#(and of course i was a little too confident and immediately replaced & deleted all the files... and i'm NOT rendering this again)

[sergeantjessi]

(Coding a GTA 5 Challenge, but I smoke weed every 15 minutes)

+ Just the finger guns for all your finger guns needs:

[demonicheadcanons]

The Obey Me Brothers Reaction to MC Breaking Down Over Schoolwork

(Initial ask contains an ableist slur and so cannot be posted. Please, in future, refrain from using slurs in any asks sent in!! It has since been added to my rules and I will straight up delete asks with slurs in them. Thank you <3)

AN: Apologies for taking so long to get to this one, its been in my inbox for a while. I’m sorry you were feeling that way, its really difficult getting adjusted to everything again, I work in a school and a lot of the students and teachers alike are definitely really struggling. Best wishes <3

I think I’m usually okay at not letting slip that Levi is my favourite boy, but you can tell here ;u; Sorry

Lucifer

He realises all too late that things are probably tough. Initially Lucifer is distant, and whilst he notices how tired you look sometimes at RAD, he decides to ignore it - you were probably distressed because you had been pulled into the Devildom out of nowhere, you’d just have to adapt because nothing else could be done. In his mind it was pointless worrying about it.

However, as he begins to pay more and more attention to you, he realises its more than that. You frown in class, your grades jump around and you don’t leave your room regularly, probably too busy focusing on studying. The few times you’ve accepted his offer of help, you seem to be on edge.

He decides one night to check in on you, and he hears a harsh thud from a few paces down the hall. He throws the door open without knocking, convincing himself that he was just worried you might be hurt because they needed you for the exchange programme and it would be a pain replacing you now, months into the whole endeavour.

You whirl around, arm still raised, your grip tight on your textbook. He looks about and sees other books scattered about, the room a mess.

Lucifer makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat, raising a hand to press against his temples before he freezes, finally taking in the look on your face. Your eyes are wide, having been essentially caught by the one person you really, really wouldn’t want to see you right now. You lower your arm slowly as he approaches, taking your face in his hands before you can duck away from him.

His tone and expression are impossible to place as he silently examines you, gloved hands wiping across your cheeks to get rid of any traces of your tears. You don’t have the time to process any of it before he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms carefully around your shoulders.

Lucifer is silent, almost eerily so, and he holds you there without moving until you either push him away or until you stop sniffling and drop the book. Even when he does speak again, he’s quiet, deep in thought as he looks around the room and tells you simply to head over to his - he’ll bring you something to eat shortly, get some rest in the meantime. You mumble something about a test, and he waves a hand. He’ll bring the textbook, its fine, go rest.

It takes him a half hour to get to his room, carrying a tray with some tea and snacks. Your textbook is tucked under one arm, and he gently invites you to eat before he starts talking things out. He asks if classes are too difficult, asks if there’s anything in particular you’re struggling with. He makes a lot of offers - Luci is a busy guy, but he can free up a time slot if you want to study with him, or he can get you a tutor, or you can simply text him your concerns and he’ll respond as soon as he’s available. His advice is simple and realistic.

Once you’re done eating and drinking, he opens the textbook and goes over the things that are most likely to be on the test. He gives tips, explains the things that confuse you in a clear and concise manner. He’s a good teacher, and he’s a lot more patient than you’ve seen him before.

Overall, Lucifer is a quiet comfort, but a determined one. He works to make things easier for you in the background, marking out important parts of the textbook so you know what to focus on, and offering a hand whenever you need it. Also, when you get back to your room later, your books are neatly organised on your desk.

[Other brothers under the read more]

Mammon

Mammon randomly pops into your room quite often, making excuses about how he’s absolutely entitled to because he’s in charge of taking care of you. On this particular evening, you have absolutely no warning as per usual and he doesn’t bother knocking, because this boy only has good manners when it benefits him.

He freezes instantly, and he’s over to you in a second before you can throw whatever’s in your hand. His grip is careful but tight on your wrist and he squeezes until you let it go, tossing whatever it was onto your bed without looking and wrapping you up in his arms. You might feel trapped for a second, but he has this fear that you’re Going To Get Hurt and so he just holds onto you until you settle and start sobbing against his chest. (Mammon is panicking too much to think about it, and he’ll definitely apologise after and try not to do it again if he scared you.)

He pulls you over to the bed and sits you down, a hand smoothing through your hair. His grip remains on you at all times, and you can feel his hands shaking when he asks what’s wrong, MC? Did something happen?

Mammon listens carefully, swallowing and smoothing a hand over your hair when you tell him its because the work here is just too damn hard and you can’t do it, you can’t, you can’t remember all the dates for the history or recall the right Latin to say for this one course and its not like it matters anyway because you’re human, why would you need this?

He mumbles back “I know, I know,” and runs his hands down your arms, back, along your hair. Wherever he can to comfort you, wherever makes your breathing slow back to a normal pace and takes away the hiccups left from sobbing. He doesn’t force you to look at him, almost doesn’t want you to as he bites back sniffles and sobs and wipes his face against his sleeve because crying right now won’t fix anything for you.

When you’re both calmer again, he starts rambling about something or other to take your mind off it. Mammon isn’t one to offer any immediate solutions, and rather tries to distract you with stories until you fall asleep and he can lay you down and march straight to Lucifer and demand he talk to Diavolo about this, as fearless as if he were defending Belphie or Levi for accidentally breaking something.

You’re assigned a tutor, and have tutoring sessions with each of the brothers for things they’re good at, with Lucifer and Satan covering any areas the others don’t particularly excel in. Mammon himself helps you with maths, and although he isn’t always the best at explaining it, his presence along is comforting and helps makes working through a little easier, and he’s good for taking your mind away from any stress so that you can focus without worry holding you back.

Leviathan

He had just wanted to get something back that he loaned you, a book or DVD. He can’t remember what it was the second he hears a crash and throws open your door, and finds you in a ball on the floor, the room a mess around you. You don’t even look up as the door opens, and the two of you stay in place for a few moments.

Levi doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know where to start, but he can do one thing. Quietly and carefully, he tiptoes around your room and starts putting things back where they belong. He tidies your desk, faintly organises whatever notes he finds by subject and piles them up together. He doesn’t touch you, because he’s worried you wouldn’t want him to right now, that he might scare you, and so he just tidies until the room looks a little more normal again.

When you finally look up, he’s sitting a few feet in front of you, headphones on as he stares at his D.D.D., either playing a game or watching a video or scrolling through Wikis as he waits patiently for you to start the conversation or ask for whatever comforts you need. You move over to sit beside him, and he blushes but takes off his headphones and holds an arm out so you can rest against his shoulder.

He lets you watch whatever is on his phone for a beat before asking in a hushed voice if you need anything, if something was wrong, or if someone (maybe him?) upset you. When you tell him it’s about schoolwork, he sighs and pulls you closer without thinking about it. He hands you his D.D.D. and puts his headphones on you, tells you to stay there for a bit and keep watching until he gets back.

Levi returns a few minutes later with Satan in tow, each of them carrying a bag with their own textbooks in them. Levi kneels down to take back his D.D.D. and headphones and to help you up, and tells you you’re all going to start studying together in the library. If you’d be okay with it, he means... he could use the help too, and maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you were there. Not for any reason in particular!

Study sessions are added to your schedule after that. Even on days where Satan is off doing something else, Levi will tutor you on whatever he finds easiest - usually history, and oftentimes its history involving the navy. His shyness melts away into confidence as he talks about all the things he’s done, about how he was appointed head thousands of years ago and he thinks he’s yet to let Diavolo down.

After study sessions you go and get a drink together, something like bubble tea or smoothies or whatever, and then play games together to relax and let the info sink in instead of obsessing over it. If you ever start to get stressed out again, Levi gently puts his headphones on you and the two of you wait it out together, and he smiles at you every time you take the headphones off and take a deep breath, ready to keep working. He’s proud.

Satan

Satan is observant enough to notice ahead of time that something is about to happen. You seem horribly stressed and unfocused in your classes one day in particular, and he decides to stop by your room the second he gets home to find out what was wrong.

He knocks and waits for a while, but you don’t answer, and he was sure he heard noise before but now your room is deathly silent. He carefully creaks the door open a bit to call in and see if you’re there, and hears paper crumpling against the door. Deciding to investigate, he opens it a little more and slides in through the gap.

The room is a mess of books and paper and pillows, and you’re at your desk, hands clamped hard over your ears. You’re making some kind of whimpering noise every now and then, and Satan starts to piece things together as he gathers up books in one arm and smooths out paper. He taps you on the back before moving back a pace or two, just in case.

You freeze before turning around to look at him, seeming almost guilty, and he doesn’t really get why you’d feel that way but he holds up your books and clears his throat. “Do you want some help?”

Satan is more practical than emotional and, whilst he isn’t sure what kind of comfort he can offer you right now, he knows he can help with the work, help make it easier. He pulls a chair over beside you, motioning for you to scoot over, and leans against you as he opens the first book and asks where you were struggling. He keeps a constant connection between the two of you, either has his leg against yours or his entire side against you so that you know he’s there, so that you’re permanently aware of his presence.

He doesn’t look at you too often, not when you can see him do it. Even then, there’s no judgement in his gaze, just his brows furrowing slightly out of concern until your breathing in alright and you start to smile in little bursts again. He smiles then as well, scribbling down some notes for you.

After that, Satan regularly pulls you aside after class and asks if you want to come out with him to a cafe or to the library, or he’ll call you to his room in the house and ask if you’ll let him teach you this set of notes so that he can remember it better. He’s subtle, never really brings up what happened and never asks you about it because he’s already got it all figured out in his mind. Instead, he just works on moving on from it and making sure it doesn’t happen again, and if it does, he’ll be ready to be there for you again.

Asmodeus

Asmo had decided to visit your room because you weren’t responding to his messages asking if you wanted to go out shopping with him. Majolish had new season wear and he absolutely needed to go get first pickings at it, and he wanted you there by his side.

He knocks but opens your door immediately after anyway, not giving you time to do much more than turn to face the door, bringing the pillow you were about to throw up over your face instead so he can’t read too much of your expression. He sees the tears, anyway, and without thinking walks over to you and holds your face in his hands.

His voice is laced with concern as he asks what’s wrong, and he immediately looks like he’s going to cry as well, but he just did his makeup and he’s not going to risk ruining it right now. Instead he moves over to the bed and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tight against his chest. He keeps asking, every few moments, if something was wrong and if there’s anything he can do, and his eyes dart around the room to try to piece it all together. Your books were still out on your desk, pillows a mess around the room, and you... You were curled up against him, shaking and choking down sobs.

Asmo pouts and holds you in silence until you calm down and start talking to him, start telling him what was wrong, what subject you’d been struggling with over the past hour and you were still stuck on the same damn page and not making any progress and the test was only a few days away and everyone was expecting so much from you, you who never even asked to be here. Obviously you weren’t good enough for this, obviously they should’ve chosen someone better-

Asmo cuts you off there, pushes against your shoulders until he can see your expression and cup your face in his hands. He’s not having you put yourself down because you’re struggling with work that the centuries-old demons also had a hard time with, not on his watch, and he tells you just as much. When he’s done half-scolding you, his expression softens and he offers whatever help he can. He’s sure he can rope Satan or Lucifer into helping out, and if not he can charm the examiners into giving you a better score... he keeps going until some of his silly advice gets you to snort out a little laugh, and then he relaxes.

He lays back and pulls you down with him, sighing as he instructs you to take a nap, and then after you two can go out shopping and you’ll figure everything out as you strip Majolish bare of its new wonderful outfits. And Asmo keeps to his word. As you’re trying things on he talks through the stall walls, proposing different ideas to you whilst simultaneously boosting your confidence as he compliments you and finds the perfect outfits for you.

Asmo makes it clear that if ever you should need a distraction, just give him a call - there’s always something better to do than reading over textbooks, and he’ll throw in study sessions so long as you’re there to spend time with him. Anything to make you feel better.

Beelzebub

Beel was in the kitchen, clearing out the fridge as usual when he heard a muffled thud against the wall. He pauses, turning to look in that direction, and realises that its the wall attached to your room.

He’s outside your door in no time, and taps nervously against it with his fingertips before opening the door slightly and calling in to ask if you were okay, and could he come in please? He hesitates when you don’t respond, but decides to head in anyway, because you might be hurt and any embarrassments he’s sure the two of you could live with, but with an injury there was no guarantee, not for a human.

There are books everywhere, the room as messy as he’s ever seen it, and you’re... nowhere to be seen. Not until he hears a sniffle and rounds the corner into the dining room section, and finds you curled up in a ball against the wall, face against your knees. He’s quick to back away, worried that he’ll upset you more, but then Beel kneels down a few paces in front of you and leans forward to tap your arm.

You flinch and look up immediately, pulling your knees closer to your chest until you realise its him, and then you just look guilty. Beel’s chest hurts, he feels horrible - what happened to make you feel like this? Could he help, or should he go get someone else? He asks just as much, voice somewhat broken over the questions as he hesitates. He doesn’t get this anxious often, but right now you remind him of Belphie a few thousand years ago, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

He pushes the thought away and slides closer, sitting against the wall beside you. His presence might not help, and he waits for you to tell him to leave, but after a while you press against his side and he opens his arms to you and holds you as tight as he can until you feel a little bit okay again. And then he asks, again, what’s wrong, and he waits for you to tell him, shaking but as patient as can be. You open up to him slowly, and he listens.

Beel doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t think he’d be a good tutor for you, doesn’t know how to relieve the stress really. But, he promises his arms are always there if you want a warm hug, and... he is sure that there is some resolution to be found, but for now you should just do your best and that’s all anyone could expect from you, and if anyone doesn’t like that then... he’ll be your bodyguard, ready to defend you at any moment. He was good at that, sometimes.

Beel smiles at you and gives you the warmest smile he can manage before tucking your head back against his shoulder or chest. He tells you to rest for a little while, and then you can try working again later. Whilst you’re asleep, he pulls out his D.D.D. and messages Belphie asking for advice, and then Lucifer. By the time you wake up, he’s got a few tips from the brothers and a tutoring timetable is being organised by Lucifer for the two of you, so that you wouldn’t be alone.

Belphegor

Belphie doesn’t know why he was on his way to your room, and he stops thinking about it the second he throws the door open and sees you crying. He’s too tired to put the pieces together as he looks around, too tired to really take in the room, but he’s on high alert when he runs over and wraps you in his arms, looking around properly to see if anyone was there, if anyone had hurt you.

You can hear him growling in the back of his throat until he slowly relaxes, shoulders lowering as he takes in how messy your room is. It must’ve been you, he decides, holding you closer to him. A demon would’ve left this place in a horrible state. But nothing was torn, just scattered around.

He’s more awake when he pulls you over to the bed and immediately lays down with you on his chest. He doesn’t get what’s wrong yet, but he’ll figure it out. He wills his powers, his sin’s influence, over you until you’re drowsy and fall asleep, still sniffling occasionally, and then he starts to work things out.

By the time you wake up, Belphie apologises for how disorientated you might feel. He probably should’ve talked to you first before making you fall asleep. He smiles sheepishly at you, but the concern in his eyes is only thinly veiled, and you can see through to it.

“So, school, huh?” he asks, lopsided smile almost teasing. He wants to make you smile, or laugh if he’s lucky. Instead you make a frustrated noise and press your face into his chest again, and he pats your head to comfort you. You hear him swallow before he pushes against your shoulders to get you to look at him again.

He’s not hiding so much when he asks what’s wrong, and he listens as you stumble through an explanation before sighing and asking if you want to take another nap. He grins when you glare at him, before adjusting you both so you’re sitting up again. “Let’s get to work, then. What subject is first?”

Belphie isn’t the best at a lot of the work, and he’s missed a lot of classes, but he’s a decent help and he keeps your stress down by cracking jokes and patting your head when you do well. He’s a comforting presence, and if you get overwhelmed again he leans his elbows against the desk, head in hands, and suggests you take another nap with him because he could really use one right now. He laughs when you swat at him and tell him to focus, and then looks at you and tells you that you can come to him if you need help, anytime. Don’t wake him up if he’s deep asleep, though - get Mammon or someone stupid to do that, he jokes, just in case he lashes out.

In future, Belphie will tap on your door when he knows you’re studying and, although he often falls asleep at your desk or just immediately heads over to your bed to nap, he gives off a comforting aura that makes the work a bit bearable for longer.

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #1-3

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

Warnings: angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I know I said Death and Angel would come out next, but I got such a inspiration high and the words came out so quickly I just told myself screw it and decided to share what I have. If anyone thinks this is a series worth pursuing, let me know. If you don’t, well, just be gentle please 💖

Cross-posted on AO3

Entries #4-6

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

My name is Ezra. 

I have my mama to thank for that. Time has erased her face from my memory, but her voice is ingrained into the tissue of my brain the same way these words are inked on this parchment. She was a bonafide believer that the meaning of a child’s name influenced the course of their destiny. When I was no taller than the height of her waist I learned my own name’s denotation: help.

It’s just a tick too ironic, isn’t it? To be destined to help others when I can’t help my own self. I gave the Green far too little credit. It didn’t just pilfer my arm to satisfy its ravenousness, it greedily stole my sense of purpose too. 

Every night I thank the deities you didn’t accompany me there. If the Green had taken you...

I know how worried you are about me, little love of mine. When I look at you, I find you already looking back, a sweet smile gracing your lips even as concern burns in your eyes as an eternal flame. From day one you’ve always been looking at me, seeing every disgraced flaw and scar—even the invisible ones carved into the darkest edges of my soul. Kevva knows I’ve never been capable of concealing anything from you, but fuck if I don’t wish I could sometimes.

You’re asleep now as I write this, tucked against my side in the vacant space my arm once occupied, drooling on my shirt. I love you so much it hurts. A black hole in my chest perpetually aching to be filled by your presence. And as we venture once more into the starry sea, our ship gliding past the imaginary wings of Noctua, I find myself recalling a theory you once told me many cycles ago about humans being made in the womb with stardust infused in their bones, linking them to the universe. You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

And it’s undoubtedly selfish, but all I could think of in that tender moment beyond kissing you was how I didn’t want an eternity spent together with our cosmic bodies intertwined. 

I want longer.

Soon after we awoke and each consumed a slice of bush bread bought during our recent docking at Kamrea, you fiddled with the channels on the ship’s radio, hoping to hear news from your homeworld but cursing when you only heard static. Then, without an ounce of forewarning, music burst out with an almighty scream through the speakers at full volume, flooding the whole compartment with a woman’s warbling. It was the same crusted Vayok song that merc Inumon blared in my ears during my last night on the Green, every note an individual needle piercing my skull, impossible to ignore.

Reality deserted me, leaving me to sink to the depths of the abyss within my mind where all I could see was Cee’s pale, disturbed expression as she looked to me for guidance. I remembered how my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth as I tried my damnedest to negotiate our transport, thinking if I could just piece together the right sequence of words, if I could just get their lingering eyes off of her, then maybe, maybe we’d have a chance at salvation. 

The memories coalesced, overlapping and blurring and mixing out of order. Each one was drenched in spilt blood.

Then your pinky wrapped around mine. The touch was soft yet firm, the action childlike in its innocence. It was such a jarring contradiction to my mind’s violent narrative, my consciousness was hurtled back into the living quarters of our ship as a result. You didn’t say anything when you saw I returned to you. Instead, you swallowed down the questions lodged in your throat and led me by our entwined fingers back to our bed.

There’s a plant back home called a dandelion, you told me with my head resting in your lap, a far better comfort than any pillow could provide me. It’s the only plant in the galaxy you can see the sun, the moon and the stars when you look at it. That’s not why it’s my favorite though.

I asked how it had won your heart’s favor if not due to its resemblance to the celestial bodies, then immediately found myself mesmerized by the smile that lit up your face as you peered down at me. My chest cavity tightened as I was filled with the profound longing to be able to suspend time, if only so I could stretch this moment to match the length of our separation, if only so I could erase the old and replace it with the beautiful new.

Dandelions grant wishes, babe. Anything you wish for with your whole heart, it will be yours to have.

I told you I wouldn’t wish for anything—nothing else in the galaxy could compare to the prettiest, wisest soul I’d ever encountered in all my years traversing it. You saw right through that lie with the same confident ease you see through all my masks and diversions, but—for the second time in the span of an hour—you held your tongue.

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine. 

When you read, whether it be a book or the flight manual, you have the precious habit of mouthing the words. I don’t think you have the faintest notion you’re even doing it, which makes it all the more endearing to watch.

My brother had a similar habit, always nose deep in the yellowing pages of classic literature, except he had a proclivity to spoil the plot when he talked in his sleep. I remember there was one particular novel he returned to often, sometimes reading from beginning to end, other times seeking out specific segments he’d underlined in bold, black pen. It was a rather dreary tale about war and rivalry and the process of determining one’s own identity. I became so exasperated with my brother’s obsession I considered shredding it on more than one occasion, only to immediately hate myself for entertaining the thought.

It was only after his death—twelve whole cycles, in fact—that I summoned up the will to open the front cover. Seeing his name scribbled in the corner, cursive and neat and so utterly him, nearly had me tearing the book in half, overcome with a vicious rage I had never known prior nor have I encountered since. But by the almighty grace of Kevva I reigned it in, chaining it to the agony and fear imprisoned within the confines of my rib cage, and turned the page.

There was one segment underlined not once, but three times, nearly bleeding ink onto the page behind it. When I close my eyes, the words are tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, as haunting as they are comforting.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

The author lived and died centuries before my brother’s inception, that is an inarguable fact. 

But I know those words were written for him all the same. 

Notes: 

There is an actual theory humans are made of stardust ✨

The Sater within Prospect mention the Currents as being responsible for bringing Ezra and Cee to them, so I imagine them as similar to the Fates/Moirai in Greek mythology.

