitely have said yes even without the almond tofu

while he hates the harbor, he thinks that with you anything is bearable :,) simp

you take him to see xinyan to vibe w her music and you can tell he really enjoys it

even tho he’s like 🕴 the entire time, you see the softer look on his face and the very slight smile on his lips as he listens to the music and watches the crowd

so so so cute very soft for him

i do see him as a subtly touchy person in public like brushing the hair off your face, swiping his thumb across your cheek, or gently pulling your hair back when you have a plate of food in your hands 

the type to link your pinkies together - he claims it’s so you don’t get lost but yk better 

after the concert is done you take him to that one waypoint near mt. tianheng and the both of you just watch the city lights and the way they reflect beautifully on the water surrounding the harbor 

personal headcanon that xiao absolutely loves stargazing since he believes the stars are the one true constant in his life especially since he’s experienced so much loss (basically they’ll never leave him god i hate myself why do i make everything SAD)

mini headcanon off of that - he doesn’t stargaze with people,,, like ever 

it’s something he loves to do alone so the fact that he lets you stargaze w him and even allows you to shift your head onto his lap while you watch the sky is a huge deal 

he loves it when you softly whisper abt how your day was or something you saw that made you laugh 

he just loves hearing your voice, it automatically calms the voices in his head 

you absolutely ADORE when he has flowers in his hair especially cecilias (cecillias? ceccillias? idfk) and you make a point whenever you go to mondstadt to pick a fresh batch of cecilias just for xiao while enlisting the help of your favorite bard  

these soft moments on the mountain are usually when you’ll sweetly tuck in a flower or two in his hair while laughing 

he’ll blush fiercely while looking away but will tuck the cecilias in securely as you’re unable to do so due to the position you’re in on his lap

all in all - this was not meant to come out as a date idea but we’re going w it 

this is so cute xiao pls let me put flowers in your hair sweet boy <3

childe

god, loml, my favorite war criminal after eren yeager 

there’s never a dull moment w this man - if you wanted peace and quiet, why the hell are you dating him bestie???

is the type of person to yell out “Y/N, i can’t believe i ran into you here!” if he sees you somewhere even tho you explicitly told him you were going to be here in the morning (ik you have a good memory ajax don’t lie to me 😐)

i don’t see him as being obnoxious w pda unlike someone else kaeya but he would definitely participate (think: handholding, cheek kisses, an arm around your shoulders)

loves it when he comes home and sees you in an apron cooking 

domesticity just makes his heart melt so you can be sure that your face will be peppered w a lot of kisses afterwards <3 

absolutely ADORES it when you trace his scars absentmindedly when you’re lying down or even when you’re having dinner in public  

he’s been far from his family for so long that small acts of mindless affection like this really make his heart happy 

you have him drunk on your love luv haha see what i did there 

he will let you put makeup on him. no i do not take criticism ⛄️

he already has on lowkey thick eyeliner,,, don’t be shy put some more bestie 

he will shamelessly go out in public w whatever you made him wear - doesn’t really give a shit even tho he has a reputation to maintain 

speaking of reputation,,, yk his mask? yeah that one - the red hair accessory that he has on his head

well on the mask, he attached a little charm the both of you got together on your first date during lantern rite 

it’s this adorable fox that we all shamelessly kill for meat and he placed it so it anchored to the side of his mask so when he fights it isn’t a nuisance or anything (does that make sense??? i hope it does) 

his subordinates notice and while they’re stoic around childe, behind closed doors they do whisper abt the mysterious person who’s captured his heart 

not so mysterious anymore when they literally see him cling onto you during his daily patrol around the harbor 💀

it’s ok tho he’s lucky he’s cute 

bestie,,, pls give him a neck massage 

i just KNOW he’s tense there idk something abt the way he carries himself just screams “my neck hurts so bad someone pls help me i would ask but my pride literally will not let me”

so give him a neck massage :) don’t worry tho he’ll definitely return the favor and then some

LOVES TICKLE FIGHTS 

he’s obsessed w them,,, it’s just the faces you make??? he can’t get enough 

he loves seeing the pure joy and the brief fear (he’s kind of a sadist) in your eyes before he attacks you w those damned hands 

it reminds him a lot of simpler times w his siblings and he’s happy he brings you joy and makes you forget your worries - at least for a little while 

all in all, he’s a good boy and no i will not tolerate childe slander 🔪 kaeya slander tho 😏

beidou

you pulled beidou??? wow everyone’s jealous (pulled as in literally from the banner and in this context but no i do not have beidou and no i definitely do not want to talk abt it)

god made beidou and zhongli just so all of us could have a sexuality crisis 

anyways, being w her is hard i will not lie 

not bc she isn’t a capable lover - no, quite the contrary 

she’s an amazing partner but the problem here lies in the fact that she’s almost never on land 

it’s hard working a long distance relationship but y’all love each other so it works out :,) 

when she is physically present however, expect to never be bored 

she’ll quietly fix the wrinkles on your shirt or fiddle with your fingers in her hands while she recounts her adventures out on sea 

she sometimes gets worried she bores you, however the way your eyes light up every time she tells a tale always reassures her otherwise

definitely the type to let you use her claymore if you want to learn 

she’ll provide useful tips as she tucks her hands into your sides gently, positioning you correctly so you don’t hurt yourself 

miss girl is an AMAZING cook 

i just know she cooks the best meals - i mean she’s friends w xiangling after all 

whenever she comes home from a voyage she’ll always insist on making something for you even if she’s abt to pass out 

pls tuck her into bed and promise her that she can make you something in the morning <3 the poor woman needs rest 

brings you back trinkets but they’re actually very practical 

she knows you won’t have much use for a simple charm (not that there’s anything wrong w that) but she believes you’ll like something practical more so she might get you a new engraved knife from the most recent place she’s been to 

definitely the type to surprise you when she docks 

i can imagine her anchoring her ship out a little ways from liyue harbor and rowing to the dock in order to make sure you aren’t alerted of her presence (i’m sorry the mental picture this made in my mind is SENDING ME INTO ORBIT but she means well i love you)

will take you to remote spots she’s found in her travels through liyue 

for example - the little heart shaped island and the island quest (?) that you had to use kaeya the bridge maker for in order to get to im sorry i’ll stop w the kaeya slander

she’ll get you seashell bracelets or necklaces idk why but she gives me those vIBES 

they’re super nice ones too, only the highest quality for you 

yes she’s a bruh girl but i also see her as someone who would enjoy intimate moments like watching the sunset or something 

“yo wanna catch the sunset, i heard it looks sick from the jade chamber” said before ahem it yk fell from the sky

kasdjksfashfjsahf yes ofc i would love to catch the sunset w you pls come home luv

anyways, she is a woman i would give the world for 

zhongli

ok gimme a sec i need to get my gentleman mode on 

this man,,, THIS MAN 

everything w him is so soft like your entire eXISTENCE w him could go in a museum it’s that beautiful 

in the morning when he visits you, he always brings you a cup of your favorite tea and a bouquet of glaze lilies he got from madame ping

holds the door for you, pushes the chair out for you, uses a napkin and brushes sauce off your lips when you’re eating - you name something sweet, he’s done it

secretly loves it when you fuss over him 

he doesn’t like to fight but say he encountered a group of hillichurls he couldn’t avoid and promptly defeated them but ended up tearing a part of his tux(?) (is it a tux? i could not tell you)

not that big of a deal, i mean it’s a scratch, he’s a 6,000 year old god, he’s dealt w much worse 

but seeing the worried crease in your brows as you usher him to sit at the table while quickly grabbing antiseptic to clean his wound

“it’s just a scratch, my dear. do not worry i’ve dealt with much worse.”

you quietly protest abt how “yes zhongli, i understand you’re an archon and have gotten worse injuries but i’m worried about infection just please let me take care of you ok? <3″ 

when you say that he feels weird emotions,,, wdym take care of him? 

he’s always taken care of himself or been expected to take care of others as the former ruling deity of liyue so having someone else genuinely worry abt his wellbeing creates a warm feeling in his chest 

he strikes me as the type to knit you something??? idk maybe it’s the grandpa vibes but i headcanon that he would knit you a scarf for the colder weather, it’s cute 

in the privacy of your home, he really likes picking you up

he loves it when you wrap your legs around his middle while he gets up to go do the dishes or smthg 

domesticity go brrrr

if you’re into making flower crowns, he would totally have you on his lap and wordlessly hand you a glaze lily whenever you expectantly hold your hand out while weaving the flowers together 

he expects you to make the crown for yourself but when you place the crown on his head and it fits perfectly while simultaneously tucking a glaze lily behind your ear, he looks at you dumbstruck 

his mouth parts open in awe and it’s quite literally the cutest thing

you’ve broken him 

thinks it’s the sweetest thing - will keep it on his head for the whole day 

he’ll even put it in water before he sleeps so it won’t wilt and he can wear it the next day <3 

scenic picnics!! scenic picnics!! 

the type to take you to the nicest spots in liyue to chat abt the history of the land w you over a cup of tea and your favorite food (whatever you like, he doesn’t mind)

recounts the people he’s met in his long life before finishing off by saying you’re by far the best person he’s met 

zhongli strangles lovingly come home soon 

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3 

[popi-the-fatui]

CHILDE BF HCs

(that no one asked for but here they are anyways)

A/N: this man needs some luv. Long post, there is a whole iceberg under the “read more”. Also, I tried to keep a Gender Neutral reader so pls DM me if there are any mistakes!!

TW: DESCRIPTION OF AN ANXIETY ATTACK, SPOILERS FOR THE REX LAPIS QUEST AND CHILDE’S PAST, a little bit of angst

🐋 Let’s bust some myths first: contrary to popular belief, Childe has no experience at relationships or intimacy at all. Non. Cero. The Venn diagram of romantic/intimate stuff and things Childe has done is a void. But it’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that he hasn’t had the time to experience any of these things because he is a busy man: between fighting, training and being a Harbinger, there is not a minute left for him to indulge in other things. 

🐋 The problem with this is that Tartaglia is a people’s person. He WANTS to be able to have someone that he can do these things with. At the end of the day, when he comes home tired after a mission, all he wants is someone to be waiting for him with cuddles, hugs, kisses, reassurance, caresses, or just a simple “how did your day go?” Because of this, he has a lot of pent-up love that he has not been able to give. 

🐋 In that note, he is also incredibly touch-starved: not only does he want someone to give that love to, but Childe also craves to receive it. When was the last time he was touched by someone in a context that was not a fight? He loves fighting, obviously: he has trained for a big part of his life to be able to defeat everything and everyone. But he is also just a human, and there are limits to how long a person can go without a loving touch. 

🐋 So when he finally falls victim to the first signs of infatuation, this poor whale man will have an internal battle: do I reach for them? Would they be better off if they never meet me? Will they accept me? Has my reputation already ruined this for me before it even began? How do I approach them? Do I look presentable? Am I going to scare them away? Childe will be torn between wanting to protect you from himself (as the Fatui business is not an easy pill to swallow for everyone) and protect himself from you (his heart would not handle rejection/disgust very well), and wanting to KISS YOU AND HUG YOU AND KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU BECAUSE ARGH WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO ADORABLE.

🐋 So he finally decides to compromise between these two stances, and let YOU decide whether you want him as a friend, a lover or a stranger. He starts greeting you whenever he sees you in the streets, subtly asking if you would like him to join you in your commissions, inviting you for lunch/dinner after a mission so you can recharge your energy, asking if you want to go and share drinks with him and Zhongli. You know, friendly stuff friends do. And he doesn’t even try to hide the happy smile that escapes him whenever you say yes to him: when it comes to you, there is nothing he needs to hide. Well, except for that one thing. 

🐋 He knows that you know he is somehow associated with the Fatui, if his constant trips to the Northland Bank aren’t enough to tell. Usually, Childe dislikes going around things as he much rather hit straight to the point (being the point a fight, a deal or just a simple conversation). But he has grown so addicted to the sensations you make him feel that he can’t help but to try to postpone that tiny little detail about himself for later. He has never had anyone who genuinely wants to spend time with him and that can keep up with him. Childe knows he can be quite intense and that rumors about him aren’t really rumors but WARNINGS, and to finally have someone, even if you’re just friends, that is actively trying to get to know the real him means so much, and he doesn’t want to let that go as selfish as he knows it is because there’s a chance you could get hurt (emotionally and physically). 

🐋 Unfortunately for him, everything that goes up must go down, and that fateful day comes when his plans to take Rex Lapis’ Gnosis blows back to him. After that brief, tense conversation with La Signora and Zhongli, Childe’s ego can’t be any lower: it’s not often that he loses, and much less often that he loses while feeling like a fool. He wants to scream, fight, punch, kick. Anything to take out the impotence and anger he is feeling right now. 

🐋 You found him in this state while you were looking for him to see if he was alright because a WHOLE ASS PALACE JUST FELL FROM THE SKY and you’re very concerned for him as you haven’t had any news directly from him and all you know is that apparently Childe was the cause of it?

🐋 As soon as he sees you, his blood-lust disappears and he no longer wants to fight something: he wants to cry from shame. Shame at being found in this state. Shame at failing. Shame at what you would think of him now that the cat’s out of the bag because from the look in your face is EVIDENT that now you know how far his relationship with the Fatui goes. 

🐋 He falls to the ground, tears finally coming out and he is crying ugly sobs while hiccuping nonsense about how he is a weak, pathetic, disgusting failure and it’s not fair it’s not FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR IT’S NOT-

🐋 “Look at me” you softly call to him, but he is panicking and hyperventilating and not responding to anything that’s outside of his head, so you decide to sit on your knees in front of him, gently cupping his face with your hands, caressing his tears away with your thumbs. 

🐋 “Childe, look at me. Please?” You try again, carefulness in your tone as to not startle him. And when he finally reacts and looks up, you don’t see Tartaglia the 11th Harbinger, nor Childe the fatui flirt. All you see is a broken man that carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, exhausted from constantly fighting against everything the world has thrown at him, and your heart aches for him and wonders how long this man has suffered alone, how long has he suffered in silence. 

🐋 “It’s okay, Childe. You’re okay. Can you breathe for me?” You position yourself behind him and put your hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles with your fingers to further calm him. “Breath with me, yeah just like that. Now hold it for a bit and then release it. Keep going, I’ll do it with you. I’m here”

🐋 Childe finds himself finding it easier to breathe with each inhale and exhale, and when he is finally going down from his high, catharsis hits him HARD. Is this what he has been missing all of his life? Is releasing all that pent-up frustration supposed to feel this good? And he feels a little selfish, because he knows he doesn’t deserve your comfort after the stunt he pulled, but Childe can’t help but become putty under your tender touches and your soft words, and he wishes for a different context, for a different past in which he never fell into the abyss, never joined the Fatui, never felt that the only way to survive was to fight. Instead, he wishes for a past in which he is traveling because he wants to, and he meets you, and he courts you and makes your cheeks heat up at something he said. And you are not touching him because he had a panic crisis that he himself caused. No, he imagines the both of you after a dinner date in Liyue. The sky is dark and the stars are shining but the streets are still full of people laughing and talking and the light from the lamps are reflecting beautifully in your hair. You are walking near the harbor, and you are holding his hand and he is giving you a kiss on your forehead because he can’t help himself. In another life, he would have found you and loved you the way you deserve and the way he needs. 

🐋 But he knows that now is too late, and all he has left is a mind full of regret because he did, in fact, hurt you. How could you trust him after this? How could you WANT him after this? So imagine his surprise when the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a soft “Are you ok now, Childe?”

🐋 “I- how- what?” He mutters in disbelief. Why are YOU asking HIM that? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

🐋 “You had me very worried back there. I thought you would stop breathing at any moment. You are not hurt, are you?”

🐋 And he laughs. A high-pitched, almost maniac laugh. “You know I was the cause of all of…” he says, moving his arms to signal, well, everywhere “...this, right? I believe you now must know what my real business in Liyue was, and that I’m not just some random Fatui officer”

🐋 “Well… I kind of suspected it? How many ‘random Fatui officers’ are carrying a Vision, huge amounts of Mora and have so many ‘meetings’ at the Northland Bank with the Qixing themselves? I mean, I didn’t know you were a Harbinger, but I did know that you were a higher up in the organization. I’m not dumb, you know?” you answer light-heartedly. 

🐋 “Then why would you keep hanging out with me? If you knew all of that, then you for sure must have known that people tend to keep me in a ‘do not trust’ list. People are wary around me, and they should! If you knew of the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve DONE. The reputation surrounding the Fatui, especially the Harbingers, wasn’t built on nothing, you know?”

🐋 “Don’t get me wrong. I do have somewhat of an idea of the things you do for a living. And let me be clear: I certainly do not condone it. And to be honest, I know that things between us would be easier if you weren’t a Fatui and I actually wish you weren’t one” you can feel how his whole body deflated at that, and even if you are sitting behind him, you just know he has a pout on his face, so you resolve for hugging him from behind and rest the side of your face between his shoulder blades, and continue. 

🐋 “But in the past weeks, I also had the opportunity to get to know you. Not Fatui you. But human you. I know that you have a family that you love very much and you do everything in your power to protect them. I know that you haven’t had it easy, and that some scars you have still hurt. I know that you absolutely can’t eat with chopsticks, but your pride refuses to give up and you try anyway. I know that you’re a passionate man that holds his dearest people close to his heart. I know that you hate when I’m sad so you’re willing to make a fool of yourself if that means I’ll end up laughing. I know how you wait outside of my building until my window lights up after you get me home so you are sure nothing happened to me. I know by the way you sometimes disassociate from the world around you that you are thinking of home and returning to your family” as you speak, you feel something wet falling on your upper arms, and realize that Childe is silently crying. You have half a mind to stop, but you also know that he needs to hear this, so you tighten your hug a little in reassurance. 

🐋 “I also know that whenever I see you with a new wound, I can’t help but worry for you and my first instinct is to check if you are okay. I’m now familiar with the way my heart skips a beat whenever I get to see one of your genuine smiles, especially when the reason behind them is that you get to spend some time with me. I know my eyes soften when I see you talking about something you’re passionate about. The truth is, I care for you, Childe. I really do, Fatui or not. Harbinger or not. And yes, while I would rather you not be one, I still can’t help but long for your company because you make me happy. Because I love you. So don’t underestimate me. I’m strong and so are my feelings. You being a Fatui is not gonna change that”. After this, you two sit in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not an awkward one despite your confession. You know he is gathering his thoughts so you move one of your arms that is wrapped around Childe’s torso to card your fingers through his hair, mindful of the knots that had appeared after the battle. If he doesn’t believe your words, then you sure hope he trusts your actions. 

🐋 Childe is the one who breaks the silence when he asks “How could you possibly love someone like me?”. If you weren’t sitting that close to him, you wouldn’t have heard it. He says this so softly, so gently, almost as if he was trying to convince himself and not you. 

🐋 “Silly boy” you laugh warmly. “Did you hear anything I just said?” You ruffle his hair, and finally, FINALLY, you can hear him giggle a little. “You don’t get to decide who I love. That’s my choice, and I choose to love you”

🐋 No kisses were shared that day. No grand, magnificent romantic gestures were made. Only the silent promise of two young lovers to love and cherish each other as they were. And maybe, just maybe, you could work things out, together, to build yourselves a brighter future. 

🐋 So after all has been said and done: congrats! You are now the proud s/o of Teyvat’s biggest simp. 

🐋 Childe is your number one fan. Everything you do is carefully recorded in his mind for later use. He has to go on a mission away from you? Be prepared to be pampered and being taken on several dates the previous week so this clingy man has something to hold on to. 

🐋 Also: he is shameless. He will not be afraid of making out with you in plain daylight on a busy street. But fear not! If you happen to not be a fan of PDA, he will try to be low-profile. You are, afterall, a person he treasures and can’t live without, so your comfort comes before his needs. Now, I say “try” because he will still demand to hold your hand and give you the random kiss on your cheek. 

🐋 HUGS. FROM. BEHIND. Watch him giving you hugs like Oprah. You are buying something? Cooking? Chilling? Expect to feel a pair of long limbs wrapping from behind you in a tight hug like a koala. It’s his hourly vibe check. 

🐋 Very jealous and protective of you. He is very afraid that one day you’ll realize there are plenty of people better than him and you’ll leave him, so please remind this simp that he is more than enough for you. 

🐋 He also has nightmares from the time he spent in the abyss and will take sometime for him to realize that he is no longer there, so give him a few minutes for him to come to his senses and then please for the love of the Tsaritsa cuddle the life out of him. Also on this note, I have the headcanon that he prefers being the little spoon. That, or facing each other and he rests his face in the crook of your neck while leaving little pecks there. 

🐋 Also you discover, to your surprise and as stated at the beginning , that this man has absolutely no idea how to do relationships. To compensate for this and to give you only the best of the best (as you deserve), he spends time in his travels to read romantic novels to have an idea of what to do, so don’t be surprised if he says or does something corny or cringey. 

🐋 The most chaotic “meet the family” you’ll ever have. As soon as he takes you to Snezhnaya, you will have all of his siblings running and tackling you into a bear hug (he sends A LOT of letters to his family about you and if you read them you would not be sure if he is talking about you or a deity).

🐋 He also tries to keep you out of anything regarding the Fatui. It’s a relief that you finally know about how deep his person runs in the organization, but he also wants to spare you from the details of what he does unless something is really bothering him. 

🐋 All in all, this golden retriever is your biggest hype man and the most loyal boyfriend. You will never get bored with Childe, as everyday is an adventure with him and he will make sure you to make you as happy and loved as you make him feel.

[swimmingleo]

good day to u leo this is an opportunity to expand on the dark side of the rainbow theory, if you want to— what parts of it really get you, why, what you think it All Means, any colour you like <3

omgggg heehee meggg here we go again <3 I already ranted about it here so i'm gonna try not to repeat myself too much rdfkjf but I think what I really LOVE about this theory is how the entire thing makes absolute total sense with what Pink Floyd consistently was about, whether it be the themes or on the technical side.

