#And I know I'm a thin guy so I am not like directly hurt by the things they believe

[featheredadora]

[jinxedmuse]

new romantics — boo seungkwan, 부승관

🎵 daydreamin' - ariana grande, arabella - artic monkeys, off to the races - ldr, feel so close - calvin harris, automotivo bibi fogosa - bibi babydoll, light a flame - svt, you know you like it - dj snake

in which: the “goody-two-shoes”, university athlete boo seungkwan encounters a “rebel against-all-odds”, biker!reader and truly learns what it means to have fun while living life for himself alongside new found, and utterly careless love.

authors note: plz don't be mad i'm aware i owe u guys part 2 of the jeonghan fic and a "bed peace vernon" fic but.. no excuse tbh. wrote something like this a while ago and was gonna re-upload it but the more i re-read it the more i was dissatisfied so here’s this (hopefully way cleaner ver) instead. tags & warnings: she falls first x he falls harder, strangers/annoyance to lovers, some cursing, reckless racing, reader is (strongly) implied to be a thrill seeker, harmless back and forth (flirty) banter, mentions of alc (legal drinking) word cound: 4.2k

9:52 am

seungkwan suddenly came to an abrupt halt. he tightly held the large iced americano in his right hand and completely let slip his folder packed with research and syllabus papers in the left.

he begrudgingly looks down at his scattered papers, frustration growing by the second before looking up. in front of him and the reason for his abrupt stop was you.

you were running late on the first day of uni and had opted to take your bike to campus in a rush. you didn't even realize you almost ran into the guy until you were way too close for comfort.

you removed your helmet, your hair coming undone from underneath it. positioning your helmet onto the handle of your ride, you hopped off and immediately crouched down, trying to gather the papers that had dropped on the floor but your black leather gloves prevented you from doing so comfortably, slightly crinkling some in the process.

“just stop, you can leave them. It's fine.” the voice rushes out. you look up but can hardly see who was speaking. the sun was directly behind him, practically shining around his blonde hair like a golden halo.

he seemed kind of tall, and lanky but healthy. his backpack, the one you recognized too well that nearly all athletes here used, was slinked onto one shoulder. you stand up, squinting your eyes to protect them from the harsh rays of the beaming sun.

once face to face with him, you realized he was kind of, no, exceedingly handsome. he was rather well groomed, his skin fair with no marks and instead, a cute beauty mark right underneath his left eye.

he slightly backed up, looking at you muddled. it was obvious his tolerance was wearing thin as he picked up the rest of his papers and practically shoved them inside his folder, somehow without ripping or further crinkling any more of them.

you bowed repeatedly, embarrassed with your negligence.

“dude i’m really sorry about that, i’m usually way more careful on this thing i swear.” you practically pleaded, laughing dryly while pointing back at your all-black bike.

you silently prayed that he wouldn't be one of those rich snobs who would threaten to take it away or get your license suspended.

instead, he just raises an eyebrow, observing you without even giving the tiniest glance towards your bike.

“you should be more careful, someone could get hurt. oh and, do you know me that well to be speaking so casually?” he remarks rhetorically.

of course, you don't know him, he knew that as well.

“yeah no, you're right. my bad. i mean, my apologies.” you murmured, bowing once more at the boy in front of you. you could feel your cheeks growing warmer and warmer from embarrassment.

while bowing, his feet start moving and soon enough disappear. you look up and realize he has walked away, without even saying anything or regarding your apology.

“interesting” you whispered, head slightly tilted to the side. in a swift movement, you swung a leg over your bike and re-adjusted your helmet. revving your bike, the wheels tracked a bit of pebbled dirt before it took off, catching you up to him in no time.

this time, you don’t stop the bike. you use one hand to open up your helmet visor and turn to him, trying to get his attention as he was ignoring you.

“look, i truly do apologize. it looks like we’re heading the same way, how about i grant you a ride and save you time? morning classes start in 5 minutes and I guarantee I can get us there in less than 3” you offer, slowing down to match his pace.

“i’m fine.” is all he urges in a monotone voice, facing forward and slightly picking up his pace as the steps of the main campus start coming into view.

you simply hummed in response, putting down your visor once more before setting off, immediately creating a lengthy distance between you too.

you pull up into the student parking for bikes, motorcycles, etc., and hop off. readjusting your slinger backpack, you head into the building. pushing the dreadful encounter to the back of your mind.

boo, seungkwan was now two minutes late to his first lesson. usually, he would try not to beat himself up about something trivial but it was the first day and that professor was like the Korean students most wanted for this course.

he took a deep breath and finally, opened up the door to the classroom. the professor cocked an eyebrow before seemingly crossing seungkwan’s name off his paper, motioning for him to head to the back.

seungkwan took a glance at the wide lecture room and just as he suspected, practically all the seats were filled. only two scattered ones in the back remained. he heads up toward the back and absentmindedly sits down next to some girl.

she had pretty, long lashes resting onto her soft skin, hair slightly in her face due to her head down, and her plump lips formed into a subtle pout as she was already falling asleep.

she's pretty, he simply thought to himself. but really? falling asleep on the first day? in this professor's class no less? hopefully next time seungkwan can find another seat, a better seatmate to be precise. they probably won't be prettier but he wasn't here for that, he was here to raise his (already above-average) gpa.

9:48 pm

"guys thank you so much.. for bringing me to the world's lamest orientation party." seungkwan remarks, clapping his hands sarcastically.

his long-term friend and junior here, mingyu simply bows his head in shame.

it truly was boring. the room was split up into groups of freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors. the drink stand had the blandest variations of alcohol and the food that was getting passed out had already gotten cold an hour in, of course after playing what seemed like a thousand ice breakers.

"dude i'm so ready to leave." chimed up lee chan, a fellow sophomore and friend.

“the moment it hits 10, i’m out.”

almost as soon as he said that, the door opened up and a girl walked in. she wasn't exactly tall but she had the height to her, she was dressed in all black head to toe, her dark hair was neat and pushed out of her face, her features soft yet eyes sharp, clearly searching for someone in the room.

seungkwan tried studying her face but she walked by his table quickly, he swore he’d seen her before.