Noctua is a real life, extinct constellation that is Latin for owl. I thought within this Prospect universe it could exist as a type of landmark or coordinate. Plus I love owls 🦉

Crusted is a term from Prospect Ezra uses. Equivalent of damn. I think there’s something funny about how they use creamy as a positive adjective and crusted as negative.

Vayok is the alien language Inumon speaks within the movie, so I decided to write the song she blares as being sung in the same language

Bush bread is referenced in a deleted scene by Ezra, but a google search revealed to me it’s also a real life type of bread too

In the same deleted scene Ezra references that he has a brother. I haven’t decided his name yet/if he will have one

The book and quote Ezra refers to in #3 is John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. One of the few required reading books I liked back in high school.

The quote about dandelions being the sun, moon and stars is based on the legend of how dandelions came into existence. I always thought it was beautiful.

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[pokemoncreepypasta]

HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl’s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!” 

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

 Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”  

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.” 

 I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!” 

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one. 

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!” 

 Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!” 

 … And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

”HM05 was destroyed!” 

 After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!” 

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

[prorevenge]

Boyfriend cheats on me with my step sibling so I get him kicked out and destroy his relationship with his parents

When I was around 17 I started dating a guy (19), I'll call him "Jake" for the sake of this post. Also age of consent where I live is 16 so nothing illegal happening here. We got on well, spent a lot of time together and cared for each other a lot. We even started talking about living together once we both moved out. We were a perfectly happy couple.

Or so I thought.

You see, after we'd been dating for a few months, something in Jake changed. He was getting a lot more distant. Whenever he was with me he'd be checking his phone constantly. we stopped spending as much time together and he started to get really funny about public affection, regarding things like hand holding and stuff. He also seemed to start caring less and less about my feelings. I used to have a bit of a thing for humiliation in the bedroom, nothing too far and we'd spoken about what Jake should and shouldn't say, but he started to get more and more degrading. He'd tell me how no one would ever love me and would pick on my insecurities, I actually broke down crying a few times when this happened. To give him a bit of credit, the first few times he did stop everything he was doing and apologise/cuddle with me until I felt better but eventually that stopped too and he just began rolling his eyes and telling me to grow up. He was like a completely different person.

The insults started to seep into our everyday life. He'd pick on my appearance a lot, bring up my family (I was dealing with a lot of family issues at the time), bring up the fact that I slept around before we started dating (a sort of rebellion caused by the family issues) etc. If got upset by it he'd just leave the room and let me cry by myself. I started to feel like it was my fault our relationship was falling apart, maybe I just wasn't good enough for him.

I knew deep down that he was cheating on me and that was confirmed when I got a message from a guy, "David", on Facebook telling me that he'd been sleeping with Jake. He apologised profusely and told me that he broke things off with Jake as soon as he found out he had a boyfriend. I couldn't be mad at David, it wasn't his fault. We spoke for hours and I reassured David that it wasn't his fault and that he'd done nothing wrong. David also helped me to stop making excuses for Jake's attitude and the way he'd been acting. He was a godsend.

The thing that truly broke me happened not too long after the cheating was discovered. We'd been arguing a hell of a lot more. Then he decided to do something absolutely unforgivable. You see, I had a stained relationship with my father for years. He'd cheat on my mother constantly and eventually, he settled down and had kids with a girl he'd been seeing behind her back. He did try to have some sort of relationship with me till I was about 13/14 ish and then decided that he didn't love me as much as his other kids and we stopped any and all contact. It broke me and it still hurts to think about to this day. Anyway, Jake went out of his way to find on of my step siblings online and slept with them. He bragged about it the next day and my step sibling actually posted online about what had happened and I received a bunch of messages from their friends telling me how I had deserved it. This was probably the lowest point in my life and I hated myself, partly for allowing it to happen and partly because I had started to believe what they were saying.

My only solace during this time was David (I didn't want to burden my friends with my problems and David was one of the only people who knew, first hand what Jake was like). We spoke for a few weeks and eventually talk turned to revenge. I had tried calling things off a couple of months prior due to Jake's awful behaviour but he started with the apologies and telling me he didn't mean it, he'd never do it again. He even spoke to some of my family members who, unknowingly, pressured me to get back together with him as we were "such a sweet couple". I hadn't wanted to tell them the real reason that we'd broken up so I kept the details pretty vague,though I'm pretty sure some of them had seen my step siblings post and knew why I didn't want to be with him.

After weeks of talking and planning, I had finally had enough and decided to do something about it.

My father wasn't exactly a rich man but he worked a pretty well paying job and earned enough money to live fairly comfortably. He had begun spreading rumours around when I was younger (during a custody battle with my mother) that he had set up a trust fund for me and that there was enough money there to get me set up in my own place when I was 18, plus a bit extra. I knew that this was absolute bullshit, he tried to get out of paying child support all the time, of course he'd never set up a trust fund for me. However, Jake didn't.

We'd never spoken about it a lot but he'd heard the rumours and I'd just always say what I told you folks, my father was an appalling parent who grudged paying my mother child support so why the hell would he set up a trust fund. But Jake wouldn't listen, he even did his own research into the type of job my father worked and came up with an estimate of how much he thought my father was earning. Though, to his credit, he did drop the subject whenever I asked him to, for a while anyways.

I decided to use this to my advantage. Jake and I were still dating though I avoided him at any chance I got. Until one night where I sat him down and told him that since I'd be turning eighteen in a couple of weeks, I'd started thinking about us getting our own place. With the trust fund my father had set up for me. He immediately cheered up at this and honestly I think that night was the first time in months that he'd said anything nice to me when we weren't in public or with friends/family. This very nearly made me want to call the whole thing off but I spoke with David later that night and he reminded me that Jake would go back to his usual degrading attitude in no time.

We started looking at flats, though Jake was "kind enough" to let me have the final say and handle the paperwork (because how could he possibly go out and cheat on me if he had to sort out the paperwork for a flat). I was a little surprised by this to be very honest as I'd always thought that he'd want his name on the paperwork and everything so I couldn't kick him out. But by this point he'd slept with my step sibling, degraded me, smashed my self confidence to pieces and cheated on me regularly, I think by now he thought that I wouldn't kick him out no matter what he did.

Anyways, I started taking up extra shifts at work to try and save enough money to actually move out. Not with Jake though, oh no. I was moving in with my friend, Emma. We had both been thinking about moving out for a while anyways and though, why not just be roommates. We found a cute little one bedroom flat that was close to our college and work and started getting stuff sorted to move in. I also didn't want to bring any trouble to my mothers door if Jake started kicking up a fuss, Emma had no issues with clawing the face off him if need be and told me not to worry about him coming to our front door.

Then came the next part of the plan. I waited till a week or so before Jake and I were supposedly moving into our own flat and stole his phone for a few minutes. He'd stopped caring about leaving his phone unattended and would sometimes flat out brag about how lucky he was to be able to sleep with whoever he wanted and come home to "a little bitch" who'd make him dinner. So that day when he went for a shower, he wasn't all too bothered about taking his phone with him. Perfect.

I went onto his phone, deleted my number from his contacts and changed the name of his mm's contact as mine.

Pleased, I went to the kitchen, smashed one of the plates (it was my mother's but it was a cheap one from a local shop and I did replace it as soon as possible). I just needed a reason for him to get pissed off. An, oh boy, did he get pissed off.

His first reaction was to text me, calling me all the disgusting names under the sun. Except it wasn't me he'd texted, it was his mum. I'd texted her in advance and told her that I hoped she'd forgive me but she had to see what her son was really like. She'd never tried to defend him as much as she just hadn't known quite how bad his behaviour was. She'd actually called him out a couple of times where he'd slipped up and been harsh with me when she was there.

She. Went. Apeshit.

I never found out exactly how their argument went as she phoned him to scream at him and call him out for his shitty behaviour, finally seeing how horrible her son was. It didn't help that she'd been sent screenshots of some of the times where he'd admitted to cheating. She was absolutely disgusted by her sons behaviour and phoned me to apologise on Jake's behalf. It wasn't her fault though, he's old enough to know how to act like a damn adult. He wound up telling his mum essentially that her opinion didn't matter as he'd be moving in with me anyways.

Needless to say when he called me on Facebook (after I deleted my number from his phone) I took some satisfaction in telling him that we weren't moving in together, that the trust fund wasn't real (I'd already told him that in the past, he just refused to listen) and that I'd moved in with Emma. I was called all the sluts and whores under the sun, his voice sort of turned into white noise after a while. I told him we were over and hung up. Blocked him on everything.

He had to run back to his mum and dad, his tail between his legs, and they took him back for a little while. Though after a bit, the arguments became too much and his parents kicked him out, he stayed with a couple of friends for a few months before he managed to get his own place. His parents, especially his mother, have not been the same with him since. I still talk to his mum on occasion.

Lastly, David and I took the liberty of sending screenshots of Jake's abuse to as many of the people he'd been hooking up with as possible. A couple of sleepless nights were spent trying to track people down on Facebook. Part of it was to get back at Jake but most of it was just to make sure that none of them got roped into a full on relationship with him and had to deal with all the crap I'd gone through.

So there it is, my little story of pro revenge. I know this is really long so there's a tldr below. I wasn't ever planning on posting my story but I was scrolling through Facebook the other day and one of Jake's new accounts popped up on the People You May Now section. After talking with Emma about it, she suggested posting it here, I hope it fits in this subreddit. Bye :)

TLDR

Boyfriend turns into a cheating asshole and winds up sleeping with one of my step siblings to hurt me, knowing that I do not have contact with my father. I play up to the rumour that my dad has set up a trust fund (he hadn't) trick him into thinking we can move in together and into ruining his relationship with his parents. He winds up getting kicked out, I move in with a friend. Also send screenshots of his abusive texts to all of his partners to ensure they don't make the mistake of dating him.

(source) story by (/u/Mikey_Audrey_Myers)

[dinoyoongi]

Confirm or Deny (6) - Final

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PARTS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX - FINAL

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Language, brief mentions of sexual situations

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

AUTHORS NOTE: The ending is here! Thank you so much to everyone who has loved and supported this story! I’m sorry that it took so long to get the ending written but I hope it’s as satisfying for you to read as it was to write! I know a few might be disappointed with it - that’s understandable - I did rewrite this chapter several times and cut out a lot that I had originally planned but ultimately I think I wrote an ending fit for me, Joonie and Sweets. <3

__________________________________

“Y/N?”  Your chin snaps up at the sound of your name, eyes wide at the polite, smiling face of the young receptionist at the desk in front of the room.  “The director will be ready shortly. He apologizes for the delay and appreciates your patience.”

Exhaling in relief, you bow in understanding, returning her courteous grin quickly before turning your eyes down to the screen in your lap. On your phone, Tom Hanks strides to the stage to the applause of the audience, the camera panning to different nominees in this final, ultimate category. The quick shot of BTS – of Namjoon's nervous but elated grin – makes your heart knock against your chest hard. Tom Hanks prattles for a few seconds about the achievements of the nominees before he's handed a golden envelope.

“And the Grammy for record of the year goes to … BTS!”

You don't realize you're holding your breath until you're on your feet and screaming, lightheaded and breathless from the lack of oxygen. Hand slapping over your mouth to silence your hysteria, you ignore the concerned calls from the receptionist and shakily lower yourself back onto your seat. Though seconds have passed, the group hasn't found their way onto the stage. Instead, they remain in the audience, huddled in the tightest of hug. Not a single one of them has a dry face.

You included.

They did it. Holy shit. They won a Grammy – the biggest Grammy of the night. This would make it their second after picking up the award for best group earlier in the morning. But record of the year … it's the award.  And they did it. Namjoon did it.

There's a gentle tapping on your shoulder. When you glance up, you can barely make out the blurred silhouette of the receptionist through the haze of your tears.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call anyone for you?”

“N-no, I'm fine, I-I just-” you stop yourself, eyes falling down to the phone screen. She follows your gaze, mouth opening in understanding when she sees the seven of them on the stage. Her shock is quickly replaced with a warm smile. “I'll be quieter. Sorry.”

She giggles. “Don't worry about it. If you need tissues or anything, come see me at my desk, okay?”

Unable to suppress the elation, you grin as you nod, pushing the pods further into your ear and jamming the volume up button on your phone as loud as it would allow. Namjoon is already speaking and the sound of his voice immediately conjures the waterworks again. He stutters over a few pronunciations and has to pause every so often to wipe his tears, but his speech is beautiful and poignant. The words are straight from his heart, straying from any kind of notes or script that the group might have drafted on the chance that they'd actually win.  

“Of course, we love and appreciate our fans – our ARMY – dearly. But we also want to thank everyone behind the scenes – our loved ones who we might have neglected and hurt in our path to get where we are. We hope that you're proud of us and that you'll stay … sweetly … by our side.”

The sobs come easily. Instantly.

Sweetly. He's talking directly to you – his Sweets.

You watch with loud sniffles until their speech is done, until they're carrying themselves off of the stage, until the last musical guest that you honestly couldn't name begins to perform. Your finger pushes at the power button on the side of your phone and when the screen fades to black, the reflection that stares back at you is a haggard mess. Grabbing a few tissues from the nice receptionist and cleaning yourself up before the most important meeting of your life is probably the best idea. But you can't seem to move.

Walking into this building a few minutes ago, you were sure of what you wanted – a fresh start, a new path, all slates wiped clean. Joining P NATION would do that for you. And this was everything that you wanted. It's everything that you've worked for.

But maybe … maybe you want Namjoon just a little bit more. You don't even know if a future with him is something that's feasible, or if it's something that he still wants. What if Big Hit refuses to let the two of you be together? What if P NATION refuses to let you date at all?

Once again you're faced with the possibility that you might have to choose the two things you want most in your entire life – your idol career or Namjoon.

You finally pry your hard stare from the phone. Looking up, there are two doors on either side of the room. One door – the door that you entered in – leads to the lobby, to the exit. The other door leads to the conference room where you'll be meeting with the directors of P NATION.

Your stomach twists, your throat suddenly tightening with the urge to vomit.

“Here,” the receptionist's voice cuts through your anxiety. She pushes a wad of tissues in your direction. When you don't move to accept them, she clicks her tongue in amusement and plops down into the chair next to yours. You're startled when she reaches out with the tissue to dab at your face gently, using the slightest pressure as to not totally destroy your makeup. “You look conflicted. It's not usually something I see from potential trainees … or in your case, idol, I guess? Most if not all of them are excited and confident and anxious to sign a contract. You … you look like you're going to toss your cookies all over the carpet. No offense.”

Despite your inner turmoil, you feel yourself cracking a smile. “None taken.”

“What your company did to you was disgusting,” she says casually, leaning over your lap to toss the tissue in a garbage bin. You blink at her in surprise. Not many people are bold enough to bring the incident – or incidents, because there were quite a few – with Hot Star to your face. “I grew up in the states so the extreme response to a dating report here just baffles me. Seriously. In the west, we want our favorite celebrities to date and be happy and healthy. We actually ship celebrities together. I remember growing up being totally in love with Freddie Prinze Jr – you don't know who that is, do you? She's All That? Scooby-Doo? None of this rings a bell? Okay, it doesn't matter, anyway – he started dating a co-star from one of his movies and I was their biggest cheerleader because I could see how happy he was. And you know what? Those two actors are still married to this day and I'm still rooting for them.”

Her rant is punctuated with a triumphant crossing of her arms as she leans back into her seat. You're confused as you gape at her. What is it that she's trying to tell you? If Hot Star and Big Hit hadn't intervened and the fans hadn't been so crazy, you and Namjoon would have a successful marriage?

She chuckles when she sees your confused expression. “Sorry, I know I'm a bit extra sometimes. My point that I have failed to get to is that … Hot Star has serious karma coming their way. I think you have the potential to do amazing things with your career. And I know from the look on your face that you're two seconds away from bolting but why don't you stick around and at least hear what they have to say?”

Her palm rises to your line of vision, a compact mirror and lip tint sat on top in a peace offering. It only takes you a few long seconds to reach out, hesitantly accepting the items with a gracious bow of your head. You're given one last encouraging grin before she stands up, bows and retreats back to the desk at the front of the room. Lowering the cosmetics into your lap, you exhale a shaky breath and pick up your phone. Though you had deleted his contact from your phone, there was no way that you didn't remember the number by heart.

You let the words flow into your fingertips, jerking your thumb to the send button before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Y/N,” the receptionist calls for you. Her eyes meet yours. “They're ready for you.”

__________________________________

“Holy shit, holy shit,” Jungkook is chanting breathlessly to himself as he grasps Namjoon's arm for support, the group shuffling quickly into the backstage area. The leader wobbles, his legs feeling as if they're made of jelly; all of his limbs feel as if they're suddenly jelly. The only part of him with substantial weight is the shiny, gold gramophone statue clutched tightly in his right hand. There's chaos as they step into the dressing room – managers, stylists and various staff shouting victoriously, some of their faces drenched with happy tears.

After all this time … they did it. The Grammys were something that all k-pop stars only fantasized about and BTS  - Namjoon and his brothers – now hold two of them.

It's a feeling that Namjoon can't comprehend. It's a feeling that's too overwhelming for his body. He wants to do everything; wants to cry, he wants to scream, he wants to hug every single person in the room, he wants to tell everybody he knows. He wants …

Oh. His chest dives when your face appears in the back of his mind. This is usually when you're calling him to congratulate him, to tell him how proud you are, to remind him how hard he worked for it, to promise him a more intimate celebration when you get to spend more time together.

From the wild thumping of his heart, it's easy to decide what he wants to do the most.

Ignoring the craziness of the room, Namjoon drops onto the couch. The award is yanked out of his grasp but he lets it go, reaching instead into the pile of cellular devices left on the coffee table to collect his own phone. Booting it up, he's not surprised to see his inbox already flooded with congratulatory messages and voicemails.

However, it's your message that sits right at the very top – two minutes ago – that surprises him the most.

Congratulations, Joonie. I am so proud of you. And when you want me, I'll always be by your side.

He reads the words again. And again. And again. Over and over until the dark font transforms into a blurred silhouette from his tears. One of the members – he can't distinguish who at this point – yanks his limp body into a hug, assuming that their leader is emotional from the fact that they just made history.

That's what he should be emotional about.

But all he can think about is you.

You, who had been with him since he joined Big Hit, who trained with him and grew with him. You, who supported him more than any person on this planet. You, who swore with your entire life that BTS would win Grammys. You knew it was going to happen and he wanted to prove you right.

How can he feel victorious when you're not with him?

Rising to his feet abruptly, Namjoon seeks out his manager. Upon seeing the fierce determination in his gaze, the main wrangler of the seven idols feels his cheerful grin drop. Jerking his head into the direction of the hallway, Namjoon has made up his mind.

The company will be furious; they'll fight it as much as they can. The fans will be devastated and betrayed, some might even boycott. The boys – though they'll support him no matter what – will be understandably concerned. This is a decision that effects everybody and the only person Namjoon cares about, the only person who can make the decision … is you.

__________________________________

“How does everything look?” Mr. Park, also known as freaking Psy, asks politely, leaning in your direction from across the table. Your eyes quickly skim the first few pages of the document again. You're not familiar with a lot of the legal terms and you'd be lying if you didn't admit that there were parts of the contract that sounded slightly confusing. But for the most part – from your experience with your past contracts and your knowledge of the industry – the agreement is great. Way better than anything you ever imagined prior to walking into the building today. “Is there anything you'd like to edit? Any clauses you'd like to negotiate?”

You clear your throat, wishing your nerves would give you a break. “It all looks great, honestly. I'm really thankful for this opportunity.”

Psy frowns. “I sense a but coming.”

“No, no” you assure him with a shaky chuckle. “I'm definitely signing. I'd be crazy not to. This is such a great contract, more than someone like me could have ever hoped for after … you know, all things considered. I just … I do want to request one clause be added.”

Every pair of shoulders at the table straightens up, pens being pressed to paper and fingers set atop of their laptop keyboards at the ready.

“This might sound silly coming from me and it might be a rookie mistake to request this at the contract signing but … I want to be able to date. I want to be given the chance to have a normal, healthy relationship whether it be private or public – and I want to be the one that chooses which. When there's news about me dating, I want you to ask me first and I want you to have my back, to publish what I say and not what you think will get more attention with the media. And you can refuse, you can even add a clause that says I'm not allowed to date but to be honest, even if you tell me no, I'm still going to do it. You can rip up the papers right now if that's what you want to do. I just want to be transparent with you. I've given up so much and I don't want to give up anything more. That's the decision I made for myself before I came through these doors.”

The speech is long and you're winded when you finish, leaning back against the chair with what you hope is a quiet exhale. At the end of the table, there's a light giggling. Before you sat down, you were fully under the impression that you'd be meeting with Hyuna because it was her name on the business card that was handed to you. You knew there would be other people involved but you didn't expect it to be Psy and his entire legal team. For the majority of the meeting, Hyuna stayed silent at her end of the table, only nodding or laughing or frowning when appropriate. She offered you nothing except for polite smiles when your gazes accidentally crossed paths. Admittedly, you were confused about her role in your signing but just having her there – someone who was in your exact shoes but had the guts to actually stand up for her relationship – made a world of difference in how comfortable and confident you were speaking right now.

“I told you,” Hyuna chuckles, pursing her lips cockily and throwing a sly head tilt to Psy. Your nerves intensify as you snap your neck to the man who nods in agreement. “I told you that you should have just added that clause to save some time.”

And just like that, your mic drop moment is gone. You feel yourself trembling as you lower your eyes to the table. They knew you were going to ask for it. They were going to add a clause so that you wouldn't ask for it.