Ok first it all starts with this panel:

Time ?? Heart ?? ~Clock ticking~Heartbeats~ Tell me this bit of text doesn't scream PF dramatics, it actually sounds Watersian bro

also making me emotional, because DSOTM is dedicated to the lunatics, and later The Wall would be dedicated to paranoids and bleeding hearts, and they're both over 40yo, and they're the two PF albums that are still mainstream to this day and so their philosophy didn't went out of fashion, ueueue

On The Run:

The scene of Dorothy singing Over the Rainbow is dubbed with On The Run, consisting of planes exploding. PF uses again the image of a child dreaming about the sky only to meet violence in The Wall:

Look mummy, there's an aeroplane up in the sky [...]

Did you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter when the

Promise of a brave new world unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?, Goodbye Blue Sky

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true, Over The Rainbow

While Dorothy is convinced dreams really do come true, Pink realizes they don't because he still has to hide from danger even long after the war ended and peace was promised to everyone. As an adult, Pink references Over The Rainbow again, maybe trying to find shelter in childhood memories as he's violently judging himself for being "crazy". Over The Rainbow is just so ridiculously emOTIONAL and it sounds so fragile, the same way PF sounds whenever they mention a dream that is "gone" or "crazy"

Money

Dorothy opening the door to technicolor world makes the noise of a cash register opening. As she walks around the place, she really thinks she is over the rainbow and that she will find happiness there. In reality, she spends her time here running from danger and longs for home. The exact same morale concludes Pink Floyd's Animals: in their quest to satisfy their "need" (for money, fame or power), the dogs lie, betray and live in constant fear, forcing their way into a system that initially rejects them. Eventually, just like Dorothy, the dog realizes all they really need is the comfort and safety of home. animals my beloved my sexy depressing hopeful wife <3

Us and Them

MEG a lot of that is you and your magic notes and your thoughts>

That's where DSOTM playing through Dorothy's moral compass is sooo cool. At that point in the movie, she's praised for having killed a wicked witch and is told how to determine bad from good (Glinda says ugly witches = bad ones, but define ugly bro). The scene also exposes all the players: good witches, bad witches, munchkins, and lil clueless Dorothy. It really illustrates so well the humanistic values PF always is about: be compassionate, open and willing to experience before deciding who is good and who isn't. PF can sound misanthropic but their albums are really about ~luv in a. peculiar way. PF's philosophy is, humans aren't inherently bad, they're taught and led to fight each other by a handful of bad guys in command, who make their bread out of the fighting, and the cycle reenforces abusive systems. Money is what the fighting's all about, the greed of a few is what deepens the gaps between people under all prisms (it's really about intersectionality). I just LOVE that bit where Dorothy is happily skipping on the yellow brick road on the line "Out of the way, it's a busy day". She's just SO blissfully unaware of what that cute lil trip has in store for her <3

Any Colour You Like

The song starts PRECISELY when Dorothy is confronted to a crosspath. She is confused, as she was only told to follow the yellow brick road: problem is both paths are the yellow brick road.

Any Colour You Like is another cute sarcasm. While the title lets you think it's about being in power of your life's decisions, it actually refers to the illusion of choice: being presented with various options that are the same colour. All yellow for Dorothy, "all blue" according to Roger Waters' original metaphor.

IM JOKING but also living for inverted colors' transcending power

Brain Damage:

Following Any Colour You Like, Brain Damage overlaps with the Scarecrow's song If I Only Had A Brain. It's already a BIG coincidonk on its own but thing is it has history:

If there is ONE song in DSOTM officially explicitly written after and for Syd, it's Brain Damage. And Syd happens to have written a song for their first album clearly inspired by the Scarecrow. It's titled um. Scarecrow lol

The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows

In Syd's song, the Scarecrow does no thinking and is opposed to the speaker who does have a brain. Because the Scarecrow goes with the flow and doesn't make any choice for himself, life isn't unkind to him. However, In Brain Damage, the speaker's brain is judged insane, because they go against the rule and stray from life's designated path. So Life, "you", is trying to restrain or actually damage the lunatic's brain: attempting to turn the lunatic who knows who they are into the brainless Scarecrow again.

Meanwhile, the Scarecrow in Oz is obsessed with the idea of having a physical brain because he thinks he needs it somehow to fit in society, and do what people with a brain do. But he proves all along their journey that he's just as clever and functional without <3

Fun bonus, some fans saw in the cover of the live album Pulse (1995) the silhouette of a kid dressed in blue and wearing red slippers:

ANYWAY BASICALLY I don't know if the entire album was written after The Wizard Of Oz, like, with the aim of synchronizing them both together from the start, or if both concepts met at some point. Demos of DSOTM were played and experimented on tours (The Great Gig in the Sky started off as just ominous music and creepy readings of the Bible lol), and some early version of songs like Us and Them were originally written for other projects. It doesn't change the fact that the final selection was mixed and edited together to cOiNcidEntAlLy perfectly fit the 40 first minutes of The Wizard of Oz, but it's hard to tell how much writing was done with the movie in mind.

That being said I think they would totally have done it as a challenge first: it was at a time where they started to reaaally have fun with the possibilities technologies offered, and PF was always about experimenting and exploiting visuals as much as playing music. Given all the movies' soundtracks they did prior to DSOTM and how this album would be their first following a certain narration, it's really adequate in context and a great technical achievement for the time.

Overall, The Wizard of Oz is just THAT perfect medium to work with. Tale-like narration, grand visuals. It has been associated with populism, political and economic allegories as well as being a cultural monument of childhood and nostalgia. Mix it all up and you get Pink Floyd lmao

[vivinightingale]

Hey baby sis how you doin?? I see you got so popular and honestly I’m so frighten proud of you💖💖💖 To celebrate how about the classic Yugioh Bois celebrating accomplishments of their s/o whatever it may be?? Thanks a bunches luv and keep the Nightingale fam strong ☺️💖

Oof things have been crazy, but im.haning in there! I hope everything is going well for everyone tho! 🥺🥺💞💞💕💕

Yugi Muto:

You were an up and coming artist. You spent years improving your art, and yugi was there for every but of it.

He was already proud of every peice you made no matter how long it took he loved them all.

But when you finally got noticed on tumbler for beautiful art he was ecstatic for you!

No matter what it is this boy will honestly always be proud of you and your accomplishments.

Yami/Atem:

Going through fours years of college wasnt easy, but lucky for you your boyfriend was there for you every step.

Every sleepless nights with constant studying he was by your side with coffee.

He was even there for you through every break down you had. To reassure you that you got this.

And when you finally graduated he was there to pick you up and spin while singing your praise. He was so proud of you for pulling for and cant wait to see what you do next!

Joey Wheeler:

Gaming tourments were never an easy thing especially the big leagues. So when you entered joey was there for you to make sure you got plenty of food and water.

He honestly enjoyed watching you train for your competition, and though he didnt say much so you could concentrate he was cheering you on in his head.

He also loved the determined look on your face when you finally got to the tournament.

Though it was a king gruling battle you finally won the tournament and joey was so proud of you! He started yelling your name and praise all across the place and honestly you wouldnt have it any other way.

Tristan Taylor:

Track was was a gruling thing, but you enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment it gave you. You also weren't alont in this endeavor.

Every morning and evening you go running Tristan was right by your side. He had water bottles and words of encouragement.

When you started training for a marathon he was there to cheer you on and go as far as his legs could carry him.

Through a lot of training and Perseverance you made it first in the marathon. Tristan was soll proud of you that as soon as he saw you he picked you up and spun you around, and unlike you he was ready for the next marathon.

Duke Devlin:

Being a beautician wasnt as easy as it looked, but you trudged on. Lucky for you however Duke was there for you every step of the way.

He even allowed you to practice on him. He especially loved it when you played with his hair. It was so relaxing.

Without you knowing after every look you practiced Duke took pictures of it so when you finally became a full time beautician he could show you your progress.

And that's exactly what he did on the very night you graduated. Through every picture he showed he pointed out what he liked about every look, and how proud he was of you.

Seto Kaiba:

You wanted Seto to be proud of you so bad, so in secret you honed your duel monster skills using his technology to help.

He always wondered where you ran off to when he was at work, but was too busy to look in to it.

Mokuba however, wasnt and found out quickly what you were doing. He never told Seto, but he did try to coach you the best he could.

Seto never found out till your name was all over the news. An up and coming duelist quickly making their through the ranks. He never said it to you, but he was extremely proud of you.

Yami Bakura:

Sining covers was one of your favorite things, and how you met Bakura. Something about your voice had him enchanted sonhe called you his siren.

Your covers weren't really big, but that didnt bother you because you just enjoyed doing it anyway. (Though most time you would hear bakura mumble that no one has tastes)

You started off with a few loyal followers, but eventaully your channel grew bigger and bigger every month.

Until finally you were in of the top cover artists. Bakura was hella proud of you for clawing your way to the top. He would never say it, but actions speak louder then words.

Yami Marik:

Yami Marik was someone who wasnt easily impressed. It took a lot.to get him to sing your praise.

Like maybe defeating the pharaoh on your own?? Yeah that would about do it. So when he heard that you challenged the pharaoh he was intrested.

He watched the fight a grin plastered on his face the whole time. Watching the two of struggle was exciting.

When you won he couldnt help at laugh in both victory and mockingly at the pharaoh. Finally he could send him to the shadow realm and reclaim the throne for himself all because of you.

Bakura Ryou:

Pottery making was a favorite hobby of yours. Just being able to sit there and relax was amazing to you.

And bakura loved watching your process. Every piece always amazes him when he see it.

He helped you post every piece for everyone to see, and first it up to 10 views at most, but neither of you minded.

But once you started getting views in 100s both you were so happy. Bakura help you and said how proud he was of you, and how he cant wait to see you grow.

Marik Ishtar:

Archeology was gruling work, but you didnt mind it. Digging up history was always fun especially with Marik by your side.

Because your constantly had in the move it was a perfect fit for Marik's adventurous ways.

However one day you found the biggest find in your life time! Something that showed more of the Pharaoh's family tree.

When your find got it's own exhibit with your name Marik was so thrilled! He took you out on a fancy dinner to celebrate the whole time telling you how proud he was of you.

Care to buy me a Ko-fi??

[a-dumb-simp]

I really liked the idea of the brothers having chronic pain/image problems/general bad feelings due to falling so if it’s ok I’d like a little headcanon of MC helping them when they’re feeling down with these issues

Thank you for the request luv, I like this head cannon too, the boys need some love

This took me two days to write and I'm now so tired ngl but I love this one 🥺💕

gn M/C helping brothers with pain after the fall

under the cut v

Chronic pain

Lucifer

After the fall he always struggled with his wings

They seemed to weigh him down more after they were burned, the ash making them heavy as a constant reminder

He used his demon form a lot to intimidate others but was always somewhat ashamed of it

His pride was bruised from this form he had taken

On some days you would have to calm him down as he would constantly shift between forms, restless the entire day

Whisper words of praise to him as he's half asleep in your arms

He would fight you for a but denying anything was wrong but would give up if you pressed

Please press the issue, nothing will come of it if you don't.

Massage his back, his wings hurt and cramp up his muscles and he's always so tense

Just sit in silence and hold him

Be careful around his scars, be gentle, he doesn't like to acknowledge them

Just let him hold onto you, he needs something to ground him

Leviathan

When Leviathan fell his one wing had already been torn off, his other having broken when he hit the ground

He has little scars still on his back

Like Lucifer hates them, please be gentle around them

Stroke lines down his back

They still hurt sometimes when he's reminded of it, he loved his wings and is jealous of his brothers most days

When he goes into demon form, he most likely is shifted off-balance really easily, is used to having wings and suddenly has a tail??

This man is so insecure about his form

Praise him and don't let him insult back, just keep saying nice things until he gets too tired to respond

His back aches already from sitting over his computer constantly

Give him back massages and play with his hair

Put your hand on his lower back while walking around, he gets all flustered the first time but it really does help

Make him tea when he's in pain, and help him stand first thing in the morning

Image issues

Asmodeus

Asmodeus used to be the jewel of the Celestial, he was beautiful and knew it

When he feel he felt a piece of his shiny beauty fall apart

He did not handle the fall well at all, like Levi praise him

Do little things while complimenting him, make him tea, braid his hair, hold him

Ask him to show you demon form, it might take a bit of convincing but when he does lay him back and just shower him with praise

Kiss his wings and tell him how beautiful they are, kids his hand, his eyes, him

He needs reassurance, please promise him that you're telling the truth

He feels the need to prove to everyone his beauty, but let him know that you already are aware of it.

Mammon

He dealt with his demon form by trying to ignore it

Yes it's flashy and a lot, just like his personality, but he's never really paid attention to it

Some days he will wake up and without the weight of his wings will feel broken

He tried not to show it but you know

hold him, cradle his face in your hands and just hold him

Let him cry, he's already tearing up and grabbing onto your arms

Lay back down with him and let him fall back asleep

Lucifer isn't going to be very happy you're missing school but text him why and he’ll leave you alone

Mammon will also scare himself sometimes seeing his form in a mirror can make him flinch, he doesn't hate the form he just hates what it means and represents

He doesn't want praise or anything, that feels too forced, so just wrap your arms around his wait and stay there

Stay with him and hum something to calm him down

He's never actually dealt with these emotions before you so let him talk for hours

Bad Thoughts / Mentality

Beelzebub

Beel barely remembered the fall

He only knew that he grabbed Belphie and sudden was in the Devildom

He didn't even realise for a while just kind of sat there until someone guided him

He's going to need tight cuddles

He doesn't really care about his own demon form he just hates what his brother have to go through

Still believe most of it was his fault

Please reassure him it's not

Hold him and lay his head in your lap

He wants to just hold you in his arms or constantly have an arm on you shoulder when your around his brothers

He has to know you're still there and won't leave him like Lilith

He will become very quiet and try to make himself as small as possible

Try and distract him with sleepy hugs and cuddles

He won't let you go and that's alright

Talk him through it

Let him cry with you

Satan

He wasn't actually there for the fall

He feels as if he could have done more and blames himself

Maybe if he had been there he could have saved Lilith, maybe Levi would still have his wings if he hadn't had to fight alone

He would never admit it to his brothers but one night he told you everything

He doesn't cry he just spaces out and can't focus

The days where he can't even read, and get frustrated, read to him

Have him lay down with you beside him petting his hair and read his favourite mystery novels

He already knows all the ending but loves to hear your little gasps of surprise

Ask him questions about the books, rambling about his interests will get his mind off it and he will eventually fall asleep in your arms

Belphegor

Belphie also feels responsible

Why hadn't Beel chosen Lilith?

He doesn't blame Beel but instead blames himself

If he could have only fought better and paid more attention this wouldn't have happened

He would try to play it off as being tired but you can see the tears in his eyes

Tuck his face into your neck and whisper that it isn't his fault

On other days he will either sleep for a week or being up all the time which makes him incredibly angry

He gets into fights with his brother constantly like this

You've had to drag him out of multiple rooms before it could get worse

Pet his hair and let him sleep

Trap him by laying on top of him and not letting him get up until he falls asleep

He likes the sound of your voice so maybe talk about your day while he relaxes

His brothers are thankful you can calm him down because they getting worried about him

He's not good with emotions so you’ll have to coach him through everything

Have little talks sessions every week for each other

[elysianslove]

Hi! ☺️ could I request some demon slayer angst?? Maybe like Kyojuro x reader where his s/o is fighting along side him and something happens to them. Thank you ❤️

hi anon! idk if you read the manga or not, so i avoided spoilers. this doesn’t follow a specific timeline, it’s just random. also i love this man so much y’all i simp properly fml. anyways i hope this meets your expectations and you enjoy!!!

he admires you, so much, in every possible way. being with you, fighting alongside you, it means more to him than you could ever imagine. he admires the way in which you’re ruthless but forgiving, gentle yet rough on the edges. you balance everything out so perfectly, like you were made to be in the exact position you are right now, custom, handcrafted sword in your hand, demon blood splattered on your skin, hair disarray, and an unrelenting demon before the two of you.

he thinks it’s an upper moon, but he can’t decide, not when everything is moving so fast. kyojuro trusts you. he trusts you in the sense that he can rely on you to keep both yourself and him safe. he trusts in you, and in your ability and skill. never once has he doubted you, not even when the odds are awfully unbalanced to the opposing side, not even when either of you two are barely managing to stand on two feet, your muscles screaming for ease and comfort.

it’s not often he finds himself in your company for a mission too. he thinks that maybe it’s for the better. you’re one another’s liabilities, you’re leverage for him, he’s leverage for you, and he hates the thought of anyone or anything using you against him for any reason, because there is no higher priority than you. nothing that stands above you. when you both receive the message, crows belting out introductions just as the light begins to dim from the world around you, you glance uneasily at each other. it’s no easy feat becoming a hashira, so you’re both confident in your abilities. meaning having requested two hashira, the situation must’ve been worse than imagined or expected.

and it is. the demon relents, refusing to die despite both you and kyojuro repeatedly slashing his head off. as you try to think of various, different ways of defeating this demon, you hurt it in different ways, cutting off its limbs, stabbing it over and over again, slowing down its regeneration process as much as you can. before long, you find yourself on the floor, muscles aching beyond comprehension, mine numbing and spirit waning. kyojuro continues to fight, waiting for you to pick yourself back up again. and you can’t let him down, never.

so you stand, picking up your sword, suddenly a million times heavier than when the fight first began, and advance towards where your lover continues to battle with the creature. it’s unbelievably ugly, and incredibly vicious, never once holding back on either of you. your breath is heavy in your lungs, weighing you down, but you steady yourself. you’re a hashira. you’ve killed a million demons, and you’ll kill a million more, until you rid the earth of its uncleanliness and blasphemy. you’ll kill all the demons you can just to return home with your lover, to your lover, and lay in his arms. never having to worry for a moment more if it would be the last time you’d feel his embrace.

“kyo!” you call out, just barely ducking at the swing of the demon’s arm, raising your sword in reflex and slashing away at the limb. “the source— the sour—“

it happens suddenly. too quickly. or maybe, because of the strain of the fight, you’re just reacting slowly.

your words bubble at the back of your throat, collecting but never spilling. your limbs freeze up, your heart’s rate speeding up at an alarming rate to match with the panic suddenly overtaking you. your head is spinning, too much, too fast, and you have half a mind to look down, and notice the fist protruding from your lower abdomen. it’s the shock that keeps you on your feet for this long, even as the demon snarls cruelly and pulls away his arm from you, shoving you forward with unexpected strength, even as blood begins to pool in your mouth, painting your lips red. the pain gradually spreads, your adrenaline slowly dying out, your body lighting ablaze with flames on every inch of skin. the pain is so strong, so overwhelming and dizzying and nauseating, that it almost — doesn’t exist.

you’re not sure when it is your knees finally meet the ground beneath you, dirtying your uniform with a mixture of your blood, the demon’s, and dirt from the earth. as if underwater, you hear the dying sounds of a demon nearby, wallowing out in misery and in pain, crying out for its superior, begging for another chance to prove itself.

another chance.

will you have that?

your fall is cushioned by a pair of strong arms, familiar warmth and a familiar scent. he’s cloudy and fuzzy, his image and aroma and sense of being. you can’t see him, you can’t hear him and you can barely feel him. you think to yourself if this had happened a little earlier, you might’ve expected it, anticipated it, avoided it. you might’ve been able to slow down the bleeding using the breaths you’ve mastered after years of training. but you’re so far gone, and your entire body is already under so much strain, you doubt you would’ve survived a single, additional cut.

kyojuro admires you so much. he thinks you’re so beautiful, in every possible way. as you’re asleep, in the safety and protection of your home, in his arms. as you cook, for him and for you, and as you share that food. as you train, the sword fitting so perfectly in your hand, like it was meant for you. it is meant for you. he thinks you’re so beautiful as your eyes shine alight while you speak of your passion, or a new discovery as you share it with him. as you kiss him, so wholeheartedly, so fully, giving your all to him, always. always, always his. forever his and forever yours.

he thinks it’s so ironic he’d find you beautiful, even now, even as your spirit slips away from his very grasp.

when you come to, you genuinely believe you’re dead. the first face you see is kyojuro’s, and when you notice the never ending injuries adorning his face and hands, you realize this isn’t heaven. in heaven, your lover wouldn’t be hurt. never.

it hurts to move. or, honestly, to even think. you don’t attempt to speak. and you slow your breathing to limit your pain. you don’t do anything. you just revel in the simple fact that you’re alive, and while it doesn’t really feel like it, you really are still living and breathing. you’d been given a second chance. another chance.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, when his eyes meet yours, and you consider how much truth is in that statement. you’ve never seen him look so relieved, so full of light and happiness. which says a lot in its own, because kyojuro has always been sunshine in human form. so, you decide, you believe him.

your lips open in a weak and feeble attempt to speak, but his fingers, wrapped in gauze, ghost over them, shushing you gently. “save your energy, darling,” he tells you, and settles in by your side. he glances down at you, his hand wordlessly finding yours and grasping it tightly, probably more than you could handle. but you feel the slight tremor to them, noticing, just barely, how his breathing stutters when he continues to stare at you — like if he were to blink, you’d disappear in milliseconds.

his free hand finds its way to your face, caressing your skin softly, fingers trudging up to your hair, where he moves it out of your face. “so beautiful,” he repeats, but it’s to himself. slowly, he bends forwards, leaning towards you, and kisses your forehead gently. his lips litter soft, featherlight kisses on your temple, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your cheeks, and your chin. “no more demons?” it’s a question, even if unintended.

with a quiver to your lower lip, you imagine the life you’d lead, no constant ache in your bones, no more scars to add to your growing collection, not another burden, not another life lost before your eyes, not one more death-inducing worry over your lover. just you. and him. and the way he looks at you. forever.

when you nod, tears spring to your eyes, and you finally find your voice for a moment. “i love you,” you promise, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to worry it might’ve been the last time you’d uttered those words.

end note; i’m so used to killing off characters but i didn’t want you guys to hate me just yet hehe. anyways i hope the requester and everyone else enjoyed this!! as always, requests are open, and i luv u all!!