"i gotta get back to my table, but once this is over lets go over to seungcheols apartment yeah?" mingyu declared before getting up and making their way to the junior table.

seungkwan turned back, simply nodding before lazily clicking his glass with the slightly younger chan

"you know her?" he asked, tilting his cup in the girl's direction who was now speaking to some guy at one of the club stands.

seungkwan hated seeing someone he wasn't even close to multiple times, once he noticed you, he'd see you everywhere. as if you had taken a dip into his daydreams, invading the air around him.

yet he still studied you once more before turning back, downing his glass in one go and setting it back down.

"nope, she looks familiar though."

now you had only walked into this orientation for one thing: to get your friend and go.

"vernon are you done yet?" you whined, watching as he paced back and forth, picking up the remainder of his items and stuffing them into his black backpack.

"okay, now i'm done. let's go" he says once he slips it on and makes his way from behind his club stand, grabbing his motorcycle keys and twisting them around his index finger.

"finally, time to have some real fun tonight." you practically beamed, skipping along to head outside.

you stop in your tracks a few feet from the door once you realize vernon is no longer walking beside you but is now by a table, having a conversation with two heads of blondes.

curious, you sneak up behind vernon, resting your head on his shoulder. once you peer at who he's speaking to, you can't help but smile. the familiar face now trying his hardest to not look right back at you.

vernon senses this almost immediately "you guys know each other?' he raises a question to the both of you.

"no,” seungkwan reacts quickly.

"something like that," you reply, conveying your most impressionable smile.

he falters once he sees it but fixes his eyes back on vernon, "no, we don't. just unfortunately ran into each other this morning."

you move from behind vernon and closer to the table. "oh please, the pleasures all mine”, you retaliate, sticking your hand out to shake his.

he does, although reluctantly and you use that opportunity to pull him out of his seat. once up, you wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"vern, why don’t we invite these lovely gentlemen to where we're going?” you ask, completely ignoring the very confused and shocked seungkwan in your arms.

funny enough though, he wasn't making an effort to get out, for which he could've easily done. instead, he listens in quietly, a part of him wondering if he could truly let go just once tonight after this failed orientation party.

he makes eye contact with a very excited chan, practically jumping out of his seat, already putting on his jean jacket.

vernon looks at you all, a small smile spreading across his face.

"i don't see why not.”

"he doesn't see why not, and you sir? what are you gonna do?” you ask looking at the boy still in your grasp.

he looks at you, face slightly flushed in embarrassment because he realizes a few other students are now looking in your direction. but you don't budge, keeping eye contact steady, as if you didn't even realize there were other people in the room.

vernon and chan looked at seungkwan expectedly, he nods shyly and chan clapped excitedly.

"finally, let's get the hell out of here now, please. i'll text mingyu and seungcheol about this.” quipped the younger blonde, already quickly typing away on his phone and making his way to the door with vernon.

you smiled, taking your arm off his shoulder.

you picked up the glass bottle of mexican coca-cola from the table, presumably his as it was in front of his dish. flicking the already loose cap off and onto the remainder of his untouched food, you wrap your lips around the top. downing the rest of his drink, right in front of him.

seungkwan watched your actions tenaciously. he didn’t speak up, or complain about you taking it despite you had only met once before this. instead, he just watched as your lips like a galaxies edge, wrapped around the tip of the coke bottle, taking back the last sip of his dark drink.

“you know for someone who seems to hate me, you sure do have a habit of staring.” your voice caught him off guard and he quickly realized he had been staring at your mouth for far too long.

you let out a small laugh, going on ahead outside “i didn’t think you’d agree after this morning.”

“I didn’t think i would either,” he muttered, grabbing his stuff and following closely behind you as you left the orientation hall.

once outside, chan was already on the back of vernon’s ride.

you take your jet-black helmet off your handlebars and toss it to the boy behind you. you caught seungkwan yet he still managed to catch it effortlessly.

"what about you... no helmet?" he asked warily, surveying your bike as if another helmet would just pop out of thin air.

“don’t need one," you say matter-of-factly as you mount your bike. you pat the space behind you before revving your engine. seungkwan looked skeptical of the accommodation and situation.

"oh c'mon on, i'll be fine. don't tell me you're backing out now" you teased, revving the engine once more.

seungkwan had a clear scowl on his face after your remark. chan laughed at the joke you looked but before he could say anything, vernon pulled out of the sidewalk and sped off.

seungkwan was anxious, should he let go so early in the year, with someone he barely knew? he's about to toss back the helmet, but when he looks at you, you're no longer butting jokes or rushing him. simply playing with some stickers you had put on your handlebars. your hair was blowing in the wind, and the chilly night air didn't seem to affect you.

just for tonight, he thought to himself. he walked towards you and boarded your bike without saying anything.

"ah c'mon, handsome. you should know this, hands round the driver,” you say casually, foot on of the peddles, ready to take off at any time.

nervously, he wraps his arms loosely around you, a smile tugged at your lips. his shyness was charming.

you take off, following in pursuit behind vernon and you can feel his grip tightening around your waist. his broad chest pressed against your back. his heart beating rapidly but steadily.

10:36 pm

you guys arrived at the race tracks, vernon and chan already standing by some bleachers speaking to another group. you pull your bike in front of the wide set of bleachers, seungkwan hurriedly gets off the bike as soon as you stop it and removes the helmet.

"thanks." is all he says with a slight bow before going back to join vernon and chan by the bleachers.

"still so formal huh?”

i’ll crack you soon. is all you think to yourself. you hop off your bike and are greeted by a few fellow racers pulling you into hugs and small conversation.

"it's about to start soon, you racing tonight sweetheart?" one remarks. you looked at the track, observing its condition with a small smile on your face,

you looked back at who spoke, a friend that got you into motorcycles and the entire lifestyle years ago, jun.

"hm, what’s in it for me?' you ask, your gaze no longer on the track or jun, but behind him. seungkwan was currently sitting by the lower edges of the bleachers, a can of beer in hand as he laughed at something chan and vernon said.

you forgot jun was speaking by the time you cut him off. "actually-" you start, slowly starting to walk by. "i think i do have something that might interest me" you remark, a sly smirk on your face as you looked on the blonde boy ahead of you.

something about him piqued your interest, you couldn't tell if it was the feeling of a brand new bike straight from the garage or if he was a person you'd want in your life. either way, the feeling excited you.

you walk past jun and inevitably the small group that had gathered around you, ignore their confused remarks and make your way to the bleachers.

vernon smiles upon you approaching, wrapping a lazy arm around your shoulder. you pat his back but shrug it off, nodding your head towards chan who is sitting to seungkwan’s left.