“When you say that you want to be in a relationship, do you mean that you want to be in a relationship with Kim Namjoon of BTS?” Hyuna asks curiously, fingers twirling a pen as if this this meeting wasn't about to be the cause of your impending heart-attack. Namjoon's name being spoken only adds to your panic.

“Does it make a difference if I say yes?” you stutter, your voice small.

“You said you want to be transparent with us. Don't back down now,” she warns. The sound of her pen dropping to the table is like an foghorn directly into your ear canal.

“Okay, yes. I want to be in a relationship with Namjoon,” you admit. Maybe you're just searching for any sign of discomfort in the room but you swear that you hear the hiss of someone taking in a breath. You continue anyway. “I'm not saying concretely that I will be. It's … complicated between us. But I love him more than anything else and if the chance to be with him again presents itself then … yes, I'm going to take it.”

“Okay then,” Psy says, his eyes flitting to a few of the men sat next to him at the table. “Get to work. She can date whoever she wants, whenever she wants and we must consult with her about her personal matters before submitting any statements to the press. Y/N, anything else to add?”

Wait, what?

“Y-you're still signing me? You're … adding the clause?” you ask in disbelief.

Psy's grin is wide as he smiles. “Of course we are. We're signing you because we want your talent, not your freedom.”

“I didn't even have to convince him,” Hyuna chirps. Your eyes are wide and watery as you gape at her with awe. “He was on board the second that I mentioned your name. What has happened to you in your career is … disgraceful. Being kicked out of Big Hit simply for being a woman, being kicked out of Hot Star because your company choose to capitalize on your relationship instead of supporting you. I know you probably think that he's just scooping up jaded k-pop stars but we're not interested in you because we pity your unfortunate background. We're interested because we're in awe of how you keep going. You were at the top of the food chain of trainees at Big Hit and when you were transferred, you had to start all over again and you did it. You debuted. And when this industry kicked you back down to square one, instead of giving up on being an idol like most others would, you took my card and called us to willingly – once again – be the lowest totem on the pole. You've got the whole package – talent, looks and perseverance. You're going places farther than any of those girls in FRNZEE could even fathom and we want to be the ones that help you get there.”

You don't realize that you're out of your seat, that you're stumbling your way in Hyuna's direction until she's in front of you and you're swinging your arms around her neck. She's startled, emitting a soft oomph as she fumbles backward but instead of pushing you away, she pats your shoulder comfortingly.

“Thank you,” you sob into chest. “Thank you so much. You have no idea. I-I just … I don't-”

Gently, she pushes you away, her hand firm on your shoulders as she bends down to meet your eyes directly. With her other hand, she uses her thumb to wipe away what you know are disgustingly hideous mascara tracks. Her smile is blinding as she grins at you encouragingly.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” she says warmly. Those words send a trill of warmth down your spine. “Even though it was my suggestion, who you really need to be thanking is our CEO. I have a big mouth and I use it often but he's the one who ultimately makes the decisions.”

You nod, turning to approach Psy. Unlike with Hyuna, you reign in your raging emotions, opting to bow respectfully instead of launching yourself at him. “Thank you, sir. I promise that I'm not going to let you down.”

Rounding back to your side of the table, there's no hesitance when you pick up the pen to sign your name and stamp your seal. The group waits until your pen has been placed back onto the table before they're on their feet and cheering. Their applause for simply signing with you is more encouraging than all of your positive interactions you've ever had with the Hot Star CEO combined. Psy has the super sweet receptionist – who winks in congratulations before she leaves the room – bring in a bottle of champagne and Hyuna insists on snapping a photograph of you with your contract for your future trophy case in their talent room.

You've been in this room for an hour. One hour and it feels as if you've been handed this entire new world wrapped with a shiny promise of a great future.

There's only one thing missing.

__________________________________

ONE MONTH LATER

BREAKING: Y/N officially signs with P NATION!

Months after leaving FRNZEE and Hot Star Entertainment following the dating scandal that led to her being verbally and physically attacked by BTS fans, P NATION – the entertainment company that was founded by former YG artist Psy in 2019 – has announced on social media today that they've officially signed with Y/N! Y/N was ostracized in the k-pop industry after rumors of her dating BTS leader RM were confirmed by Hot Star but denied by Big Hit. Due to backlash, Y/N was ultimately pulled from the group's comeback. The controversy also saw BTS fans attacking the then-FRNZEE vocalist in the KBS parking lot during a Music Bank recording.

We can't wait to see what kind of music Y/N will be releasing under this new label. Stay tuned for more updates!

You roll your eyes, clicking off of the article and back to the influx of incoming messages. It was too much to hope for a quick “congratulations!” article, wasn't it? Scrolling through the messages, you feel slightly overwhelmed but in a good way.

Ji-na: I feel cool because I already knew but still CONGRATS AGAIN BABE! Happy for you!!

You're giggling as you type back a response to her and a few other people before clicking the phone off and setting it down to charge. Your eyes take a long moment to adjust to the dimness of the room compared to the bright lights of your phone screen. Today has been a whirlwind of messages and phone calls and more messages and more phone calls. You just need a break from all devices.

“Y/N?” a voice from the kitchen calls. You heave yourself onto your feet, padding a few steps over to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. Per your contract with P NATION, instead of sticking you in a dorm, you're now living in an apartment building owned by somebody who works for the company. Your building neighbors include Hyuna and Hyojong who actually live on your floor and Jessi who lives a few up. It wasn't super spacious but it was cozy and private and yours. You sigh in exhaustion as you slump onto one of the stools. “Do you want mozzarella on your pasta?”

Elbows resting on the table, your chin propped onto your palms, you nod sleepily, letting your eyes flutter closed. “A lot of it, please.”

You giggle when you feel something press against your lips. Opening your eyes, you're not surprised to see Namjoon mirroring your posture, his lips on yours. He kisses you sweetly for another few seconds before pulling away. “You've had a long day. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Happy. Content. Hungry,” you say pointedly, grinning when his dimples dip from his laughter. “I'm so glad that you're here with me right now.”

“Me too, Sweets,” he says softly, sliding his hand across the table. You remove one from under your chin and meet him halfway, interlocking your fingers immediately. Like always, your heart pummels against your ribcage. It appears that Namjoon is always going to fluster you and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Considering the scale of dramatic that was yours and Namjoon's breakup, you would've thought there would have been some epic reunion consisting of hours of conversation and arguments and agreements that would lead to the reigniting of your relationship but … there wasn't. When he got off of the plane after returning from America, the first place that he went to was yours. In Daejeon. You had been in Seoul for meetings the entire day and because of what happened, your mother wouldn't let him in the house. He waited hours on the porch for you to return – after he had just gotten off a thirteen hour flight – and when you finally walked up that sidewalk to see him dozing on the uncomfortable, rickety wicker chair …. you just knew.

There didn't have to be a spectacular speech or declaration of love – you already knew you loved him and that you wanted to be with him again.

So here you were. Together.

Together – the word makes your chest clench in relief.

You eat your pasta takeout at the kitchen counter, taking turns feeding the different noodles to each other between catch-up conversation. You tell Namjoon about the concept meeting that you had earlier in the day, the meeting that would decide in what direction you want your sound to go. He tells you about the amount of celebrities – specifically ones that have stuck their noses up at the boys in the past – that are flooding Big Hit with collaboration requests following the Grammys. And when you finish up with dinner, you both retire onto the sofa. Namjoon loads Netflix and turns on a random documentary although you both know damn well that you'll only watch it for maybe twenty minutes before your restless hands and yearning lips find another way to keep each other occupied.

Tonight, though, you're surprised when he whips his phone out in front of your face. “We don't have any recent pictures together. Let's take a selfie.”

Your hair is in a messy bun and your face is bare but who are you to deny him anything?

Leaning in, Namjoon presses his lips against your cheek. You smile bashfully, assuming the picture will turn out incredibly sweet, until he uses his free hand to squeeze your cheeks together. Before you can protest, the blinding flash of the camera captures the moment. You massage the skin that was pinched when he releases you, muttering grumpily as he coos over how adorable he thinks the picture is.

“This one will be perfect,” he mumbles to himself before his fingers start moving across the screen keyboard.

You squint in confusion. “Perfect for what?”

He pretends to not hear you but you get your answer only two minutes later. The pings and beeps and notifications on your phone begin to chime rampantly again.

Ji-na: OMG NAMJOON IS TOO CUTE. YOU GUYS ARE TOO CUTE.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously at your boyfriend who lounges next to you, phone in one hand while the other kneads a spot on your ankle where it rests on his lap. “Why does Ji-na think you're too cute? What did you do?”

Namjoon chuckles incredulously. “Wow, that didn't take long at all.”

“What are you talking about?”

Instead of answering, he presents you with his phone that's loaded to his Weverse account. There's one post from Namjoon, added two minutes ago. The goofy selfie of the two of you with the caption: I've been an idiot – she has always been my Sweets. Congrats, babe.

“Namjoon!” you shriek in alarm, shooting up into a sitting position. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

You gawk at the man as he chuckles calmly, pulling himself off of the sofa as well. Why would he do that? And how can he be so calm? Doesn't he realize that he posted it? Doesn't he realize what he just did?

“I … Joonie, I don't understand. Help me understand. Why did you do that?”

He takes your hand in his, pushing the pad of his fingers into your skin soothingly. “I told myself that if I was lucky enough to be with you again, things would be different. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes I did last time. I don't want us to hide. I don't want us to be a secret. I know that there's going to be backlash from this – especially because of my reaction last time – but I just want to be with you, okay? Is that okay?”

Is it hot in here? You feel like you're melting.

“Joonie, of course it's okay. There aren't going to be any label issues on my end and of course I want nothing more than to be public with you – it's what I've always wanted – but … have you cleared this with Big Hit? With the boys? What's going to happen now?”

He gives you his wide, closed-mouth smile, the one that makes his dimples deep. “What's going to happen is that we're going to be happy. Together. I'm going to own up to my mistakes and take responsibility for not fighting for us the first time around. I'm going to endure the backlash with the boys at my side and … we're going to be Joonie and Sweets no matter what anyone has to say about it. Okay?”

You nod, biting your lip to stop the sudden onslaught of tears. Joonie and Sweets. It's all you've ever wanted.

He sighs. “I know this is going to get us both in a bit of hot water but I'm done hiding.”

Crawling closer to him, you snuggle into his side, sighing in contentedness when his arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you closer.

“I'm okay, Joonie. I can take whatever is thrown at us but I just have to confirm one thing for whenever my manager eventually calls,” you tell him. His eyebrow lifts questioningly. “We're both in the relationship this time, right?”

He rolls his eyes once before lunging at you, fingers digging into your sides in merciless tickles.

 - T H E   E N D - 

[spell-cleaver]

(Luke Palpatine AU) It had become a routinely habit of Luke’s to look over his shoulder when in the presence of Lord Vader’s whose glaze and force presence always seemed to follow him wherever he may be.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterpost here!

It had become a routine habit ofLuke’s to look over his shoulder when in the presence of Lord Vader, whose gazeand Force presence always seemed to follow him, wherever he may be.

It was awful. Being dogged by that monster was like having his own personal grim reaper, like having a knife hovering above his throat, and he was still expected to walk around like a calm, collected child emperor and keep his nose in the air, feet on the ground, head in the sky, far away from the fact that death’s shadow had apparently decided to become his.

But soon. Soon, he wouldn’t have that problem. He just had to wait.

He glanced up from the novel he was reading—he hadn’t taken a single word in, he should really focus—to eye Vader, sitting in the corner of the room, quietly working on something of his own. Tinkering, Luke was pretty sure, and he was almost tempted to go over and talk about it, to see what the master engineer that Vader was known to be could teach him, but then his father’s voice hissed in his head: Luke was a prince, now an emperor, and Vader was his enemy. It was beneath him; it was dangerous for him.

Luke picked up his novel again with trembling hands, and he wasn’t even sure he could blame it on lasting symptoms of the poisoning, this time. He still felt weak, far too weak to bear such a heavy crown, but the wounds on his back were healing, even if he still bore scars. He would recover from this too, he was sure.

Vader had insisted he not return to his duties yet, that he relax for that recovery, and Luke had almost scoffed. Knowing that he was handling the running of Luke’s empire for the time being made him even tenser than he was before.

Finally, Vader looked up from whatever he was doing, rose to his feet, and said, “It is time, Your Majesty.”

Luke blinked, and frowned. “Time for what, Lord Vader?”

“Sabé has arrived, Majesty; I just received a message from security informing me that her shuttle was cleared to fly to the palace.”

Sabé—

“Nova?” Luke asked, scrambling to his feet too fast; the scars on his back, his neck, squealed in protest. Already? “You— she said she needed time—”

“I contacted her while you were indisposed,” Vader said. “She agreed to come immediately.”

“You—what did you do?”

“I contacted her,” Vader repeated impassively. He gestured to the door. “Shall we go and greet her?”

“May I have my comlink back?” Luke shot back. If he could find—or find a way to reconstruct, if deleted—the exact message Vader had sent…

There was no response. Only a tilt of the helmet from Vader, then Luke groaned and continued on.

He just wanted to see Nova again.

And when he did, in the hangar, despite the hulking shadow at his back, he burst into a smile.

She smiled right back. She looked as elegant as ever, standing on the ramp to the nondescript shuttle thanking the pilot, clad in a blue tunic and grey trousers, a midnight travelling cloak around her shoulders. Her hood was down to show off the slightly messy but elaborate crown she’d braided it into at the back of her head and her neat black shoes clacked on the floor as she strode, almost sprinted, across the hangar towards him.

He hadn’t realised he’d moved to meet her too until she’d wrapped her arms around him and suddenly they were in the middle of the hangar, and he was engulfed by her cape.

Up close, it had subtle coloured threads woven throughout it: clouds of pink and gold against the dark blue, silver dots picked out against it all. Like her name, he supposed.

She tried to lift him up, but gave up with an oomph. “Guess you’re a bit too big for that, now, little prince,” she joked, ruffling his hair. His crown sat askew on his head; she delicately moved it back into position, and dusted his curls so they fell about in a more regal manner. “Or is it little emperor now?”

“How can I still be little if I’m too big to pick up?”

Nova raised one perfect eyebrow and straightened up. Sure enough, she was still ever-so-slightly taller than him. “That’s how.”

Luke giggled.

He sensed a stab of something through the Force from Vader—something dark, lustful—but it was too fleeting to pin down, and Luke ignored it when Nova’s hand moved from his hair to his face, brushing his cheek then moving his head left and right, inspecting him.

“You’ve grown up so much,” she murmured.

“It’s only been three years.”

“Three long ones!” She smiled again, a little sadly, and squeezed his hand. “I never got to say goodbye to you when I was sent away, I wanted to apologise. I—”

“No, Nova, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I left you with him—”

Luke found himself tensing at the casual slander of his father—sure, he hadn’t been his biggest fan in the past few years, largely because he’d sent Nova away and Luke had started actually thinking about how she’d always insulted him behind his back, but… still.

He wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

“It’s fine,” Luke insisted. “You’re here now. And I need you, now.”

“I heard.” She swiped a thumb over each of his cheekbones, tracing the dark blue around his eyes. “How are you feeling? I heard about the Rebel attack, and— I thought—”

“I survived,” he said softly. He unclasped his hands from her cloak, let the fabric run between his fingers, and clasped her hands instead. “I’m alright. The attack came, and went; the poisoning came, and went—”

“Poisoning?”

Luke frowned. “Did you not know? Vader"—he shot a glare over his shoulder, to find the man with his gaze still riveted on him—"said he’d told you.”

“He sent a very cryptic, very threatening message that scared the life out of me,” Nova informed him. “So I came as fast as I could; I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. She lowered her voice. "How are things with Vader? I know…”

“I know.” Luke swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

He worked his jaw for a moment, then tried again.

“When I first woke up from the surgery, the last thing I remembered was the attack,” he whispered. “And then there was Vader, telling me my father was dead, and… he swore his loyalty to me as the new emperor, but I don’t trust it, I don’t trust him. But he’s always around, he never gives me any peace; he swore to obey me, but when I ordered him to go and eliminate Tarkin he refused to leave until you got here, even before the poisoning. He’s replaced all my father’s red guards with the members of the Five-Oh-First, Amedda and other senior politicians were executed for murdering my father, and I—” He choked; he hadn’t realised how much he was keeping bottled up until it all came spilling out. “I just feel so alone.”

Nova looked dismayed: there was a pinch in her brow and her lips. But when she spoke, her tone was still light.

“You’re not alone anymore,” she assured him. “I’m here. I’ll help.” She lowered her voice a little further. “And I bet I can give Vader a run for his credits.”

Luke’s choking turned to laughter.

“Come on.” She turned Luke around, sweeping an arm (and a good section of her broad cloak) around his shoulders. “Let’s head upstairs, and we can talk in more detail. If you’ll have my things brought up to my quarters…?”

“Of course,” Luke said, and nodded to the servants standing by. “Take Lady Nova’s things up to the rooms prepared adjacent to mine.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“‘Your Majesty’,” Nova murmured. “It suits you. But I’m no lady.”

Luke smiled. “You are to me.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Well, you’re just as sweet as I remember. You’ll be doomed in court.” It was said in jest, but the words hit a little close to home. She must’ve noticed his flinch. “Let’s get started on preparing you for it, then.”

They were passing Vader now, and Luke found himself involuntarily tensing up as he looked into that death mask. He opened his mouth, but again, nothing came out—

“Thank you for protecting my emperor, Lord Vader,” Nova said, clearly and confidently as ever. “I can take it from here, though; we won’t be needing your services again today. You have a chance to rest.”

There was a smile on her face and in her voice, but Vader still took it as the vaguely insulting dismissal it was meant to be. He stiffened, then turned towards Luke, who did his best to stand up straight and look… well, like an Emperor.

“As Lady Nova said,” he ordered Vader, watching Vader stiffen in response, sensing… disappointment? Sensing something. “I will see you tomorrow, Lord Vader.”

Vader hesitated a moment then, very reluctantly, bowed his head.

“As you wish,” he said, and Nova marched Luke onwards, until that cold, burning gaze was no longer fixed on his back.

Send me the first sentence of a scene for this AU and I’ll continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

[mystic-lodi]

A Tinder Date Amongst Friends - Chapter 1 (Yoosung)

Ship: YoosungxMC

Word Count: 2,414

Rating: T for Language

ao3 link

...

Tinder. The hellhole of an app that leads users to download it to their phone for approximately eight days, delete the app, and then proceed to redownload it a few days later because certainly it’s not as bad as you remember. I knew all this, and yet here I was, once again downloading Tinder after a long session of crying in the shower and convincing myself that this time would be different. This time, I wouldn’t receive any unsolicited dick pics. This time, I wouldn’t have to endure bland conversations about my favorite color or try to figure out how to respond to various almost nonsensical pick up lines. This time, I would meet someone who would let me forget about Yoosung.

Try as I might, nothing for the past year has been able to get me over this adorable blonde haired boy. While preparing for my first RFA party, I thought we had a mutual attraction but he wasn’t reciprocating my advances, so I backed off and decided to swallow my feelings. I assumed things would get better and we would become close friends. That’s what happened, but not quite in the way I expected. Spending more time with him only sparked more feelings, leading me down a rabbit hole of late nights over thinking my texts to him and debating whether or not I should just suck it up and tell him already. We’d spent countless hours just chatting into the night over the phone, gossiping about the other RFA members or discussing plans to go to conventions, but never once could I bring myself to tell him. Weeks, months, and now a year of this, I finally decided that I needed to be more proactive in moving on, which led me to this horrible app.

The first time I downloaded it, it wasn’t too bad. Just a creep or two, but nothing significant. I got bored and deleted it. A few weeks later, I downloaded it again, and that’s when the creeps started pouring in. Now on my fifth attempt, I started to ask what was wrong with me. Why did I keep doing this? Was I hoping for some Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet? 

“Well, there’s no harm in trying,” I mumbled to myself as I typed in my phone number and created a new account. The app loaded my selected photos, the calm before the storm. I waited patiently and it made a soft ding. Let the swiping frenzy begin.

Shirtless in the first pic. Swipe left.

Vaping through his nose. Swipe left.

Kinda cute hair cut. I stopped and decided to click to his next photo. His dog kissing him open mouth. Quick swipe left.

Cute smile. Look at those-

My heart skipped a beat.

“Yoosung?!”

I paused for a moment, letting it sink in. I didn’t know what to do. Should I swipe left? That could be weird though. What if my profile shows up for him? Would he swipe right on me for shits and giggles but think it’s odd I didn’t also swipe right for shits and giggles? Before I could go further down that road, my thumb ignored my brain and listened to what my heart was screaming, I swiped right. I held my breath. And then a window popped up. 

You and Yoosung matched! Send a message below and say hi!

Shit. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? What do I say? Should I wait for him to send something first? Man, what the hell am I doing…

> “Hey lol fancy seeing you here 😂”

Okay, sent. That should be fine. Not flirty, but not rude. I shut off my phone before anyone else’s profile could show up. I let out a big sigh of relief, so incredibly glad that was over.

Ding!

Dammit. Hesitantly, I tipped my phone up to check what notification I had received. It felt like my throat was closing up as I spotted the little flame shaped Tinder icon. Quicker than I’d like to admit, I unlocked my phone and immediately went to my messages. It was from Yoosung.

> “Ikr! I never thought of you as one to have a tinder lol”

Now what does that mean? Was that a good thing? Does he mean that I seem too innocent to have an account, or does he mean that I seem like someone who’d be above all that? Or did he think I was dating someone, and that’s why he never returned my advances…? I shook my head vigorously. He’d known me for a year and I constantly complained about my singlehood. He definitely knew I wasn’t seeing anyone. 

> “What, do I seem too innocent for one?”

I read it over a few times and then deleted the draft. It seemed too accusatory.