[moonlightjeno]

ten things and then some | l.j

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: jeno x reader 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞 :: based on the poem from 10 things i hate about you if you haven’t watched it fo yourself a favor and go watch the movie bc it’s a m a z i n g. ty 𝕨𝕔 :: 15.5k this is the longest thing i’ve ever written wow. 𝕒/𝕟 :: y’all jeno fits the concept to this p e r f e c t l y, and no i am not being biased :) and a massive massive thank you to @smoljh​ for helping me and giving me feedback, you’re the sweetest. and ofc to my soulmate girl yk i love you to the moon and back, and i hope you enjoy this piece @mangotexts​ ( truly the best hype woman anyone could ask for ).

everything in bold is part of the poem, from “10 things i hate about you”

I hate the way you talk to me,

Sweetheart. love. angel. The words that spin from his mouth every time you hear him talk to you, made you aggravated. It was a constant stream of words that had begun as a prick of annoyance. Every time, he opened his mouth, looking at you with his dark brown eyes. 

“Earth to y/n” the snapping of fingers disrupts your train of thought, eyes glancing back to the dark-haired boy on the other side of the school grounds, before landing back on your friend. 

“What?” the words slip from your mouth with disinterest, a lack of concern for whatever your friend had been rambling on about for the past five minutes. The small amount of conversation you’d registered was she’d been talking about a party that johnny suh, school alumni, and constant talk around school grounds were throwing as a “welcome to the end of high school”. Though as parties went, you were almost sure that it would encompass school graduates, seniors, and the occasional sophomores and freshmen that would manage to sneak their way in, eyes glittering with excitement as they entered their first high school party. 

“Are you coming?” her words were drawn out as if she’d ask you five times before, she might have, and it was only now that you had finally heard the question. The question slightly baffles you, because everyone in school knew you didn’t go to parties since freshman year. 

“Uh, no. you know what i think of parties, they’re a waste. An excuse for seniors to think they're above everyone else, as they tell off the younger students that they’ve deemed aren’t ‘cool’ or mature enough, while the freshman walks around with some sort of desperate hope in their eyes as if the world will drastically change if they show up at a senior party. Someone should tell them” you say, looking past your friend whose excited smile has dimmed to a small frown, eyes slightly annoyed, something that doesn’t surprise you at this point. It isn’t a secret what you think of parties either, even if you are best friends with the queen of parties herself. You stop yourself before your eyes have a change of drifting to the brown-haired boy with a leather jacket that tends to sit by the foot of the football field, whom you can’t seem to find, probably smoking the thought is bitter and places a scowl on your face before you look back at your friend,  “nothing changes''.

“Just once, one time is all i ask of you” the pleas that come from your friend make you focus on her, her hair is loose ruffled by the light wind that has blown over the course of your conversation. It’s almost enough for you to agree to go to the stupid party, when you see her glance towards mark lee, the boy she’s been crushing on for as long as you’ve known her. It hadn’t surprised you, that she’d fallen for him, when you saw him. The boy who made most girls swoon, but who had somehow managed to beat all the stereotypes of “hot” because mark was also talented, more than you’d like to admit when it came to music, he’d helped you a couple of times when you’d been stuck on a composition, always a smile on his face. so when she glanced towards him, the glittering in her eyes and rose tainted cheeks as mark looked back, flashing a small smile, you couldn’t help but give in. 

“I’m going to regret this,” you say, the words a mix of a grunt and an exasperated sigh, but your friend is almost jumping up and down, giving you a quick hug and promising that you wouldn’t regret it, not at all, you’d have the greatest time before she was turning around a skip in her step. A smile graces your face at your friend’s happiness, and it remains there unfaltering until you hear “hello love”

Brown hair made its way into your view, as jeno’s face presented itself in front of you, a cocky smile grazing his features that made your smile falter and eventually turn into a scowl.

“What” the word isn’t a question, more like a complaint as you try to turn around and head in the opposite direction, away from jeno and his sweet words. But his voice trails behind you only a couple of steps away before he’s next to you leather jacket glaring against the end of the summer sun, and you wonder only for a second how he isn’t passing out from the heat. 

“Oh come on angel, a lil smile wouldn’t kill you” his words are filled with a tone you can only describe as intolerable, making you slightly gag.

“A smile wouldn’t kill me, but i might kill you” you smile at him, a grin adorning your features, “luv” the words that left your mouth are meant to push jeno away and have him leave you alone, but the boy is persistent and though his smirk falters slightly at the glare you give him, the grin is up and running again as he stops in front of you. 

“And then who would you have to glare and fight with luv?” the moment the words leave his mouth he turns away, proud of his line. The dumbass, you think, insults quickly forming in your head and ready to be thrown out towards him but your phone pings, and you thumb it open. The message “see you at the party angel” makes your blood boil slightly, but you can’t hide the way your cheeks slightly turn red and the smile that slowly grazes your face before you make a vulgar gesture to the sweet mouthed boy, and turn away.

As much as you hated to admit, you looked forward to the party only just slightly more than you did five minutes ago, the small nicknames swarming around your head. 

And the way you cut your hair.

The too-loud music and blinding lights that could be heard and seen from multiple blocks away, and you almost stopped in your tracks, ready to turn around and head back home. But a pull from your friend as she squealed in excitement at maybe having a chance with mark managed to keep your feet moving towards the flashing lights. 

Strong alcohol, tequila, or vodka is something you’re hoping they have at the party so that you can attempt to get away from the sex-craved teenagers that are lined up against the walls, pushing against each other. Just walking into the house, and the stench of cigarettes, weed, and sweat floats through the air almost enough to make you gag, as your nose scrunches up at the sight and smell. 

Drinks are set far too far from the entrance of the house, the kitchen seems to be miles away not close enough for your liking until you finally reach it. Johnny, black-haired slicked back, the sunflower tattoo on his forearm a stark contrast to the leather jacket he wears and it makes you smile just slightly at the different personalities the dark-haired boy has.  Yet you can’t deny his loud and extravagant personality as he talks from person to person whether senior or freshman, making drinks, even if some of the spillover the sides, you sit by one of the stools ready to get a mixed drink of whatever the alumni is able to concoct before getting the courage and energy to head back into the party and socialize with people you really have no interest in socializing. 

In the short minute that it takes johnny to get your drink, the lemon drink shot with a strong tequila is set in front of you just as your friend has left you with the only warning being a sharp look, as she smiled to a brown-haired boy that you can only presume to be Mark, by the way, her face flushes, and she takes a swig from the drink in her hand before leaving you, and you yell a sharp “go get em” before gulping down the liquid inside the red solo cup. 

Alcohol you’d forgotten burned down your throat, it’s lingering sharp and bitter taste leaving a tang in your mouth as it traveled down your mouth. You forget that the effect of the drink doesn’t come into effect a little later, where you are jumping up and down on the table, dancing from side to side as the music pumps through your blood and body. You won’t be able to tell that it’s the alcohol that you’d sworn you wouldn’t drink unless surrounded by friends, but most definitely not in a social gathering, that makes you jump from table to table and grab other’s next you as you dance with them. Hair slightly plastered to your face from the sweat, and though you’re dancing your words are slightly fuzzy from the multiple drinks you’d had from random tables you’d pass by.

A sharp tug and pull gets you off the current table and you begin to complain, wanting to continue to let loose to the rhythm of some constant beat song that sounds all too vaguely familiar to your ears, but the arms that are wrapped around you feel oddly warm and comfortable and the protest die slightly on your lips as you turn around to see who’s holding onto you. 

Dark brown hair, almost black frames the boy’s face perfectly and you want to run your fingers through it. Some sense of longing for love and being loved passes through you, and now you’ve realized how drunk you truly are as you push down the emotions of attraction to the boy in front of your face showing only the traces of what would be a smile if he wasn’t so concerned for your safety. 

“y/n?” the boy asks, and you’re still in a light haze of alcohol that buzzes through your skin and blood making everything fuzzy that you can’t quite picture whose face it is in front of you, whose voice that is soft and gentle towards you and sounds so familiar, to which you only manage to nod your head slightly hair falling in front of your eyes as you smile. It’s small, fluttering, and the boy in front of you smiles too, as he repeats your name, and then the words that leave his mouth make him click into place. 

“y/n? Luv? How much have you had?” The word luv, makes you push away from the strong arms that hold you, the classic leather jacket that tends to adorn his body has somehow managed to be wrapped around you, and you realize that you are no longer inside the house with loud music. Instead the music and flashing lights have been replaced by trees and twinkling lights that flash in the dark sky and the distant background of loud music that is too low for your ears to register anything more than a constant drone. Your smile has been replaced by a scowl, and you grunt at the jacket you’re wearing, hating to admit that it’s warm and comforting. You try to speak, the words a slur before you hurl, holding onto your stomach as the content of your lunch and too much alcohol are spilled on the grass floor in front of you. 

The acid from your stomach burns your tongue, a bitter taste seems to linger even as you chug down the water that jeno offers you, a small smile gracing his features. And you blame the alcohol, but you smile back at him, and can’t think that maybe he isn’t as bad as you thought he was. You can’t shake the feeling of his hand wrapped around your waist, another holding up your hair as you hurled, and coughed no mocking grin or satisfactory smirk making their way onto his face. Instead a small smile was present, his dark hair that you finally admitted to yourself, made him look hot, was tousled and messy by the wind and it looked cute. 

You blame the day’s events and the words that were thrown at you at the beginning of the party making you head straight to the intoxicating drinks. You blame the chemicals that are still in your system, as you sit on the grass dragging jeno to sit next to you, hand intertwined with his. The grass that is cool against your touch, making your skin feel less hot, less sticky, and more conscious. You blame the alcohol and everything it changes in your core, for letting you lean your head against jeno’s shoulder, as his arm wraps around your shoulders pulling you in only slightly, scared to scare you away. You most definitely blame the alcohol as the words that fall from your mouth as you hold onto jeno’s calloused hand. 

“I like it” the words are a mumble, whispered into the night air, and it causes jeno to turn just slightly his lips almost touching the crown of your head, “like what?” he whispers back, and you can almost swear a small kiss is placed on the crown of your head. 

           “Luv” 

I hate the way you drive my car.

It seems that the stars want you to hate jeno more than you already do, as he half carries you half drags you to your parked car. The moon shines on the car surfaces mixing in with the dull yellow lights from the evenly spaced streetlights. You wished that you could walk straight, but you still stumble a little, your steps not sturdy until jeno has placed his arm around your waist lifting you up, that you manage to walk to the old vintage car that is parked under one of the dimmed out streetlights. 

The sequence of opening the door and you get inside the car occurs in a slight blur, but you find yourself on the passenger seat, head resting against the cool window that makes you jump slightly from the contact. It isn’t until you turn your head as the engine roars to life underneath you that you see jeno by the wheel, adjusting the rear view mirrors to his height and gripping the steering wheel. 

Time seemed to stop as you lay in the grass, head tucked in between jeno’s shoulder and his head. It stopped when the last words that had left your mouth had made jeno’s smile widen and his eyes match the moon that shone brightly above the two of you. The droning music has stopped, flashing lights no longer as constant as they were when you had first dragged jeno into the cool grass. In that position did you two lay for hours, a comfortable understanding and silence settling between the two of you until your breaths became constant and your eyes had begun to droop threatening to close that jeno shook you lightly. The only response he got was a small humm that you were still awake, as he pulled you up and started to make your way to the car. Something that seemed almost impossible as jeno had absolutely no idea where the fuck your car was and you didn’t seem to quite remember in your hald drunken half sober very much about to fall asleep state.

Jeno could have almost jumped from joy when he’d seen your eyes brighten up at the sight of a beat-up old red mustang, and you pointed towards it. The moment he had opened the passenger door you had climbed inside curling up next to the door like a cat, and he couldn’t help but think that you were adorable, even when you snapped at him for taking your keys. It was a different side of you that he’d never seen, and he doubted many people did see. One where you weren’t putting on a sort of facade of hating everything around you, but instead you let your eyes relax holding a sort of brightness and glow jeno hadn’t seen before but now couldn’t stop himself from looking at. Stop, jeno scolded himself as he turned to look at the road, car roaring to life.  

“Nu-uh” you grunted at seeing jeno aggressively change gears, “stop being so aggressive,” you say as you sit up. The smile that adorned jeno’s face turns into a grin, as he continues to aggressively switch gears as he turns the corner, and you regret ever thinking he was kind. 

“My car doesn’t deserve this” you grunt out, and jeno chuckles looking at you from the side, and he loosens his grip slightly on the gear stick. 

“You mean my presence? I’m gonna have to agree, sweetheart” you’re not sure if it’s the light trace of chemicals that still surround your brain, or if you’ve really wanted to do this for a while but you don’t stop your fist as it punches jeno in the arm. 

“The fuck” leaves jeno’s lips, as he rubs his arm where you’d hit him and you do a little dance on your seat, “don’t hurt my car dumbass” is your only answer before you continue to laugh at the face of confusion and mocked hurt that jeno fakes. 

Your laugh rings around the car, and echoes through the street, as the windows at some point where rolled down. The way jeno looks confused makes you laugh harder, and he turns just slightly, his eyes narrow and eyebrows slightly scrunches, and he looks like a confused dog. Alcohol might have made you hit him, but you can’t fathom why you would be laughing at jeno, no not at him but with him as his laugh has joined yours as he drives the car down the street. The ridiculousness of the night catches up with, making you hold onto your stomach as jeno parks into your driveway smile never faltering. 

From the way, both of your eyes shine from joy and amusement one could almost swear that the two of you were friends, almost lovers by the way jeno looked at you. But no one was looking at two in the morning, and no one can be there to tell you that the way you two look at each other is in a new way. No gazes filled with mocked sympathy or non-wanted flirtatious remarks, instead, you two seem to gaze into each other’s eyes for what seems too long if it weren’t that neither of you seemed to mind. 

And because you are still slightly tipsy, and the stars and moon make jeno look like some sort of angel as his hair is illuminated by a white light, that lights up his face making his eyes a warmer brown that they usually are that you think about opening up yourself to him. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think, maybe just maybe the nicknames he gives you make you feel a flutter because he could be someone to trust. 

Possibilities for the maybes and wants to fill your head, and you don’t realize your eyes have fluttered shut and you are leaning in only slightly a sway towards where jeno is until you feel his hand on your shoulder stopping you, a pitiful gaze grazes his features and you are almost sure you want to go crawl in a hole. Instead, you push him back, opening the car door and slamming it behind you, chin held up as you walk back towards your house, the water in your eyes threatening to spill. But you manage to make it, as you walk into your house, and slam the door behind you the words “maybe not now” replaying in your head, because why the fuck would he actually like you. 

You don’t notice when you go to sleep music blasting from your headphones that you’ve wrapped yourself in the leather jacket that smells slightly of cat and boy, the lingering stench of cigarettes and fire from the jacket given to you by the boy who had managed to hold your heart for only a second. 

 I hate it when you stare. 

              in and out. Your breaths match the classes metronome, a constant beat to keep your breaths even and focused on whatever the teacher is saying, which happens to be the importance of pentatonic scales when composing a new song. He drones on about the way modern pop music isn’t really music and that the same fours chords and rhythmic patterns are used over and over again with a slight variety to them. You would have looked around the class, taking in the beautiful instruments that are set on display around the class, most of them hanging on hooks and nicks that cause the brass instruments to gleam in the classroom light. Admiring the way the guitars were filed neatly, basses next to them and the small ukuleles that the school's “hipsters” would pretend to play every so often at the talent shows. Some of the guitars and ukuleles were decorated by the art classes, the flowers blooming from one end to the other making it impossible to tell the difference between where the original brandished wood begins and ends. It almost seems at times like the flowers in full bloom are consuming the wood, taking away its air and nutrients that then allow the students to play melodica tunes without the professor yelling at them to tune their instruments. You would be admiring the piano that lay at the front of the class where your professor is currently pacing back and forth, his hands waving in grandiose gestures that make you cough an attempt to hide the rising laughter in your throat. The piano that you’d heard most of the students in the class play and almost lull everyone to tears or sleep depending on who it was, as the keys would rise and fall with each stroke. 

Admire. Stare at the instrument you longed to strum and let out the bundle of emotions that were piled up in your stomach, taught and knotted together waiting to be untang;ed by the strum and finger pattern of the acoustic guitar. That’s what you would be doing if you weren’t slightly interested in the way that your professor was taking down and criticizing modern day music which you could only nod your head too, agreeing with most of his points. The rest of your class seemed to be disgusted, their faces shriveling and eyes rolling to the back of their heads. 

“Well yeah, music today doesn’t, well shouldn’t really constitute for “real” music. It shouldn’t be dictated by a constant talk of sex and the drugs, what about the power in music? The way that it is in itself a universal language?” you speak out of turn, your arm coming down slightly aching from having to hold it up for so long with no acknowledgment. The moment you speak you can almost feel the class sigh and grunt, their heads dropping slightly. 

“Now miss y/n” his voice is grainy and unpleasant, but you nod, eyes defiant at whatever critique will come your way even if you just agreed with your professors point of view, “did i ask for your opinion on the universal language and power it has on your feelings” 

“Well no but-”

            “No buts” you want to roll your eyes and flip him off, and decide to do both as you sigh, “not like you’d understand what that is” you mumble loud enough for your the boy at your right to hear you and his mouth falls slightly open, and you roll your eyes flipping him off as he turns around facing the scribbled blackboard.  

You can feel eyes staring at you, analyzing the way you bite onto the top of your pen or how you doodle across the margin of your paper, random notes and lyrics that pop into your head as your professor drones on and on about the theory of music. It’s a pity you think that it’s those eyes that make you want to stand up and hit someone, those eyes that seem to want to dig a whole through your brain are what cause the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach every-time you turn around. 

in and out. The metronome beeps constant again, and you loosen the grip on your pencil. Turning around slowly before locking gaze with jeno, who seems startled, you turned around and looked at him in the first place. Replaced is the mocking grin by a sheepish smile, and you can almost swear there’s a speck of guilt in his brown eyes as he looks at you with a small pleading look until you flip him off, mouthing the words “fuck you” into the air. But he seems to register them as he breaks the contact, eyes darkening and head bowing down just slightly, making a small smile graces your features. 

Tick tick tick - ring. The bell goes off and you can’t seem to get up and out of your seat quick enough, following pursuit of the other students that have already packed and are counting down the seconds until class is over. You’re almost at the door, fingers stretching to reach the handle when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, a brush of your hair to the side, as you swirl around. You bite down the curse that is about to slip through your lips as your professor stands in front of you an amused smile on his face as he tells you that even though you’re an exemplary student you should tone down on the whole “power to the people” role you hold and you have to stop yourself from turning around and walking away. “Uh sure…” you are ready to leave, feet beginning to turn but your professor isn’t done and he holds you back telling you about the inconveniences of being a teacher at this day and age and you wonder what the man had wanted to be if not a teacher but the question and pity are quickly erased when he tells you that you about the end of the year assignment, “a project of sorts” he drawls, one hand stroking the light beard that sticks in odd patchy places around his face. “that will test what you’ve learned this year” you say nothing, waiting for what the punch the goal of the assignment is, “a song based off shakespeare’s sonnets” 

You don’t have time to clap and jump from joy at the assignment and thank your professor before the fire alarm goes off and you are walking towards the football field. You don’t have the time to register the way people are looking at you, the way jeno is staring at you with a goofy smile and hopeful eyes as the intro chords play to i.f.l.y  by bazzi and he gazes towards the crows that has gathered around him, eyes finding yours. 

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

The clunk of boots against the aluminium causes the bleachers to shake slightly, a vibration of clashing echoing through the field as it mixes in with jeno’s voice. The dark haired boy that scares the school away on most days bounces along from one side of the bleachers to the other. 

You can feel the warmth spread to your cheeks, the heat spreading through your body and you shake your head slightly at whatever is going because you truly aren’t quite sure. The only thing you know is that it seems to be the whole school’s eyes are darting from you to jeno, who can’t seem to take his eyes off even as he jumps from one row of bleachers to the next the microphone on his hand a he raps along to the lyrics to the song. Lyrics that sound as familiar as a midnight drive and cooling moonlit fields. 

*

The way he conveys the words and raps is not something you hadn’t heard before, you’d heard him speak his poems to you that late night in the midst of summer heat when you had been in a need of escape from the world that surrounded you. The summer heat had been too much, too suffocating that in a whim you’d driven to the highest point in the city. City skyline had been laid before you, the hues of the city changing as the sun slowly dipped itself over the buildings, and it seemed to want to disappear like you did. Slowly, leaving a mark in the world as it reached past the buildings and water that lay far beyond the city, stretching it’s red flames that would slowly flicker and turn into different hues of pink and purple. It was mesmerizing, a way to get away as the sun went down and the moon shone brighter than the city lights, no amount of light pollution that littered the air enough to you were in your own world. Your mind travelled to that safe and peaceful place that would only come out when you were surrounded by the twinkle of stars that seemed to flicker hope, while the moon remained a constant reminder of the light in the darkness. That is until the crunch of leaves behind you, a sign of the coming autumn disturbed you from your silent peace.

Moonlight shone on black boots, the combat boots seemed to dull the moonlight, taking away all it’s light by absorbing it as it crunched the leaves underneath them and stopped in front of you. Eyes landed on a hooded figure, their black hoodie being slightly too big, as it drooped over their frame, reaching slightly past their hip, where you could see the tears in the boys jeans, and you hated to admit that the outfit wasn’t bad. The boy’s face wasn’t visible from the shadows caused by the moonlight, but it wasn’t that it mattered as you went back to looking at the city below you, waiting for the boy in front of you to sit down next to you. It would have normally bothered you to be disturbed in what you had claimed to be your “spot” but maybe it was the way the boy held his head down, or the way the stars shone and illuminated portions of his face, maybe it was just that there was a mutual understanding between the two people that had seeked comfort in the middle of the night underneath the stars. For whatever the reason, you stayed next to each other not touching, not leaning against each other but there was a sense of comfort by each other’s presence and a mutual knowledge of what each wanted. The silence was one of comfort, a blanket that seemed to surround the field that two of you sat in, and when the boy with the worn out combat boots began to speak, a light melody and rhythm to his words all you could do was nod along and enjoy the melodic and soothing sound of his voice. His words shocked you, reaching somewhere inside of you that seemed to be dormant for a long long time. 

“Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing.  But when the stars shine, and the sun goes, Summer becomes a lil less lonely Little less wasted Because when i'm with you  Time’s gonna stop” 

You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the warm voice that rapped next to, as he talked about lost time and love that seems to be a long lasting one that makes you feel like you’re gonna burst from everything that you feel for them only for them to leave in a quick second. And though you don’t know the boy next to you, you don't know his story, you don’t know why he decided on this very day much like you too climb to the top of the hill and admire the busy world from afar, you know the melody. The song that follows his heart, it’s something out of a movie you think, the way the two of you met, lost souls finding themselves by watching everything around them fade into the dark. You don’t know each other but you do, you know the way his song goes and it’s an understanding beyond words beyond actions as the two of you sit next to each other, hours passed midnight a boy with combat boots that crunch through leaves and a voice with thoughts that seem to connect to everything around you, and you. A lost soul with music in heart, that sways and calms down in the brightening moon of the night, as you give each other mutual company in a field of moonlit flowers, and blinking concrete. 

*

Jeno has made his way down the bleachers, his cheeks are red and you can’t help but feel amused and honored. Because as much as he annoys you and makes you want to hit something you can’t deny the way your heart flutters when he smiles at you as he is doing right now, steps bringing you closer and closer to you, his warned out combat boots make you laugh because you’d never seen him wear anything else. You can feel the anger fade away from the week, anger at him for embarrassing you, anger for not feeling loved like you wanted to be loved, but there was a sort of bond that was formed when the school's resident bad boy decides to sing a love song to someone he’s hurt and cares for. There’s something vulnerable by the way he looks at you, a light in his eyes and embarrassment and all of a sudden he’s in front of you. Faces only centimeters away, his breaths fanning your face slightly, their heavy and uneven but he’s smiling tune slightly off-key as he sings the last verse. 

“So I guess what i'm saying” the mic is lowered, and the space between the two becomes your own world. No longer are aware of the hundreds of teenagers surrounding you, some of the whistling others video taping. 

“I guess what i'm saying” you hum back, smiles adorning both of your faces, 

“I fucking love you”

And the way you read my mind.

It seemed as if the world had suddenly shifted. No longer where you are grounded on earth, goals set to go to the other side of the world away from your family, instead you feel alleviated. Where the ground used to be now there was air, a lightness to your movements and words that weren’t there before. It isn’t that the world suddenly changed, the clouds didn’t suddenly become more bright, the world didn’t suddenly become a bright ball of colors and sunshine. 

Falling for someone was based upon the little moments spent together. The way the world seemed to feel a little less heavy, a little less lonely when brown eyes would meet yours, greeting you with a lopsided smile. You had read in books that falling was like falling asleep, slowly and then so quickly that you didn’t even notice the way your heart would take skips when hand touched hand, calloused fingers from constant strumming of a guitar, grazing yours. They say it’s supposed to be too fast for you to notice, as if you were in a dream state that you had fallen into and slowly when your heart is shattered or turned over do you wake up from the dream-like state wishing you had stayed in it. In your opinion falling was neither of those, and it was both. 

Falling was being dragged out of an arena, filled with a whole school student body, where laughter trailed behind you as the boy with worn out combat boots took you to the place you first met. It was the way his eyes would light up their dark brown becoming a lighter color, almost matching his honey colored hair when the sun would hit him from behind, when he looked at you while you talked about the project you were working on. Falling seemed to be the way that the first sentences after the boy sang bazzi’s confession song was a banter over why the song was chosen, you two debating which of his songs was better, an ongoing debate whether smile or i.f.l.y was a better show of emotion. The argument lasted the whole car ride, you drove and it hadn’t taken much convincing after you threatened to keep his leather jacket, that you had shoved back at him only previously that morning. It was only a matter of seconds after that conversation, that jeno pride smile on his face opened the passenger's seat to the beat up mustang and let you slightly, well more like lecture him on how to be gentle on the old car. If jeno would have been tested on the way that your hands would flit back and forth, moving from side to side and up and down making grand gestures and soft ones in order to justify and further prove your point, jeno was sure he would ace the test. But if it came to what you were talking about, how he shouldn’t force the car to change gears or how one button should be pressed before the other he would have passed, he loved hearing you talk passionately about anything and as much as he loved to get on your nerves to see you get flustered cheeks growing slightly red, but would have failed on purpose just for you to smack him in the arm. The punch, which he would never admit kinda hurt the first time you’d hit him what seemed like ages ago, but was really only a season ago, had softened and felt now more like a “you’re stupid but i don’t mind it”, it made him smile. Banter that flitted back and forth between the two of you, constant little arguments that weren’t truly arguments but more of a facade at the emotions and hidden feelings that grew between the two of you. 

The coming winter air was sharp against your ungloved hand, making you shake it up and down, which only caused jeno to look at you with a confused look. 

“You know luv” the nickname no longer made your blood boil, and you’d finally admitted to yourself that it made you feel warm, “there are pockets for a reason” he put his own hands in the stitched pockets of his leather jacket for emphasis, and you huffed. 

“And then how would i be able to carry this?” you lifted your hand, the what had been hot chocolate was now cold all thanks to the new barista at the cafe, jungwoo you think his name was. Your fingers that had seeped up all the warmth they could get from the previously steaming cup of hot chocolate were now pink at the ends, the cold biting into them, and you slightly shook from the cold air you hadn’t been ready for these type of temperature when jeno had sent you a message this morning, the contact “soft bad boy” appearing repeatedly in your phone, with the vague instructions to get ready to go out in the span of fifteen minutes, he’s been by your door in fifteen minutes leading you to your car where he opened the driver's seat for you as he headed into the passenger. It had taken you arriving at the snow covered school to realize where jeno was taking you, and when you had realized it was the school protests were coming. Questions such as “jeno? It’s winter break, why the fuck are we in school?” and “fuck it’s cold”, or jeno’s favorite which you were almost sure he would forever tease you about, “my hands weren’t made for this” you’d been talking about the numbing of feeling in your thumbs when you had been holding the chocolate, keys, phone and wallet in your hands because your jeans had been made without proper pockets. Fuck the patriarchy you hat thought. Jeno has heard the whole situation out of context, and has made it his life goal to tease you on and on about your small hands. It was torture. 

“You could ask for help?” his little bow almost made you laugh, but you rolled your eyes pride getting in front of his help

“And hear you brag about how you don’t feel the cold” you sigh, changing the drink from one hand to the next letting the pocket in your hoodie heat up your hand slightly, “no thank you”. The next thing you know though, is jeno’s jacket is placed around your shoulders, their warmth heating up your bones, and his hands are wrapped around yours, “no, i’d just do this” his voice is next to you, breath stirring the hairs at your ears, warmth sweeps through your body, by the contact his skin makes with yours, and for a second you want to turn around and kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to kiss his lips that seem so soft, want to know what it feels like to wrap your arms around his neck while you kiss him, and play with the black strands of hair at the back of his neck. The feeling doesn’t leave as much as you try to push it away, as jeno holds your hands and drags you towards the school gate, and into the music room.

Falling is about the invisible things. Falling is noticing the way he can read your mind like no one else can, falling is making dumb jokes at each other smiles on both of your faces, it is the way you seem to have conversations about what you want from the world at two am and still poke fun at each other in a passing by through school. Falling you think you finally understand, isn’t singing i.f.l.y by bazzi in front of the whole student body because you don’t want someone to be mad at you, no. falling is the way from summer to fall to winter you get to know each other, until your hearts seem to be in-sync with each other, as jeno who fiddles with the rings on his fingers tells you to sit down on a chair in the music room. It is the way he picks up the guitar your breath catches on everytime you see it, the flowers swallowing and making the wood more vibrant than it was, and looks at you in the eyes. Falling is how his hands tremble slightly when he begins to strum the guitar, and his husky voice fills the empty room, as he sings about the way you make him feel less alone, and part of the universe.

But there’s a thing about falling, there’s the way that you can feel your eyes tear up when he finishes a goofy smile plastered on his face, the last g chord ringing throughout the room and into the hallways. When you fall, you can never tell when the bottom hits, you can never be prepared for the way the ground lurches before you, a slap in the face, right as you let go of the moon boy in front of you breaths still a little uneven from the shared kiss, which made a star fall seem small. Once that rock bottom is hit, the world falls back into place and you aren’t held at freefall, when you hear the “click” and whoops and yells from the hallway and you try to ignore the invasion trying to take in the boy in front of you, until your phone dings and then so does his. A new text message from an unknown contact, with a photo image attached,

“Turns out the bad boy took the bet after all, and y/n isn’t as cold hearted as they seem”

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

Crashing, falling and burning. Emotions that seem to curse through you days, a weeks later after the text is sent, the one that follows is worse. 

“Turns out, jeno was being paid all along to make cold-hearted y/n to fall for him. If you don't trust us, ask him” you knew the message was a taunt, a test to see if you would break but you’d plummeted down down down, and the way jeno’s eyes had shuttered and the light was no longer the way gave you the answer you wanted. 

A breaking point is what they call you’ve heard when one can no longer hold in the anger or sadness or any sort of emotion that seems to be too much. The breaking point that causes one to lose control over their actions, or thoughts because things you thought to be true, are flipped on their side, and the worst part is you wanted yourself not fall for the boy with the easy smile that shone like the moon, and sweet words that made your blood boil and melt all at once. 

Sick, that’s how you felt when you pushed him away, leather jacket dropping with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. A twisting and turning of emotions rammed through you, anger coming out strong as you shoved him away again before walking out of the room, leaving jeno mouth wide open as if he’d wanted to say something, hands clenching and unclenching as if he’d grabbed onto to you or hadn’t let you check your phone it would change the world worked. The light that had shone in his eyes left, it seemed to be squashed out by the water that threatened to escape because it was true, he had been paid. It isn’t something that made him particularly, it wasn’t that he wasn’t intrigued by you, from the night you two first met all those months ago under the moonlight. 

Payment, green paper that would be slipped into his hand by haechan, a fellow senior he barely knew apart from the school’s biggest flirt accompanied by na jaemin, he did wonder at times how they weren’t at each other’s throats most of the time, but substantially he truly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him the more he got to know you, the more he held your hand and felt the way his heart would swell and at times skip a beat or two, maybe even three if you looked at him with light in your eyes, laughter ringing in his ears from a joke he had said. 

The first time he’d been offered the paper, fifty bucks to see if the cold hearted bitch that everyone seemed to fear was capable of giving her heart to someone, he had denied because as much as the world thought of him as a cold hearted human being he truly just didn’t want to be bothered or be torn apart from his music and dance.  The second time haechan offered, he accepted on a whim. There had been a sort of argument in music class, you leading the conversation against something he couldn’t quite remember but he remembered you taking down student after student, a defiant look in your eyes as you gave point after point on what you believed was right. He had accepted, because seeing you standing on top of your chair, passion driving you away from the textbook and to speak clearly voice ringing through the room, made him wonder if it was even possible and if he gave up with what he thought was to be your overly cold demour then at least he's earned some money and the freshman that had walked up to him that morning telling him about the plan they’d set up would work. The plan chenle, a boy who was taller than him, but a freshman nonetheless broke it down in simple steps, it was entertaining to say the least, the way he discussed how he would get his new found jisung to go out with your sister, but that would only be possible if you would date. If he wanted to lie to himself, he would say that he accepted the deal because he wanted to help the kids out, but he was never one to not follow the truth. But now, his hands feel cold and empty, lips still feeling the ghost of yours against his, and he remembers a quote he read not long ago on the story of how the sun died everyday in order to let the moon live at night. 

Jeno is sure that he should be the sun that should die, not because the sun was where the world gravitated towards but because you were the moon. The moon that seemed to hold him together and stand by him even after the lies that are spun about his background at school so when you walk out the door, and he sees the tear’s shining beneath the classroom lights he knows he’s lost. If only you knew that he had stopped taking any sort of money the moment he caught feelings, if you only knew the money that he’d earned had gone to help his fostered cats that hung out by his house every now and then. But even if you did now it didn’t make him any better than Haechan who had sent out the text message, informing the world about the stupidities and decisions he made and had regretted two weeks later when you had scolded him about how to drive your car. 

Sick. From your stomach to your head a loud and never ending thump went on and on like the metronome in the music room all those weeks ago. The headache seemed mocking of your developed feelings for jeno, and you could feel your heart twist into itself, as you went over the events of the last few months. What was real, what was done as an act, you didn;t know but you hated it. You hated the way he made you feel, hated the way one text one yes or luv had led you into this snowball and fall that had hit harder than you’d ever wanted it. You hated him so much, it made you sick. 

It even makes me rhyme.

Melodies follow structured patterns, like the rhythm to a song and the lyrics that accompany it, never missing a beat a simple dun dun dun that tends to lead people into a dance like trance. Yet that was the problem with melodies, it was the way that they held onto certain chords, following the same stroke of keys the same vocal riff or bass slap that would drive you insane but would also drive modern days love songs whether they dealt with the infatuation that was love or the consequences of that love which lead to the inevitable heartbreak all followed the same sort of patterns and lines. 

Rhyming, that’s what you did as you recited the end of the year Shakespeare inspired song. A mixture of words with similar sounding words with the same syllables, like car and stare or hate and fate a juxtaposition between the two. Rhymes where everything you tended to avoid, the stereotypical and overused notes digging into your brain, playing and replaying over and over but you didn’t care anymore, as you recited the scribbled lines on the old piece of notebook paper. Some of the yellow had faded from the drops of tears that had dropped weeks ago, as your mind thought of jeno, his smile no longer the same comfort it held when he drove you out to the beach and led you late at night to admire the stars and watch the sunset. Some of the blue ink bleeding through, making smudges across the paper you were to run in, the doodles that had been scratched and re-drawn only to be scratched and drawn in different shapes the notes written down almost everywhere except in the five bar staff that was supposed to hold the notes. 

The shaky breath you let out helps you calm down as you look out into the pinned up pictures of the bedroom wall and the view that gives out to the dying sun set out in the horizon making space for the ever present and shining moon in the blue now purple and lilac sky. Hands grip at the paper, making it crinkle slightly at the force being used, and you read halfway through the lines you can’t fully get through before tears begin to spring up at your eyes. 

I hate it, i hate the way you’re always right.  I hate it when you lie. 

The words feel raw, and posion, vile seems to rise up at your throat the further you go down, and thought the tears don’t fall heavily they steam. A dashing race down your cheeks and back into the yellow notebook paper, as if they were being recycled. The words on the page breaking you, the emotions a sway of everything they say you aren’t, written by you to the boy who shared his heart and then stole it taking it far far away. Salty water drops onto the paper, until they dry up and then they fall again the next time you read them, and you read them and fix them and read them again rhymes embedded into your brain until the tears no longer fall and the paper is no longer in crinkles. 

I hate it when you make me laugh,

The memory flits back to you when you are met with brown eyes on the first day back from winter break. The air is no longer sharp and threatening to cut into you, but nevertheless you wear your sweater, hoodie slightly up, headphones popped into both ears. You didn't realize the figure in front of you, until you’d bumped into the halfway through a new invented dance move you had decided to create as you bopped and moved to the music that surged through your headphones. The toppling into one another was fast, rushed almost as you collided against each other, a stutter back from both of you before you saw who exactly you had crashed into. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you should have realized who the boy was from the worn out combat boots that had been dyed black again, and the leather jacket that had a couple of new patches adorning it’s sleeves. 

“Sorry” jeno murmurs, but you don’t hear music still flooding in, and you are too focused on the way his eyes shift from your face to your hoodie, and then back to your face not being able to look straight at you, it causes you to scoff. Of course he was able go behind my back, get paid to play with me, and when he gets caught he can’t even look me in the eye, the thoughts are slightly disappointing but not surprising - boys you had learned tended to follow patterns. It isn’t until jeno shifts his focus entirely from you, brown eyes darkening that you are intrigued by the change emotion, guilt and a sort of plead to apologize is wiped from his face and you soon realize the purple haired boy, who couldn’t help himself from laughing at your situation, calling more students to him that had set jeno off. 

“If it isn’t the schools biggest joke” haechan’s voice is mocking, and you truly don’t know why the rest of the student body is laughing with him, when there isn’t anything humorous, sadly this is what you expect from the school by this point, it happened in ninth grade there was nothing to say it wouldn’t happen again. You think about ignoring his comments, there truly was no use getting involved, haechan just wanted a reaction, that is until he flaunted his money around, the constant taunt of how you had been manipulated thanks to the douchebag in front of you not leaving your mind for a second and you’d had enough. Haechan or his group of friends couldn’t have stopped you even if they tried, as you walked up to him, hood down, the rings on your fingers shining in the morning sun, as you punched him. 

“Bitch!” his voice broke as the word escaped his lips, blood beginning to swell on the side of his face, “i have a photoshoot tomorrow” you punched again in response, this time his lip was cut, and you snickered. 

“Hmmmm” you hummed looking at the boy’s eyes, they held anger and a hint of mist that threatened to escape and not being the schools ‘perfect’ boy, “guess they’ll have to find someone else, you know someone that’s actually, how do i say this in the nicest way possible” placing a hand on your chin you pretend to think about it before a grin spreads on your face, “nevermind there isn’t a nice way because you don’t deserve shit. rot in hell fucker” the last word is almost a yell as you’ve turned around and have walked away from the scene, a shit eating grin on your face, at the look of defeat Haechan held. 

It isn’t the way Haechan looks at you with disgust, no that gives you some sense of pride by taking him on, it’s the way jeno’s eyes are filled with pride and warmth. A plea to hear him out at least just once, and as much as you try to deny it his eyes take you back to hot chocolates on random days, snowball fights late at night and random drives through the city to calm you down, music blasted through the stereo of your old car. Memories of him being next to you, arms around yours holding onto you as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Memories that as much as you wished wouldn’t flood up every time you saw him did and though you kept telling yourself that it was just an act, you can’t help but think that maybe just maybe not all of it was an act. The hope you hold close to your heart, is what leads you to be stuck back in the place that the mess started, stuck inside the music room yet again, jeno hand centimeters away from yours which just gets you to sit far far away from him. 

“So…” he starts, fiddling with the bracelets that adorn his wrists.

“So…you gonna say something or can i go because i have class to attend to” the words come out harsh, as your annoyance slightly rises, mixed in with being emotionally exhausted you really weren’t here to sit around the boy who had played with you. 

“The cafeteira is having french fries today” the second the words leave jeno’s lips he regrets them, because how stupid is he to start an apology by talking about food, when he looks at you he sees you laughing. Laughing so hard that he manages to walk closer to you so that you are only a couple of feet away from each other, but it isn’t a laugh that fills up the room. Your laugh is dry and humourless, empty and broken, it reminds him of the way one laughs when they have nothing to lose and have given up all hope.

“You know” you start, willing the tears to not fall, your voice to not break because just being in the room with him feels like too much, like one wrong step and the glue that has tapped your heart back together might diffuse into thin air, “for a second, a short second i thought you were gonna say something meaningful” the words are like poison, as you spit them out wanting them to strike and hurt the black haired boy with the perfectly chiseled face to hurt as much as you do, as you begin to head out of the room, the tears threatening to spill again. You’re about to reach the door before you hear your name being called, and you wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the desperation that was laced with his words. If it weren’t for the words that followed your name, “Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing” the lyrics, the way they roll off his tongue as if he’s heard them a million times catch your breath and make you turn around. 

“Stop” you hold your hand out in emphasis, trying to calm your beating heart down, trying to stop the idea that this boy, the one that held your heart and broke it is the same boy that made you feel at peace in a day of chaos, on a midsummer night. But he tries again to talk, a small smile on the ghost of his lips and you have the urge to laugh and smile at him. 

“Just stop” you almost plead, and jeno takes a deep breath, waiting for you to continue, “stop because dam you have no right to sing that. You had no right, no right at all to make me laugh like no one else that day and day’s after, you had no right”  

Even worse when you make me cry.

Jeno has never been one to convey emotions with words. It was never, his forte as people call it, but in the music room that felt stuffed and almost suffocating he reached for words. Any word that might be sufficient, no, not sufficient, words that would convey his truth. Somehow, some way to get rid of that look of disgust, anger and defeat in your eyes that made his heart ache. He can feel you pull farther and farther away even if you are only a couple of feet away from, a couple of inches until if he held his arm out he could catch your hand in his. There was some part of him that thought the moment you two shared what seemed to be years ago, would help, would stop your eyes from shining every-time a light would hit them, the tears he knew you were holding back, because you weren’t one to cry in front of others threatening to spill.  In response, he could feel his heart ache for longer, his hands clam up, eyes look at yours pleadingly. 

“I know” his voice is defeated, almost as broken as you feel and the way it still manages to pull at your heart makes you look up at him, willing if only for one second, or to prove yourself that you can listen to him. The pause seems to make the room feel slightly more bearable, less stuffy, a little less suffocating, because two words are more than just an acknowledgement at the past but also at the present and the recent fuck ups. You hear more than see jeno take another shaky breath before he opens his mouth, closes it and opens again, a hand squeezing his eyes shut before he begins. 