"can i steal your seat for a moment," you ask, to which the young blonde simply nods. downing the rest of his beer and motioning vernon to go get some more with him.

once you and seungkwan are left alone, you sit by him closely. observing him carefully.

the moon above shone directly on him. It's like the solar system routed him his personal spotlight wherever he went. he was barefaced yet he still looked incredibly handsome. realized he had more beauty moles than just the one underneath his left eye. the blinding lights around the race track slightly brightened his face.

"are you just gonna stare at me?" he asked, taking a small sip from his beer.

he was shifting his feet uncomfortably and not looking back at you but he made no motion to distance himself from you, you were close enough so that your knees and shoulders were slightly touching, brushing against each other at any slight movement.

"just returning the favor from this morning, is that not allowed?” you ask sarcastically. seungkwan practically splurts out his beer, your sudden remark surprising him.

"that was you in the lecture hall this mornig?' he asked surprised, he was now looking at you, total shock over his face as he wiped off any small beer spillage on his crisp black shirt.

you ignore his question, finding there is no need to be hung up on the obvious for longer than it should be. a personal philosophy.

"i have a proposition.” you exclaim, once again not breaking any contact.

he nods slightly, a sign to continue with whatever it was you had to say tonight.

“i'm racing tonight, if i win, let me get closer to you." you bargained. seungkwan sucked in a harsh breath, it felt like all his words, any rebuttal or joke or even just awkward laugh he could've left out got caught choked up in his throat.

he searched your face; your eyes, for any sign of insincerity. anything to show you might be joking but there were none. you were completely serious.

he ran his empty hand through his bleached blonde hair, as if stuck in deep thought before meeting your gaze.

"whats in it for me if we get closer?' he managed to ask. words spilling together like he still didn't quite believe you.

you smiled softly, and without even realizing it, upon impulse, you gently poked the beauty mark right underneath his eye. he was taken aback but didn't physically back away.

he looked around as if searching for a hidden prank camera and it earned a laugh from you.

"you’re cute. it makes me want to spend time with you. if you allow me to get closer to you, i can make your life a whole lot more fun," you state in a persuasive tone. dropping your hand from his face but holding it up by his empty one, urging him to shake it.

to lock in the deal.

he looked at you skeptically but you could tell he was intrigued. he brought his hand up swiftly, shaking yours then dropping it almost as soon as it started.

you held back a smirk. too easy, you thought to yourself. you got up as vernon and chan were making their way back to the bleachers.

"pay attention to me well, yeah?” you asked directly, mocking his bow from earlier. seungkwan held back a smile, simply raising his eyebrow slightly.

vernon yelled out once a bit closer, "yo reader! you're racing tonight right? they're calling you." while approaching the bleachers. chan reclaims his seat next to seungkwan and vernon sits on the opposite side.

vernon was now looking up at you as he adjusted his beanie.

"hell yeah i’m racing, i’ll be winning too,” you say confidently, showing a small wink in seungkwan’s direction. the others definitely noticed, vernon just thought it was your usual behavior so he didn't say anything; no matter how bad he wanted to.

you jokingly salute the three before making your way down to the track, jun was standing by your motocycle ensuring its condition.

you thanked him and hopped on, adjusting the helmet. whatever shampoo seungkwan used, it smelled like him now, a small smile tugging at your lips. it smelled good.

"what's got you smiling like that?' jun asked, pushing your head slightly with an index finger. you waved it off, no longer holding back the smile.

"the fact that i'm winning this race." you cooed in a sing-song voice.

jun simply laughed. bringing down your visor. with that, he murmured a small "i know you will." before tapping your motorcycle and slightly jogging off the track, maintaining a closer position by one of the grid girls he had been flirting with earlier.

with that, a shot was fired in the air and you wasted no time in taking off. immediately creating a large gap between you and the other racers.

the cool air hit your clothes, keeping you cold despite your layers which weren't much if you were being honest. the smell of the track excited you, racing thrilled you. so how could a boy, you just met, also be this captivating to you? you drifted easily past a turn, neck, and neck with another racer.

the beaming and flashing lights around the track illuminated the floor, there were flashlights from people recording and screams from people who bet money. the endorphin rush hitting them even if they were just watching.

it all felt so good, even better when you created another gap, suddenly feeling extremely motivated at the thought of your deal. with another turn of your handle and a bit more seed, you cruised past the finish line, a gride girl waving a big flag back and forth, signaling you had won and the race was over.

seungkwan didn't even realize when he had gotten out of his seat. mouth ajar and hands up in eagerness as he watched you easily pass the finish line. a part of him was hoping you’d have won and right now it was extremely evident.

he watched almost in awe as you leaned against the motorcycle, as if you didn't just do something so incredible in front of what seemed like hundreds of people tonight. you looked so free.

was this the life you were used to? he wondered, was this the fun you’d wrap him up in? the questions already started driving him insane.

cheers erupted all over the bleachers, your group of friends recording your victory and jun jogging up to reach where you had stopped. your heart was pounding loudly in your ears, the rush from the race taking you higher than any drug you’ve taken. you smile proudly as you remove your helmet.

jun stretches up his hand and you high-five it before he pulls you into a hug while holding onto your helmet for you.

one of the grid girls made their way over to you, saying something along the lines of "congrats, that was cool' while handing you a couple of bands of prize money. you gave a small and firm smile, accepting the cash but carelessly tossing it into one of your small hidden compartments.

once it was in here, you tapped jun on his shoulder "watch this for me for a few, yeah?” you ask with pleading eyes. he simply nods, slightly leaning into your bike while pulling out his phone.

with that, you start making your way to the bleachers, another smile on your face once you realize the three boys are already heading towards you.

"yo that was fucking crazy, damn you’ve gotta teach me sometime!” chan exclaimed. practically begging as he daps you up, patting your back before walking by, letting out a series of "ouuu" as he looks at our bike.

vernons reaction was more tame but he was still hyped.