> “I’m less innocent than I look, Yoosung ;)”

I immediately deleted that one. It was way too flirty.

> “What about you? I never expected to see you here either!”

That was the best I was gonna be able to muster in my current frenzied state of mind, so I sent it. The three little dots signifying Yoosung responding popped up quicker than expected, causing me to stare with rather intense anticipation while I waited for his response.

Ding!

> “I thought it was about time for me to try a bit harder to get a girlfriend, apparently me flirting in person doesn’t come across very well ^^;”

Flirting in person? Had he been flirting with someone before, and I never knew? I felt a little pang in my heart.

> “Well, how’s it been going so far?”

I didn’t really want to know the answer to that.

> “I’m ngl, not that great,, Man, tinder is a weird place lol”

Oh, that was a better response than I was expecting. Of course I wanted him to be happy. Nothing in the world would put a smile on my face faster than seeing him happy. I wasn’t over him in the least at this point, though. There was no harm in slightly jealous thoughts as long as I didn’t share them out loud, right?

> “What about you?”

He wanted to know how my Tinder escapades were going? That’s kind of odd. No, he was definitely just asking because I asked him first.

> “About the same for me too lol”

That wasn’t wrong. Well, not until he showed up.

> “I have a fun idea!”

I smiled softly to myself, imagining his wide grin as he sent the message.

> “Lemme hear it!”

The three little dots showed up and then disappeared. Showed up again, disappeared again… What in the world was he typing?

> “We should go out for a fancy dinner date!”

I nearly choked on my own saliva. A date?! Did he just ask me out on a date? The dots showed up again. My heart started racing.

> “If neither of us are meeting anyone on here, I thought it’d be fun if we pretended we’re on a date, got all dressed up, and went out to eat! :D”

Damn this boy. This sweet, adorable, dumb boy. My heart started to calm down a bit, anxiety replaced by a mix of calmed and disappointed. My racing thoughts began to slow and one in particular stood out.

> “That sounds kinda fun actually, let’s do it!”

I smiled at the thought of Yoosung all dressed up. Sitting through a dinner while trying my best to not reach across the table and hold his hand or brush his hair out of his eyes would be worth it if I meant I could get to see him and talk to him and just feel his presence near me.

> “Perfect! I can pick you up tmrw night around 7, does that work?”

Of course that worked. Any time worked. If I had something to do, I would happily rearrange my schedule to be able to meet up with him.

> “Definitely, I’ll see you then!”

> “Can’t wait! :D”

That last comment made me giddy. Maybe it wasn’t romantic, but it still made me so excited to know that he couldn’t wait to see me. Finally prying myself off the couch I had been lazily perched in for who knows how long, I quickly went up to my bedroom to rifle through my closet and find what I would be wearing tomorrow night. It couldn’t be anything too revealing, it wasn’t a romantic date. But it had to be something classy, since wherever Yoosung was going to get reservations was most likely going to be a classy place, seeing as he did call it a “fancy dinner date.” I froze in my tracks, one hand gripping the now open closet door and the other between hangers. This was going to be my one and only chance to go on a date with him. Realizing this, I felt a new, sudden wave of confidence run through me. I was gonna go all out, strut my stuff, even if it killed me. What did I have to lose?

…

Ding! Ding! Ding!

I groaned and rolled over, my arm flopping out to grab my phone and turn off my alarm. My eyes were squinting tightly to try and block out the late afternoon sun streaming through my window. My phone lockscreen read 6:15pm. A grin broke out on my face. A day and a half of waiting, napping to fill in the time, and now I only had forty five more minutes until our “date.” I groggily and slowly pulled myself up from under my covers and made my way over to my closet. On the back of the door, I had hung up a short, black, off the shoulders high-low dress that came down to mid thigh in the front and just below the knees in the back. On the floor I had placed a pair of matching black heels and a silver handbag. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for having picked this out in the dead of night, half asleep the night before. 

I slipped out of my t-shirt and shorts and into a bathrobe, making my way over to the bathroom to put on some makeup. I leaned over my sink and, with my face far too close to the mirror, I applied soft brown and red eyeshadows, a gentle eyeliner wing, and some fantastically red lipstick that popped in the best way. I leaned back and admired my handywork, earning myself another mental pat on the back. I brushed out my hair, deciding to keep it natural with its soft waves, before I made my way back to my bedroom. I carefully, slowly slid my dress on. I then moved over to my bed, sitting on the edge of it to put on my heels.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

I sighed and turned off another phone alarm, this one signifying it was 6:45, giving me fifteen more minutes to mentally prep. I leisurely strapped on my heels as I let my mind wander. Why did I agree to this? I mean, obviously it’s because I wanted to go out on a date with Yoosung, but this wasn’t even going to be a date. Was I gonna try and seduce him or something? Is that why I was getting so dressed up for this? No, that wasn’t part of the plan. If he didn’t have the same feelings for me that I did for him, I wasn’t going to force myself onto him. I just want him to be happy, whether that’s with me or without me. 

Suddenly, a harsh clunking sounded from downstairs and I jumped slightly, the sound pulling me from my thoughts. I stood up, taking a few careful steps to test out my heels and I was ready, moving quickly to go investigate the sound. The sound returned, this time a bit quieter, but I finally recognized the sound as knocking. 

“Coming!” I shouted. I rushed over to the door, quickly swung it open, and I froze in blissful shock. I smiled ear to ear when I saw Yoosung in front of me. He stood at my doorstep with a nervous smile on his face and a single long stemmed pink peony in his hands, dressed to the nines in dark blue suit, a long soft yellow tie pairing nicely with a lighter blue dress shirt, and of course his adorable two brown hair clips pinning back his hair.

“Yoosung, you…you look amazing…” I couldn’t help staring as I pushed my door open further to let him step in for a moment. A blush crept up on his cheeks and he stared at me for a moment. He shook his head lightly, as if to bring himself back into focus, and followed me inside. He made a soft noise that slightly resembled a gasp as he stretched his arm out to offer me the flower he held.

“This is for you!” His nervous smile grew wider and I giggled. Why was he so nervous? It’s not a real date, what did he have to be afraid of? It might be rude to ask that… He just looks so damn cute when he’s nervous!

“You’re too sweet, thank you so much! You didn’t have to…” I trailed off and became a bit nervous myself. His jittery energy ended up being rather infectious.

“Let me go put this away and we can get going,” I practically skipped over to my kitchen, straight to one of the higher cabinets. I stretched my arms up as high as they’d go to pull down a tall thin vase from a shelf that was almost too tall. I managed to pull it down without dropping it and I filled it with water. I slid the beautiful flower into it and placed the vase on my dining table.

“A-ah, you’re gonna display it…?” Yoosung stuttered and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, causing me to giggle once more. 

“Of course! I want everyone to know what a wonderfully sweet friend I have!” Calling him my “friend,” I felt a little pang in my heart. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn I saw a bit of hurt in his eyes at this statement. I mustered up all the courage I could and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna be late,” I smiled back at him as I walked through the door.

[doom-dreaming]

“Dear Digital Diary”

I finally finished it! So this is my fic for @shanblackwood - as part of a trade (that beautiful bloody monstery boy from a while back). It got much longer than I was expecting, so most of it is under the cut. There’s a lot of pining, a little bit of smut, and copious amounts of fluff. (I hope it’s everything you wanted!!)

(Read it on Ao3 here!)

- - - - - - - - - -

“Oh fuck, we’re gonna have to retake that—” He grins briefly at the camera, all sharp white teeth and sparkling eyes, before ducking his head, laughing.

Your heart skips a beat. You rewind. Pause. It feels like that smile is for you. Like those pale blue eyes are looking directly into yours. You take a screenshot. It joins the other thousands in the folder labeled ‘outtakes.’ You think it sounded innocuous enough.

Not that either of them ever go through your files—you’re one of the few people they trust. They have no reason not to. You’re just the video editor, after all. They’re the faces on the screen. They’re the voices on the radio. You’re not much more than a useful tool to them.

You press play. “—have to retake that—” A few keystrokes, a few clicks, remove the clip from the rest of the recording. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ the screen prompts.

Keystroke. >SAVE  Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

“How do you always manage to fuck these up?” Tyreen sounds incredulous, but not angry. She punches Troy’s arm and he jumps away with an exaggerated yelp, then smiles. It’s equal parts dazzling and dangerous.

Your heart does a little flip as you play it back in slow motion. >SAVE

The next one is Tyreen’s. She mispronounces a word. “What’s that about me fucking up?” Troy teases, repeating her slip-up in a mocking tone. “Shut it, asshole.” Again, not angry. Playful. He sticks out his tongue at her. Laughs through a grin.

You cut the footage. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ Your hand hovers over the keys. >DELETE Click. You attempt to distract yourself with the rest of the video. Anything to keep from thinking about that slick pink tongue on your neck, between your lips...between your thighs.

Three hours later, you pause with your cursor over the power menu. Instead, you nudge it toward the little trash icon. Click. Click. ‘RESTORE TO “outtakes”? >YES   NO’ Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

It’s late. Your work had been easy, for the most part. Just fixing pacing, sound and color correction, little things. The twins had stayed professional—well, as professional as they could be, which wasn’t saying much. But they’d gotten their point across with minimal mistakes.

All except for the few minutes before the cameras started rolling when Troy had decided to sing. You’d never heard it before—the song—but you rewound and replayed it so many times that you knew the words by the time you finally forced yourself to move on. After cutting and saving the clip, of course.

He hadn’t been trying to put on a show. He hadn’t even been particularly loud—you had to adjust the volume and bump down the ambient noise to even make out most of it—he was just...singing for the sake of it. Fixing his hair, his eyeliner… ...singing. The usual frantic beat of your heart had settled into a gentle flutter—not the typical reaction when you saw him.

And now you’re leaned back in your chair, watching it again. His eyes are unfocused, distant, but not troubled. He seems calm. Content. That cloying warmth is wrapping itself around your heart again. You find yourself wishing you could touch him. You want to reach through the screen and run your hand through his hair. Trace his jawline. Kiss him. You want to feel him murmuring those lyrics against your lips, humming into your mouth—

You shove your chair away from your desk. Run your hands through your hair. Sigh and close your eyes and shake your head. You can’t do this. You absolutely can’t let yourself feel this. Sooner or later, it’ll start affecting your work, and if you give anything less than what the twins expect—if you’re not useful anymore—

You stand. Close the video. Turn off your monitor. Go to bed. But not even sleep lets you escape from visions of his hands on your body, his mouth on your neck, his whispered words in your ear.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake the next morning to the insistent ‘ping’ of your ECHOcomm. More work. Well, that’s a good sign.

Your breath stops—no, it feels more like it’s punched out of you—when you see the name of the sender. That single, simple, four-letter name. Troy. Troy Calypso. You hate the way your fingers shake as you open the message. It’s semi-formal, all business, a simple request for more editing. He’s attached several files. More work, you reassure yourself. Just more work.

Still, it takes you the better part of an hour to finally sit down at your computer. But you do, armed with shitty coffee and a very fragile grasp on your willpower. Six videos. DOWNLOAD ALL? >YES   NO Click. You try not to watch the progress bar.

Why in the hell do you feel like this? Sure, you’d always had a tiny crush on Troy—but so did a lot of people. They’d be stupid not to, you think. He’s tall and toned and dangerous and confident...and those eyes... You sip at your coffee, grimacing against the half-burnt aftertaste. This crush is getting out of hand, that’s your problem. And it’d come completely out of left field, too. Day one was, ‘oh, he’s cute,’ and now… Well, now you were here. Working yourself into a frenzy over the sight of his goddamn name.

A chime sounds, announcing the download’s completion. You gulp down the rest of the coffee, crush the flimsy cup in your hand, and start clicking. You recognize the setup from the thumbnails alone. New gun reveals. Some of the tension drains from your body. These are something you can handle. Granted, they’re more candid than the usual broadcasts, but they’re still not as personal as you’d been expecting. You fight back the wave of disappointment, rationalizing it away. Telling yourself it’s for the best.

“Hey, ECHOnet, it’s your favorite twin, with another shipment of kickass guns! Tyreen had something “super important” to do—” You smile as he claws the quotation marks into the air. “—so you get me all to yourselves…” He winks. Your heart flips. “Okay! So let’s jump right in—” He makes a face. Cocks an eyebrow. “Jump? Dive? Feels like I need something better than “let’s get started”—” More air quotes. “That just sounds lame.” He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Your voice makes anything sound good,” you murmur to the screen. He sits in silence for a minute, chewing on his bottom lip, looking lost. The urge to reach out and touch him comes back, even stronger than before. And then the vulnerability is gone, replaced by the cocky, carefully-crafted mask of charisma and confidence that everyone else assumes is normal. “Okay! So let’s break down these new guns! First up, we have…”

Pause. Rewind. Click, click, click. >SAVE Play.

The rest of the video goes more smoothly, as do the next three. Not much to cut, even less to keep for yourself. You continue to fight back the disappointment. Two left. Just two more and you can distract yourself for (hopefully) the rest of the day—

The fifth video catches you off guard. It’s...not a gun haul. It’s not set up in a studio. It’s dark, but there’s enough ambient light to make out shapes. It looks like it’s been filmed from a personal recorder and…

Troy’s face slides into the frame and he’s grinning, looking happier—and more devious—than you’ve ever seen. “Ty’s asleep…” It pans away, toward a vague shape across the dark room, before flipping back to Troy. You realize he’s the one filming it. “...and, uh...the new skag puppies are harmless right now, so…thought I’d play a little prank on her…” He creeps closer, quieter than you would’ve assumed, keeping the camera trained on the bed where Tyreen’s sleeping, clinging to a pillow and… You adjust the volume. ...yeah, she’s definitely snoring.

An odd feeling washes over you. For the first time, you feel as though you’re intruding into something you shouldn’t be seeing. The twins, your gods, are so...human. Granted, you’re smarter and saner than the majority of your peers—you know about sirens and relics and everything that could feasibly give them the illusion of divinity, but this still feels nigh-sacrilegious. He couldn’t have meant to send this…could he? You watch it anyway.

He holds up some sort of treat, then makes a show of placing it on the bed. After a few minutes, both the bed and Tyreen are practically covered and he’s retreating to the doorway, stifling involuntary laughter behind his free hand. You find yourself smiling along with him. “...gonna go release the hounds,” he announces as soon as he’s a safe distance down the hall, although the giggle that follows completely negates any sense of drama. Your stomach curls around itself in a funny twist.

The camera shakes horribly as he jogs across the compound, but you’re glad you don’t speed through it. “Goin’ to see the babies,” he sing-songs to himself once the skag pens start to come into focus. You swear your heart almost explodes. How the fuck is he...like this? Does anyone else see this, aside from Tyreen? Do they know their god is so...sweet?

He whistles as he approaches. The reaction is immediate. A litter of skag pups bowls out of the nearest den, tripping over each other and their own legs, yipping and growling. The camera dips—you assume Troy's kneeling. “Hey, killers...heh, yeah, hey…” He's laughing, scratching at their heads, letting them snap at his fingers. “Oh! You’re gettin’ big, Pepper. Yeah, not really the baby anymore, huh? Wanna go play with Ty? Yeah?” There’s a lower growl, somewhere offscreen. “Easy, big girl… I promise I’ll bring ‘em back.” With that reassurance, he opens the gate.

The remaining three minutes of footage go exactly as expected, in a flurry of hungry skag pups, laughter, cursing, and a few death threats from Tyreen. You watch, awestruck. They’re so playful, so normal. Again, so human. Innocent, almost. The video ends with a mad scramble for the recorder, from which Tyreen emerges victorious. The screen zaps to black, cutting her stream of half-sincere verbal abuse off mid-sentence.

You stare at the replay symbol, vaguely aware of your reflection in the monitor. They wouldn’t know if you kept a copy...would they? Click. Click. Click-click. You name the duplicate something inconspicuous. Not that they’ll go looking for it. ...but just in case.

Steeling yourself, though you’re not sure exactly what for, you click on the last video. The name doesn’t give anything away, none of them do—they’re all titled by filming date—and you can’t make anything out from the thumbnail, but you’re expecting another haul. Surely the personal recording was included by mistake— ...it’s some sort of reaction video. Troy’s own computer screen is the focus. His webcam feed is in the upper right corner.

“Probably gonna regret this…” he mutters. “But what the hell. Okay! The “horny for Troy” chat is officially open!” You pause. Rewind. No...you'd definitely heard him right the first time. “I want you to know you're all sluts.” He shoots a saccharine grin at his webcam. You feel the faintest twinge of guilt. “First question, here we go. ‘Starting with the obvious’—ooh, watch that confidence, fucker—’dom or sub?’ Okay, listen—” The smirk on his lips betrays his dramatic sigh. “These collars?” He yanks on the metal loop with one finger. “Not just for the aesthetic. But truthfully, I can do both. Next question.”

You fidget, acutely aware of how hot everything feels. Your head. Your hands. Your thighs. It's as if half the blood in your body rushed north and the other half rushed south. It's fluid, fiery, desperate. You toss your headphones onto the desk. Push your chair back. Rake your fingers through your hair.

You imagine they're his. Gripping your head as he kisses you, forcing his tongue between your lips, claiming you, marking you. You're mine, he'd growl. The words would rattle through your ribs, filling you up, making you believe them. And in that moment, they’d be true. Just you. Just him—

NO. You have to control yourself. It's not professional, it's not right. Whether or not he meant to send this doesn't matter. It doesn’t justify…

You glance back at the screen. You wish you hadn’t, because your fleeting fit of common sense dissipates as soon as you see the blush on Troy’s face. It’s deep red, beautiful against his skin, splashed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’s laughing about something, reaching back to rub at his neck, looking down, long eyelashes fluttering almost shyly—

CLICK. That’s all it takes. A single, swift, definitive motion. The window closes. Your flustered reflection stares back at you. Your heavy pulse taunts you. Your arousal mocks you.

You ignore all of it. With more self-control than you've been able to manage recently, you load the edited videos onto a new drive. You'll deliver them yourself. Maybe that will keep the fantasies at bay for a while. Maybe.

- - - - - - - - - -

You find him in the antechamber of the throne room. Not the most private place, but maybe that's for the best. It was always funny to you, how your reactions mellowed when you were actually, physically close to him. It was a blessing, you supposed. You doubted you'd have a job if you turned into an incoherent, fumbling mess whenever you looked at him.

“You could have just sent them back,” he mutters, plucking the microdrives from your hands. “But whatever. Thanks.”

You nod, though he probably misses it as he turns to look back through the door to the throne room. Tyreen is readying for a hearing. You chew your lip, unsure how to broach the subject really on your mind. To hell with it. “Did you mean to send—?”

“Shit.” His focus returns to you. “You got more than the gun hauls, huh?”

“...yeah. I didn't do anything to them.” It isn't a lie. The original videos are still intact.

“But...you watched them?” One eyebrow quirks. He doesn't seem angry.

You nod. And take a risk. “They were kind of endearing.” You keep your completely unprofessional reactions to yourself.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Don’t hear that a lot.”

“Troy!” Tyreen’s voice barks from the throne room. It cuts into the air between the two of you. “C’mon!”

He rolls his eyes and pockets the microdrives. “Thanks again. Wish I could stick around to hear more of your compliments, but…” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Godhood calls.”

His bootsteps fade, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and deceptively-calm heartbeat.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day is uneventful, you busy yourself with software updates and routine server maintenance. It’s easy, menial work, but it’s enough to keep your thoughts from wandering too far in any direction. Maybe you’d been right, maybe seeing Troy in person had been enough to take the edge off—

Your ECHO pings again and you nearly jump out of your skin. Meet me in Studio B. Troy. You read it again. And again. And once more to be sure. And then you obey.

Your heartbeat isn’t so calm this time. What does he want? Had you made a mistake? Said something wrong?

The studio is dim when you arrive, just a few low lights flicked on behind the booth. Troy’s waiting, his feet kicked up on the mixing desk, fiddling with his ECHO. The door creaks as you enter. You cringe.

“That was fast.”

“An order’s an order.”

He watches you for a long moment, then hums. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“I—” What? You know that, what is he—?

“Or stupid.” He stands, faster and more fluidly than you’re anticipating. In a second, he’s right in front of you. “I know exactly how you feel when you’re around me.” His voice has dropped to a whisper and your stubborn, stupid, misbehaving heart— “I hear the way your pulse skyrockets when you think about what you want me to do to you.”

You blink. Swallow. Is this actually happening? Warm, human fingers press under your chin, tilting your head, forcing you to look at him. There’s mischief dancing behind his pale eyes.

“Stop trying to hide it.”

“I—is that an order?”

His razor-sharp grin is enough of an answer. And then it happens. Those coy lips are pressed to yours. That hot, pink tongue that had invaded so many of your wet dreams is now invading your mouth. He’s gripping the back of your neck. Tugging at your hair. Moaning and growling and laughing—and the sounds are bouncing around your ribcage.

The surrealism of it all flips an interesting switch in your mind. In all your daydreams, every fantasy, you’d assumed you’d be paralyzed with shock in a situation like this. Frozen in awe and disbelief. Pliable and soft in his hands. Instead? You go wild.

All your actions blur into a haze of sensations. His teeth on your neck, biting deep, drawing blood. Your hands running over the sleek lines of muscle that define his body. The jagged tearing of cloth as something is ripped off. His knee between your legs. The world spinning as you’re lifted and pushed onto your back. You hardly notice the jabs of the knobs and switches on the instrument panel beneath you—your legs are wrapped around his hips and you’re clinging to him with all the strength you can muster.

Frantic, desperate fingers tug at your belt, slide inside you, curl forward. Stars bloom behind your eyes. You moan. He growls. Panted, breathless exclamations ricochet between you. Names are chanted, recited like prayers.