“I know” the words are repeated again, and you aren’t sure what to make of them but he isn’t done, “i fucked up” you scoff, and jeno has a faint smile, “i know that anything that i say will seriously not make up for anything i did because no one in there right mind would ever accept to what i did. No one who knows you, would ever even consider agreeing to being paid to approach you. No one, because being around you, getting to know you is a gift itself. And yes i did agree at the beginning, it’s a long story” the words become clustered, a mumble and you want to leave again, because they feel like an excuse, 

“A long story, that still ended with you winning right?” the words snap from you before you stop them, and jeno is left wordless for a second before his eyes focus in again, mind running at a million, “yes?”

“No. no, i mean no” the sound that escapes from his lips confuses you, it’s a grunt and a sigh but he looks exhausted, “this isn’t going well”

“You think?” The question is more of a fact but that doesn’t stop jeno’s lips twitching slightly upwards, and you're mirroring his. Banter is good? I guess jeno thinks. 

“What i mean” he starts again for the uptenth time, “is that the moment i saw you smile, the moment i got to know you, not the cold exterior you present the moment you laughed at something stupid i said, because for some odd reason you seem to find my jokes funny when no one else does. The moment you... i saw you, eyes dazed as they looked at the sky i knew that the whole thing was stupid. And i stopped it, i promised i stopped taking money from haechan the second i knew you because you didn’t deserve that. Does that make me any less of a shitty person? No it really doesn’t” he stops for a second, catching his breath and you're trying your best to not let the tears drop to not scream or yell or hit him over and over again, but he makes it so hard. So fucking hard when his voice and eyes seem to convey everything you need to hear, everything you want to hear, but then the word money is said and you remember what he did and you can feel yourself recoil back, but not before a silent tear slips. 

“It doesn’t make me a better person if i had stopped the moment i had accepted the deal because I considered it. But y/n the way I feel about you, the way you manage to center me and be the single thing that keeps me afloat in this hell hole. The way that being next you whether it’s holding your hand that tends to be cold because you hate wearing gloves in winter and rather let them freeze'' another smile, and another tear slips making its way down your cheek, “can make me so happy and completely infatuated to the point i don’t know what to do with myself. It is the way I can feel your body next to mine hours after you’ve gone home from one of our random late night drives, or the way you steal my jacket and then i can feel you with me even when you are in class. It’s the way the stars and moon seemed to align that summer day, when we were both lost and found each other in the same lyrics, the same words and melody that sang to us. So yes, i was so stupid, so dam stupid for ever thinking i could be anything other than a stranger to you, and accepting that. But I can feel the way my heart seems to forget how to beat, anytime you look at me, and you smile, and unlike what the world wants us to believe. You aren’t my sun, or my stars. You are the center of the universe that i stand for, the moon that no matter how much i tried to get away from continues to rise and remain even on the never ending days, because i didn’t mean it all those months ago in the bleachers when i just wanted you to stop being mad at me for being the dumb ass i am, and i will never be the best when it comes to words and emotions luv, but i mean it now. I truly truly am sorry, and -” his voice breaks, and his hands shake, a tear slips from his eyes and you can see it’s reflection by the light. 

“St…” you take a breath, the word not leaving your throat, your breaths are shaky and jeno tries to reach out to you, tries to wipe away the silent flow of tears that continues to stream down your face, “stop”. The word finally manage to leave your lips, harsher than you wanted them too but it stops jeno from grabbing your hand, from taking away the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his eyes that had begun to light up slightly to be shut down again, as if someone had doused water on him. 

“Luv…” the moment the words leave his lips you know you have to leave, because if he does say those words, the ones you know you’ve been dreading to hear because you feel the same way. Because you have fallen and though you have hit rock bottom, and have been smacked back into reality your heart has never stopped reaching towards his. It doesn’t help, when his eyes look at yours with love, and you want to forgive him, you want everything to be okay, and in order for that to happen you can’t break down in front of him. Slowly do you shake your head, arms wrapping around your body as if they could provide some type of warmth, and heat up your bones, give warmth back into your eyes the way they do when you look at jeno. Which is why you don’t look at him, why you turn away leaving his arm outstretched and hanging. You can feel his eyes trail you, as you open the door the noise of the outside world rushing into the room, startling you for a second, but jeno doesn’t seem to hear it. The only thing he can focus on is you leaving, your footstep getting farther away, and his world becoming a little darker, more grey. The last thing he sees is your - well what used to be his - grey hoodie, the marking of sharpie that have been used to doodle on the piece of clothing one late night, flashing before the wooden door closes shut, surrounding him in a lonely silence again. 

I hate it when you’re not around,

The world seems to mock you for falling for lee jeno. The black haired boy seemed to follow you everywhere you went no matter how far away you tried to get away from the memories that plagued you. Days had passed since the world had yet again seemed to shift on its axis, and you had seen jeno less and less, but that didn’t stop your mind from making you remember his laugh anytime you heard a bad joke. 

No longer did brown eyes meet yours right after school ended in the cafe next to school, you weren’t greeted by the easy smile, that turned eyes into moons, or called the obnoxious pet names of angel and luv that used to make you want to punch a wall, only for you to find the words to be missing from your everyday life. Moments when the radio would play the song about summer and hazy love would worm their way into your heart, and it was like he was there. Smiling at you, his hand intertwined with yours as you drove your car to the top of the mountain where you first met, and just when the chorus would hit the two of you would belt out the song at the top of your lungs. It was only when the song ended, the melody fading into the back and replaced by the rapid voices of an ad for some car dealership you really didn’t care for, that you would look to find an empty seat beside you. No boy with a leather jacket, and combat boots that might have been propped up on the dashboard much to your protests, instead the seats were either empty and cold with no presence or soul in them, and the car would suddenly feel small and distant. 

Other times, the pang of not hearing his laughter diffuse into the air, over your clumsy self either tripping over words or almost falling over due to there being a small rock in the sidewalk. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t have friends. Your best friend, the same one that had dragged you into that party all those months ago, would never miss a beat to be with you, to take you out for a random karaoke night or a late night drive on her car. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them, you loved how they would always make time for the small nuisance you would bother them about, even if it was just to tell them about a new meme you’d found but the way their presence would fill only a small space in your heart made it hard. Especially because you would see how happy they were anytime they talked about Mark, the stories of their lazy dates filled your heart with happiness and joy. It had become a habit to prioritize other’s happiness above your own, and soon it became a habit to prioritize getting jeno out of your memories out of the place in your heart he had seemed to crawl into and not leave. 

Memories you come to realize are fleeting, and unpredictable. They are made from what one process to be from the emotions they feel in the current moment that the memory is being stored into your brain. The thing about memories, it’s a thing that they don’t tell you in 12th grade biology class. School or teachers don’t teach you about the different emotions and images that memories bring along with them. The figments that surround every memory you have for the past year seem to somehow always lead back to jeno. He comes when you think about your favorite drink, hot chocolate, and the drink transports you back to jeno bringing you hot chocolate late at night after long after hour practices. His black hair makes a presence, when you think about the essay you had to turn in a week ago, you don’t remember much of the project but your brain, against your conscious will remembers the way jeno’s hair felt through your fingers as you played with his hair one late afternoon. The threads come together slowly, on a random day, in which the sun seems to almost be desperate to stay on the earth’s surface, as it turns the buildings around it into purple hues. It almost seems like it’s gasping for air, and as the purple slowly turns into pink and lastly disappears beyond the horizon it’s last breath taken and long gone you realize something. Like the sun, and the threads that are tied together in order to form memories, in order to form the segments of life that when pieces together form a picture that lets one create the story of a person or a setting, jeno seems to form in front of you. You sit on top of the mountain where you first met, but this time you are alone, the skyline displayed out in front of you. The trees have lost their leaves and some of them even still have some white specks of snow in them, that with one push of wind would make the tremble and shiver, letting go of the white covering. 

Jeno is next to you, his hand only a mere centimeter from yours, but you continue to look at the sky, the buildings that go on for as long as you can see. His memory, the way you rest your head on his shoulder and he listens and listens no judgement ever from his eyes, only support and encouragement to let you choose what will make you happy. A memory that repeats over and over again, but that isn’t your favorite memory from jeno. The last memory that forms in your head, after the roadtrips, to sweet make out sessions that led you two to leave whatever homework you had to work on for another time, or the sweet messages left at your phone that would bring a smile to your face even if he just texted you about the weather, to then get a back hug as he called you angel. 

Your favorite memory was the day you had been on the exact same spot you where now, except jeno had been next to you, breathing a little harder than normal he had just shown you a dance routine he’s been working on for as long as you could remember. His eyes didn’t shine like they usually did, they didn’t take in the light around him, and his face didn’t have traces of a grin that you had grown so used too. Instead he pushed you away, dark roots from his bleached hair he had decided to try out for the month had begun to show and you could see the stress that seemed to suffocate him. This was a different side of jeno, a side you hadn't seen, one that you tried to approach with a joke, only to be quickly shut down. A small argument over school and life had formed, in which you two had gone from being right next to each other to being feet apart, a scowl on your face, the same one that jeno bore. It was this memory that was your favorite because it had been the first time you had truly seen jeno be vulnerable, it had been the first time from the weeks you had gotten to know each other that you felt that the walls on walls he built around himself, the walls you built around yourself had been torn down. There had been no shared kisses, no shared moments in which one hadn’t jokingly filtered with the other until the first droplet fell down jeno’s face. The only reason you had seen it was because the sun, punctual as always, had descended flickers of light reflecting in his face. It was a small action but enough that there was some part that managed to push aside your pride and you approached him, arms wrapping around his waist. The memory makes you remember that it took him a second to wrap his arms around you, but in that moment, it seemed as only for a second in which you could provide some support for the boy in front of you, then he could give you the support you needed. Threads of the memory are vague, movements in which you can’t fully pinpoint what happened in between or later, in which you know that at one point music had begun to make its way up the mountain from one of the daily parties the teens would throw, but you two held onto each other. The song, isn’t one you can seem to recall, but it wasn’t one that people slow dance too, it wasn’t one in which you are supposed to hold onto the boy in front of you arms around his neck, as his eyes looked into yours, smiles grazing both of your features as your foreheads touched, a small kiss placed on your forehead. Moonlight cascading the both of you, pushing away the shadows that surrounded you both. 

It was any memory that you had in which jeno took part, in which you could feel him next to you, that was your favorite. Memories, you remember reading somewhere are your subconscious telling you something, it is the way the body and mind admit what you are too scared to take in for yourself. Memories of jeno next to you, and then not are what make you realize how much you hate not having the black haired boy, with the overly kind personality next to you. 

And the fact you didn’t call.

Days turn into months, as the winter snow leaves the tree’s branches leaving them barren. Only for the spring rain and occasional sun to let the leaves and flowers begin to spring back up again. Teachers are at the point in the year whether they aren’t quite sure if they want to give everyone in the class a pass just so they don’t have to hear the constant complaining on the amount of assignments a student has due by tomorrow, or if they’ll give more work, more assessments as a sort of payback for the hardships they’ve had to endure throughout the year.  

You are in music class, your professor going over the final assessments guidelines one last time before they are presented at the start of class tomorrow. The weight of the written sonnet feels heavy, and though the physical copy of the assignment is types out neatly somewhere in your computer, the original draft that you had begun to draft all those months ago is crumpled up in your jacket pocket, a constant reminder of everything you want and everything that you feel you can’t have. 

If you close your eyes just for a second you can see yourself back in your room, until the space changes and you are no longer in your room but are at the school’s roof. The warm spring breeze tangling your hair, and making the page in front of you flutter. You didn’t need the paper, the lyrics to the musical sonnet that had been shakespeare inspired seemed to be embedded into your brain so that when you weren’t thinking about the thousands of words you still had to write when it came to the labs for biology class, or the analysis of catcher in the rye for english class, the words would replay in your head over and over. The soft melody accompanying them. Humming to the song had become a habit, one that had developed like how one realizes that they bit ethier lip, or thumbs when they are stressed or bored. A habit that once you realize it’s there you can’t help but notice it every time you do it. The notebook paper continues to rustle, and you fold it and place it into the pocket of the black jean jacket, taking a deep breath as you do so. Unlike summer nights and winter afternoons, spring doesn't feel suffocating when the sun is out, because the clouds do a job of covering the sun before it burns your skin. The wind dies down, and you begin to humm to the sonnet, the words so familiar you were almost sure if your memory was to be taken, those words would remain embedded, and make their way back up because they were an acceptance of everything you were and everything you felt. 

The final bell has rang, and you can see the swarm of teenage bodies rush out of the school, some go directly to the bus stop in groups, others head to the grass fields that make up most of the school's building. You don’t think much about where others go, don’t dwell much if they get home safely or if their parents will pick them up. Dwelling too much on thoughts a feeling never helped anybody, it’s a mantra that has been drilled into you and almost every other teenager and young adult in this lifetime as movies and books tell you to focus on the present never on the future and most definitely not in the future. Yet you wonder if these books written by great authors that make you question the world around you, or movies that seem to transcend time if the authors themselves that preach about not dwelling too much on one moment if they themselves spent too much time focusing on the sound of their love’s laughter, or the way their nose would scrunch up a reaction to the world around them anytime they found something amusing. You wonder if the person or memory they were told or did think about so much that it caused them heartache had the ability to make them write the poems you had written. So you try to not dwell on the people, no larger than your thumb as they rush from one side of the campus to another, because if you thought about him, it, for too long the memories would rush back in. Instead you look down, the light vertigo causing you to snap back into some realm of reality. 

 Sitting down on the roof’s edge, legs dangling off the edge you continue to hum and sing to the melody that plays in your heart, confession to yourself, a confession to the dark haired boy that captured your heart. The tears seem to swell up over and over as you reach the bridge, and they stream silently, down your face. They run down landing on your hands, on the ripped jeans and doodle converse. Your mind drifts to the memories connected with the lyrics and the fact that as much as you wanted to not want to hear jeno’s voice especially after you had pushed him away, you couldn’t get rid of the way he knew you. He knew you better than at times you almost thought you knew yourself, it was a nuisance the way your heart would skip beats months after everything went down, how it would still accelerate when you two would make eye contact because he had apologized and you don’t know if it was because you had never felt this way before, or because you two kept meeting underneath the moonlight the same song that seemed to connect the two of in one string of fate that you had forgiven him. But forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting, it didn’t mean that you had wished he’d called and you hate him - or lack thereof to do so - when days passed and the beep boop ba a compilation of random noises jeno would make whenever he was confused, and your ringtone for him didn’t disturb you. 

Your voice breaks slightly as the melody in your head falls, fading into a non-existent background. The sun had begun to fall, but you don’t notice, eyes closed as you take in the world around you. Notes ending, song and the hum of love never confessed, never expressed, stolen by the wind. And that’s the thing about having your eyes closed, oblivious to the world and the people around you, because you don’t hear the opening and closing of the slightly rusted door. You don’t notice the boy with a leather jacket, hair almost covering his eyes that are filled with so much love but confusion by the words that leave your mouth. It’s the thing about the wind, that it takes a message and delivers it to whom it wants you unlike a phone call that is directed at who you choose. The wind is a free spirit, and it doesn’t travel far. To be more exact it travels the short span of a mere seconds, a mere feet to jeno whose mouth has fallen at the sound of your voice so raw and pure. It is the wind that calls him to you, the wind that makes him take slow steps to you. 

Wind, a warm breeze in the coming summer air, love that you don’t realize you have, you need until it’s wrapping its arms around you.

                         But mostly i hate the way i don’t hate you.

The moment you feel arms wrapping around you still. Every bone in your body stops moving, your legs stop swinging and your voice catches in your throat. It isn’t until you spot the small cassette tattoo on the wrist of the arms wrapped around you that you breathe again and push yourself back, a curse escaping your lips. Laughter rings in your ears as jeno holds you up from where you sit, and turns you around so that you face him. You begin to push him away, on instinct from weeks of telling yourself that you wanted nothing to do with the boy in front of you. That the way his eyes dimmed, and lips curved down by the light gesture of pushing him away didn’t affect you. It was a mantra, push him away, don’t get hurt, a mantra produced by a time of hurt and fear for being broken again. Something that you had come to realize though in the past week, the past day, past couple of minutes when someone’s arms had warped around you and you had wished it had been jeno, that the heart and the mind don’t always coincide. 

It is when you look up again, and jeno is already looking at you, hair illuminated by the descending sun, as it casted flames dancing across his features, and lighting up his eyes, that you smile. Some sort of smile that repairs something in jeno, because his eyes seem to be filled with hope again and he opens his mouth ready to speak, ready to tell you everything he wanted to say again, mostly to apologize but when he opens his mouth the words seem to be caught in his throat. Stuck, as if there was some force pulling them back, not letting them escape and reach you. Mouth opens and closes again, and it’s the sound of your voice as you call to him, and say something he can’t quite process, blocked by the noise that doesn’t leave his head that he can finally speak again. 

“June 21” those weren’t supposed to be the words that lef this mouth, and your confused look didn’t give him any confidence to continue whatever the hell he was gonna do, which at this point he truly didn’t know because this was supposed to be an apology but he had already apologized. Jeno decided to do his best, and try again, “that was the day we met. The day you helped me finish composing this beautiful song that helped me get into music school. The day where the second i heard you singing off the words i threw out into the open air hoping for someone to grab onto, you did, and my heart seemed to begin it’s freefall” a small smile graced your features, as you remembered the day, not knowing how much life would change. The small smile is all jeno needed to continue, gaining confidence even as happiness filled every inch of you, tears that you promised you wouldn’t shed in front of him steamed but not from sadness or anger this time. This time they were from a place of loss and happiness to the boy whose eyes conveyed so much more than the words he spoke, whose hand had come up to your cheek wiping away the spare tears that would come down. Ever so gentle and full, always him. 

“It was something I didn't think was possible, you know? Coming to this new school, everyone had come up with their own ideas of who i was, because of stories they had heard, only to find you. Headstrong as ever, always standing by whatever you believe even some like pluto is still a planet” you both laugh, it’s a quick one, more like a chuckle but it’s filled with joy, at the memory. “You who didn’t care what the world thought, only that if you put your mind to it you would get it done. I never meant to fall in love with you, never meant to make you cry because of something that shouldn’t have ever happened, I never meant to get you too hate me the way you probably do” his eyes softened, and he pulled away ever so slightly, “but here I am. And i now i most definitely don’t deserve it but y/n, i can’t deny it because since i first heard your voice that late night i think i fell for you, and it has been a constant free fall from there. So when i say it now, i mean it i fucking love you” the end was more of a ramble, a long list of words that made your heart flip and expand in your chest, making your smile grow and you could see the doubt in his eyes, you could see him retreat back into himself, he completely let you go when you spoke up again, “you want to know what i hate the most?” you didn’t wait for a response before speaking again, grabbing his hands in yours, and you willed him to look at you. 

“I hate the way that I don't hate you” you take a step closer to him, your faces so close the sun casting glows on you both. Two shadows becoming one behind you as the sun set, as one confessed to another the way they felt. “Because i don’t hate you, jeno. In fact it’s the opposite, because hate is not even close, not a tiny bit in resemblance to what i feel you for you,

Not even close, Not even a little bit,  Not even at all.” 

adfghjk and it’s finally done !!! i had so so so much fun writing this piece and seriously hope you guys enjoyed it !! im such a sucker for jeno and this movie in general lol. i struggled w the ending so i hope it came out well :) n e ways,,, please please tell me your thoughts on it, what you liked? what you didn’t like? things i could improve on. much love to you all !!

masterlist

[amirajones]

Forbidden love: The Pirate and the Pirate Princess pt. 1

Pairing: Princess Amira White x Killian Jones (Hook) 

wordcount: 2293

I question when it started or when it was all going downhill in my royal life that things just seemed...dull. I could never complain about my life, except well the worst day of my life as a child. It was a good day I was eight going to be nine soon and Snow's birthday was the next day. We were both so happy about it to celebrate with our mother and father. Had mother never gotten sick and tried to make it like she was fine we could have possibly done something to help her instead I was useless to help one of the two people I cared about most in this world. We had no choice but to watch her slowly die and even when Snow had gone out to find a cure the answer was something dark that neither of us wanted to consider.

I think during the funeral is when my world started to look not as bright anymore with my mother's death. I was so young so the sadness had a good hold on me but even so Snow tried making me feel better. After a few months dad made us Travel by horse, while Johanna our hand maiden who had taken over being the mother figure in our life was walking beside the horses. The one I was riding was a beautiful white horse but like Snow I loathed the constant traveling.

We traveled for days going from kingdom to kingdom in search of what father called our future stepmother. I was tired of the traveling to the point of just leaning against the horse and about to just collapse. Johanna was the one who made it easier to keep going knowing this was never going to be an easy thing for the two of us.

"Snow, Amira your father King Leopold is a lonely man now that your mother has passed away." Johanna said "I know Johanna but that does not mean we are not tired." Amira said

We made it to another kingdom where we were welcomed by the royals of the castle, I expected much of the same with the last two kingdoms. Snow had gotten down and she was so cheerful and social while I was merely watching without speaking. Johanna had learned between the two of us which one wanted to talk to the people and who would rather stay in the background.

"Amira, you should be more like your sister and talk to people. Someday you will run a kingdom of your own next to a King." Johanna said "Wishful thinking but I want to see what is in the world before I settle down." Amira said

No one approved of my thoughts but I was different than most princesses, I guess it came with being second in line. There was a pier close by from what I looked around but saw father and Snow were having a good time talking. So I decided to speak up.

"May I look around your kingdom?" I asked "Of course Princess, you can look as far as you want even to the village." The king of the kingdom said "I will go with you." Johanna said

I walked for a bit glad to get off the horse for traveling and we walked until we made it to the pier. I sat on the edge looking out at the sea wanting to know what was out there beyond the land. Beyond these meaningless traveling and this royal life where people did what he asked cause we were in higher society than them.

"You seem so lost in thoughts." Johanna said "I just want to see what is out there, father says when I'm older but hat if he doesn't?" Amira said "You'll have access to your father's ship." Johanna said "yes, when I am older." Amira said "You will be able to do everything you want in time, but you must keep yourself going forward for your mother's wishes." Joahanna said

My mother, it was hard to even think that she wasn't here anymore and the fact that we didn't even know why or how she died. Life was just beating through the time but it was easier with father than living without him. It was easier with doing so much more but there was ways to do it and waiting for it to be done the right way.