“good job.” is all he says, patting your head a few times before following behind chan who is already making conversation with jun. you swore chan could become friends with anyone.

you turned back in front of you, the real reason you had made your way back here in the first place. boo seugkwan was enamored, to say the least, but he would never admit that out loud.

you take his canned beer from him and down it before crushing it slightly, not breaking eye contact with him. he was practically putty in your hands by now but he was pulling himself together to the best of his abilities to not show it.

"i didn't know you were soo.." he starts, lost in words as he looks at you. he already knows you are pretty, but it's as if a new light is forming around you. the same girl he'd sworn he'd avoid the rest of his academic year just hours ago.

"cool? beautiful? absolutely incredible at everything?” you teased at the now practically speechless boy in front of you.

he kicked a few pebbles in front of him, now avoiding eye contact as he spoke up.

"yeah," he replied simply, honestly.

it was your turn to be caught off guard, you didn't expect him to return the same amount of energy you'd been playfully putting out all night.

"get closer to me all you want. i implore you to," he says looking up, no longer timidly looking at nothing on the ground. he now returned the favor of firm eye contact, carefully watching your reaction.

you tried to find words, but for the first time since meeting him, it felt like all possible formations or words were stuck in your throat. the fact that he had this effect on you excited you beyond what you'd imagine.

it makes you feel like pulling out your playing cards as well, you’d play your ace if it meant more of these interactions with him.

you simply smiled looking at the boy in front of you.

this was about to be so, fun.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[laz-laz-ace-pilot]

I posted 54,649 times in 2022

That's 33,170 more posts than 2021!

295 posts created (1%)

54,354 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cantwearflipflops

@pinkys-plan

@sulevinen

@spacerocksarethebestrocks

@screaming-velociraptor

I tagged 4,941 of my posts in 2022

#andor spoilers - 1,089 posts

#andor - 969 posts

#tbobf spoilers - 228 posts

#writing reference - 136 posts

#reference - 107 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 95 posts

#personal - 76 posts

#in the shadow of his brothers - 67 posts

#star wars - 60 posts

#drawing reference - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#this has been followed by tory and rwandan propoganda. ‘we have no human rights violations. people are safe here’ no the fuck they aren’t??

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I'm sorry to every other action movie star, but you will never be as cool or sexy as Diego Luna dive jumping and shooting a Deathtrooper fascist while in that jacket. It's over, go congratulate Mr Luna on the way out.

674 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#4

Some Imperial somewhere: you're never going to believe who just organised a massive prison break

768 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#3

There are so many details in Andor that I could pour over forever, especially in the prison. The language used is so corporate and sanitised - 'minimally invasive enforcement techniques' to describe electrocuting someone to death, 'on programme/ off programme', 'hot floor' - all of it defangs the reality of what they're living with for the oppressors (and maybe for the inmates to increase productivity?) but must drive the inmates mad.

There's tiny moments too; the fact they showed one guard being late due to a 'problem in tech', establishing that the idea that its a well oiled machine is just a thin veneer. The desperation of the inmates to hear news about themselves from outside and getting nothing. The use of what looks like sign language to communicate across blocks. The comment about if two inmates are in the same cell they both get fried - that could be read as just to stop inmates conspiring together, but also implies that inmates can't seek romantic, sexual or even friendly companionship. There's a homophobic edge to it, and further reinstates the prisons control over happiness. Pleasure can only be achieved through productivity for the Empire, everything else is forbidden.

And that doesn't even go into the set design, the costumes, the filming, the acting! Or how those scenes are juxtaposed against the luxury of Mon Mothma's apartment.

This show guys!

1,023 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

#2

I know people are seeing the post credit scene and lamenting that Cassian and Melshi were forced to build the very weapon that will kill them (which is true and I am definitely also 'people') but... it also confirmation that the prison escape directly impacted the development of the Death Star.

Like, we know that turning off the facility meant that Narkina 5 couldn't be fully operational for months, and the loss of 5000 prisoners who were all assembling large numbers of pieces a day... all of that had to hurt the production schedule, not to mention any further damage from Melshi or Cassian's testimonies reaching people inside and out of the prison system.

How long did it delay production? We don't know - it could have been weeks or months, or even just hours. But knowing how little time the Rebellion has once they learn of the Death Star's existence, and how the Empire was closing in, even before then - Jyn and team escape Jedha with the message and means to destroy the superweapon by literal seconds - I just feel like it counted.

The Death Star will one day kill both Cassian and Melshi, but they, and 5000 other men, also bought precious time for the Rebellion. Just enough time to get the plans off Scarif. Just enough time for some desert farmer boy to make the crucial shot.

2,580 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ISB and Luthen playing 4D chess against each other:

Ferrix:

3,009 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fluxofthemouth]

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Hmmmm it depends on a lot of things! With all of the training he has in identifying and quieting emotional triggers, he'll experience most flares of rage as someone uniquely prepared to shut the whole thing down if he chooses to.

In the case where he's either intentionally set aside his training or genuinely lost control, he is probably going to lash out very swiftly and effectively at whoever made him enraged. No insults, no shouting, no drama, just a very swift, you are done doing that. Murder? Stabbing? Cutting off some fingers? The meanest insult he knows how to make? One (1) warning that any of the above is coming if the person does that one more time? Whatever seems right for the situation. If the other person is simply too strong or powerful for him to have any leverage over them, rage might look like quiet fury and turning to walk away and leave the situation, or just shutting down into contemptuous silence if that's not possible.

If he's chosen to ease out of actual rage, emotionally, that's not the same as dropping the whole thing, not at all. It could look like, I'm obviously not going to reach over the table and stab you at a dinner party, but I think I could make a poisoning happen in the next 3-5 business days. A choice to quiet down the emotional state of in-the-moment rage is also a choice to call back his full range of creative and intellectual capabilities, as well as long term planning options. He's a thin little short guy. He can pull off the scary bastard thing like 'oh no I am afraid you have crossed a line' immediately in some cases, just running on the pure urge to cause harm. But he's generally going to be even more effective when he has time to think and plan and come up with a trap to spring. Revenge is a dish best served cold kind of guy.