You’re wide open and ready for him by the time he thrusts up into you. Quick, needy. You move with him effortlessly, rocking up to meet his hips, digging your fingers into his back. All you can do is feel. Feel his body, feel his lips, feel his breath whispering over your neck as he leans down, pushing deeper. And finally—

It breaks. Tension releases. Heavy breaths mingle with sighs and feather-soft kisses. Bliss.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake up groggy. Sore. Not naked, but you may as well have been because you know this feeling. You’d definitely had a good, thorough fucking. There isn’t enough fog in your brain to make you forget who’d done it, either. He knew how you felt and he’d… God damn, had he done something about it. You swear you can still feel the echoes of your orgasm throbbing between your legs and you wonder how long ago—

A brisk knock at the door nearly kills the mood. You scramble from your bed, praying that none of the...evidence...of your rendezvous would be apparent to whoever— It’s Troy. Heat blossoms in your face.

There’s a lazy, satisfied smirk on his lips. “Sleep okay?”

Fuck it. “Would’ve been better with you.” You don’t even attempt to maintain a normal pulse rate anymore.

His eyebrows arch. His smirk grows wider, showing teeth. The faintest hint of crimson colors his cheekbones. “Is that an invitation?”

You shrug. Keep cool! “If you want.”

He nods. Bites his lip. “I’ll, uh...keep that in mind. But, here, in the meantime…” He pulls a microdrive from his pocket and holds it out to you. “It’s not work, it’s…you’ll see.”

You take it, letting your fingers brush his palm. You don’t miss the way his blush spreads. Still so goddamn cute.

“I’ve gotta go, but...watch that tonight. Tell me what you think.”

“An order?”

He winks.

- - - - - - - - - -

You settle into your chair and load the microdrive. One file. Click-click.

You recognize the setup immediately. It’s Studio B. And there’s Troy. You’re fully expecting what comes next, but you still groan when you hear the door creak open and you step into view of the camera. Of course he’d filmed it. You’re not surprised in the least.

It’s...comforting, though, how you can allow yourself to watch this without trying to school your emotions. He’d made this for you. He’d given you what you wanted. He knew. You don’t stop—you don’t have to stop—yourself from curling up in your chair, biting your knuckles, blushing, and… ...yes, you’ll admit it—touching yourself while you watch.

The two of you look good from this angle. You don’t remember pushing his coat off, but there it goes, crumpling to the floor, revealing his bare back as he lifts you onto the table. From here, you can see his cybernetic spinal support, glowing with dim red light when he dips down to grind against you. You want to touch it. You’re surprised you didn’t. Maybe next time...

For once, the fantasy of there even being a “next time” fills you with warm hope. Unless you’ve been reading him wrong, he seems...interested. It makes you giddy. It makes you feel as though all of your initial reactions are justified. Now that you know he’s reciprocating.

You feel like you’re dreaming, watching all of this play out on the screen. Those are your hands scratching red lines down his shoulder blades. Your limbs tangled with his, wrapped around him. Your body moving perfectly, fluidly, rhythmically beneath his. Your voice panting out his name like an absolution.

And his voice doing the same with yours.

You stay there, curled in your chair, one hand trailing idly over your thighs, long after the last of your cries have faded. After he cradled you to his chest and helped you back to your feet. After the video ended.

It’s all real, you know that, but it feels like it shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even really known who you were until yesterday. Had he? You guess it doesn’t really matter. You’re both getting what you want, but… ...deep down, you’re hoping it’s not that shallow.

- - - - - - - - - -

He finds you in the morning. You’re back in the server room, allowing your thoughts to sort themselves out. At least… ...that was the plan. Until you hear his voice.

“So...what’d ya think?”

You don’t look at him at first. Your hands work with swift, practiced motions, tying a bundle of wires together. You’re not ashamed of the way your heart skips anymore, but what are you supposed to say to something like that? “Kinky,” you manage to joke.

He sighs, but there’s a hint of a laugh at the end of it. “And here I was expecting some quality constructive criticism.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t work.”

“You know what I mean.”

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. There’s nothing to lean on; his hands are fiddling awkwardly. He’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seems expectant.

You finally look up, meeting his eyes. Your heart is racing, as usual. Not with anxiety or anticipation. With newfound hope. With affection. A smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe a better angle next time? Not that the one you chose was bad…”

And then he does it. He ducks his head, laughing, exactly the same way he’d done in countless videos, in hundreds of cut and saved clips. That same scarlet blush adorns his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. And you fall in love all over again.

- - - - - - - - - - @corpseyb0nes @afterthedreamer @mischiefsilvertongue @marigold-magpie @tricerathotss @vanderlinde-exe @ayilachan @zipp0flare @luxury-of-insanity @nikyri-reaper @argentineanweaboo @vanillabuttercreamm @anni000001 @imchaoticnerd 

[balancingdiet]

Tabula Rasa

Detective Conan & Magic Kaito Characters: Shinichi/Kaito Words: 2500 ish Chapter: (1) ... (9) (10) (11) 

Shinichi always finds his neighbour weird. But he didn’t expect to find his neighbour lying on a patch of grass and donned in Kaitou Kid’s costume, too.

Shinichi had purposely taken an hour off work so he could drop by a toy store, get the gift, and make it just in time for the birthday party. But just when he was just about to leave, a piercing scream echoed throughout the toy store, and in the next second he found a woman lying in the middle of the aisle, death by cyanide poisoning. 

Frankly, it was a lack of planning on his part—who knew his random murder magnet ability would decide to activate today? 

In the end it wasn’t a hard case, but it was a painfully long one to wrap up. By the time he managed to calm the guilty husband, the bawling mother-in-law, and wait for his colleagues to collect every piece of evidences for the report, a good two hours had passed. 

He was now late to the party.

After parking his car (he nearly knocked over his mail box when he did), Shinichi dashed to the house across the street.

Kyoko answered the door.

“I’m so sorry for being late.” Shinichi glanced past her shoulder, slightly relieved that the party was still on-going. He spotted Sakura, the birthday girl, laughing in her pink frilly dress with her friends.

“I should thank you for coming actually.” Kyoko returned an apologetic look and stepped aside for Shinichi to enter. “You must have been busy at work.” 

“Not at all.” Shinichi smiled, glancing at the fancy decorations and the home-cooked food spread across a make-shift table in the living room. Honestly, Shinichi was probably no where as busy as compared to Kyoko today. Being a single, working mom was tough enough, but Kyoko never failed to put aside everything for her daughter. All Shinichi had to do was to keep to the promise he made when Sakura passed him her birthday invitation last week. 

He had no excuse for anything—

“Shinichi nii-chan!” Sakura skipped towards Shinichi and gave him a tight hug. “You're here!”

“Yes, but I do have to apologise for being late.” "It's okay!"

Shinichi bent down, whipping the box he had hidden behind his back. “Here’s your gift.”

“Thank you so much!” Sakura hugged the present under her arm before grabbing his hand. “Now dat’ you’re here, you got ta’ see this too!” she exclaimed, dragging him across the room and to the crowd of children and parents.

“So who wants to be the— Oh! I guess we have a volunteer!”

It was a little intimidating to see all the turned heads and attention on him, but knowing the source of the voice did help to find some comfort in the awkwardness, even if he was the cause of it. 

Kuroba waved Shinichi over.

Given Kuroba’s closeness with Sakura and Kyoko since the first day he moved here, it wasn’t surprising to see him invited. But it was a little irksome to see him charming all of Sakura’s friends and their parents too. 

Sakura squealed and gave Shinichi a surprised push to the front. Before Shinichi could react to her strength, Kuroba grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward to his side. 

“Let’s all give our volunteer a warm welcome,” he said and began clapping. Everyone followed.

Clearly, Kuroba needed to check his vocabulary and understand what volunteer really meant.

Kuroba pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket and fanned them out, showing Shinichi the back side. “I need you to pick a card from the deck.”

Though suspicious, Shinichi silently agreed. It was six of diamonds.

Then, after Kuroba placed the rest of the cards away, he snapped a finger, and a dove flew out from his sleeve and settled on his hand. Everyone awed in amazement, leaving only Shinichi the odd one out. Besides the simplicity of the trick, he didn’t feel good knowing the magic Kuroba had in mind involved his dove. He already had a fair share of bad experiences, like getting his property shitted on and his forehead pecked—

“Now, please hand the card to Tamago.”

Shinichi’s eyes twitched. He was hoping his glare might transmit his warnings to Kuroba or Tamago, but neither seemed bothered. He grudgingly obeyed and passed the card to the dove.

Card now clasped between its beak, Tamago fluttered away from Kuroba’s fingers and settled on Shinichi’s head.

What THE—

Kuroba squeezed his shoulder and placed a white hat on his head. “Remember your language,” he whispered. 

Shinichi couldn’t see, but he could definitely hear the smile in Kuroba’s voice.

Kuroba turned to the crowd. “Let’s all count to three, shall we?”

When everyone’s chant hit the number, Shinichi felt a flutter on his head before a warm, and much furrier creature was replaced. It was also the moment Kuroba took the hat away, and a white rabbit immediately bounced into Kuroba’s chest as it nibbled on the same card that Shinichi had drawn out.

Everyone cheered (and Shinichi forced himself to clap just to blend into the crowd).

A few moments after the excitement died down and everyone wanted to see a new trick, Kyoko came out of the kitchen with a huge cake in hand; it was time for the birthday song. Kuroba then performed his last trick by lighting the seven candles with just a wave of his hand.

Everyone scattered after the birthday song, each enjoying the last dessert and chat before heading home for the night. But as for Shinichi, he chose to stand in the kitchen—the most secluded place in the house—and finish the cake in silence. He was quick to talk and gather information from people when it got to do with his work, but being sociable for the sake of socialising wasn’t something he was interested at the moment—

He irritably scratched a sudden itch on his head. It got to be the doing of the dove or the rabbit’s butt...

“Hello, my volunteer.”

Shinichi turned, eyeing Kuroba as he ambled into the kitchen. 

“Of all the tricks, you just had to pull that one,” Shinichi muttered.

“I thought you liked it.” Kuroba tossed his empty paper plate into the trashbin. “You clapped in the end, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t clap anymore sarcastically if I tried.”

Kuroba chuckled. “You clearly need to work on that.” 

“...Are you a magician?”

It was nice to see Kuroba confused and not look like a smug ass. “What?”

“Not your alter-ego, or you.” Shinichi waved a hand over Kuroba, not really sure how to piece his words exactly. “I mean... your career.”

“Not full-time,” Kuroba answered (which ironically surprised Shinichi because he didn’t expect him to reply almost immediately). “I’m a freelancer.”

“So you’ve got an income.” Shinichi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yet you steal…”

Rolling his eyes, Kuroba shook his head. “All these redundant questions again—”

The sound of scuffing made both of them turned, watching as two kids—one boy and a girl—nudging and pushing each other until they entered the kitchen together. Judging by their features, Shinichi guessed they were siblings.

Shinichi expected them to approach Kuroba, probably telling him praises and boosting his ego, but turns out they were walking towards him instead.

Kuroba didn’t seem displeased they weren’t his fans. Rather, he looked amused.

"Hello,” the boy greeted, his voice a little dreamy and mesmerised. “Sakura-chan said you’re a detective. Is that true?”

Huh. “Yes, I’m a detective,” Shinichi answered.

“Wow.” The boy widened his eyes as he looked between him and Kuroba. “Sakura-chan is so lucky. She got so many cool neighbours!”

“I also want to be a detective too!” the girl exclaimed. “Do you catch all the bad guys in the world?” she continued, as she swung her finger guns around. 

“Of course. That’s my job.”

It was soft, but Shinichi heard Kuroba snorted. He turned, looking annoyed as Kuroba’s face split into a grin when they made eye contact.

Back then when Shinichi was still Edogawa Conan, they had made a silent pact to not uncover and expose each other real identities (even if Kid stupidly abused the system and disguised as him several times). But now that the pact no longer benefited Shinichi, Kuroba ought to start panicking; he should be going left and right and finding ways to protect his identity and alibi, in case Shinichi decided to bring him down one day out of the blue.

But looking at his comfortable smile, Kuroba seemed confident that the pact still existed, which was actually true. And it wasn’t because Shinichi didn’t have the evidence. Even if he did (which were the photos he’d chose to delete), those threats would only be used between them and not made known to any third-party, much less the police.

Shinichi hated how Kuroba seemed to be able to read him, and he hated how he couldn’t fully figure him out in return (given all the questions Shinichi hadn’t found an answer to). But what he hated more was the hard fact that when Kuroba smiled at him, there was a horrifying, millisecond moment in which Shinichi thought of… smiling back.

As much as Shinichi adored Sakura, he was glad the party was over.

----

Shinichi never expected Kuroba to listen to his advice, and he couldn’t fault him for it when he had played as Kuroba’s role for more than a hundredth time while Haibara Ai played as him; she was always trying to convince Shinichi not to do stupid things, like using the antidote just to make Ran happy for three hours, and then suffering the consequences for the next three months.

So, rather than extra advising, Shinichi decided to watch out for Kuroba instead, but without him realising, of course. Because the last thing he needed was Kuroba to think Shinichi actually had a single strand of care for him, even if he actually had more than five strands of it.

Shinichi liked to think his effort was just an act of a kind, neighbour thing.

Kid had held a total of three heists in the month after his hyperventilating attack. And during those three heists, Shinichi would tweak his radio frequency to match with the Kaitou Kid Task Force’s radio, gaining all of Kid’s information real-time. And when he knew how Kid escaped, he would spy Kuroba’s house by the window of his dark study room, watching and waiting till he safely reached his house. 

It was good to know he didn’t stab himself with a knife while returning home. 

But as for knowing if Kuroba was completely fine in his house… Shinichi believed his intelligent doves would know what to do if he wasn’t.

That was why when Shinichi saw a dove sitting on his mailbox after driving home from work one day, he automatically started to panic. A little.

“Shit.” Shinichi slammed his car door shut and stomped towards the dove. “Did something happen?” 

The dove looked at him with its beady eyes. 

“I asked if Kuroba is alright—”

(Probably thinking he was insane) The dove flew away and into the room with the balcony again.

It eerily felt like a Deja Vu.

Although Kaitou Kid didn’t hold a heist today, Shinichi knew for a fact that the symptoms of PTSD, like panic attacks, could come at the most random times. It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

Shinichi dashed towards Kuroba's house.

“Hey.” Shinichi rang the doorbell before changing to hammering the door instead. “Kuroba, are you inside?”

There was silence.

Shinichi leaned his ear against the door, trying to pick up any kind of sound. When there was nothing, he crab-walk around the house and covered both hands to prevent the reflective light from hindering his vision when he tried to look through the glass window. The blinds were down, but he could still see some gap—

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Shinichi jolted, whirling around with more relief than shock when he realised it was Kuroba, who was standing a few metres away and looking at him with the strangest look.

“I thought—” Shinichi shook his head. “It’s… nothing.”

Kuroba frowned and slowly walked towards his house. He gave Shinichi the side-eye. “Are you a pervert?”

Shinichi rubbed his temple to get rid of the incoming headache. “No.” 

“Are you stalking me?”

“No.”

“Are you—”

Shinichi gritted his teeth. He was tired, frustrated at his mistake (for relying on a friggin dove), and clearly not in a right mind before he simply blurted, “Your dove was sitting on my damn mailbox.”

Instantly, Kuroba's teasing features disappeared before he nodded slowly in an emotionless understanding (It was strange how Kuroba seemed to get it, though Shinichi was also glad so he didn't have to admit the obvious). Three seconds ticked by in silence, and then Kuroba turned away to unlock the door. 

“I was at the supermarket,” he explained. 

Stupidly, Shinichi just noticed the grocery bag in his hand. He could make out the shape of a cartoon of eggs, and… ham?

“Ok," Shinichi mumbled.

“Yeah. So… thanks. I guess.” Kuroba paused. There was a flash of hesitance in his eyes, though they were gone when he spoke, "Thanks for your concern.”

“Hm, cool,” Shinichi said before pointing to his own house. “I’ll go back now.”

“Ok, cool.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Shinichi turned and stalked off, not once looking back. When he passed his mail box, he briefly wondered if he should just demolished it; its existence had caused a lot more complications to his life than he liked—

He brushed the ridiculous thought away and returned into his house.

Just two seconds away from entering his study room and suffocating his face into any of his Sherlock Holmes’s books, the doorbell rang. Shinichi frowned, ten percent liking the new distraction but ninety percent dubious about it. Frankly, he had almost forgotten how his doorbell sounded, given the rarity of anybody using it; he’d only interacted with his neighbours on the streets (saved for Kuroba) and rarely had any visitors. His parents got the keys too, so there wasn’t a need for them to use the doorbell. But even if they’d forgotten the keys, Shinichi knew they were somewhere in Russia for a holiday and not in Japan—

All these redundant questions again, he thought (annoyingly in Kuroba’s voice), before he decided to just check the answer instead.

He climbed down the stairs and opened the door.

Speak of the devil.

Shinichi made a face. “What is it?”

“...Apparently my gas ran out.” Kuroba raised a hand with a bag of grocery while the other carried a frying pan. “Can I borrow your stove?”

[crazycinemas]

This Love

Steve Rogers x Reader

Based on the song “This Love” by Maroon 5

This is my very disappointing attempt at angst😂

The formatting and spacing looks weird, I’m still trying to figure some stuff out to make it look better, sorry about that!

Any and all feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated :)

Enjoy!

This love has taken its toll on me

You lay across the couch in the living room of your floor in Avengers tower, phone in hand. As you’re scrolling through social media, a message flashes across the top of your screen. It’s from Steve.

/// Hey y/n, I’m so sorry things went the way they did last night, would it be okay if I came and talked to you? I made a huge mistake, I just want to fix it. I may or may not have asked Wanda where you were, and she said you haven’t left your room since last night...I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Maybe try and fix things, work things out? ///

Curse him and whoever finally gave him a phone a few weeks ago. You open the message so he’ll see that you read it, but you don’t respond, hoping he’ll take the hint. You were tired of fighting with him, and it wasn’t fair to the rest of the Avengers to have to deal with whatever problems you and Steve had. It was time to put a stop to it. You switched over to your security app and made sure all the entrances to your floor were locked. Once you double checked, you set your phone down on the coffee table, putting your face in your hands, letting the fight you had with Steve sink in.

”You know, I think that waitress knows who I am,” Steve teases.

“Yeah, no kidding,” you say back, laughing without humor. “Everyone knows who you are,” you add quietly.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but before he can the gorgeous waitress whose name tag reads Sam put her hand on your boyfriend’s arm. “Anything else I can get you?” She smiles, looking into his eyes and leaning in, ignoring you sitting right there.

“Some more water, please?” he asks, smiling back at her.

“Thirsty? Of course. I’ll be right back with it, Sugar.” She winks.

“Thanks babe.” He says as she walks off, swinging her hips more than necessary.

You glare daggers at Steve, who gives you a concerned look, but before he can ask what’s wrong you start hissing at him.

“What the heck was that? It’s one thing to have her flirting with you, she’s just trying to get better tips, but it’s a whole other thing for you to be calling her ‘babe’.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you keep talking, not giving him the chance. “You know she’s attracted to you, you know she’s flirting with you, and you know good and well I’m right here watching you do it! Why do you think that’s okay?”

“Someone’s jealous,” he says, smirking. “You should relax, y/n, I’m just having a little fun with her. Giving her a story to tell her friends.”

“Yeah,” you say, getting more angry that he tried to turn this back on you. “Let her go tell everyone that she pulled your attention away from your girlfriend, you were on a date but couldn’t keep your eyes off her, calling her babe for the whole restaurant and me to hear.” You take a breath and rub the bridge of your nose.

“Well, I don’t see why you’re concerned about it, you’re my girlfriend, not her.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his water.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” you say quietly, folding your hands in your lap and staring at the table.

His hands fall into his lap, mirroring you. “What does that mean?” He looks like a kicked puppy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be your girlfriend. You obviously don’t care either way, and it’ll free you up to flirt with whoever you want.” You feel tears burning in your eyes from saying it out loud, but you refuse to let him see you cry.

“So...what? You’re breaking up with me over this?” He’s starting to sound angry, too.

“I guess I am,” you say, grateful that your voice didn’t crack. You stand up and get your bag, leaving without looking back.

She said goodbye too many times before

This wasn’t the first time you and Steve had broken up. It seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence. You wished it were different. You really did care about him, but he was just too stubborn and set himself on a pedestal, thinking he had to be perfect, always defending himself no matter what. You used to like his determination and confidence, as you called it, but now it just caused problems. It meant he always thought he was right and he often didn’t listen to you, resulting in more than one outburst like what happened at the restaurant last night. Usually one of you, most often yourself, would come home, upset and alone. The other would wait a few hours, then find them and convince them to come back. But this time you weren’t going to even let him try. You were tired of playing games. On and off relationships were never your thing. And neither was dating celebrities. You hated the stress and extra attention. And you were tired of the same problems happening over and over.

And her heart is breaking in front of me

You see your phone light up with another text from Steve.

/// Please, y/n, just talk to me, hear me out. I’m sorry, I made a mistake, I just want to fix it. I just want you back. Please answer me. ///

Again, you open and close his message without responding.

You go to your favorite playlist, turning up the music as loud as you thought healthy. Within thirty seconds, the music turns off, being replaced by your ringtone. You didn’t need the caller ID to tell you who it was. You watched it ring for a moment before sending him to voicemail. Your music starts again, pausing when you get the notification telling you he left a message. You delete it without listening to it.

You get up and walk to your desk, plugging your phone into the expensive sound system that had a speaker in every room. You go around your apartment, lazily cleaning and organizing, singing along when you knew the words, humming when you didn’t. This goes on for thirty minutes, until a security notification comes through the speakers. You rush back into the living room to your phone to see what the notification is.