We stayed here for a few days but just like all the other kingdoms dad didn't find what he was looking for so we were back on the road with the horses. I blocked out most of what happened just to get through it but it was during these travels we met our stepmother Regina. She was nice in the beginning but people can change for the worst.

When we returned home I was overly happy and ran to my room to put away the gifts we got on our travel but to lay in my own bed was a blessing.

A couple years passed since then as Snow and I took up learning how to sword fight in case we ever needed it someday. Father was over protective but with Snow and I as his daughters he knew we needed to know how to fight. I heard him talking about a party when we were older. A masquerade ball in our honor which actually helped me get into a good mood with something to do as we practiced for years. Time passed with our practice and though I hadn't had much match against Snow in the beginning we became apart of those who got to be better.

All that practicing payed off but still the time came when the masquerade ball was happening. Johanna had some outfits made for us. I went to my room and checked out what I had option wise and It was hard to decide. Blue dress with a pretty blue mask to go with it or a red dress knee high with a gold mask. It made it so hard to decide whether I wanted to go proper or I wanted to be a bit rebel.

Options:

I decided to go with the red dress as it gave more mystery and I didn't want the people bowing to me. I didn't want to be proper so I had to figure this out on my own but Johanna came in seeing what I was doing and she helped me. She didn't even show any disapprovement in my choice for tonight just went along and tended to it. She also styled my hair to where people wouldn't recognize me. It was the first time my hair had been up since mother died and when I put my mask on I didn't even recognize myself.

"You look so pretty Amira." Johana said "thank you Johanna." Amira said

When I left the room I knew Johanna wouldn't be attending so when we could walk in I was glad we didn't have to be announced. I saw father talking with the people, this masquerade had a mix of royals and the people of the kingdom. I walked being at ease with no one approaching and bowing glad that I could do as I pleased. As I walked I went over to the drink table getting a cup of punch when I heard a familiar voice and looked.

"You look amazing tonight Mira." Derek said "What gave it away it was me?" Amira asked "Every princess or maiden is wearing a dress that goes down to the ground." Derek said "Right, I didn't feel like being proper tonight." Amira said "Rebellious as always, less expectations on you so you don't have to worry." Derek said

Derek is my best friend from another kingdom, he went through that boy phase of not liking girls with having to see his intended every summer. I have met her a few times and didn't mind hanging with her but I wasn't allowed to go crazy. Father has been very over protective with me and Snow. We were always social with each other during events with everything going on but we walked through the crowd when I landed on one of the peasant girls in my village named Analise.

"Analise!" I yelled

Analise was already having punch with her brown hair, black dress and mask on for the party as she noticed us. I walked over and we all started talking like it wasn't some big event as I saw my sister come in. She was a bit later than I expected as I saw her white flowing gown and her mask. I knew she always represented what we stood for but she was next to be Queen. I admired my sister so much but I wanted to be just like her.

Snow's Attire:

I talked with my friends knowing that this was good enough for me but when I was out of punch I went to get some more. I was on my own as I refilled my glass taking a sip of my glass when I heard the sound of foot steps. I knew it was possibly my imagination but I felt someone tap on my shoulder which made me look.

"Forgive me, you're quite beautiful tonight." The man said "thank you, uh.." I realized I never saw him before "Where are my manners, I'm Prince Nicholas. I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find Princess Amira." Nicholas said

My whole body about tensed hearing this prince was looking for me but he was looking for someone dressed more properly than I was. Snow was sort of easy to tell her name was Snow and she was wearing white. I knew I could lie after all I couldn't do it with my family but I could give it a try.

"Sorry No. I..I don't know where Lady Amira is." Amira said Nicholas seemed to notice my hesitation and he seemed to be about to say something when another man joined in and suddenly put his arm around me. "Luv, here you are I've been looking for you." He said I didn't know this man but he was helping "why Yes, I was getting some punch." I said going along with it.

Watching as the prince left seeming to buy the sudden intruders ways of cutting in the conversation I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I felt the man let me go but not leave as I was looking around. I wanted to know why a sudden stranger would just jump in and save me like that without even knowing the situation.

"thank you sir." I said I saw him take my gloved hand and kiss it "Killian Jones." He said as I looked at him through my mask and saw he was also wearing one. "Now Princess Amira, you should be a bit more careful."

My whole body went into sock as he realized who was I was, this couldn't be happening to me. I as so sure no one would figure out my disguise but all the more reason to figure out who was behind the mask. I still inquired about what he was doing here after all I was curious now.

"How did you figure out who I am?" Amira asked "What brings you to the ball? gold? Jewels?" "Quite perceptive of you to be so bold Princess." Killian said "No one helps out for any reason if not for some gain." Amira said "Why I came is my business, but you seemed very uncomfortable with the prince." Killian said "How perceptive." Amira said

I thought my next words carefully knowing this was a man I'd never met and yet here I was talking with him. I took another sip of my punch keeping in mind that I had to represent this kingdom. My father was out dancing with my sister and my step mother was just sitting at a table. My world had seemed dull for quite some time but now it seemed color was resurfacing.

"Let me guess, you want to do things before you get married." Killian said before I could answer. "Yes, I want to sail the seas see what is out there. Fall in love on my own terms with whoever I want." Amira said "Well, I've been around some time. Maybe you should meet me at the tavern. I would love to know just how Amira is." Killian said

To say I wasn't interested was a lie cause he had my attention even when I didn't think any man would ever have my attention on anything. Derek and Analise came over which got my attention for a minute. Analise smiled seeing I was talking to someone for once she knew I wasn't very social with people.

"Mira, who is this?" Derek asked "My savior for the night, seems there is a prince looking for me tonight and he was able to rescue me from an awkward encounter." Amira said "Does your savior have a name?" Analise asked "Killian Jones." Killian said

The surprised look on Analise's face told me more than I needed to know that something was up she recognized that name. She pulled me over to her where Killian couldn't hear her and she whispered one word in my ear.

"He's a pirate, the one people call Hook." Analise whispered.

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically.  Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling? 

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing  TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.” 

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone. 

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him. 

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. 

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind. 

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.”  Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.” 

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now. 

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already. 

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding. 

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices. 

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

#

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach. 

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father. 

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?” 

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information. 

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.” 

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns. 

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian. 

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down. 

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone. 

Damian is lonely.

#

Patrol is a necessary evil. 

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has. 

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops. 

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions. 

The akuma frowns, tenses. 

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

 Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity. 

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses. 

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?” 

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.” 

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake. 

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now? 

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham. 

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off. 

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills. 

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it. 

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now. 

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease. 

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something? 

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone. 

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?” 

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again? 

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment. 

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin. 

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds. 

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?” 

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.” 

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.  

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him. 

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help. 

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to. 

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding. 

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good. 

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time.  “Who else knows? Do you?” 

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?” 

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?” 

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict. 

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends. 

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

May I request GHJPU for Sebastian? Sebby needs more love :D (eee sorry if any of this overlapped or its too much, have a cookie for your troubles 🍪)

DID SOMEBODY SAY LOVING SEBASTIAN HOURS!?!?!?!?! FERAL EYE GLEAM

Bless your heart!!! Sebastian has found a new and very dear place in my heart as of late, I would be delighted to offer my thoughts!!!!! :D (your cookie offering has been accepted with the utmost glee 🍪, I hope my humble writing efforts will bring you equal joy, lovely~💖💖💖) 

G = Gifts (How does he feel about gift giving? What are his habits when it comes to this?) 

Awwww haha, baby boy Sebby is honestly a very observant and reliable kind of S/O, I think. He will notice even the tiniest of changes in MC’s expression--the slightest shifts in her temperament. As a result of his attentive nature he has an easy time deducing the things she might like, always makes a mental note of where her eyes linger. Is there a classic she once loved in her time being published for the first time in their era, on display at a bookstore nearby? Noted. Does she hover near shops filled with self-care products--things like scented candles or lotions or bath salts, things she considers indulgent luxuries? Noted. Is there an outfit that caught his eye in a boutique, something he thinks would complement her complexion perfectly? Noted. 

The thing about Sebastian is that his gifts will be heartfelt, timely, and devastatingly thoughtful. Whether something small or something lavish it will always be precisely what she needs/wants, and she can sense the loving care he put into finding the perfect gift.

H = Holding Hands (When/how does he like to hold hands?)

Honestly? Sebastian has spent the better part of his life alone. His circumstances weren’t the worst; for all that he’s lost in his life he never went hungry, lived comfortably. But...that doesn’t change the fact that his life has been fairly devoid of meaningful human contact. Even in college, friends and close colleagues were hard to come by. The few people he did develop budding feelings for he always gave up on long before it could become any kind of substantial relationship. He was always the type to admire from afar, never really felt worthy of the people he liked.

It was MC that was the first to reach out to him, and for the first little while in their relationship she will be the one most naturally inclined to reach for him. He isn’t really used to having someone by his side like this, somebody who would be delighted to hold his hand--who wants to be close to him. It’s always a shock when they go grocery shopping and he just feels her fingers wrap gently around his. She blushes a little and says something about not wanting to get separated, but it’s clear what her real motivation was.

After those first few months, it becomes much more natural for him to reach for her hand when they’re traveling somewhere together or when they’re alone. He likes to intertwine their fingers, loves the way they fit against his perfectly. His shyness wears off after a while, and it’ll be rare to see them together without them holding hands--unless they’re cooking or at work.

J = Jokes (Does he like to joke around with or prank her? How?)

Do you know how cats have their eyes all narrow thin pupil but then they go REALLY REALLY round? That’s Sebastian. I tend to refer to it as “Silly Time Mode Engaged.”

Now then, his kind of joking is very dry and very deadpan. It’s subtle and immediate, so if you’re not attuned to it it can be easy to miss. That, or people just look at him weird because they don’t quite get the connection he’s making and/or the delivery feels off because his facial expression doesn’t change at all, completely flat. That being said, one of his all time favorite things to do is to say something absurd or nigh histrionic (which tends to be uncharacteristic of him) and wait for the confused head turn/startled laughter to hit. He will make puns and play on words all the time--he puts his academic knowledge to good use.

“I swear when I first met you I was convinced you were an AI.” “Alexa taught me everything I know.” He’ll bow. “Oh? Do I have competition, in that case?” “Your speakers are suboptimal (he pokes her freckles), but you possess what Alexa lacks.” “And that would be?” He’ll gather her close, smiling against her lips. “My heart.” :D cutest robot I ever saw uwu

Bonus bc I have a problem: “Is stealing hearts in Alexa’s programming? Just to be safe, of course.” “I think it’s safe to say it isn’t within the parameters of her design--but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods just yet.” cue sounds of tickling and laughter

The other way Sebastian messes with MC is that he is an ENORMOUS tease in the bedroom. He’s very much the kind of lover that prefers to tantalize and draw things out; a long, slow seduction that will render MC immobile from the pleasure by the end. The promise of a kiss is almost always only a whisper of the feeling he intends to drown her in. Remember that Sebastian’s stoicism belies a nigh inhuman ardor and self-control. He’s more than willing to leave her wanting in order to fully capitalize on that desire later at night.

P = Pet Names (What does he like to call her?)

Other than her name? HE DOESN’T AHAAHAHAHAHA Just kidding of course, but given where he comes from pet names between couples aren’t...really a thing…(take it up with Japan, I Was Today Years Old, my sappy romantic ass would never survive)

The funny inverse of this though is that he does NOT fuck around with people that try to call MC pet names. When Arthur Tries It™ he canonically goes all steely saccharine, openly telling the others they’re together. So none of that “luv” or “doll” business, he will not have it (he won’t fight the purebloods on it because 1. they’re more like doting grandfathers than anything and 2. Sebastian does not have a death wish). If MC has a nickname of some kind, then I could see him using that or adding his own spin on it with a great deal of affection c:

U = Upset (How does he act when she’s upset?)

Whether he was the cause or not, Sebastian has a single modus operandi when his beloved is upset (and to anyone who’s upset really) and that is to offer gentle reassurance/an apology. He is very, very sensitive to the feelings of others and really takes it to heart when someone isn’t feeling well. That being said, he won’t always be overt about his concern--he’s more the type to do little things that offer constant support/reminders that he’s there for them. 

If it’s something more serious, he will do everything in his power to minimize the harm done and sooth the MC. His attempts to comfort her will be tender, muted, and consistent; prolonged hugs, doubles his offering of sweets, makes her favorite foods, gives her a relaxing bath salt to use--anything that he knows for certain will coax her lips up into a smile. He’s the type to freely offer space for her to figure things out if she needs it, but he will also be watchful; he won’t let things escalate if she needs externalized support to heal (bc lbr some problems we can’t solve alone ;-;).

His other go-to method is to offer distractions in any capacity that he can. Will offer to teach her a new recipe, or find a new type of flower he wants to plant together, or make up some kind of project he needs help with. Sometimes he’ll genuinely need the help, but most of the time he does it for the express purpose of getting her mind away from negative things and focused on him/the present. It’s hard to dwell on upsetting things when you’re body is physically demanding something else from you, even more so if it’s a fairly complex task. She’s known to be very dutiful; she’ll be so focused on doing a good job she’ll forget the sadness/irritation for a bit and the intensity of the emotion might ebb slightly.

If the issue is lighter, he’ll probably just cuddle/tickle her back to fighting spirit, pressing kisses wherever he can reach until she starts giggling. In these instances he prefers to hug her from behind, a reminder that she doesn’t have to face anything unpleasant or unnerving all on her own; he’ll always be there to hold her steady whenever she needs him. 

And rest assured, this man is always gathering data to optimize his comfort capabilities. He is incredibly adaptable, and will always be watching her reactions closely to adjust his strategies.

[random-fangirl003]

Notice Me - Nathan Drake

Fandom: Uncharted

Character(s): Nathan Drake, OCs, Sam Drake, Elena Fisher, Sully

Pairing(s): Nathan Drake x OC

Type: Oneshot

Warning(s): Cussing, Arguments, Pregnancy Mention, Teasing

Summary: Tired of playing second fiddle to Elena, Nathan's best friend decides to prove a point.

A/N: NEW TO THIS FANDOM, MIGHT GET STUFF WRONG!

Anyone who looked close enough, could tell that Savannah Grant was in love with Nathan Drake, and they could also see how much Nathan Drake loved Savannah Grant, but the two of them were as oblivious to their affections towards one another. So, they constantly spent time together, whether treasure hunting or otherwise, as best friends do. On the latest treasure hunt, Savannah had dug up information on the location of a map for Alaric's treasure, which was being sold in a charity auction, meaning that they would have to break in and steal it, or honestly bid on it, which was causing a bit of a dispute between the two best friends currently.

"No! No way!" Nathan huffs from where he's sitting, leaning back on two legs of his chair. "You can't just go into that auction unarmed and alone!"

"What?! I'm not strong enough to do it? Is that what you mean?!" Savannah demands, placing her hands on her hips.

"I never said that!" Nathan replies. "It's just too dangerous to go it alone!"

"Yet you had no problem sending Sully in alone, last time."

"That's different."

"How? How is it different, Nathaniel?! How is my going to an auction, while you do the exact see thing as last time, any different? In case you forgot, this is my treasure! I found it!" She growls, narrowing her eyes at him.

"It just is!" He replies as he stands up, pressing his hands on the table.

"If it were Elena, you'd have no problems with it!"

"That's different too! She's-"

"What?" She demands, cutting the treasure hunter off. "She's what? Stronger? Smarter? Prettier?"

"I never said any of those things!" Nathan yells, anger flushing his cheeks as she slams a hand on the table herself.

"You didn't need to." She growls as she presses off the table, her anger turning her vision red as she turns away. "I'm going! And if you're so fucking worried, I'll ask Michael to accompany me as my date!" She stalks off, leaving Nathan fuming behind her, Sully and Sam are off to the side of the room, completely forgotten.

"Michael?! How could she just invite that pompous, arrogant-?!"

"She is in charge, Nate. She's been doing most of the work this time." Sam points out, causing his brother to turn on him with wild eyes, raking a hand through his hair.

"But, he's played her so many times!" Nathan shouts as Sully holds up his hands.

"She's a big girl, she knows what she's doing." Her annoyance had bit at Nathan, and he knew she threw Michael's name into the fray, just to anger him, but he also knew that she would keep her word, and that jackass would be escorting her to the auction tomorrow evening.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." Nathan retorts sharply, leaving the room. Elena and Savannah are sitting on the roof top patio in the hot evening sun of Southern Italy, where the blonde journalist is trying to calm the ginger treasure hunter down.

"Look, he didn't mean it like that, Vannah." Elena grasps her friend's hand. "You just have a tendency to go head first into things, without thinking them through."

"Seriously?! You just don't understand why I'm doing this, do you?!" Savannah exclaims, rage still burning in her words. "Nathan sees me as a burden! All I ever do is screw up, some way or another. I want to show that I'm worth being in this, being by his- I mean your guys' side."

"You don't always screw up," Elena shakes her head, patting Savannah's hand. "I mean, remember the time Nate didn't remember to write down the pattern to a puzzle in his journal, and you remembered it all, in order? Or how about the time none of us could speak that one language, uh-"

"Taushiro. I wouldn't have learned if I hadn't wanted to show up Nate." Savannah sighs, leaning into her fist.

"Exactly! You and Nate may fight, but you bring our the best in each other. You just have to understand where you both are coming from, ya know?" Elena's words make Savannah sigh again as she runs her other hand through her wild curls, pulling away her hand as she grimaces at the muck that always seems to find it's way there, due to the constant running, fighting, and everything else that is entailed with treasure hunting.

"I guess you're right." Savannah stands with a hesitant smile, heading towards the stairs, only to pause. "Elena, you don't happen to... like Nate, right?" She asks, looking at the blonde from over her shoulder.

"I, uh-" Elena pauses, and let's out a shocked laugh. "No, it's not like that. Nathan is like a brother, I mean once, yeah, I did. But, you know how it is, I mean-"

"Is it Sam?" She turns bright red at that, causing Savannah to giggle, shaking her head. "You might want to talk to him about that."

"Like you can talk?" The journalist teases, causing Savannah to scoff, entering their hotel room.

"Savannah, I-" Nathan starts as he walks over to her from the other room, but Savannah pushes past him.

"I need a shower, Nathan. Then to make a call." She slams the door to the room that she and Elena share, grabbing her toiletries, clothes, and a towel, before exiting her room to enter the bathroom, leaving Nathan standing in the hallway, stunned at her behavior.

The silent treatment continues through the night, and into the next day, where Elena and Sully go over the layouts of the mansion where the auction is being held, and the plan for the others, while Savannah spends the day getting ready. At half past eight, she finally leaves her room, entering the living room in a shimmering blue dress with a slit up her thigh, and silver high heels on. "God, my stomach is in knots." Savannah says as she walks over to the kitchenette, Nathan's mouth dropping open at the sight of her, Sam's and Sully's mouths aren't far along.

"Don't you look nice!" Elena says brightly as she pulls out supplies for a sandwich. "You are probably hungry."

"No, I'm in heels and a dumbass dress, that feels like I had to be slathered in Crisco to get into. I hate being unable to wear my boots, and clothes I can fight or defend in. You ever see someone ungraceful, who could dodge a bullet in a dress?" Elena shakes her head with a laugh, and starts to spread mayo over her bread.

"Well, eat before you go. You'll feel better." Elena says.

"No way, if I eat one bite, every seem in this thing will split open." Savannah says as she glances back at the dumbstruck men, who are watching her, instead of preparing for the night. "Are they alright?"

"You look like a girl!" Sam says, causing her to snort.

"I am a girl." She points out, causing Nathan to snap his mouth shut, slugging Sam in the arm.

"Yeah, but you don't look it!" Sam replies, causing Savannah to sigh, threading her fingers through the one long sleeve of her dress, feeling rather sheepish now.

"Well, you look lovely, Sav." Sully says, pressing out of his chair, before crossing to her with a cigar clenched between his teeth.

"Thanks Sully, I'd give you a hug, but Elena lent me her expensive perfume, I don't want to smell like cigarettes too, I'll smell like a hooker." She giggles at Sully's affronted expression, there's a knock on the door that silences them all. "That'd be Michael." She says, grabbing her clutch from the table by the door, and opening it to show a suave man in a tux, his black hair is slicked back, and he has a cocky smirk on his clean shaven face.

"V-V." Michael sweeps her up in a hug, causing her to let out a surprised laugh, hugging him back as Nathan grits his teeth, clenching a fist behind her. "How have you been, luv?" He asks as he pulls back to set her to the floor.

"Living one day to the next." She answers honestly, before walking over to grabbing her shawl from the chair beside Nathan, not even sparing him a glance as she walks back towards Michael. "Well, are we going?"

"Indeed," He grabs her hand, bringing it up to press a kiss to her gloved knuckle, before tucking it into his arm. "far well all, enjoy your evening." He bids, telling them all that Michael has no clue what is really going on as Savannah waves, closing the door behind them after, a sweep of her shawl over her shoulders. During the drive to the mansion, Savannah and Michael make polite conversation with one another, while back at the hotel the others are getting dressed, and preparing for the sting, while Nathan seethes in his anger.

Pulling up to the mansion, Savannah removes the invitations from her pouch as Michael rounds to the other side of the car, opening her door, before offering a hand to help her out of the car. Taking it, the ginger treasure hunter stares up at the manor, her green eyes wide as Michael chuckles, tucking her hand through his arm. "Are you sure you'd rather be here, than somewhere else for our date? I'm only in Italy for the weekend."