He can drop the whole thing if he wants to, though. He's kind of permanently enraged by watching the world treat him as it has. He only has so much time and attention for things that make him furious, and like, he also works full time. From the part in Dune where Vladimir is pestering Piter with an account of how Vladimir made a bet with the quartermaster about a choice Piter would make, I think Piter is a common enough subject of unfriendly workplace gossip or bullying to some percentage of his coworkers. I imagine he gets around to retaliating against some people directly...but I think his cheerful 'I love hurting people, and now I will speak poetically about the beauty of gushing blood >:3' thing is kind of an all-purpose warning to address frequently being around/working with people who don't really like him. Like, maybe he can't address everything, maybe he has to shut up and take it when people pick on him in small ways or make jokes about him. But don't even think about hurting him for real because he can out-fucking-crazy you. You've just decided to hastily try and jump the fence of your inhibitions against perhaps stabbing someone, and he's already gotten out a potato peeler and a machete and a long length of sturdy cord.

[fakeloveaskblog]

(Wow that last post was something. I have so many questions about how Virgil knew where to go and what’s he doing there in the first place. Also Remy, quick question for Lukas, would I be able to either call an ambulance or carry Remy to the hospital and check them in? I don’t want to seriously mess up the plot by doing that so I figured I’d check first.)

Don’t worry Janus I’ll go find out what Virgil wants, you stay here for now I’ll be back in a few minutes.

*floats directly through the door to Virgil*

Hello Virgil, what are you doing here? And how do you even know where here is?

Glow Eyes

Virgil was still knocking on the door, his eyebrows furrowed into a worried look that teared on anger. When you suddenly floated right through the door his first instinct was to swat you away like a fly but his hand just went through you.

For once he actually let you speak, he didn't even sneer or try to cut you off. He just crossed his arms and stared at the door like lightning bolts would shoot out of his eyes if he tried hard enough.

"I got a phone call from some guy saying he'd found Remy in a very bad state and he'd asked Them for who to call to come pick them up. He was told to call Me! Not Janus! ME! I am just nice enough to think that maybe Remy will prefer having that jackass Janus pick them up instead of me. I'm the only one here with a car. Nothings stopping me from just driving over there by myself and bringing Remy home to my apartment but I'm not because I'm so fucking nice aren't I. I just want them to be okay"

He started to fiddle with the ends of his hoodie sleeves.

"It's kinda hypocritical how all of you wanted to get Remy away from me so they wouldn't get hurt and now here they are. Passed out at some randos place like some cheap wh-" He bit his own tongue to stop himself "If they were still with me this wouldn't happen! I know that for sure! Just saying!"

Your form was looking a little thin since you were stretching yourself out to be both with him and with Remy at the same time. There was still a ghostly form of you keeping them safe where they laid in the stranger's couch. Virgil took a deep breathe before continuing.

"But! I care about Remy! So I will set this blatant stupidity aside for right now until they're safe! I won't try to talk to them or anything...I.." He pretended to gag a little "I promise. I will just drive Janus there and then drive them to wherever that Jan-fucker asks me to"

You were still looking at him so he added.

"Also I literally just searched up Janus' name on google along with like our town. Janus and Snehea aren't exactly common names okay? So I'm not like a stalker. What kind of last name even is Snehea!? Whatever. Can you float in and talk to the jackass now so we can go and get Remy!?"

[larkace]

Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!

[nashibirne]

Painkiller - 2

Here is the second part of Painkiller. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

You can find the first part here: Nashi's Masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Ella) Summary: Boy meets girl...in this Chapter they get to know each other a little better Warnings: Mentioning of body issues (slim OFC), smut in upcoming chapters but not yet Unbeta'ed. English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes/bad grammar/wrong spelling Credits: I took the pictures for the moodboard from Pinterest, for Katie I chose a pic of the lovely Nicola Coughlan. The "back pic" is from Pinterest too. If I violate any kind of copyright, please let me know.

Tags @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @willkatfanfromasia @mis-lil-red @inlovewithhisblueeyes @agniavateira @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69

Here we go!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ping!

Ella froze when she heard the tone of her WhatsApp notifications. It was almost noon and though she'd never admit it, she'd been waiting to hear from Henry since the moment she'd opened her eyes in the morning. Hoping it was him, she took her phone and read the message. 

Hello, Ella. This is Henry...the guy with the hard blow from the party last night.

Did he really think he had to remind her of who he was? That was damn cute.

I hope you're feeling better. I know I sound like a broken record but I can't say it often enough. I'm really, really sorry for hurting you. 

...

Hey Henry. Thanks for checking on me. I'm much better, no headache anymore. No harm done, so I can easily forgive you.

....

He answered immediately.

That's a big relief! Has your brother already examined the bruise? Are you sure it's not a concussion and nothing's broken?

....

Yes, Alex stopped by on his way to work. I'm fine, just have to take it slow for the rest of the weekend. That's it. It looks much worse than it actually is.

....

Meaning I gave you a huge shiner?

...

Yeah... It's quite impressive. Wanna see?

....

Absolutely! Videocall?

....

Sure!

Videocall! Ella didn't see that coming. She had planned to send him a selfie. Video Call...before she was able to get into a panic her phone rang and she touched the green button to take the call, her heart racing like crazy. Henry's ridiculously handsome face with the friendly blue eyes and this very pretty nose, appeared on the screen instantly. She smiled at him sheepishly, suddenly very aware of the fact that she looked like shit with her bruise, without any makeup and with uncombed hair.

"Gosh, Ella....that looks bad. I can't believe you didn't pass out after that hit." he said horrified and ashamed at the sight of her bruised eye. His beautiful deep voice sounded hollow through the speakers of her phone. "Yeah...I know. But I'm the youngest of four. I'm able to take a lot of knocks." She laughed. "I feel terrible about this." he said, sounding serious.  "Please don't, Henry. It was an accident and I'm fine. I can cross off 'having a black eye' from my bucket list now. So I guess I have to thank you for this." She winked into the camera.  Henry chuckled. "You're welcome. And to be honest...it suits you, the dark blue and violet match your beautiful green eyes perfectly and you're still incredibly pretty."  "Oh...thanks." His words took her by surprise and she knew she was blushing which made her feel self-conscious. Her short answer to his compliment was followed by a long pause and Henry wondered if he had been too straightforward or too awkward. He wished he was just half as good at flirting as everyone considered him to be. "What about your back?" Ella said hastily to keep the conversation going. "My back is fine." "Really? You can be honest with me." "Really. I swear. Only a light red trace. It hardly hurts, it's really nothing serious. I can send you a back pic later." Henry grinned. Ella almost choked on the tea she was just sipping. Back pic - dick pic. The association hit her hard and of course she blushed like a shy wallflower. Again. It had always been like this. Her pale skin turned red for the most trivial reasons. Even at school when the teachers called on her she used to blush. And there was nothing she could do about it. She hated it. Coughing she gave Henry a funny look and he cursed internally for obviously making her feel uncomfortable with his stupid remark. Back pic, really, dumbass?