/// Possible Intruder: Entrance 2 ///

You open it to see a picture of Steve trying to open the door to your floor. You go back to your security app and pull up the camera footage. You watch Steve continue to try the door, pressing the buzzer and knocking. After a few minutes, he leaned his back on the door, sliding down into the floor. You watch him put his face in his hands, and even through the footage you can see his shoulders shaking.

I have no choice ‘cause I won’t say goodbye anymore

You run your hands through your hair, beginning to feel guilty. You don’t want to hurt him, but this was for the best. It was never going to work out between you two. It would only cause conflict, and you didn’t want to drag the other Avengers into your mess of a relationship. It would be easier on Steve and everyone else if you just completely cut him off. You wouldn’t talk to him, except for when you had to work together on missions, and then you would keep things strictly professional.

You watch him sobbing on your doorstep for a few more minutes before opening your text messages. Scrolling past his name, you text Bucky.

/// Hey Buck, I’m really sorry to bother you, but can you come get Rogers off my doorstep? He’s been there for at least twenty minutes. ///

You press send, and he replies almost immediately.

/// You could always go talk to him yourself ///

You glare at your phone, typing out a response.

/// I don’t want to talk to him. Could you please just come and get him? It’s kind of getting depressing, and he’s kind of a mess ///

His response is short.

/// fine. ///

You type out a thank you, and before long you watch on the security footage as Bucky comes and talks to Steve. He kneels in front of him for a few minutes before helping him up and walking him back to the elevator. You didn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks as the elevator doors closed, taking away the man you once loved.

[spideyy-girl]

Secret Crush ~ Enoch O’Connor (w/Platonic!Jake Portman)

Request: was requested on my old blog, but I’ve lost the original ask, so if you’re the person who asked for this and wants to be tagged for it, please dm me :)

Summary: Jacob Portman has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, but sometimes you regret telling him some things, like your secret crush on a mysterious man you’ve known. But surely Jake had all good intentions...

Warnings: none I don’t think, jake being annoying?

Word Count: 2433 (6.7 pages)

Date: January 8th, 2019 (HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!)

A/N: ok so I, of course, have an excuse oof. I did post this on the day that I was supposed, BUT my dumbass accidentally posted it on my original blog, and when I saw it I reacted immediately and deleted it completely, instead of copying it and pasting it on the right account. Also, it’s been hard to try and fix this up, as I’ve been going through some tough stuff in my personal life. SO once again ], I’m so sorry for the (very) late update, but either way I hope you enjoy it! I love you all so much and thank you for the support. This is really long sorry you probably didn’t even read this but if you did kudos to you my friend that’s patience lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and as always HAPPY READING!!

~Ciara xo   |   MEGA MASTERLIST   |   SEND REQUESTS   |

Also, requests and taglists are still open, I will be posting about requests very soon so be on the lookout!

I love my bestest friend, Jake, but sometimes he just can’t shut his goddamn mouth. Especially about my super duper secret, I thought I could trust him. Well, I learned the hard way.

Basically, you can never trust a Portman.

I realize this while I watch silently and embarrassed at Jake making kissy noises while squishing his cheeks together and squinching his eyes shut. It was definitely quite the sight to see.

“Oh my, Enoch. I LOVE YOU SOOOOO MUCH MWAH MWAH MWAHHHH,” he screamed, continuing his actions. I roll my eyes, my cheeks going red, as I slapped his chest. He let out a small groan, but it didn’t stop him. 

“The feeling’s not mutual, Portman,” Enoch says at the doorway, his voice making me jump and my heart stops at the same time. He walked in to get some supplies for his ‘dolls’ and Jake calls them. I slapped Jake upright the head once I got control of myself. He let out a small yell, reaching up to massage his head. I really hope Enoch did not hear anything from our earlier conversation, or this ‘secret crush’ of mine wouldn’t be much of a secret anymore.

As he finished collecting his stuff, doing so as quickly as possible, he practically ran back to the door, stopping and the doorframe to glance in one more time. He low-key glared at Jake, which was easily returned, and then his eyes shifted over to settle on mine. I was already looking at him, partially for curiosity, but also because, well, look at him. He barely returned my glance for half a second before once again rushing out the room.

I sighed as I watched him depart, my shoulders slumping and my head falling, eyes focused on my feet, which were still moving nervously. For almost as long as I’ve known Enoch, he’s done this. For some reason, he just seems to dislike me very much, with not much reasoning why. I’ve thought of a few things, maybe it’s because I’m good friends with the guy he loathes. Maybe it’s because my peculiarity developed later than usual. Maybe because I came here later, with Jake.

“Why the long face? I know I’m happy with that twat being out of the room,” Jake said, putting a hand on my shoulder and trying to joke around like he usually does when he wants to put a smile on my face when I’m sad. I shrugged.

“What did I do?” I asked innocently, looking up at him, tears threatening to come out of my eyes and fall down my cheeks. He looked sad at my new expression and confused with what I just said.

“What’re you talking about? Did to who?” He asked, pulling me into a tight hug. Although he can be a pain sometimes, Jake always knew how to cheer me up and comfort me when I’m down. I sniffled, cuddling closer to him.

“Who else, dipshit. Enoch.” I say sarcastically, slightly laughing. Jake pulls me out from his chest, grabbing my arms softly and making me look at him. I’ve never seen the boy more serious than he did now. It was truly a shock to me since I’ve known him pretty much all my life.

“Are you actually blind?” He said, shaking me slightly. “He definitely does not hate you, Y/N. And besides, you don’t need his opinion. It is unworthy to a queen like you.” I smiled softly, saying a quiet thank you.

“But then, if he doesn’t hate me, then why will he never look at me? Why does he never want to talk to me? Every time I try to approach him, he just runs off in the opposite dire- oh wait.” I stop myself mid-sentence, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. He doesn’t hate me, not at all. Jake was right, I really can be completely oblivious at times I need my mind most.

“About damn time,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, though as much as he was trying to conceal it, you could see the smile pushing at his lips. I smiled back, my mood changes to happiness. I giggled and jumped in my spot, gasping.

“Do you really think so, Jakey?” I ask him, using my childhood nickname for him. He laughed at the old memory and my silliness.

“Yes, I know so. Besides, when have I ever been wrong?” He says with a cheeky smile. I rolled my eyes.

“I can name multiple occasions,” I snapped back playfully, Jake putting a hand over his heart, gaining a look of false hurt. Then he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well I’m sorry that I’m human and make mistakes sometimes, Little Miss Perfect,” he replied. I rolled my eyes. “Now, oh God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Go get your man, or whatever.” He says, waving me off. I smile, giving him one last bear hug.

“Thank you, Jake! Love you!” I yell as I rush down the hallway, down the stairs.

Dinner had just ended, and it was time for our nightly movies. Well, really, it was just a display of Horace’s dreams, but it was still my favourite time of the day. There was just something very comforting about it.

I walked over to the couch Jake was sitting on with Emma, an empty spot where I usually sit was open as per usual. As I go to sit down, Jake puts his feet up on my spot. I give him a confused look.

“You didn’t do it yet, did you?” He asked, giving me the look. I roll my eyes, trying to move his feet.

“Don’t you worry about it. Tomorrow will be a better day, anyways,” I excuse, giving up on my attempts at trying to unblock my spot. I go to sit on the floor, but once again, my spot was taken up by another pair of feet, this time a woman’s ones. Emma.

“Y/N, you know you have to do it at one point. Knowing Enoch for as long as I have, I know he definitely won’t make the first move, he’ll just keep denying it,” she encourages. “Please, this will benefit both of you.”

I look at her in shock. How did she know about my... situation? Then I turned to Jake, a mixed look of disappointment and embarrassment shown on my face.

“Did you tell her?” I asked. He put his hands up in surrender, quickly shutting down the accusation.

“No! Y/N, I swear it! She’s just really good at this type of stuff. I wouldn’t do that, I promise!” He said quickly, trying to defend himself. I looked even more confused now, looking over at my other friend. She shrugged, smiling slightly.

“It’s true. I can read you like a book. It’s so obvious, for the both of you, really,” she said smartly. “And don’t think that everyone else in here except his doesn’t already know too. You guys are so oblivious.” She rolled her eyes as we giggles and I pushed her lightly, telling her to shut up. Soon, Horace put on his glass and images started to project onto the wall ahead. My friends pushed at me, in the direction of the other couch across the carpet where all the younger children were sitting. And on that couch, none other than Enoch O’Connor himself.

“Go on, Y/N! He really doesn’t have a choice anyway.” Jake said, pushing me more. Emma nodded.

“Yeah, we all know if he tries to leave, The Bird will get pissed. Like last time.” She said, the group of teen taking a moment to shudder at the memory. I straightened up my back and lifted my chin up high, trying to gain confidence.

“You’re right. I guess it’s now or never.” I said. I took a deep breath and tried to walk behind the couch so Enoch wouldn’t expect me, not giving him a chance to run. I plopped down into the seat next to him, sort of scaring him, as it looks. “Hey, Enoch. It’s been a while since we talked.” I tried starting off,  only for him to look me over once before turning back to the ‘movie’. I sighed, how did I think this was going to be a good idea?! “Please, can’t you at least look at me? We seriously need to talk.”

“Maybe later, don’t you see movie night is going on? It would only be disrespectful to interrupt,” he said, turning back at me and talking to me. Wait, he actually talked to me. After months, he really said words that were aimed at my direction. The sensation filling me up with happiness, boosting my determination. “Besides, why did you decide you wanted to sit here? Whatever happened to sitting with Jake and Emma? Why don’t you go back there?” He looked back when he finished, my sky high ego suddenly took a crash landing. Maybe I was wrong about all this, maybe I should just leave. He obviously doesn’t want me around.

‘No, Y/N. You can’t chicken out now. You’re already here, you’ve already come so far,’ my self-conscious tells me. “Well maybe it’s because I wanted to change things up a bit, and sit with you, because you’re cool and all,” I said, sort of rambling on and glancing back at Emma and Jake’s couch, where, thankfully, Olive has taken my place. The three of them paying attention to the dreams about clothing going on right now. “And it also looks like I’ve been replaced, so even if you want me to go, I can’t. Looks like we’re stuck together.” I shrugged my shoulders innocently, nodding over to the trio. Enoch looked slightly shocked at first, but sighed, turning his attention back to me. Wow, I’ve finally gotten his full attention. His eyes look so much prettier up close, pouring into my own.

“That’s fine, I guess.” He said, trying to be cool about it. “But, what was the real reason you came here. I know you never want to leave Jake’s side. You’re like his little puppy.” He added. And that’s when, once again, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Ohhhh, I get it now. You’re jealous!” I said, smiling at him. He looked astounded, trying to pretend he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Jealous? Of what? Jake? Please, why would I be jealous of an idiot like him? Should I be?” He kept asking questions. I continue to laugh as quietly as possible, trying not to disrupt. I felt a giant wave of relief wash over me. This had to mean something, and if it’s what I hope, this could be really good.

“Trust me, you have absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to Jake and I’s relationship. Just friends... always will be.” I say, leaning back against the couch, taking a glance at the wall that was having Horace's dreams projected onto it. Of course, another one of him visiting his beloved tailor for a snazzy new suit. After smiling fondly at the dream, I turn back to Enoch. I guess you could call him my dream.

“Oh, o-okay” he stuttered out, breaking eye contact. I roll my own eyes, turning his face to look back at mine. I smiled and, surprisingly, he smiled back.

“You know, you had me worried for a long time, I always thought you hated me, and it sucked considering how much I liked you,” I said genuinely, still looking him in the eye, before realizing what I really said. I quickly let go of his face and my eyes went down to look at my playing fingers. “I mean, that is if you do like me. You don’t have to, I’ll understand. God, I just completely missed the message didn’t I? I always mess up-” I continued to ramble, trying to defend myself before something stopped me. 

That something, a pair of slightly chapped, but still soft, pair of lips brought onto my own, one hand on my cheek, another on my waist.

Enoch motherfucking O’Connor you sly little shit.

I quickly responded, my hands flying to the back of his neck, playing with little hairs on the back of it. I smile into the kiss. It was slow and soft, and sadly, short-lived.

There was a sound of someone clearing their throat just behind us. We shot apart, looking at the origin of the noise, seeing Miss Peregrine standing with her arms crossed firmly against her chest, an eyebrow raised, and a stiff posture, but you could still see the slight smile she’s trying to hide. My face and neck go a deep crimson red, turning around to see everyone looking at us now, some in awe, others in disgust. Even Horace stopped his dream to watch the drama unroll, since we know he kills for a good love story.

I look over at the couch on the other side of the room to see Jake, Emma, and Olive all smirking evilly at us, giggling like fourth-grade girls. Jake fakes applause, Emma makes kissy faces, and Olive giving us hand hearts. I shake my head, taking a glance at Enoch, who was already looking at me. He smiles.

“I sure hope there are no shenanigans going on over there, Miss Peregrine’s voice rang out loud. Our heads shot up to her, shaking our heads with muttered ‘no’s and ‘of course not’s. She nodded for head once, before smiling softly and winking at us, before going hard again. “I mean it. Now, let’s go on with the show, shall we?” She said, and all the children’s eyes focused back and the movie started playing again.

“So, just wanted to make this clear, you would want to go on a date with me, yes?” Enoch asked, whispering into my ear. I laughed silently, before turning over and giving him a sneaky kiss on the cheek, making sure no one saw this time.

“Yes, of course,” I whispered back. We grinned at each other before I cuddled into his side, him acting reluctantly but soon gave in. After a bit, I made a realization.“To think, this is all Jake’s fault, he basically forced me here to come to talk to you,” I said, laughing.

“I can’t believe Portman did something right in his life,” Enoch said in fake shock.

_______

_______

_______

I didn’t know how to end this whoops I’m trash sooooory haha  

[goofygomez]

Twice Loved, Once Forgotten Pt. 1 - Clouis Oneshot

Description:  A walker attack goes awry, causing Clem to contemplate her past.

Wordcount: 3865

Hey everyone! I’ve recently returned to Tumblr after a hiatus, and I realize now that I deleted my entire account. I’ve decided to repost all of my fics on here, just in case anyone really wants to read them on this platform or is finding my works for the first time. I will be posting one fic (or chapter, depending on the fic’s nature) per day for about 3 months. Yeah, I have a lot of stuff...

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this fic I wrote with the help of the amazing @twdteacakes

---

“What do you mean you don’t like the Beatles?”

Louis stared dumbfounded at Clementine, leaning against a tree. His favorite weapon, ‘Chairles’, was propped up against the trunk. Clementine stood a few feet ahead of him, checking the rope of yet another trap.

“I was never a fan of them,” she admitted with a shrug. “They were overrated if you ask me.”

“I cannot believe I’m hearing this,” Louis exclaimed, crossing his arms. “Remind me again why we’re together?”

Clem turned around, grinning at her boyfriend. “Cause you love me to death and back?” she suggested, winking.

Huffing, Louis looked down and shook his head. “You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” he said, stepping to the side and inspecting another sprung trap. One of the nooses had caught a walker overnight, and he had had the pleasure to take it down. Sighing, he redid the knot like Aasim had taught him all those years ago. How did Aasim get out of hunting duty today? he thought ruefully.

“Hey, I think there was another rabbit caught on that trap by the trail,” he informed her, gesturing to the other side of the clearing. They heard birds chirping above them as if mocking them for having tedious work to do.

“Yeah, I see it,” she agreed, nodding. “I’ll go check it out and we can get out of here.”

“Well, we can always stay a little while longer,” he suggested, shooting her a fleeting grin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teased, crossing her arms and bounding off to her task, leaving Louis to wonder. He finished the knot, carefully placing the noose on the ground. It wouldn’t do to set it off accidentally. Satisfied with his job, Louis stood up and grabbed ‘Chairles’, swinging it over his shoulder. He could hear the soft groans of walkers in the distance, and he shook his head.

“Time to go, I guess,” he muttered to himself, walking in Clem’s direction.

Before he could take two steps, however, he heard his girlfriend yelp. Louis broke into a sprint, his chair leg gripped tightly in both hands. When he got to the edge of the clearing, he saw Clementine struggling with a rather robust looking walker. Stepping back, she lost her footing on a fallen branch and fell backward. Louis rushed to her side, aggressively swinging his weapon at the walker’s head and hearing the satisfying crunch of its skull breaking.

He kneeled beside her, grunting with the effort of pulling the corpse away from Clementine. As it rolled off of her, he realized that she’d stayed still. Concerned, he looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow. Louis’s eyes went wide as he slipped one hand behind her head and lifted her up.

“Clem?” he mumbled, his eyes searching her features for any reaction, though none was forthcoming.

As he sat her up, he felt something wet on his left hand. Carefully, he set her down and looked at it. Blood stained his fingers, and his eyes watered. His lower lip quivering, he lifted Clementine off the ground. “Please don’t do this to me, Clementine,” he mumbled, trotting off toward the north; toward the school. “Don’t do this…”

-

She woke up on a bed, her head spinning. Clementine could hear the voices before her eyes completely responded. They were muffled and sounded anxious. Where am I? she thought groggily, willing her eyelids to open. Attempting to lift her body, she groaned in pain, which got the attention of the voices to her left. They went silent, and she mumbled,

“Wh – Where am I?”

Her eyes opened slightly, making her cringe when a light was shone into them. She blinked rapidly for a few seconds and then had the strength to fully open them. She was in a dorm room. A redheaded girl kneeled beside her bed, a concerned expression on her features. Her piercing blue eyes scanned Clementine’s face.

“Hey Clem,” the girl said, smiling slightly. How does she know my name? Clementine thought with a frown.

“Good to have you back,” a blonde girl said from the redhead’s side. She had straight shoulder-length blonde hair and deep gray eyes.

“I’m – I don’t…” Clementine stuttered, looking back and forth between the redhead and the blonde.

A third person walked into her field of view. This time it was a man. He had dreadlocks filling every part of his head, and he wore a coat over a lime green shirt. His cheeks were freckled and his eyes were a deep chocolate brown. She blinked a few times when their eyes met, all thought momentarily leaving her mind.

“Hey, Clem,” he croaked, a big smile replacing his frown. He sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a long time, deciding just now to use his voice to greet the girl.

“How – How do you know my name?” she stammered, frowning. The man chuckled and glanced sideways at the other women. He looked back at her.

“Nice one,” he complimented, sitting on the edge of her bed. She eyed his movements carefully, wary of his confident approach. “I thought I was the joker here.”

“No, really,” she assured him, her brows knitting in confusion. “I don’t know who you are.”

Immediately following her statement, Louis’s face fell. His eyes misted over as the girl he loved stared at him with indifference. He slowly stood up, inching away from her and turning. He buried his face in his hands, closing his eyes. “What happened?” he whispered to Ruby, who was standing beside him.

“It seems she has some sort of amnesia,” she explained softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll have to ask her some questions to see the extent of it.”

Louis nodded, leaning against the desk. Violet switched places with Ruby and while the redhead kneeled beside Clem, she sat beside her friend. “Hey, at least she’s okay.”

“Yeah, I guess,” conceded Louis, looking down at his feet. “It’s just unfair. I was gonna…” he trailed off, shoving his hands in his pockets. Violet decided not to push further, instead choosing to gently lean against him, like she did when her friend was upset.

“Hello Clem,” they heard Ruby begin, offering the woman on the bed a warm smile. “Do you know me?” she asked gently.

Clementine studied the redhead’s features carefully, frowning when no thought came to mind. “Um, no. Sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her hands.

“That’s okay, sug. Name’s Ruby, by the way,” Ruby informed her, lifting her hand slowly and placing it against Clementine’s forehead. The woman flinched slightly, but relaxed when Ruby smiled once more.

Ruby stood up, turning to face Louis and Violet. The moonlight seeping through the window cast an eerie shadow on her face. A few candles had been lit on the dresser, and their flicker on Ruby’s face made her seem older than she was.

“Vi, could you bring AJ in now?” she requested. The blonde nodded silently and left the room, Louis watching her exit. His eyes drifted to Clementine, who was fidgeting with her hands, a troubled expression on her face. At the mention of AJ, however, her head perked up.

“AJ’s here?” she exclaimed, sitting up straight.

Louis allowed himself to hope for a moment. If she still remembered AJ, it was still possible she would remember him, right? He stepped forward, smiling at the girl. “He’s been anxious to see you,” he told her.

Clementine beamed at him, thankful for the information. He didn’t dare press on, lest she became annoyed with his presence, and leaned back on the desk. Soon after, they heard the door click open and a blur of movement rush toward Clem. AJ wrapped his arms around her tightly, tiny sobs escaping the ten-year-old.

“You’re okay!” he exclaimed into her shirt. The woman smiled, returning the gesture as best she could.

“Of course I am, kiddo,” she replied, her voice muffled by AJ’s shirt. She pulled away slowly, smiling at the boy in her arms and lifting her eyes. Amber eyes met brown ones, and Louis smiled weakly at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

Though AJ looked at her in confusion, Louis sighed dejectedly. “I’m Louis,” he informed her, nodding slightly.

“Clementine,” she replied, smiling. “Would you guys mind giving AJ and me a minute?” she asked, groaning when she sat up too fast and got dizzy.

“Of course,” Ruby said, ushering Louis out of the room with her. Once outside, Louis stared at the door dumbfounded. Violet stood beside him, frowning.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured him, to which he sighed once more. How could it ever be okay?

“Alright,” Ruby announced, clapping her hands. “Call for a meeting, I need to talk to all y’all.” With that, she bounded off down the hallway, a troubled expression on her face.

Ten minutes later, the entire group convened in the courtyard, Ruby sitting at the head. Aasim, Tenn and Willy all looked at each other in confusion, awaiting Ruby’s verdict. Omar was a few yards away, stirring the rabbit stew for the night gently. Ruby cleared her throat, and everyone looked at her in anticipation.