"Michael, you're my escort, this isn't a date." He fakes a wounded look as he walks her towards the door, where the guards study their invitations, and scan her purse, before allowing them in. The main foyer is full of people in fancy dress, the artifacts are spread out on the tables for examining, there is music, dancing, a grand chandelier, and a champagne fountain with flutes next to it for drinking. "Will you get me a drink? I want to look at the artifacts." Michael nods, giving her a teasing bow as she starts towards a table, pretending to be examining a golden plate as she pulls out a lipstick container from her purse. Pretending to put the lipstick on, she pulls the ear piece out of the bottom, sticking it in her ear, before smacking her lips together as she puts the lipstick away.

"Check check, Sav can you hear me?" Sully asks as she let's out a hum of acknowledge, though to others it might seem like she's humming along to the music.

"We're outside right now," Nate says, his voice a welcome distraction from the pit in her stomach. "I'm working on getting the passage under the mansion open for the others."

"V-V, luv?" She turns to the British ambassador as he walks over with two champagne flutes, offering her one as she bites her lip.

"Actually, I haven't ate yet. I really shouldn't drink on an empty stomach." She says, causing Michael to deflate as Nathan chuckles in her ear, causing her to struggle not to roll her eyes.

"No matter," Michael sets the flute on a passing waiter's tray, tucking her hand into his arm again. "I do wish you had mentioned something, I would have made sure you ate before we had come."

"I'm alright." She says as they both start to wander around, her looking for the artifact that hides the map, and Michael watching Savannah's expressions and mannerisms.

"Savannah, I need you to open the servant's door leading to the kitchen." Nate's voice is in her ear, making her swallow thickly as she glances at the clock.

"Michael, I'm going to go to the bathroom and fix my make-up-"

"Ah, luv, no need, you are beautiful, as always." Michael reaches up to brush a wild curl from her face, and she blushes.

"Oh please." Nathan says in the ear piece, making Savannah's face to crumple, and Michael frowns.

"What's wrong?" She shakes her head, forcing herself to smile convincingly.

"My stomach is eating itself. I'm going to pop into the kitchen and grab something."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Michael asks, grasping her hand as she pulls away, and she looks back at him.

"I'll ask permission if anyone spots me." She gives a teasing grin. "Besides, mister ambassador, I remember the two of us having quite a bit of fun sneaking around, while we were younger." Michael chuckles, rubbing his neck as Nathan makes a gagging sound in the mic as Savannah struts away, her path towards the kitchen dead ahead. Slipping into the kitchen is fine, the servants merely sent questioning looks, though seeing her attire they left her alone, most guests were allowed to do as they wished, as long as they caused no trouble. The area around servant's door to the kitchen was abandoned, but she was careful when resting upon the wood, her back flat against it as she looked around, watching the servants carefully as she unlocked and opened the door.

"Finally!" Nathan groans as he enters, dressed to the nines as she glares at him, holding out her hand for her pistol- with Nate, shooting was never far behind. He hands the weapon to her, making her throw back the skirt of her dress from the slit, and slide the gun into the holster on her leg, Nate's eyes trailing up and down her legs as she tugs the gown back into place.

"Have you found the artifact?" Elena asks, entering the kitchen in a waitressing outfit.

"The map is in the vase, like I thought. Lot number 31." Savannah says, holding out a stolen apron from a kitchen cart. Elena pulls on the apron, tying up her hair as Sam ties the apron behind her back, he's in his own waiter outfit, and Sully is obviously waiting in the car for their getaway.

"Do we need the vase?" Sam inquires, causing her to roll her eyes.

"The map is in the vase." She replies, making him frown. "It's also from the year Alaric died, we might need it- it could contain a clue, or be part of a puzzle, so yes. It's not a very big vase, and it's more than likely full of dirt, considering it looks like an urn, but the marking indicate that it isn't."

"So, we're stealing the map, vase and all." Nathan replies, and Savannah looks at him, before frowning.

"You're supposed to be a waiter."

"I couldn't find a uniform in my size, so I knocked out a guest, and stole his clothes." She wrinkles her nose, attempting to hold back a giggle as Nathan smiles. "I'm a guest now."

"Well, Michael knows who you are, so if he asks why I didn't come with you, tell him the truth. We're fighting." She states.

"Are we really?" Nathan asks, causing her to glare at him. "You are beautiful tonight... so beautiful." He says softly, causing her to blush as she looks away, shuffling a bit until Sam clears his throat, looking up as Elena elbows the older of the Drake brothers in the stomach, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and starts towards the party.

"Show time." Elena says into the ear piece, making Savannah paste a smile on her face, exiting the kitchen alone. She heads over to Michael, an apology on her lips as he smiles at her.

"Sorry, I had to meet Nate at the door. We're fighting, but he insisted on coming." Michael frowns as he glances around, probably for Nathan, as Savannah smiles up at him. "I'll take that champagne now." He nods his head, grabbing her hand to tuck it into his arm, before escorting her towards the champagne fountain.

"I hope he doesn't interrupt our time again, tonight. I have missed you V-V." She forces herself to continue to smile.

"Gross. Watch, next he'll say he wants to get back together." Nathan hisses in her ear as she takes the flute of champagne from Michael, sipping on it the bubbling drink.

"I mean it, V-V, my love. I made a mistake, I wish to be with you once more." Savannah chokes, spitting her drink right in Michael's face, coughing out an apology as Elena, as a waitress, hands him a napkin from her apron. Savannah takes the other napkin, dabbing at her chin as Elena shoots her a sympathetic grin, walking behind Michael to hover.

"I-I am so sorry." She coughs, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to-" He wipes his face with the napkin.

"No no, you didn't do anything wrong, luv." Elena pretends to stick a finger down her throat behind him. "I merely chose the wrong moment to speak my mind." He continues to wipe his face as she sets the drink down.

"I-Look, Michael, you really hurt me last time, you took advantage of my heart and my feelings, and I just- I just felt that I could never love again. You know how difficult it was for me to trust you, the only other person I could ever trust like that, was Nate." Michael clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, you have turned me down. My heart is now the one to have been played."

"Michael, I never said this was a date, and I never implied that we'd be in a relationship. I needed an escort, that is all. And, as a friend, I thought we could-"

"You've still rejected me!" Michael says, anger in his voice.

"Shh, please, don't make a scene." She begs softly.

"Can I at least be told why? Am I not man enough? Did I hurt you too much?"

"No, that's not it. Well, it's sort of it, but I just-" She bites her lip, looking around. "I just-"

"She's with me." She jumps at the feeling of a familiar arm falling around her waist, pulling her tightly against the person's side, and she looks up to see Nate. "We've been fighting, so I asked her to at least, if she didn't want me to come, invite someone she knew could be trusted, to escort her tonight. What can I say? We fight, but I love her." Savannah's heart pounds and sputters at those words, making her blush as Michael looks at her for confirmation, and she freezes, then slowly nods.

"I see. As far as I can tell, you've made up quite well, and I shall be on my way." Michael bows, walking away with arrogance in his stride as she glances back up at Nate, before she pushes him away a bit.

"I had that!" She snaps, causing Nate to roll his eyes.

"Not from what I saw. Elena was about ready to pour champagne on the guy, to get him to leave." Rubbing her arm, she swallows thickly, glancing at Elena, who is handing out drinks to guests, and she sets her own down.

"So, you decided to play the noble hero and sacrifice yourself for the greater good of the mission?" She scoffs, roll her eyes as she walks away. Nathan grabs her by the wrist, turning her back to him.

"Hey, I never said that! What the hell is with you lately?" Her face falls as she jerks her wrist from his grasp.

"Let's just finish this mission, and I will be out of your hair for good!" She snaps, stalking off towards the artifact, waiting until everything goes dark, and her night-vision contacts come flooding to life, allowing her to slink silently to the table. She quick in grabbing the vase from the table, before hurrying towards the kitchen door. Just as she slips inside, Nathan, and Elena right on her tail, the foyer floods with light again. Tossing the vase to Nathan, who hides it in his pocket, Sam meets them at the servant's door, the four of them exiting without anyone noticing. Or so they thought.

"So, hey," Nathan whispers as they slink through the mansion. "what did you mean by out of my hair "for good"? Are you leaving after this hunt?" She glares at him as she takes measured steps, ignoring his question.

"Who goes there?!" A guard shouts, causing her to flinch at the sound of her heels hitting the floor, and Nate turns his flashlight on them. "The wind?" The guard asks, causing her to glance at the guard from behind the pillar, watching him walk away. Her breath stutters in her relief as she stands flush against the stone pillar, the others are just as quiet around her.

"Take them off, Sav!" Elena whispers in a rush, causing Savannah to nod.

"I'm on it." She shuffles nearly silent as she struggles to get the heels off, then she tosses them to Sam, who hurriedly catches them, before padding up to the guard as he turns back towards them, his flashlight barely hits her toes, before she swings her arm up. Driving her elbow into the guard's head, she knocks him out as he drops to the floor like a sack of rocks, his flashlight rolling across the floor. Nathan whistles softly, impressed as he drags the unconscious guard behind a flower box to hide him, and the four of them continue on their route.

"Are you going to answer me?" Nate asks after a few minutes of silence, then as they round another corner, she just shoots him a glare.

"Now is not the time, Nathan." She retorts as the whistling of a bullet goes past her head, skimming across her cheek as it blows her hair past her eyes, and they all turn, Nathan pushing Elena behind the nearest cover as Savannah dodges another bullet, dropping behind cover. The darkness provides ample cover as she pulls out her gun, and she nods to Nathan, who in turn nods to her, the two of them taking turns to pop out of cover to shoot, not a single word said between them, while Sam scouts ahead.

"How about now?!" Nathan asks as he presses against the pillar, reloading as Savannah pops out of cover, shooting one of the guards in the shoulder, making the guard scream as he falls.

"No, Nathan!" She replies, shooting down another guard. "Why does it always end in a firefight with you?"

"Brilliant question! Let's ask them next time." Elena says as Nathan pops out of cover, firing as Savannah drops back into cover, reloading her gun.

"Are you leaving?!" Nathan asks as he fires one last round, and the final guard falls, the three of them standing as Sam pops up from the route ahead, beckoning them silently. "Hey," Nathan grabs her hand, tugging her to a stop as Elena and Sam continue on ahead. "are you?"

"Nate-"

"Don't Nate me! Are you leaving? Are you done after this?" Nathan asks, his face is sad.

"I-I don't know." She answers truthfully, looking at the ground. "I just don't know." She pulls away, starting towards the exit, followed by Nathan. Sully is as quick a get away as always, the four of them are in the car with the door barely closed, before Sully is peeling out of the mansion gates, the guards start to pile out of the mansion, guns firing. "Heads down!" She shouts, pushing Nate's head down as she drops her head into his lap, a bullet piercing the back window, and out the front. Sully drives like a mad man, swerving and stopping and driving in and out of alleyways and places where a car can barely fit, Nate's arms are around Elena, making Savannah feel bad as she struggles to stay in her seat from the jostling, unable to latch her seatbelt, unlike the others. The bridge on the way to the hotel starts to lift up before them, and Sully clenches the wheel, gunning the engine.

"Hold on!" Sully shouts, driving off a bridge as she let's out a scream, Nathan's eyes go wide when he sees her flying from her seat, his arms reaching out to catch her, jerking her into his lap as Sully lands on the other side of the bridge, and the guards chasing them have no choice but to stop as Sully speeds away. She gasps, clinging to Nathan's arms that are secured firmly around her, heart pounding for two different reasons as Nathan murmurs calming words in her ear, stroking her arm. Nathan holds her shaking form all the way back to the hotel, where Sully swerves around the back, into the underground parking space, allowing Sam to help Elena out as Sully climbs out, Nate muttering that the older man is a "son of a bitch" as he unbuckles, pushing Savannah into a sitting position as he slides out of the car. She sits still as a stone, her heart pounding so hard that it aches, and her eyes wide from the terror flushing from her veins, she doesn't even notice Nathan opening her door, turning her around as he places a warm hand against her cheek.

"Sav? Hon? We're back." Nathan murmurs, causing her to blink, sucking in a sharp breath as she looks around, head jerking from one direction to the other, before she slowly climbs out of the car, her bare feet touching the ground for barely a moment, before Nathan sweeps her into his arms, Bridal style.

"N-Nate?" She asks in confusion.

"You're still a bit shocked, right?" He closes the car door with his shoe, following the others to where they disappeared into the hotel, and when they return to their hotel room, nobody says anything while Nathan whisks Savannah away to his bedroom. "You've got a bit of blood on you," Nathan says as he comes back from the bathroom with a damp rag, having set her on the foot of his bed. "I also grabbed some bandages for your feet. You didn't say anything, but you probably have blisters on your ankles from those heels, huh?" Savannah looks away, sheepishly as Nate scrubs at her elbow, where she can already feel a bruise under the blood, from knocking that one guard out, and then he moves to her cheek, where the first bullet had barely gazed her. He hadn't said anything, but his heart about stopped when he heard and saw that bullet coming at her, and while he pushed Elena down, he had wanted to tackle Savannah to the ground, and shield her with his entire body. "You were shot."

"I'm fine." She answers truthfully, he drops the rag, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, before she looks at him, eyes finally focusing. "I am, Nate." She covers his hand with her own, causing him to lighten up on the pressure, taking a deep shaking breath. "I'm fine." He leans up, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before he pulls back to kneel, taking her foot to clean it, before placing a bandage over one of her heels, where a blister is. He does the same with the other as she let's out a soft sigh, looking out the window beside the bed. "You were reckless tonight." She says, causing him to glance up at her, she realizes that he's shed the jacket of his pilfered suit, and he is now fiddling with the strap to the holster on her leg. "I understand that you're worried about Elena, but how many times has she been through this?"

"I don't know what you mean." Nate says defiantly as Savannah sighs.

"You were circling Elena like a guard dog, you wouldn't even give her a gun. It was an argument for her to even be allowed to join us on this mission!" Savannah pushes a stray curl from her face. "You know that she can take care of herself, she has more proved it, I just don't get why you suddenly have become so overprotective of-"

"Elena is pregnant." Nathan says as he sets her holster on the bed, looking up at her from where he squats, watching her press her lips together in a firm line, her eyes flicking across his face to determine if he's telling the truth.

"She's... and are you-?"

"No!" Nathan scoffs, rolling his eyes at her implication. "Sam is." She snaps her mouth shut, smiling a bit as she shakes her head.

"And they didn't want to distract from the treasure hunt, so they hid the pregnancy and kept their relationship a secret." She rolls her eyes.

"You've been after this treasure for a couple years now. It's understandable on why they'd want to keep quiet if you finally got a lead." She huffs a curl of hair from her face, but it just drops back down, making her sigh as she pushes it back behind her ear.

"So, you aren't with Elena?" Nathan blanches at that, as if the idea makes him sick. "God, if someone had just told me that!" She groans, pressing her palms to her eyes. "I mean, Elena said there was nothing going on, but with how protective you've been, and reluctant you've been about treasure hunting, I just thought- I guess I dunno, that you guys wanted out, so you could settle down in peace? I thought maybe Elena told me what she told me, because you guys were trying to cut me out!"

"Never, Sav. You are my best friend." Nathan says as he stands, and she slowly rocks to her feet.

"Now, don't even try to lie to me about your relationship with Chloe, after we all separated from each other a couple years back." Nathan groans as he presses his face into his hand, shaking his head.

"You're never going to leave that be, are you?" He asks as she waltzes to the bedroom door, tugging the fraying hairband out of her flaming mane, letting the curls fly free.

"She dumped you in the end, didn't she? What happened there, Nate? You were a good match, the double agent and the blind buffoon." She teases as Nathan glares playfully at her.

"None of your business, huh? The only thing she was right about, is missing her ass." Nate retorts as she throws back her head, laughing as the first rays of the sun catch in her mane from the window, lighting it on fire as she slips out, ready to finally look at the map to Alaric's treasure, and get some sleep after being up and on the run all night.

It takes weeks of searching, clue after clue, until eventually they find the treasure- Elena and Sam had taken off almost a week previous, for the safety of the baby, and Sully had ducked a week before with the same excuse as always, "I'm getting too old for this shit!" and that left Nate and Savannah, still slightly at odds, left to chase the treasure. Of course, like all of the hunts involving the Drake boys, this one was a race to the vault, in the middle of a Southern Italian countryside, and lots and lots of guns. "Duck!" Savannah shouts at Nathan as she tosses a grenade over their cover, dropping down as the little ball rolls into enemy cover, and Nathan throws his hands out, slapping them over her ears as the explosion goes off, leaving his ears ringing.

"Think before you throw, Sav!" He hisses as he rubs at one of his ears, and she gives a sheepish grin as she leans around the stone they're behind, firing quickly at any stragglers.

"Ah shit!" She shouts, swinging back around to press against the stone, her hand gripping her shoulder of her dominant arm, gun having been dropped in her panic.

"W-What?" Nathan asks as he continues to fire, and she shakes her head.

"No, it's nothing. Keep shooting." She says as she reaches into a pocket of her cargo pants, ripping a bandage from the pocket, and sliding her shirt sleeve up, her hand pressing the adhesive bandage to the bloody wound. "Are you ready to move ahead yet?" She asks, shouldering her shotgun after she grabs it, and Nate looks at her, spying the blood smeared down her arm.

"Sav, are you okay?!" He asks worriedly, causing her to nod, wincing noticably, making him give her a look that says he's not buying it.

"I'm fine, let's just get to the treasure vault." She rolls out of cover, back flush against a barrier that one of the enemies had setup, before she glances around the corner, then clambers to her feet with her shotgun holstered, her dominant arm useless while injured. Picking up a fallen enemy's pistol, she checks the clip, before she slides it back in, cocking the gun, readying to shoot as they move through the countryside.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at that?" Nate asks as he watches blood seep through the white bandage and the green of her shirt. "You might need stitches." She shakes off his hand when he reaches for her arm.

"I'm fine, Nate! Let's just get to the vault." She says again, making Nate groan, chasing after ambitious young woman as they duck around passages, shooting a couple more enemies, and solve a couple more riddles, before they both enter the vault, where the leader of their enemies- Michael himself (honestly, why is she not surprised?), is stalking back and forth, flaunting and rambling his victory to the rest of his men.

"-this wealth, nobody would dare to reject me again!" He booms as they press against nearby pillars, and Nate shoots her a look.

"You dated this guy? What does he have performance issues that he needs to compensate for?" Nathan hisses as she rolls her eyes.

"I wouldn't know, we never went that far." She reaches into a pocket of her pant, pulling out silencers for their pistols, one of which she tosses to Nate. They waste no time screwing the silencers onto their guns, before she lurches around a cover, and a muted shot leaves her gun, striking one of the men on the balcony above in the middle of the forehead, he drops dead as she leans back into cover.

"Nice shot." Nate whispers as she blushes, watching him do the same from his place, they are silent at picking off the men on the balconies above the vault as the other men start to carry out the treasure, the opposite direction of where the treasure hunters are.

"With this, I can make her pay, make them all pay!" Michael rambles, unaware of his men dropping dead around him, until they've all been picked off. Putting away her pistol, she shoulders her shotgun, training it on Michael as Nathan watches her back.

"Michael!" The British ambassador turns, eyes wide as he sees her. "What've you done? Why are you here?"

"Ah, V-V, my luv. I see you've brought... your friend." He grimaces at Nate, before looking back at her. "I figured that since you had an interest in this treasure, perhaps you might be willing to come back to me, if I had it first. I had planned on telling you back in England, but you were a saucy minx, and hot in my trail. I needed to move quickly."

"What happened to you?" She asks as Michael gives her a crazed grin.

"Love, my darling. It does things to a man, things he never thought possible." Michael trains his gun on Nathan, making her freeze as she looks back him, seeing Nathan freeze as two big guys come in, grabbing him by the arms after wrestling the gun away from him, one kicks it towards Michael, making her eye it as she throws down her shotgun, she knows the drill by now. "Now, I will give you a choice- it's not a hard one. Come with me, and live in the lap of luxury and be my wife. Or, choose Mr. Drake over there, and die with the man you love."

"What?!" She barks, looking at Nathan, who shakes his head, urging her to not sacrifice herself for him. "You can't be serious, Michael! You can't just kill him, f-for-"

"I can and I will!" Michael booms, his shout making her flinch as she glances at Nate, who watches her in fear. A plan forms in her head as she turns to Michael, and she starts to edge towards him a bit.

"Michael," Her voice falling into a more sultry tone as she sways over to him, making the Brit grin sickeningly sweet.

"Sav, what're you doing?!" Nathan exclaims as she turn to him, pinning him with a glare, before discreetly shooting Nathan a wink, before she wraps her arms around Michael's neck.

"Oh, Michael, can't you tell when a girl is playing hard to get?" She asks, running a finger up the ambassador's chest, causing the man to purr as he wraps his arms around her, and she rests her head against his chest. "I had Nathan fake being my boyfriend at the party, to make you jealous. You're so sexy when you're jealous." She swallows the rising bike in her throat as she leans up on her tip toes as Michael grins, leaning down with their lips hovering near each other, until he freezes as she buries the pistol into his stomach, making him freeze. "Call them off." She hisses as he glances up at her, before he looks at the man, then waves the men off, and they drop Nathan, who dives for his gun, turning to sink a bullet between both the men's eyes. "Now, we are leaving-" She let's out a choked noise as something sharp sinks into her side, pain lancing through her side.

"NO!" Nathan let's out a panicked shout as Michael pushes her away, and she stumbles back, her hand coming to her side to press against the soaked material of her shirt. She looks up, seeing a blade glistening with her blood, in Michael's hand as her knees become weak, she falls to the floor as he brings the blade up, licking the gleaming silver with a disgusting hum. Nathan let's out an enraged scream, unloading the remaining clip of his gun into Michael's body with a scream. "No no no no!" Nate murmurs quickly as he scrambles over to her, once Michael's body collapses, dropping to his knees to press his callus covered hands on her side, making sure to put pressure against her wound as he looks around. Eyeing the only other exit, he lifts her into his arms, following the trail that the looters took, leaving her behind a cover as he takes out the rest of the men on the only truck, which is loaded with gems and gold.