"Umm...yeah...why not. But maybe you still should put some ointment for burns on it." "Well...this is going to be a problem. I'm not that flexible. I doubt I can reach that area of my back and Kal won't be able to help." Henry replied, smiling. "Kal?" Ella was irritated. Who's Kal? His boyfriend? Oh my god. Is he gay? Am I making a complete fool of myself? "My dog. He's a clever boy but he can't do that." Henry laughed. "Oh. I see..." Ella let out a relieved snort. "Maybe your girlfriend can help you." She knew her attempt to find out if he was single was both obvious and pathetic. "I don't have a girlfriend." He said calmly, looking directly into the camera. "If I had, I wouldn't be chatting with you, clumsily trying to flirt, making you feel uncomfortable." He added with a shy, apologetic smile. Flirt? Ella was speechless for a moment. She started fiddling with her fingers, nervous all of the sudden. Good heavens...Henry Cavill is trying to flirt with me. "That's good to know. And you're not making me uncomfortable. On the contrary." she said softly, smiling back at him. 

Henry didn't really know how to go on with the conversation but he didn't want their chat to end so soon either so he tried to change the subject. "That's an impressive pile of books there right behind you." "Yeah...when you take work home with you...you know how it is." Ella grinned,  turning around, giving the book on top a gentle tap. "Work? What do you do for a living?" "My sister and I run a little bookstore-cafe." "What's that? A bookstore and a cafe at the same time?" "Yeah, exactly. Like an ordinary bookstore but we also sell coffee, tea, cake, muffins and sandwiches and stuff." "Wow, that's cool. Downtown London?" "No. On the outskirts. In Uxbridge." "Is that where you live?" "Yes, I live in the flat above the store. What about you? Notting Hill? Belgravia?" "Kensington." Henry said laughing. "Of course." she joined in with a smirk. "Must be nice living there. Quite fancy I guess. Tell me all about it." And that's what he did. 

Their easy going and very funny chat was interrupted by a ring at Ella's door a few minutes later. Ella made a face, giving Henry an apologetic look.  "That must be Katie, my sister. I told her what happened and she promised to supply me with some food. I hope for pizza and ice cream but I bet it's broth and fruits." She rolled her eyes. Henry's rumbling laugh echoed through the speakers. "Well, I better say good bye then, before her sisterly revenge hits me."  A second and a third impatient ring.  "Yeah. We better say goodbye. It was really good to talk to you Henry. Thanks for checking on me. And thanks for trying to flirt with me." She gave him a sweet wink and managed to blush only a little, her cheeks turning light pink. "You're welcome, Ella. It was my pleasure." "Bye." she said and the screen of his phone turned black.

It was my pleasure? What's wrong with you, Cavill?  Henry asked himself after the end of the call. He let his head sink down on the table top of his desk. You're welcome?  That really sounded smug as fuck. Not smooth, not witty....just smug and arrogant. Like he was doing her a favour by flirting with her. Your compensation for a huge black eye? Henry Cavill being socially awkward, trying to flirt clumsily for 15 minutes straight. Jackpot. You're welcome!

"I'm an idiot, Buddy." He said, sighing, turning to Kal. "I didn't even manage to ask her out on a date."  

****

When Ella opened the door her sister swept into the room with all the vigour that was so typical for her. With her 31 years of age Katie was only 14 months older than Ella and she was the exact opposite to her. Where Ella was tall and lean, Katie was short and voluptuous. Well, Katie herself called it fat but Ella had always considered her sisters curvy bodily features pretty and enviable. She had the boobs and the butt Ella had prayed for throughout her puberty. She'd waited in vain for some curves to grow. She hardly needed an A cup and her hips were anything but round. "Don't be ungrateful." her sister said whenever Ella raised the topic. "You can eat as much as you want without gaining weight, you don't need a bra and you'll never have saggy boobs. And your ass is crisp like an apple. I would kill for a body like yours." It was hard to see it that way for Ella, when she had been called a twig and worse throughout her schooldays. "You have to eat, Darling, if you ever want to find a husband. You're thin as a rake." her late grandmother used to say with a deep sigh whenever she saw her granddaughter. The problem was, Ella did eat. A lot actually, but she never gained weight, though she really wanted to. Her ex Craig used to call her Twiggy and she'd hated it. 

"Why did it take you so long to open the door?" Katie asked, placing a big bag on the kitchen table, running a hand over her round belly. She was six months pregnant with her first child. She turned around with a worried look on her doll-like face, that was framed by wavy, blonde hair. Katie had the same big green eyes like her sister but her face was heart-shaped with a sweet little nose and plump lips. A stark contrast to Ella's oval features with the grecian nose and the wide mouth. "Are you really ok? Alex said you'll be fine but you look a little flushed." "No, no...I'm good. I was just on a video call with Henry when you ringed." "Henry Cavill, huh?" Katie wiggled her eyebrows. "Yes. Can you believe it?" Ella giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl. "Hardly. I mean, how did you -Isabella Marianne Jacobs- manage to get into a close combat with Superman. Literally." "I really don't know. I went to this party with Jax and I sit at the bar hoping to maybe catch a little glimpse of Geralt of Rivia and the next thing I know is I almost get knocked out and the guy who makes me see stars is Henry fucking Cavill in person."

Katie laughed out loud, shaking her head in disbelief. She started unpacking the bag, placing various boxes on the table. "I made you some broth and here are some apples and pears and some oat cookies." "Broth, Katie? Really? I'm not sick." "A nice, tasty vegetable broth is good for anything." "Yeah...sure." Ella made a face. "But I was hoping for some food for the nerves. Chocolate, crisps, ice cream and lasagna or pizza for example." "Why?" Katie grinned. "What's wrong with your nerves? Did your little chat with Henry shake you up?" "Very funny."  "Why did he call you in the first place?" "He wanted to make sure I survived his punch. He's really a decent and nice man." "And the simple question if you're okay, left you so flushed?" Once again she was an open book to her big sister.   "He flirted with me, Katie!" Ella blurted out, turning tomato red. "Oh my god. How? What did he say? Spill it."