“Alright. I just came from checking on Clementine,” she began, looking down at the table. “Her head seems to be fine, which is good. But the problem is her brain.”

“What is it?” Aasim blurted, a frown passing through his features.

“She’s got long term memory loss,” she disclosed.

There were gasps all around the table, even from Violet herself. After the commotion was settled, Tenn leaned in and looked at Ruby. “How bad is it?”

“Well, she remembers AJ,” she informed them, to general relief. “But the rest of us are complete strangers to her. Right now, the best we can do is to make the transition easy for her.”

“I read about amnesia a couple years ago,” Aasim put in, smiling at Ruby. “It said that the best treatment was just reinserting the patient into their environment, but we have to let her remember us on her own.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asked, intrigued.

“Well, we can tell her that we’re her friends, and share stories with her. But she has to remember us all by herself,” Aasim explained. “Also, I know you’re gonna hate me for this…” he trailed off.

“Go on,” Louis croaked.

“I think you should hold off on telling her about your relationship,” he proposed. “We haven’t had a case like this before, and the sudden information might freak her out.”

“So I’m just supposed to pretend I’m just a damn acquaintance?” Louis snapped, his brown eyes flaring.

“Aasim’s right, Louis,” Ruby chimed. “How would you feel if someone came up to you and told you that you love them? No previous warning,” she explained.

“How can I be okay with this?” Louis’s voice rose, his usually jovial tone gone. “We’ve been going out for five years now!” he exclaimed and was cut off by Clementine’s voice behind him.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, making all eyes turn to her and the boy beside her. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Louis sat back down, his anger still boiling inside him. “It’s alright, Clem,” Violet said, offering the girl a sad smile.

Clementine eyed Louis curiously, her brows rising slightly when she noticed his heavy breathing. Louis noticed she’d put her hat back on, and AJ wore a concerned expression on his face. She stepped forward, sitting down on the bench beside Louis, AJ sitting next to her. They all eyed her warily, making her blush slightly.

“AJ here tells me we’ve been here for a while,” she began, leaning on the table. The group looked at each other, exchanged looks of sadness and concern.

“Where do we begin?” asked Aasim, clapping his hands.

An hour later, Omar set down the bowls of soup in front of everyone as they spoke. The group had been telling Clementine about her time there, sneakily avoiding her relationship with Louis. The dreaded man hadn’t said a word, crossing his arms and staring blankly at the cracks in the table.

“I still can’t believe I’m 21,” Clementine commented, earning chuckles from the rest.

“Yeah, your birthday is a week from now, actually,” Louis put in; the first words he’d spoken in over an hour.

“How do you know?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow. Before he could answer, Aasim cut him off.

“Louis and I take a tally of the days that have passed since the outbreak,” he explained. “Today is October 19th.

Clementine nodded and looked down at her meal. Steam rose from the brown surface of the broth, small chunks of meat floating on it. Looks delicious, she thought. She took a spoon and slowly brought it up to her mouth. As soon as the taste reached her throat, her eyes widened and something inside her mind clicked.

“Omar, this is amazing!” she exclaimed, looking up at him. She blinked a couple times as if seeing the man for the first time. “I remember you now!” she announced, beaming at him.

He perked up, smiling at the woman with pride. “I’m glad you liked it this time, Clem.”

“This time?”

“Yeah, last week you said it gave you nausea,” he teased, a grin on his face.

In the wake of her sudden realization, the chatter around the table turned jovial. Even Louis reveled in his girlfriend’s progress. They shared a few fleeting glances, words unspoken transmitted through his brown eyes. As the night grew darker, the group scattered to their respective bedrooms. Soon enough, it was only Louis, Clem and AJ left at the table.

The man smiled at her, his hands behind his back. “What a night, huh?” he said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she replied, rubbing her left arm. What was it about him that made her nervous? she thought ruefully, looking down at her feet.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” he commented, looking up at the clear night sky. Stars and constellations were already visible in the black void of space, illuminating the sky with a beauty Clem could not explain. “I’ll escort you back to ou – uh, your room,” he caught himself, offering her a slight grin.

Though confused, Clementine accepted his proposition, and together with AJ, they walked into the dorms, turning left as they entered the building. Louis and AJ made small talk as they approached their room, leaving Clem to her thoughts. Even though she remembered AJ and Omar, she felt more alone than ever. And that wasn’t taking into account the weird feeling Louis made her feel when they found each other’s eyes…

When they got to her dorm, Clem walked in, taking in her surroundings. She remembered having collected animal skulls over the years, their bony remains staring at them from the shelves to her left. AJ stood idly at the door, looking back at Louis.

“What is it, AJ?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn’t Louis coming in?” the boy inquired, frowning.

“Why would he –,” she began before she was cut off by Louis.

“He’s just kidding,” he chuckled, ruffling AJ’s hair. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Sure?” Clem shrugged, nodding at the boys. “Come straight back, alright kiddo?”

“Yeah, Clem,” the boy rolled his eyes, following Louis out of the room and closing the door behind them.

Louis kneeled in front of him, sighing. He searched for words, thinking about the best way to let him know their new situation. “Listen, buddy.”

“What was that about?” AJ demanded, squinting.

“Well, I’m gonna have to sleep in my old room until Clem fully recovers, alright?”

“But why?”

“Aasim seems to think it will be better for her if I don’t tell her we’re together. Too much sudden information might not be good for her.”

“Can I – Can I sleep in your room tomorrow, then?” the boy asked innocently.

Louis chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Anytime, little dude.” AJ hugged the man tightly and walked into their room, sparing a glance for Louis. Sighing, Louis turned around and walked back toward his old room. The room he hadn’t used in four years…

As days passed, Clem’s memory slowly returned in bits and pieces. After two days, she could happily remember Ruby, Aasim and Willy. On the third day, Violet greeted her with an assignment. She had been playing cards with AJ, and the blonde approached them with a smile.

“How are you guys doing?” she said, sitting across from AJ.

Clem eyed her warily but smiled nonetheless. She was one of the few she could still not place, but the other woman’s attitude suggested they went way back, so she wanted to make an effort to trust her.

“We’re doing fine, Vi,” AJ answered for them, grinning at the woman.

“That’s great,” Violet quipped, nodding. “Hey, Clem?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind helping me with the fishing today?” she asked, tilting her head. “Ruby’s not feeling great.”

Clem looked down at AJ for a moment, considering. The boy smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Sure, why not,” she agreed, her eyes darting toward Louis, who was practicing his archery on the target by the cellar. She didn’t know why, but she had a gnawing feeling that he was hiding more than he was letting on.

Ever since her accident, he had been a courteous gentleman; walking her to and from her room, giving her little trinkets for her collection and just being an overall presence around her. It was comforting, she decided, to have someone care so much about her. It didn’t stop her from wondering why he was so adamant in going out of his way to being nice to her. Are we best friends or something? she thought curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“Wanna get going?” Violet’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Yeah, sure,” Clem said absently, shaking her head and standing up with Violet. She followed the blonde through the courtyard, nodding at AJ over her shoulder. As they walked out, she locked eyes with Louis. He offered her a sad smile, casting his eyes downwards.

The walk toward the fishing hut was one Violet had taken a thousand times. She followed the trail they’d formed over the years, Clementine close behind her. Dead leaves crunched under their feet, fallen tree trunks littering the way ahead. Violet’s ears perked up when she heard Clementine humming a song.

It wasn’t just any song, however. With a jolt, Violet realized it was the song Louis had composed for her five years ago. She knew it because every year on Clementine’s birthday, he would play it for her.

“What are you humming back there?” she asked innocently, falling back to walk beside the amber-eyed girl.

Clementine shrugged, “Don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s the sort of song that gets stuck in your head.”

“That so?” Violet muttered.

“Yeah,” Clem confirmed, frowning. “I really wanna remember, because it sounds beautiful in my head.”

Violet chuckled and nodded pensively. “Maybe it will come back with the rest of your memories,” she suggested.

“Hope so.”

The rest of the walk was silent, punctured only by Clementine’s humming. They got to the hut, and Violet grabbed two spears for them. The blonde attempted to start small talk, mostly bringing up previous conversations they’d had. Ruby had said that certain topics may trigger her memory of Violet. So far, nothing.

Too distracted to focus on the task at hand, Violet missed the third fish in a row. The water splashed onto her boots, soaking her feet. Throwing her spear across the stream, Violet huffed and groaned. “God fucking damn it!” she exclaimed.

As Clementine looked at Violet’s hunched figure, her eyes widened and she recoiled. She blinked a few times and found her voice, barely above a whisper. “Violet.”

“What?” the blonde snapped, looking back at the amber-eyed girl.

“I – I remember…” she trailed off, tears welling in her eyes.

“You do?”

Violet was cut off as Clementine launched herself at her, embracing her tightly. They stayed silent, putting all their unspoken feelings into the hug. When they broke apart, even Violet had tears in her eyes. Now that’s a new one, Clem thought with a smile.

“6 down, 2 to go,” she announced happily, pulling Clementine in for another hug.

Later that day, Clem sat at the dinner table with the rest of the school. Louis sat in front of her, very clearly avoiding her gaze. The sun started touching the horizon, painting the sky in a soft orange hue. They could hear birds chirping from the trees outside, the fire sizzling by the tables. Omar brought them that night’s dinner: trout with brown rice.

“Looks delicious,” Clem told him.

“Bon appétit,” he announced, taking a serving himself and sitting beside Willy.

Louis didn’t touch his food much, instead choosing to watch Clem eat and chat with the people she remembered, all too aware that he wasn’t one of them. Clementine noticed his staring, and every time they met each other’s eyes, she would blush. At that point, she was sure Louis was hiding something from her.

They finished their meal, thanking Omar once more, and drifted into casual conversation. Clem was talking to Violet, happy that she could finally remember her best friend. Something was missing, however. She didn’t know what, but there was a hole in her heart that yearned to be filled. She just wished she knew what it had to be filled by…

Her thoughts were broken when AJ poked her shoulder from behind, making her turn. In his hands was a drawing of Clementine fighting off a walker, her knife plunging into its skull. The details were astounding, she thought.

“Wow, that’s great, kiddo,” she complimented. “Did you draw that?”

“Nah,” he said, grinning. “Tenn drew it this afternoon while you were with Vi. He asked me to bring it to you. He wasn’t feeling so well, I believe.”

She took the drawing in her hands, examining the details on it. Her amber eyes burned in passion, staring directly at the walker in her clutch. Her drawing counterpart wore her usual denim jacket over a shirt that said Ericson’s. As she inspected it, she blinked a couple of times and then looked at AJ, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” he asked her, concern filling his features.

“I remember Tenn now!” she exclaimed, cheers erupting from the remaining people at the table. As AJ embraced her, Violet and Louis shared a glance from the other side of the table. She leaned in, frowning.

“Now it’s just you, Lou,” she whispered sadly.

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do?” she asked him, eyeing Clementine from the corner of her eye. The golden-eyed girl was chatting absently with AJ, unaware of Louis’s struggle behind her.

The man lifted his gaze to his girlfriend, closing his eyes dejectedly. Looking back at his best friend, he nodded. “What I do best,” he said, smiling despite himself. “I’m gonna make her fall in love with me all over again.”

[thebargainingchip]

Blood Colors - Chapter 12

Masterlist

Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions, Curse Words

A/n: So the Trigedasleng dictionary I used, it's domain has expired, there is a little lack in the language in the next few chapters, I don't think it will be fixed :( sad pupper

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

In the midst of battle, Roan couldn’t focus. All he could think about was when this would it end and when he could see you again. He almost wished he’d allowed you to come along, almost. But space would allow him some time to work through why he was so eager to get back to you. Even though the battlefield really wasn’t a place for such distractions. No matter what he did, what he tried you always appeared at the forefront of his mind only to be banished for a few moments before you returned. He wasn’t at all surprised by the kiss, I mean in the exact moment maybe but for some reason, he easily accepted that it had happened and he had no clue as to what that means.

Roan knew he was different from most, his wants and desires came last, his responsibilities first so he had a lot of fleeting feelings that he could easily ignore. He didn’t know what was true anymore. Even if it was true who was he fooling he can’t be with anyone and definitely not someone who was an outsider. It was pointless even arguing this, he knew the answer, he knew what his actions should be, his next move.

                                             ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The castle was busy but the throne room, oh the throne room was blissfully silent. But instead of reclining on the only seat in the room, she lazed behind it, back resting against it. The only reason being that it would be the utmost disrespect if she decided to sit on a throne that wasn’t hers. Treason to be frank and the last thing y/n wanted to do was fuck up, she did enough of that. One particular fuck up was torturing her in this silence but she had nowhere else to go. Aleksondria had summoned her and after reluctantly agreeing with the guard, who came to fetch her, that she would come, she had managed to slip away. She knew, she just knew deep down whatever that vile woman had to say to her was not going to go over well with anyone.

This, of course, wouldn’t last forever, time was ticking and when night fell you would have to follow Roan’s strict instructions to prepare the castle’s defence.

Roan. It was so quiet here, so close to where he sits, you couldn’t stop the invasion now. You curled your knees in, thoughts raging and tried to forget, to expel or delete or however the hell human minds are supposed to work. Without meaning to you fell asleep.

You were so familiar with the pain in your side, just below the arm, blooming in pain then slowing, then blooming again faster. And then the pain exploded, you sat up. The shadow of someone so near had you jumping ten feet to get out of range, hand on the dagger concealed perfectly. Echo looked amused and you could practically taste the snide remark before it came “Aww” a strange sound that could only be described as someone mildly saddened by the fact that there was no milk in the fridge, “I thought you were finally dead.”  The remark quickly was forgotten as something clicked in your till foggy mind.

“Echo,” She flinched at how quickly you were at her side. “Please Echo, you have to help me. I’m being hunted,” maybe a little dramatic, you guessed, when Echo wiped that fake disgusted look off her face, a serious one replacing it.

“Who?”

“Aleksondria.” Echo sighed. “Please help me.”

“Sure.” Echo replied the smile was a bit too much. “Come on.” Echo said impatiently. Hesitantly, you followed, despite the fact that this felt like a-

Echo opened the throne room door for you to walk through first, lo and behold, the devil herself stood there. You paused, to look at Echo with what you hope was the utter face of betrayal, she only shrugged and mouthed ‘sorry’.

“Ah, Jus Gona, I was looking for you. Follow me.” There was no turning back now.

“You want me to what?”

“Are all skaikru this dim?” A blow you pointedly ignored

“I have direct orders from Roan, from the King, to stay here, to defend the castle and its inhabiters and I don’t know if you noticed but you are unfortunately among them.”

“The King’s life is in danger.”

“Well he is fighting a war but when he comes back I’ll inform him of your lack of confidence in his abilities.” You mocked, turning to leave, done with this conversation.

“An assassin.” She was picking her nails as if she didn’t just declare the death of the one an only monarch.

“Pray tell, where did you get this information?” The silence that followed and the small smile on her lips made tour heart race in your ears. “You won’t get away with this, they will know it's you.”

“By the time you’ve saved the King, by the time, you get back, they won’t be able to trace anything back to me.” A pause as she met your gaze. A game, this was all a game. “Should I tell how I know you’re going?” The curses that followed as you left the room was unrepeatable.

“Tik, tok, Jus Gona.” Aleksondria called after you.

You didn’t jump when Echo fell into step with you from what seemed like out o nowhere. “We need to prepare the castle for-“

“I’m leaving.”

“I don’t want to sound unrelieved but where to exactly?”

“The edge of the city.” You replied simply.

“Roan strictly said you and I should stay.”

“I remember.” You acknowledged, Echo grabbed your wrist to stop your marching

“Y/n, why?”

“I can’t tell you.” You grit out thoroughly annoyed, you watched her eyes narrow but you couldn’t stay and wait for some retort. Echo didn’t follow this time. She was a smart girl, she could figure it out.

The horse answered your hasty aids with the haste of his own that for a moment left fear coiling in your stomach until your objective came to mind again and you asked for faster. The streets were muddied from where the men had come through earlier, the horse’s laying ruin to the pathway. And as you hit a sharp corner the horse slipped and your heart stopped for a moment but he regained his footing. You were almost there but that wasn’t even half the task, the most difficult thing would be to find him in the chaos you were sure would be raging. Then the second most difficult thing would be looking Roan in the eyes. The streets were deserted but what was more noticeable is the slow increase in damage to the buildings, the blood, the dead bodies. It seemed Roan’s men had gained some ground, almost driving the rebels out of the city. And then the chaos appeared, it was devastatingly huge. The expanse of men, of rebels and the army facing them but most horrible the war, and it was a war in itself, more than big enough.

You pulled back on the reins with a sharp tug, the horse chewing on the shifting bit in his mouth as he quickly came to an almost sudden stop. Your eyes were already searching the crowds before you had completely halted. The fighting was mere meters away and just as you spotted him Roan, or rather his back, the one you knew for certain belonged to him, arrows rained. Like watching the rain come closer, watching it creep closer before the storm moved where you were. You were frozen as the horse beneath you had the sense to move, automatically your body crouched forward to hang on as the horse reared in its turn. A thump sounded and then another, one from an arrow that had come sliding past your vision missing your face, not by much. The horse bellowed and bucked, something you wasn’t quite expecting. One buck, two bucks and you were falling reins still in hand. You landed in the mud and immediately sat up in shock. The whole bridle had come off and there you were sitting with the reins in your fingers as the horse raced off, a single arrow clearly embedded in it’s back behind the saddle.

And just like that, your mind was refocused, you were still alive and you needed to fin Roan. You jumped up, keenly aware that you were covered in mud and completely underdressed for the situation you were about to face. The echoing of a grunt had you turning to dodge the blow of a sword and as your rolled through the sloppy ground and drew your sword to finally stand on tour feet, ready for your attacker. He bled easily enough and before you knew it you ran towards the direction you thought you saw Roan. Another rebel lunged at you and you blocked his attack only to haphazardly jump into the crowd, praying you were quick enough. You slid to a stop, almost toppling as you tried to halt. You could see him again, you had of course always been great at Where’s Wally. You saw the other thing to a man aiming his bow and that exact direction, you wouldn’t make it in time before he loosed but you tried anyway and when it had felt like the effort took forever, you tried a different strategy. “Roan!” You bellowed through the crowd with every ounce of sound you could spare. Miraculously the sound travelled and he turned as he struck down the man in front of him. His face speckled with mud and blood as your eyes locked and then his gaze shifted a little to the left and widened he’d seen the arrow too. the King was quick enough to have his sword ready by the time the arrow was loosed. You didn’t wait to look what would happen, you pushed through the crowd of scrambling and stumbling men and women, narrowly missing a blade of a sword and finally you could see, Roan had blocked the arrow but as he searched for the person who wielded the bow, the person came up from behind, you breath hitched in your throat, there was no more scream left in you as you gave one step two step and halted beyond your own will when Roan grunted. You stood as the king fell, as the warrior for a moment took in the glory and let out a cry of victory. But you couldn’t hear it, the world was a dull murmur of screams and swords meeting and then as everything came back, you moved with the grace that the only rage could ensue in you. Before the warrior could do much more you came for him. His head was almost half off his shoulders before he -or you- could even begin to comprehend what had happened. You turned to Roan hands skittish over the stab wound through his chest. And then you remembered what you’ve learned from Clarke, you applied pressure and simply screamed, “Help me.”

The whole ordeal had already drawn enough attention from a friend an foe alike and the cry had seemed to echo in Roan’s men as they fought harder. Then one appeared at your side and another and two more came to protect the onslaught of the rebels. Not soon enough the King was off the battlefield and in his tent. The Rebels had retreated screaming in victory and Roan’s men protected the campsite.

Finally safe you were able to check on Roan. “Turn him over.” You ordered.

“Jus Gona, we have called the healer-“

“Turn him over.” He didn’t argue again and like clockwork you could see no exit wound on Roan’s back, that was good. They lied him flat on his back and you resumed the pressure in his wound. Roan groaned underneath the pain, good he was still somewhat conscious but he had lost a lot of blood.

When the healers came you were able to step down, you watched them as the packed the wound with a leaf and in a few minutes the bleeding stopped. They then took a hot knife and burned the wound closed, maybe a great infection risk but you didn’t care at this point.

At the moment when you were able to breathe again, a nauseating feeling washed over you, you felt light headed. You didn’t protest against collapsing in the chair in the corner and placing your head between your knees until you felt better. When you finally sat up, you leaned back into the chair as they cleaned the King up. You fell asleep like that dreaming of death and darkness

You woke with a start grabbing the hand trying to cover your mouth and twisting. The person winced in pain before you realized. Immediately you let go of the hand. “Sorry Jus Gona, I thought I’d wipe your face.” You stared at the healer a moment, a young girl, and by what you could tell she had already removed your top layer of clothes, to clean you of the mud you had almost swum in. Did you sleep that deep? You took the washcloth from her and wiped your face. You were still so tired, so very tired. The healer left and you glanced over to Roan worriedly but he was still breathing. Not awake, but still breathing.

You stood stretching your aching limbs, stiff and sore from your efforts, not because they were unused to combat, but because of the tension that had set in them. The tent flapped was whipped open and in strolled a soldier. “Jus Gona, we must act before daylight, while we have the cover of darkness.” When you didn’t answer. “We don’t know who the commands fall to, all the generals are dead and I am only a captain.”

“Right. Show me where the enemy camps.”

Next Chapter

Tag List:

@sunshine-and-riverwater @jinx-is-fire @silver424 @cherrysfandom @thebookandmoviefangirl (URL not working)

[nexttrickanvils]

(Please reblog I worked really hard on this)

WOOF! THIS TOOK A LOTTA WORK.