"N-Nate," She calls weakly as he rushes back to lift her into his arms, the world is blurry as she looks around, letting out a whimper when he starts to run, jostling her wounds. "Nathan-" She whimpers, and he shushes her as he lays her in the front of the truck, buckling her up.

"You're fine. You'll be fine!" He repeatedly says, turning the key in the ignition, gunning it through the trees, gravel spitting everywhere as she groans at the jerking movements of the truck. "I'm sorry, Sav. I know sweetheart, I know. I know it hurts, but it'll be okay, you'll be okay." He promises as he starts towards the small town they were staying in now, not far from the vault as he starts making calls while he pulls into town. He barely has the truck in park, key out of the ignition, before he rounds to her side, climbing into the giant truck to lift her, carefully, out of the truck, yelling at the townies for the doctor.

Days now move sluggishly as he paces constantly outside of the medical clinic, his eyes flicking from his phone to the door, to the truck to back again. The treasure they had loaded into the truck was a good amount, but nobody knew except for Nathan, but he couldn't even focus with Savannah incapacitated. Sully, Sam, and Elena eventually make it to the town, if you could even call the practical village, a town, but the doctors still do not give any updates on Savannah's status, despite Nate constantly prodding and camping outside of the clinic every night and day.

"If she dies-! I-If I lose her-" Nate groans, running his fingers through his short hair.

"Nate, kid, relax. You ain't gonna lose her." Sully says from his spot on a crate, flicking his cigar.

"No, Sully, she was distracting him for me! She sacrificed herself, made herself vulnerable for me! So, I could escape. It's all my fault." Elena huffs as Nate's stalking back and forth before the door increases, his fingers digging against the root of his hair.

"I always knew that Michael was an off bastard, but this is sickening." Sam says as Sully and Elena both nod in agreement. "He licked her blood off the blade?"

"Yes." Nate replies, he remembers the look on Michael's face as he licked Savannah's blood off the blade, the disgust rolls through Nathan again at the memory of ecstatic look that Michael had on his face, from Savannah's blood on his lips. "He looked like an addict getting his fix."

"Like an addict getting his fix?" Elena shutters as she looks at Sam, who clenches her hand in understanding of her concern. "God, and Savannah once thought she was in love with that creep."

"Let's not talk about that." Sully says as Nathan runs his fingers his hair, tugging his hair at the roots as he groans, stalking up to the door to the clinic, fist poised to pound on the door, when it flies open.

"D-Doc?" Nate's voice is worried as the doctor wipes his hands off on a rag, tossing it over his shoulder.

"Your friend will live. We did not want to give you news until we were sure." The Doctor says as he looks at everyone, before he looks up at Nate. "You may see her, but only one at a time." The Doctor enters the clinic, leaving the door open as Nathan looks back at the trio that are looking at him.

"We can wait, Nate. Go see her." Elena urges, causing him to nod, ducking into the clinic towards the back room, where the Doctor had motioned him to be, and he pauses outside the door, before opening it to the room. The bed occupies Savannah's weak form, with bandages wrapping her shoulder and her stomach, up over her chest, so she is left in only her pants, and a threadbare blanket over her legs. Her long ginger mane is pinned beneath her, tied back with a strip of leather, and caked with sweat, congealed blood, and muck. Walking around the bed, Nate kneels on the floor beside her, grasping her hand that was resting on her stomach, his eyes down-turned as he rests his forehead against her hand.

"Sav," He sighs weakly, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her soft knuckles. "I am so sorry. For everything." He murmurs as he looks up at her. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but if you could just... I know the doctor said you'd be fine, but I need to to pull through. I need you to open your eyes, and show me that you'll be fine. I-it's been almost a week, so please, let me know that you're okay. Just open your eyes, Vannah." He groans as he runs a grungy hand over his face, then looks up at her face again. "You said that you wanted to leave, that you were done... can you please wake up, and tell me that you are done. Call me an idiot again. Anything. If you want to be done, we'll be done together, I promise. If you want to start a normal life, we can start a normal life together." He reaches up to caress her freckled cheek. "I can't live without you, Sav. I-I love you." He rests his forehead on her hand again, feeling exhaustion washing over him. "Did you hear me, Sav? I'm in love with you! So, just... open your damn eyes! Let me kiss you, or you can yell at me, you can slap me for all I care! Just wake up!" Nate pleads, clutching her hand tighter as he grits his teeth.

"Nate?" His head snaps up, but Savannah is still unconscious, causing him to turn, seeing Elena standing in the doorway, her eyes are sad. "I-I couldn't wait, I was so worried."

"It's okay," He clears his throat as Elena looks at Savannah, then back at Nathan.

"She loves you too, you know?" He furrows his brow as Elena smiles to herself. "She'd kill me by now, if she were awake, but you deserve to know." He runs his fingers through Savannah's hair, before he presses off the ground beside the bed.

"I'll be outside if-"

"No no no, you deserve to stay in here. Be the first thing she sees when she wakes up." Elena waves him off, pressing a hand to her back to stretch, after the last couple weeks, she's starting to show a bit. "Besides, Sam and I are going to head to the hotel, your niece or nephew is killing me."

"Alright," He pulls her into a hug, letting go the minute that he hears an agonized cry, turning to see Savannah's eyes wide open as she holds her side, while trying to sit up. "Sav!" He crosses to her side once more, easing her up off her elbow as she let's out a tearful whine. "It's okay, easy hon." He props the flat pillows up, leaning her back against them as he sits on the side of the bed, tucking a wild curl behind her ear.

"N-Nate?" She swallows thickly, causing him to grab his canteen off the belt, twisting the cap off, and placing it to her lips. She takes long pulls of the water, before turning her head away, wiping her mouth on her arm as Nathan chuckles, putting the canteen away. "Where are we? How long have I been out?" She murmurs, causing him to smirk.

"We're in the village, not far from the vault. You've been out for a week..." She looks at him questioningly, but he shakes his head. "The longest week of my life. I've missed your voice." He cups her cheek as she frowns.

"I'm so-"

"No. You didn't know." He leans forward, pressing his forehead to her own. "You just wanted me to be safe, I just wish you hadn't had to get hurt by that freak, in order to keep me safe." She looks confused as he pulls her close, kissing her deeply. She makes a noise of surprise, but falls into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You don't know how long I've been dying for that to happen." She murmurs as she leans away, looking up into his blue eyes, seeing them spark with light after her words register with him.

"You have been?" He asks softly, causing her to blush, pressing her lips together in a firm line as she nods. "I'm in love with you, Sav. I have been for years."

"Really?" She asks softly, skeptical and hoping as he smiles, nodding. "You couldn't have told me, I dunno, before I almost died?" Nathan chuckles at her words, leaning in to kiss her again.

Hope I've done the characters justice, I'm seriously new to this fandom- like I just started watching a playthrough yesterday. But, Nathan is just so nnn. I couldn't not write a story. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, sorry if the characters are a little OOC.

[okamirayne]

Hi Rayne!! Just finished (yet another) re-read of BtB, and I don't think I've cried this hard in a long, long time - it was very cathartic. But, feels aside, I was wondering if you could tell us a bit more about Karibi? She's fascinating and I'm just dying to know more! (Sorry if this has been asked before!!)

Hi there, my lovely Anon!

Apologies for the delayed response. Aw, luv.  Always so, so chuffed to learn someone has revisited the series and even more touched to know it hits you in the feels <3.

But, feels aside, I was wondering if you could tell us a bit more about Karibi? She's fascinating and I'm just dying to know more! (Sorry if this has been asked before!!)

Karibi! <3 Firstly, no, this hasn’t been asked before, so imagine my excitement regarding an OC ASK -- can you picture it? TREBLE IT. XD 

Another dear Anon asked about Naoki in a previous ASK and I thank you for your expressed interest in Karibi! It’s a funny one because I have two Karibi OCs -- the edited version I inserted into BtB and the original, original version. Given that we’re talking about BtB Karibi...let me rewire my character brain a moment and firmly draw a line or two...or twelve....

Right! A Third War orphan, Karibi grew up in the orphanage outside of Konoha and proved to be quite a handful over the years given her feisty nature, constant escape-attempts, insistence on dressing and behaving like a boy (for which she earned consistent bullying and beatings), and her rough-housing free-for-all scraps with other kids -- as well as her routine habit of stealing food from the kitchens to give to a stray dog who constantly hung around the outskirts of the orphanage. It was easier for her to attach herself this dog than other kids who came and went, just like the voluntary care-givers. Her mischief-making, stealthy tactics, “never stay down” stubbornness and streetwise attitude soon caught the attention of a retired Konoha ANBU veteran (a patron of the orphanage) who interrupted a violent fight between Karibi and a group of local boys who’d stoned the dog to death. Observing how fiercely she fought (always getting up when knocked down) despite being outnumbered and beaten, the ANBU veteran recognized her potential, promptly adopted her, and trained her in ninjutsu, genjutsu and chakra control.

Their relationship was close, until it wasn’t.

Advancing quickly through the academy and ranks – winning zero friends along the way – she was soon put forward for ANBU by her adopted father, who immediately cut his ties to her, damaging an already tentative trust. Intended as a solo agent, she was immediately assigned to a 3-team ANBU unit named Team Yokai consisting of herself, Genma, and Naoki (Captain).

Enter in, bonding.

It was here, after a lot of boundary testing and testosterone busting, that she finally formed some hard-won emotional attachments after beating Genma and Naoki bloody in taijutsu combat – taunting them constantly to get up (“seven times down, eight times up”). While she was promptly one-upped by both in ninjutsu, her genjutsu prowess brought her right back onto an even keel with them both. Perfectly balanced, respect began to form between them – then friendship – which later led to a lover’s trine between the three of them. This was intense but short-lived; Karibi soon recognised that though she loved them both, she preferred women and also realised Genma and Naoki’s feelings for each other went a hell of a lot deeper than ‘close friends with benefits’. She knew they’d fallen for each other before either admitted it to themselves, let alone each other.

The three of them were inseparably close.

They were more than her friends or comrades – they were her family.

They kept each other going.

Karibi allowed Naoki to establish a permanent telepathic link with her whereas Genma only allowed it during missions and in the bedroom. Karibi kept her mind open to Naoki always, though he never intruded until years later after being listed as Killed In Action.

His death blew a hole in their world.

Their team was dismantled.

They would not accept another Captain.

To make matters worse, due to the unbroken telepathic link and the resulting ghost of Naoki’s presence in her head, Karibi never truly believed Naoki had died and her adamant ‘denial’ of this ‘fact’ created a heart-breaking rift between her and Genma.

This rift between them grew darker and wider as Genma turned to solo deep-cover missions and Karibi turned to drink when she wasn’t neck-deep in assassinations and a failed “could’ve been” relationship. And then one day the edge of all the smashed glass bottles in her life looked very, very tempting.

Genma found her, just in time – the first time at least.

Treated and cleared of suicide risk, Karibi was soon diagnosed as schizophrenic given the “voice” of her dead Captain in her head and this threatened her position in the ANBU – but her brokenness caught Danzō’s interest.

After a failed attempt to recover her relationship with her civilian lover and unable to mend the rift between herself and Genma, she signed on for a ROOT initiation mission – which sadly finished what she’d started with the bottle – though it was an impulsive and sudden decision rather than a deeply pre-meditated one. She disobeyed orders when sent into a child-trafficking operation being run out of an orphanage. This was a trigger for her. Rather than complete the ROOT mission of kidnapping a couple of kids for ROOT grooming, she murdered her ROOT partner and slaughtered the “nuns” who were supposed to be taking care of the children rather than indenturing them into the sex-trade to raise funds. When the ninja traffickers showed up, she lit the building on fire, and while the children escaped she made damned sure not one “piece of trash” running the trafficking ring got out alive.

She went down fighting in flames.

Her death was the final crippling blow to Genma. He went to Mizugumo immediately after that. Then he went to his own personal hell before Kakashi met him there in ANBU’s gutter and helped drag him out of it years later, saving him from the same fate as Karibi when he almost identically mirrored the blaze of glory tragedy with his suicide attempt in Tanzaku years later.

Random Trivia:

Karibi loved dogs and often kept an eye out for Inuzuka women looking for a bit of rough and tumble.

She dealt with a lot of possessive shit from Naoki. He was very possessive of his family/lovers and was only just about able to accept Karibi being intimate with others, even after he’d stopped sleeping with her. Genma always joked that Naoki only accepted her activities because her preference was for women, not men.

Karibi, like Naoki, felt strongly about the abuse of children, given certain illicit incidents she’d witnessed at the orphanage -- she and Genma understood Naoki’s childhood trauma and were the only ones who could handle him when he flew into a rare rage

Her favourite catchphrase was “seven times down, eight times up” (“Nana korobi, ya oki” which means “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” It means choosing to never give up hope, and to always strive for more.)

While her ANBU step-parent/mentor abandoned her in the end, she retained the green knit scarf he gifted her (the only gift she’d ever received from him other than her training and removal from the orphanage)

She began to fall for a civilian woman -- the scariest thing for her, other than losing her teammates.

Karibi’s top value was “resilience” and never giving up – which made her suicide attempt so painful for Genma to accept

She turned to Naoki for help retrieving memories about her parents – this enabled him to perfect his own kinjutsu to reverse memory erasure

She had a plethora of ear piercings and a tattoo Naoki inked on her hip

She loved various green teas

She had a crush on Kurenai – round about the same time Genma did, which made for an interesting competition between them….and a somewhat unfair irritation towards Asuma.

She was a bit of magpie in the ANBU and stole items on missions, donating them privately to the orphanage

She loved berry-picking and was very well-versed with poisons

Genma gave her chickenpox and she gave him hell for it

She almost managed to shove a spinning top up Genma’s ass – almost.

Genma accidentally broke her baby finger playing “thumb wars” and it never set properly on the joint, causing her to have a crooked little finger

Most of her illusion/genjutsu techniques focus around folklore creatures and light, which came in handy on missions dealing with highly suspicious village folk

Her dream goal was to one day be Goei Shotai to a female Hokage – a dream Genma later lived out for her when Tsunade came into power

Naoki was with her telepahtically when she died, as Genma was with Naoki when he died -- in that way, Karibi was not as alone in death as Genma always feared.

Wow, that was LONG.  Sorry, Anon! I absolutely love character-writing and development....I get carried away even if most of their story never makes it into the actual written piece. Thank you for asking about Karibi, I hope this insight gives you some answers! <3

[moonlightjeno]

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 :: san x reader

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 :: angst, fluff ??

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 :: 2k

𝙖/𝙣 :: i’m not dead. this was actually gonna be a lot sadder than it actually is. and hey i’m writing for ateez now. kinda? idk man inspiration. any ways, i’m still kinda in a hiatus of sorts andi wrote this in the span of like an hour because a. san and b. i’m in an angsty mood. this is not proofread. 

[ 6:09 pm ]

the dirt is still wet from what seemed to be a never-ending thunderstorm. The booms are a constant echo in your mind, that separates you from the rest of the world. When you look at the ground, a single flower greets you, the lilies white petals the only white in the dark and clouded day. Even it’s the stem, usually green seemed dull compared to the pureness of the white flower. The stone that stands behind it manages to clench at your heart, and you can feel your hands curl around the soil. Fingernails covered in dirt, that you would worry about later. It takes three breaths, for you to look up, and the coming sun causes an almost rainbow in front of the grey cobblestone. 

The words seem to get stuck in your throat, you can feel them, a jumble of thoughts and emotions that you have pushed back for almost a year now, threatening to spill and tumble out of your mouth. But every time you open your mouth, no words leave, instead, the water that rims your eyes begins to spill down your cheeks. The water droplets are salty as they land in your mouth and into the soil, creating a pitter-patter on your hand. Breathe in, breathe out. The lily in your hand seems to stare back at you, the symbolism of it making your heart clench with each breathe, and you know that you can’t breathe the words that can’t get out and block any air into your lungs until a sob rips from your throat. 

Pit, pat, pit, pat. Pitpatpitpatpitpat. And breathe. 

It’s too much, the memories that flood you. His dimpled smile, and childlike behavior. It’s too much how anytime you laugh, you think that you don’t deserve it because you were supposed to be laughing with him. You were supposed to hear his squeals and feel his arms wrapped around you in a never ensign bear hug. You were supposed to get more time, more time to share your love, more time to know him, more time. 

Time. the one thing that is limited in this world, the thing that we can never promise each other, but make the most out of.  And you know this, you know that every time you visit the grey headstone, every time that you’ve tried to make it to where you are now your feet are no longer in your control, you are detached from the world and the world seems so far. So far that you are longer part of it, you know that you are in it but the words the sounds around you are all muffled never clear. You know that you are alive only by the beating of your heart and the constant breaths that leave your body, and the never-ending ache in your heart. They’d all visited him. Every single one of his members, it had all happened to fast for you to process one moment he was net to you, the next he was gone. The only thing you had left were the memories, like a shard of glass. Glimpses into a life, that were now broken. Though beautiful, and capturing everything you loved, but sharp and ready to cut you. The instinct to lock the memories up is instant, it’s what you’ve done for the past year shove the memories, every laugh and smile that you’d never have again to that place in your mind that you’d never reach. But this time, this time you breathe again. 

“I…” the tears rush forwards again, their warmth a weird sense of comfort, and then a small smile grazes your face when you take out the old camera the last tape you’d recorded of san on it. 

Breathe in. breathe out. 

“I… there’s… it’s so much” you start. The video is playing over and over again, the clips lasts exactly 22 seconds. You know because you’ve counted them, you know because you can’t remember the number of times you’ve watched the clip of his smile shining above everything else. You start again and this time there seems to be no end. “When you left, i didn’t understand. Why? Why out of anyone did you have to leave me? So many people have left, so many have passed and gone, except you. It had always been me and you, san. No matter what, that was always the plan” you smile, the memory of the two you when you had met for the first time fresh in your mind. 

The lock that you’d latched onto the memories, open and the flood came. It’s a rush you realize now that you’ve finally let yourself let go on the tight lock of emotions. “Damn it.” it’s almost a yell, but it doesn’t reach very far, before you can’t breathe again the salt in your mouth making it dry.  “It was supposed to be us, to forever. But I guess that’s what everyone thinks when they lose the person they loved the most, don’t they san?”  you can’t help but ask him, willing that maybe he’ll materialize next to you, a dimpled smile directed in your direction, and if you close your eyes and think hard enough, you can hear the filter of his laugh. Wooyoung and Seonghwa talking in the background as san cracks a bad joke, when you open your eyes you see him in the old black and white camera. Looking at you, with those eyes that held the world. And you’d know what he’d say,  hoe there was no point in dwelling in the past luv, to just focus on now, on all the happy things on the bright spots you have in your life. And you did, you shut your eyes, a grim smile on your face as you clutched the old camera close to your chest, forehead resting against the cool surface of the cobblestone. If you opened your eyes you would have seen the engravings, on the tombstone. 

CHOI SAN

THE TRUEST FRIEND ONE COULD HAVE

1999  - 2021

“I miss you. I miss your laugh, i miss you dragging me on random adventures at two in the morning with wooyoung because you two were hungry. I miss going to sleep, only to wake up with your arms around me. I miss how no matter how long of a day you’d had you’d always have a smile on your face, and be ready to be there and be you. There are so many things i miss, so many things i would take back if i knew, if i just knew that you’d be gone. And i sure as hell hope they’re treating you well where you are, or i might just have to go fight them myself” and you almost swear you could have heard the faint chuckle of your best friend, from somewhere but when you open your eyes for a second you don’t see him, but it’s as if you know he’s there listening somehow. “It’s been a year. You know the moment the beep paused at the end of the line I was almost sure I was dying with you. But I am still here, and you’re not. I was going to play this video for you, the members helped me make it, it’s a compilation of all the times you’d made us mad only for then for us to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. But the moment i opened the camera, this video of you plays. It’s at one of you’re rehearsals, a dance practice for a competition, I can’t really remember which one, you guys went to so many. But this one in particular, was the first time you sang. You were scared, you kept asking me and the rest of the team ‘what if the public doesn’t like my voice? What if i break? What i a forget the lyrics?’ ” it was also the day you realized you’d fallen in love your best friend. And you knew the tears were threatening to come again, but you found your words again, the rainbow seemed to dance in front of you, it’s different colors and bright light. 

“You killed it though. I knew you would, wooyoung even made a bet about it. But that’s not it. I look at this video, and you look so happy san. Your eyes whole the world, the dance in the light and seem to captivate everyone and everything. And i can barely keep focused for more than five seconds before i start to break down again” the last words come out almost as a choke, but the ease on your lungs seems to have softened. And the pitter-patter has slowed down, your hands are no longer clenched together and your heartaches even if just a little, but it’s less. The video continuous to play on its a never-ending loop, and the lily seems to be blooming a little brighter than when you had first arrived. The wet soil, is still cool against your knees but it’s become somewhat familiar, the grey cobblestone you can finally read. The engraving still pangs you hear, it still makes you want to scream and rip something to shreds because at times you can’t believe that he isn’t here anymore, and then the never-ending pain becomes a little warmer with every note he sings, and every giggle you hear over and over again. Until it’s the only thing you hear, and you can breathe again. 

Death. No longer by your side, the moment the white machine from the overly white hospital bed beeped monotone. Dead, but not always gone, the memories stored in the box of memories you have never being able to be separated from pain and joy. The never-ending mixture of both emotions, and so many more that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to truly filter out, or get a grasp of. It’s times when those two hit you so hard, and the memory of his smile stops your breathing when it feels like nothing will ever go back to normal, and you know that it never will. But you think you can create a new type of normal, one with that box of memories not shut away but next to you the mix of emotions always swirling, and you ready to take them on. It’s when you feel the tap of the shoulder, and turn to face seven other boys, that the weight of the memories and everything that is san seems to loosen a becomes happier. Because you know that he will always be there, always be with you in your memories even if they hold pain because the pain comes from the love and joy those memories hold. In time, you hope, in time, maybe you can breathe again. In time.