Ella gave her sister a little summary of their conversation, including all the details. Katie was not only her sister, she was her best friend besides Jax and there was no need to leave something aside. "Awww...this is so romantic." "Romantic? I don't know...maybe he was just trying to make me feel better. He has a reputation to lose." Ella was sceptical. "Nonsense! If it was an act he would have been much smoother, don't you think? After all he's an actor. He knows how to pretend a flirt." "And you really think a man like him isn't a smooth flirt in real life?" "Well, he obviously is not. Even famous people can be shy or insecure, Ella." "Yeah, sure..." "Do you think he's really going to send you that....back pic?" Katie grinned. "I hope so." Ella answered sniggering. They kept talking about Henry for a full hour, giggling and laughing. Ella felt like a teenager again, drooling over her newest crush. 

After her sister had left, Ella was sitting on her couch, eating her broth, thinking about Henry. Was it really possible that he was interested in her? And maybe even more important, was she seriously interested in him? Sure, he was incredibly handsome and attractive with an interesting personality. Of course it was flattering that he flirted with her and of course it boosted her ego. But what if he'd really ask her out. Would she say yes? Was she ready?

She hadn't dated anyone since she and Craig had decided to split up and go separate ways a year ago and she wasn't sure if she was okay with getting emotionally involved with somebody again. 

A few months ago she had kind of a fling with Jackson's older brother Hunter. It was something she used to call friends with benefits, Hunter preferred the term fuck buddies, Jax called it booty calls. Whatever it was, it was strictly physical and it had come to an end when Hunter had to move to Berlin for a job. She was sad when he had to leave because the sex really had been great. He had shown her a side of physical love she'd never known before. Her sex life with Craig had been okay. Not more, not less. The usual stuff, mostly vanilla and it had been satisfying, she'd never asked for more. But Hunter was anything but Vanilla. He had awoken this naughty, dark side of Ella, taking her sexuality to the next level. 

The sound of an incoming WhatsApp message interrupted her thoughts. She took her phone and saw it was a text from Henry. Her heart skipped a beat when she started reading.

Hey Ella, here's the promised piece of evidence.

Ella gasped when she saw the picture of Henry's bare back that was taken in front of a mirror. This man was built like a greek god. But he was right, there was only a light burn along his spine. A light red trace that didn't look too bad.

Thanks. Looks good. That's a relief.

Just seconds after she'd sent her answer her mobile rang. Henry. Now her heart started racing.