So for Day 8 of @haruokumuraweek2k18

Prompt: AU/Freeday/Bonus

Of course I had to indulge in @captmickey‘s and my Roleswap AU. But I didn’t just do a picture, I’ve also got a fic (which was beta’d by Mickey, thank you so much). Hope ya’ll enjoy and thank you for indulging me in celebrating my fave P5 character. :) Title: Foolish Empress

Characters: Fool!Haru, Lovers!Ryuji, Chariot!Ann, Kamoshida (regular and shadow)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and pretty much Kamoshida in general. 

---------

Haru hoped that she was mistaken when she overheard people in the crowds talking about rain.

But no… it looked like her bad luck continued.

She quickly rushed to a nearby store with an awning and pulled out her phone. Shujin shouldn’t be too far off from here so if she ran... 

But as Haru opened her navigation app, that same strange black and red icon appeared once again. What was this? The third time it’s appeared? She really didn’t need her phone infected with a virus along with everything else.

“...I wonder if I should show my phone to Isshiki-san...”

Before Haru could attempt to delete the mysterious icon again, she spots someone rushing to the awning.

“Dammit! Stupid weatherman never gets it right!”

Now standing next to her is a young man with dark short messy hair wearing the Shujin uniform (though unlike hers, his jacket isn’t buttoned up.)

“I swear he...”

That was when the young man noticed Haru and he seemed to visibly deflate from his incoming rant. He looks her over and gives her the widest smile she’s ever seen.

“Hey what’s up? I don’t think I’ve seen ya before, first year?”

Haru shakes her head, “Third year, I’m a transfer student. I’m Haru Kurusu by the way.”

His eyes widen at that, “Oh! You’re the transfer everybody’s talking ‘bout? Heh, you’re uh… not what I expected. I was kinda thinkin’ that you were gonna be a Yanki girl or somethin’.”

“Huh? Why would you...”

But before Haru could finish her question, a rather fancy white sports car stops in front of them. The young man’s smile drops as he leans closer and whispers to her.

“Whatever you do, do not get in that car.”

The car window lowers and reveals an athletic looking older man in a tracksuit.

“Good morning! You two are gonna be late if you just stand there, let me give you a ride.”

“S-sure, thank you sir.” said the young man in a tone that Haru could only describe as… resigned

As the boy opens the passenger’s side door, the man gives him a teasing look.

“Come on Sakamoto, I thought you had better manners than that! Let the little lady have the front seat...”

“A-actually I can walk, I don’t mind the rain that much.” Haru responds

Haru swears she sees an annoyed expression on the man’s face but it’s gone in a flash.

“Alright, suit yourself. Looks like you get the front seat after all, Sakamoto. Lucky you!”

“Yeah… lucky me.”

He shoots Haru a sad smile as he enters the car. The window rises up and the older man drives off, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The man didn’t seem too bad… so why did the boy (the man called him Sakamoto) warn her against going with him?

“Those two didn’t try anything did they?”

Haru turns to the new voice and sees a rather intimidating looking girl with short choppy blonde hair. She wore a black top paired with a red jacket decorated with several pins and a pair of red fingerless gloves. The only indication of what school she went to was the Shujin issued plaid skirt and the school’s emblem on her bag.

“W-who?”

“The two guys you were just with? Kamoshida and Sakamoto?”

“Kamoshida… he was the man in the car?”

“Yeah… he’s a perverted son of a bitch who acts like he’s king of a castle and Sakamoto follows him like a good little servant boy. You go to Shujin, you should know this.”

Haru looks at the intimidating girl with confusion, unsure of what to say first. Sakamoto seemed like the farthest thing from a “servant boy” if his warning and tone of voice was any indication.

It was then that the girl noticed Haru’s third year pin.

“Third year? So you’re a transfer student. Well word of advice, New Girl: I already told you why but you need to stay away from Kamoshida.”

With that the intimidating girl starts to walk away and Haru attempts to follow. Suddenly she’s hit with… something… something that leaves her feeling light-headed. Whatever it was, it hit the other girl too.

“Ugh… I do not need a headache today.”

The feeling vanished as quickly as it came and the two girls continued to walk into a small alley. Haru wasn’t sure why but something in the air felt… different. So distracted by her thoughts, she doesn’t notice when the blonde girl suddenly stops and she bumps into her.

“Hey!”

“I’m so sorry I...”

That was when Haru noticed why the other girl had stopped. Instead of the school, they found themselves in front of what looked like a large European castle.

“Did we… go the wrong way?”

“N-no way, I take this route all the time! Besides you don’t just… find a castle in Tokyo.”

They looked at the sign at the entrance.

“It says Shujin Academy...”

The blonde let out a frustrated noise and ran inside.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Haru shouted as she followed her in

If they had hoped for answers inside, they were disappointed. Haru thought she could see flashes of the school but they immediately shifted back to the castle.

“This is way too elaborate for a prank.”

The girl pulled out her cellphone and was greeted with a no service notification.

“Okay this is getting really weird.”

“Maybe we should just go back the way we...”

“HALT INTRUDERS!”

Haru and the blonde girl turned to the voice and saw a pair of fully armored knights with swords and shields.

“YOU ARE TRESPASSING UPON THE CASTLE OF OUR ESTEEMED KING!”

More guards arrived and attempted to surround the girls.

The blonde girl then pushed Haru away and shouted, “RUN! NOW!”

“But...!”

“I’ll catch up! Go!”

Haru backs away little by little before she turns and starts sprinting towards the exit. But her escape attempt is foiled by more guards. Before she could turn away, one of them knocks her out with their shield.

“LET ME GO!” 

“TAKE THEM AWAY. THE KING WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THEM.”

Those are the last things Haru heard before she lost consciousness.

---------

“Hey! Hey wake up! Come on New Girl, wake up!”

Haru slowly opened her eyes and saw the blonde girl knelt next to her with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?”

“My… my head hurts but...”

As she sat up, Haru finally got a look at her surroundings.

“Where are we?”

“Some kind of dungeon I think… I just know that this isn’t a dream.”

Suddenly the girls hear distant screaming. They rush to the cell door and look to see if they can find the source.

“We’re not the only ones in here are we?” Haru asked, panic in her voice

“I… I don’t want to believe it but...”

They glance at each other.

“We should find a way out. I mean maybe there’s a secret passage or something…” said the blonde

Haru nodded, “My name is Haru Kurusu by the way.”

“...Ann Takamaki.”

Haru and Ann tried their best but couldn’t find anything to could help them escape. That was when they heard the sound of steel boots marching. They once again approach the cell door and are greeted by more guards (or maybe they were the same guards, Haru wasn’t entirely sure.)

“BE GLAD THAT YOUR PUNISHMENT HAS BEEN DECIDED UPON. YOUR CHARGE IS “UNLAWFUL ENTRY.” THUS YOU WILL BE SENTENCED TO DEATH.”

“What!?” Both girls shouted

“No one’s allowed to do what they please in my castle.”

A man walks past the guards and Haru recognizes him immediately, his eyes were a glowing yellow and the clothes are different (and a lot more… creepy) but this is definitely the same man she saw this morning. The same one that Sakamoto and Ann tried to warn her about.

“K-Kamoshida!?” asked Ann

Kamoshida(?) smirks as he turns to Ann.

“Well, well if it isn’t Takamaki. Almost didn’t recognize you under that slab of make-up. Finally realized your mistake and came crawling back to me? And you even brought a little friend with you as an apology.”

“Don’t you dare go near us you scumbag! I’m not afraid to fight back again!”

“Now is that any way to speak to your king? You’re in over your head here, Takamaki. Not only have you snuck into my castle but now you’re committing the grave crime of insulting me- the KING! The punishment is Death. OPEN THE CELL!”

As soon as the door opens Ann tries to grab Haru’s wrist and run out. Unfortunately the guards separate them and slam the two into opposite walls.

Kamoshida walked towards Ann as she struggled in the guards' hold.

“Now I consider myself a benevolent king. So I’m willing to give you another chance. Just say you’re sorry for what you did and accept my old offer. I’ll happily spare you and your friend.”

In response, Ann simply spat in Kamoshida’s face. He grimaced as he wiped away the spit. He then retaliates by slapping Ann in the face.

“Very well, MEN! PREPARE THE EXECUTION!”

“No! Stop this immediately! Leave her alone!” Haru shouted

Kamoshida turns and grins at Haru. She feels a shiver down her spine as she’s immediately reminded of the man she encountered in her hometown. The man who ruined her life.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn. Hold her there, I’ll deal with her after this one’s execution.”

The two guards holding her throw Haru against the stone wall again, and tighten their grip.

Haru found herself on the verge of tears. Just like before… there was nothing she could do.

“This is truly an unjust game… your chances of winning are almost none.”

She lifts her head and sees a shining blue butterfly.

“But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you...”

The butterfly and voice fade away but the latter is quickly replaced with someone new.

Are you just going to stand there while she dies by cruel hands?

Haru tries to look around for the source of the voice. It… it almost sounded like her own but more mature… more confident.

Do you truly believe doing nothing will spare you? Because you were punished for fighting back? Does that mean your previous actions were a mistake, my dear fated princess?

More images of that fateful night flash through Haru’s mind. The woman crying for help, the man grabbing Haru’s wrist, his fall as she pulled away… the police taking her to their car…

...No… it wasn’t a mistake… Even with what happened after, Haru would do it all over again if she had the choice.

“No… they weren’t...”

She sees one of the guards holding Ann by her throat; readying its sword to plunge into her heart. Haru’s expression goes from one of fear and confusion to anger and determination.

“Yes! YES! I CAN FEEL YOUR RESOLVE!”

In an instant the world felt like it stopped and Haru could feel nothing but a burning pain in her head. She starts to thrash within the guards’ hold, whimpering and screaming in pain...

“We shall form a vow at once! I am thou, thou art I! Now tell me… who... or rather what shall you betray...?”

She lets out one last blood-curdling scream...

“Your sense of justice… or society’s expectations?”

...Before lifting her head and glaring at Kamoshida.

“That’s enough!”

Kamoshida turns around and sends his own glare on Haru.

“You desire to be killed that much…? Hmph, I was planning on sparing you for a little bit but fine!”

The one guard lets go of Ann and she drops to the floor; hurt and out of breath but still alive. Kamoshida gives a nod and the guard next to Haru hits her with its shield, knocking off the fashion glasses from her face. She continues to glare as the guards surround her.

One prepares to strike her down when a burst of wind knocks it and the others down.

Once it’s gone, Haru feels something on her face. It feels like… a domino mask… she’s not sure why but… it needs to come off.

She grips the mask and pulls it as hard as she can. She feels her skin peeling away with it but it doesn’t stop her from ripping it off with a pained scream.

Blood drips down her face… and for the first time in a long time… Haru feels powerful. She starts to laugh and a sinister smirk appears on her face as she feels fire envelop her like a closing flower.

The fire quickly pulls away and transforms into a new figure at her side. Her other self.

She raises her hand and the figure reveals several weapons hidden in her dress. She blasts away some of the guards. The others who survived are pushed back into the wall.

“I am the Bestower of the Beautiful Betrayal! I am known as Milady!”

It looks like Haru’s luck is finally turning around.

[sweetnestor]

12 Days | Chapter 11

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

previous

“Hewwo?” Ethan spoke into the phone.

“You need to stop fucking answering like that, mate,” Tom replied.

“Hey man, don’t tell me how to live my life,” Ethan chuckled to himself as he threw himself onto the bed, exhausted from the long day he’d just had.

“Well, your life is my life now,” Tom sighed, placing his elbows on the desk. He had been unbearably tense all day. “Or… my life is yours. Just never say that again, alright?”

“Fair enough,” Ethan paused. It’d been days since they’d last spoken on the phone, he’d forgotten how odd it was to hear his own voice over the phone. “So uh… how was your day?”

“Ah, you know, made some videos… or a video,” Tom said, rubbing his eye. “Spent some time with my girlfriend. I don’t know what’s making me more tired, Bella or YouTube.” His filter had been disappearing lately, and his patience was running thin, he didn’t realize how he was sounding.

“What do you mean, is Bella stressing you out?” Ethan tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. It was true that Bella could be a lot, but Tom’s not allowed to say that. “And she’s not your girlfriend.”

Tom sat up, quickly retracting. “Right, sorry. You get used to saying ‘my girlfriend…’ I just didn’t realize how much baggage she came with. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he quickly added. “I tried to be with her today, but she keeps asking why I’m acting so strange. I don’t know how long more we can keep this up.”

“I hear ya’. If I have to be on a movie set one more day I think my head will explode. Guess acting’s not what as easy as I thought it’d be,” he let out a small sigh. “And don’t worry about it, I only snapped at you because I’ve been really irritable lately. Shooting a movie is no joke.”

“Definitely. And I’m getting really tired of YouTube. How long more do you think we have to be like this?”

“I honestly don’t know dude. What did she say? That she was trying to teach us a lesson? All I’ve learned is that I really don’t want to be an actor. Shit’s a pain in the ass.” Ethan huffed as he walked into his walk in closet. Despite it being almost 1 in the morning and the guys being completely knocked out, he still felt like they might hear him.

“I’ve learned how bloody boring your job is, no offense.” Tom spun in his chair from side to side. “Do you think we could switch back without that woman’s help?”

“Honestly who knows. She’s the one who switched us so I doubt we could switch back on our own.” Ethan paused, choosing his next words wisely, ”But... do you think we could force her?”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Uh… define ‘force.’”

“Like, confront her? I don’t know, just try and convince her that we’ve learned whatever fucking lesson she’s trying to teach us,” Ethan could feel his heart racing. The very prospect of possibly switching back was exciting to him. Being back in his own body would be a dream come true.

“Huh…” Tom put his phone on speaker and set it on the desk. “Let me try something.” He brought the computer to life and opened up Google. Then, he clicked on the search option and typed: ‘sonjisonjisonjisonjisonjisonjisonjisonjisonjiSONJISONJISONJISONJI!!’

Suddenly his words disappeared and were replaced by someone else’s. The message, ‘WHT DO U WANT’ stared back at Tom.

“Aha!” he said in satisfaction. “Have you ever tried Googling her?” he asked Ethan on the other line.

“Like her business? No,” Ethan responded making his way back into his room and grabbing the laptop lying on the ground.

“I mean like, connecting with her in weird ways,” Tom explained. “I tried to research on body switching - or ‘soul swapping’ as it’s called - but it wouldn’t work. Coincidence? She also sent me an email when I spoke about her out loud. She’s got a trail on us.”

“You know, now that you mention it, the same thing happened to me. I was trying to google pictures of your signature for that one day in London that I had to do all those poster signings and I typed something stupid like ‘sonji why have you done this’ or something, and she responded to me in the google search box! She said something like ‘because you haven’t learned your lesson yet’ and then called us twats,” Ethan couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. It’d only been a few days ago but it felt like it’d been ages since he’d been in London.

“See what I mean? And I just typed to her on Google again and she replied!” Tom said like it was the greatest news ever. “Get online, let’s see if we can persuade her!” He looked at the computer screen again, only to find a new message. ‘Are you wasting my time again or what?’

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on Google right now,” Ethan looked back down at the laptop screen on his lap, “uh, what should I say?”

“I don’t know, just annoy her.”

“Ah yes,” Ethan chuckled as he popped his knuckles, “my best quality.” ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘Sonji’, pause. ‘So-’

‘WHAT’

‘Hey psychic lady person,’ Tom typed. ‘We need help. Please. We know we’re annoying, but seriously.’

Ethan watched as his laptop opened a new tab and opened up a Google doc. He would’ve been freaked out if he didn’t know who he was dealing with. But this is Sonji, psychic lady who has nothing better to do than to fuck with two guys’ lives, so he’ll allow it.

This wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen, watching the computer immediately open up a blank doc. Still, Tom felt a little nervous as he placed his fingers on the keys and typed again.

‘H-hewwo?’

“OH SO YOU CAN SAY IT BUT I CAN’T?” Ethan shouted into the phone, a big smile on his face. Tom’s scream (in his own voice) was worth possibly getting caught by Harrison and Harry, though he can’t imagine they’ll hear him. Once they’re asleep they’re passed out cold.

Tom clutched his chest, his heart pounding. He tried to catch his breath as he looked down at the phone screen. “Shut up… you twat…” He had forgotten that he was on the phone with the man himself. Thank god he was home alone.

‘So what do you guys want’

Ethan read Sonji’s words over a few times, trying to decide how to type what he wanted to say in the nicest way possible. Actually, fuck that, she doesn’t censor herself, why should he?

‘Switch us back cunt’

Tom couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Don’t fucking laugh at me Tom,’ Sonji typed, silencing him immediately. ‘Lmao yeah i hear your phone conversations, i read your text messages to check your progress. I know everything you fucking twinks.’

‘TWINKS?’ Ethan typed feeling more than a little violated.

“Okay, better step in,” Tom mumbled as he typed. ‘We just want our lives back, sonji! We’re losing our fucking minds here!’

‘BUT HAVE YOU LEARNED???’

Ethan looked down at his keyboard and hesitated. She can read their texts, but can she read minds too? ‘Yes.’

‘Of course we have,’ Tom added, ‘there’s really no point for us to stay like this. We’ll go to your shop in San Diego again if we have to.’

‘Why do I, a psychic lady, get the feeling you’re lying?’

Just play it off Ethan, confidence is key. ‘Because you’re a paranoid psychic lady?’

‘Yeah, maybe all the voices and things you hear are mixing together…’

For a moment, Sonji didn’t type anything more. Tom didn’t dare speak to Ethan, now knowing that they were being watched.

‘And how are yall going to get over here?’ she asked. ‘You were in serious trouble when you dropped everything to come find me. If you’re willing to cause more trouble for each other then have you really learned?’

‘Yeah, and that’s why I’ve already talked to the people here about taking a few days off for ‘mental health’ and I’m already cleared.’ There’s no way Sonji can know that Ethan plans to just leave after filming tomorrow, right?

‘I’m taking time off work already,’ Tom wrote. ‘I have the freetime. And honestly, I’m speaking for both of us when I say that I’ll go through all the trouble to get my life back.’

‘I second that,’ Ethan typed back.

‘...........you two have been through quite a bit… it’s been what? Eleven days now?’

Tom nearly hopped out of his seat at the lenience. He frantically sent back, ‘Yeah!! And we’ve learned the woes of each other’s lives, and the longer i stay like this the longer im going to think i’m actually ethan!! Please switch us back, sonji??’

‘Please :(’ Ethan didn’t really know what to reply. How much longer would they have to beg before she gave in?

Sonji finally answered. ‘I’m not promising anything, but if you guys turn up to my shop tomorrow… and maybe actually buy something this time… i may or may not be able to help you…’ She quickly added “twinks” one more time at the end before deleting it immediately after.

‘You mean we just had to buy something the first time aND WE COULD’VE GOTTEN SWITCHED BACK???’ Ethan groaned in frustration as he hoped that her answer was no. She wouldn’t make them suffer all this just because they didn’t buy anything, would she?

“😘” And then the doc closed on itself.

“What the fuck,” Ethan grumbled as he fell back onto the pillow behind him and brought the phone up to his face. “She’s messing with us right?”

Tom sat back and opened his mouth to say something. But now he had to mind his words whenever he talked to Ethan. “I… She’s always messing with us! She’s made us live like this, hasn’t she?”

“Good point.” Ethan opened up another tab and searched through the flights available from Montreal to Los Angeles on the Southwest website. “So, you’ll pick me up from the airport right?”

“Yeah,” Tom replied as he got up and started to pace. “I’ll be driving your car this time.” He chuckled at the memory of them being in the same car for the first time. It felt like years ago.

“Owner of the car gets to pick the music, your rules,” Ethan laughed as he booked a flight. “I was planning on getting a flight towards the end of the day, but then we wouldn’t make it to San Diego in time so I got a flight that lands at 4pm.”

“Alright, mate, sounds good. Hopefully Sonji will wait up for us.”

“Well she’s listening to this conversation isn’t she? She knows so she’ll hopefully wait up for us since she’s so nice and thoughtful,” Ethan did his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Hopefully Sonji won’t notice it.

Tom was hoping in the back of his head that Sonji was overhearing, but at the same time he wasn’t sure if she would approve of them taking matters into their own hands. Actually, he knew she wouldn’t approve of this.

“How easy will it be to switch back?” he wondered. “Like, we’ll be back in our bodies, but are we just going to pretend this never happened?” It had been on his mind, given that he had moments where he was almost convinced that Ethan’s life was actually his the whole time.

“I… don’t know? Are we… friends now?” Ethan wasn’t quite sure what to say. On one hand, he’d probably go insane if Tom wasn’t there to confirm that yes, he did in fact switch bodies with Tom Holland for almost two weeks. On the other hand he’d definitely go insane if he had to pretend that none of this ever happened.

“Well, we’re not strangers,” Tom said with a chuckle. “It would be absolutely horrible to talk about this with anyone else when it’s over, but at least we know how the other feels.”

“Yeah, not to mention we’d definitely get thrown into a hospital,” Ethan replied, already imagining the headlines “Newest Addition to Marvel Cinematic Universe Tom Holland Absolutely Fucking Loses His Mind!!!”

“Hey, if we’re next door to each other on the psych ward, then there won’t be much to complain about,” Tom said. Was he hamming this up for Sonji, or did he actually mean it? Who knows?

“Yeah, true! Though we’ll probably never get released at that point,” Ethan laughed. He glanced down at the time on his phone and sighed. “It’s getting late and I gotta hit the hay for filming tomorrow…”

Tom checked the time on the computer. Time had slipped away. “Yeah, Bella’s been texting me, gotta see what she wants. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Click. Just one more day, he could handle one more day.

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tag list: @beardedsteveslut @ohsnapitzmoony @marie-is-in-the-dark

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