"Hello?" "Hey, it's Henry again." "Yeah, I know. Hi." Ella was glad it wasn't a video call this time because -of course- she was blushing again just for the sound of his voice. "What's up?" "Well, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed our chat earlier. And I was thinking and wondering if you might want to talk to me again and if you maybe even want to see me again...all of me. Not only my back. And...yeah...what I'm trying to ask is if you would go out with me. On a date." "Um...yes...sure. That would be nice." Ella said without hesitation. Seemingly her brain had erased all doubts about dating someone from her mind successfully. "Really? Okay. Great! So what about dinner on Saturday? Gonna pick you up at seven?" "Saturday it is." Ella said. "Where do we go?" "What about Italian?" Henry suggested. "Oh yes. I love Italian food. There are a few good restaurants here in Uxbridge." Henry hesitated for a moment. "I'd rather take you to a place I know in Notting Hill. It's really nice and cosy." "Ok. Great. Do I have to dress up?" "Well it's not the Ritz. It's sophisticated but not too fancy. You're going to like it." "Good. I'm gonna text you my address."

~~~~~~~~~

tbc

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 5

(Y/n)'s POV

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed and spoon-fed something that tasted like (Favorite/Food), only it's like pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

She looks around, as is afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I slur, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake up, the girl is gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except they are nicer than I am used to. I am sitting in a deck chair next to Percy - who was looking at me with concern - on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschino cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against the porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradles a shoebox. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops, and a bright orange t-shirt that says CAMP HALF-BLOOD.

"You two saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he places the shoebox in Percy's lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare. My mother was gone.

"The Minotaur," Percy asks.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea -" Grover gets cut off.

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Percy demands. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You two have been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"Mom," I say softly. "Is she really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There is a grove of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother is gone . . .

Nothing should look beautiful. The whole world should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffs. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst satyr in the world." He groans, stomping his food so hard it comes off. I mean, the Converse hi-top comes off. The inside is filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

Mom had really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

Percy and I are alone. Orphans. We would have to live with . . . Smelly Gabe? No. I'd live on the streets first.

Grover is still sniffling.

Percy says, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did our mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."

"But why . . ." Percy begins and I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says. "Here."

He helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I recoil at the taste because I was expecting apple juice. It isn't that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. But not just any cookies - Mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body feels warm and good, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if Mom had just brushed her hand lovingly against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was upset and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?"

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply and Percy looks at me knowingly. "Mom's. Homemade."

He takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.

3rd Person POV

The porch wraps all the way around the farmhouse.

Percy's legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far, and (Y/n), though her legs feel like Jello, had moved to support her brother. Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but Percy holds onto it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I'm not going to let it go.

As the trio comes around the opposite end of the house, (Y/n) catches her breath.

Percy's POV

We must be on the north shore of Long Island because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply can't process everything I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all look brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs play volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I'm hallucinating, some of their horses have wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoonfed (Y/n) is leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it's almost poker. He looks like those painting of baby angles - cherubs. He looks like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He is wearing a tiger-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and he would fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could out-gamble even my step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me and (Y/n). "He's the camp director. Be polite. That girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron . . . "

He points at the guy whose back is to me.

First, I realize he's sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognize the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cry.

The Latin teacher turns and smiles at me, then looks curiously at (Y/n), who is still supporting some of my weight. His eyes have that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulls a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he says. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me, then (Y/n), who is leaning against my chair, with bloodshot eyes, and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to the glad to see you."

"Percy, why don't you introduce me?" Mr. Burnner says, sending a soft smile towards (Y/n).

"Oh, this is my twin sister, (Y/n)," Percy says.

(Y/n)'s POV

I smile and wave shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say. "Percy's told me a lot about you. Even said you were his favorite teacher."

A warmer smile spreads across Mr. Brunner's face and then he turns. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

She comes forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, (Y/n). Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and (Y/n)'s bunks? We'll be putting them in Cabin Eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth replies.

She's probably about my age, maybe an inch or two taller, and a whole more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she is almost exactly when I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruin the image. They are startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she's analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glances down at the Minotaur horn in Percy's hands then looks back up at me. She says, "You drool when you sleep." My cheeks take on a slight red tinge as she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," Percy says, looking anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," not Mr. Brunner says. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," Percy says, looking totally confused, then looking at the director. "And Mr. D . . . does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cars. He looks at Percy like he'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron - Brunner breaks in, "I'm glad to see you alive, and the chance to meet your sister. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" I ask, interested.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct Percy. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met him. He sensed he was something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to...ah, take a leave of absence."

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asks.

Chiron nods. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood, and then we learned of Miss (Y/n), here." He nods to me. "But you still had so much to learn, Percy. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D says impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

Percy's POV

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembles as he takes the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyes me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I answer.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he corrects.

"Sir," I repeat, liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he tells me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules"

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron says.

"Please," I plead, "what is this place? What are we doing here? Mr. Brun— Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorts. "I asked the same question."

The camp director deals the cards; Grover flinches every time one lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," Chiron prompts. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said . . ." (Y/n) begins and I remember her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told us she was afraid to send us here, even though our father had wanted her to. She said that once we were here, we probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep us close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask.

He explains, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient.

"Orientation film?" (Y/n) asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," Chiron decides. "Well, Percy, (Y/n). You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know -" he points to the horn in the shoebox - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that the great powers are at work. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I stare at the others around the table.

I wait for somebody to yell, Not! but all I get is Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackles as he tallies up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asks timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bites a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chews it.

"Wait," I tell Chiron as (Y/n) sits down on the edge of my chair. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron says. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class.

"Zeus," I say. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," says Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around if I were you."

"But they're stories," I say. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoff. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinch when he says my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continues. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Percy," Chiron says, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," (Y/n) says.

"Exactly," Chiron agrees. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their mothers."

My heart pounds. He's trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I say, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmurs. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover pleads, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbles, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!" He waves his hand and a goblet appears on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet fills itself with red wine.

"You're Dionysus," (Y/n) says and Mr. D looks at her. "The god of wine."

Mr. D nods then stares at me as I say, "You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turns to look at me straight on, and I see a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man is only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I see visions of grapevines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turn to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I know that if I push him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he says quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire dies a little; he turns back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron says. He sets down a straight, tallies the points, and says, "The game goes to me."

I think Mr. D is going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighs through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He gets up, and Grover rises, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D says. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beads with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I ask Chiron.

Chiron nods, though he looks a little troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I say. "You're telling me there is really a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like...in America?"

"The what?"

"Western civilization?" (Y/n) guesses and Chiron nods for her to continue. "It started in Greece, then spread to Rome, right?"

"That's correct, Miss (Y/n)," Chiron says.

"And then they died?" I ask, looking between my Latin teacher and my sister.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course, they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either —America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Who are you, Chiron? Who . . . who am I? Who . . . who are we?"

Chiron smiles. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I know that was impossible. He's paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he does rise from his wheelchair. But there's something odd about the way he did it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I think he's was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"You're a centaur!" (Y/n) says in awe, and Chiron's eyes sparkle with amusement as he nods.

"What a relief," the centaur says. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 3702 words

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Best Friend Things | Kol Mikaelson

Hey Lovelies, surprise, I'm back! I missed you all so much! Thank you to those special people who checked up on me faithfully! You know who you are and I hope i can repay that kindness one day! Y'all are honestly amazing!! I hope you all like this, it's more of a drabble so I am sorry for that but I needed to submit something :) All the best loves, I hope to see you soon again!

Description: Honestly just a Drabble about Y/n and Kol becoming best friends with a small storyline about him protecting her from a bad home life, nothing too bad, sorry for the weak description LOL

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, hospital, completely SFW though (unfortunately)

Word count: 3526

Tags: FLUFF, a lil angst but not much SO MUCH FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the mood board is <3)

You don’t know how you and Kol became best friends, it sort of just happened. You were in high school when you first met him. He was a year above you, the senior to your junior. Not to mention the captain of the football team. He was everything you weren’t. Popular, athletic, known. You were just a shy girl with a paintbrush who flinched a little too much. The first time he spoke to you, you almost fainted.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, refusing to move from the autumn heat until your sketches are finished. It’s the first week of school and the football team has been practicing every afternoon. It’s perfect for life drawing. Jogging, stretching, catching, tackling. It’s the best practice, especially if you plan on getting into school and as far away from Louisiana as possible.

Your hands tremble, the charcoal between your fingers stuttering over the page. You sigh, ready to rip the page out and start over.

“No, keep it, love,” your hand jerks again, along with the rest of your body, at the unfamiliar voice, “I like the way it looks. It’s unique.”

His accent is thick and enchanting, pulling your eyes from the drawing to the boy standing above you. Kol Mikaelson. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat. Your cheeks flush but it’s thankfully hidden with the summer sun. He’s not looking at you, anyway, his eyes glued to your sketch pad. It's filled with football players which wasn’t weird until now.

You run a still shaking hand through your hair, pushing it out of your sticky face, “I, ah, thank you. I think.”

You pull the sleeves of your jacket further down your arms, trying to hide the tremors. His eyes are now on you, skimming over your curled form. You can feel his eyes land on your face but you don’t meet them with your own. Your heart picks up when he sits down next to you, staying a couple feet away, but still pretty close. You sit as still as you can, trying desperately not to fidget. For a guy who’s been running in the heat for a couple hours he still smells really good. Like pine trees and liquorice. Who even smells like that?

“Aren’t you warm in that hoodie?” His question seems harmless but it makes you freeze up even more.

You look over your shoulder, spotting a familiar black truck in the parking lot, mumbling, “I’m fine.”

You close your sketchbook, tucking it into your tote bag along with your pencils and charcoal. You stand up, stretching your legs slightly, stiff from sitting on the grass for the past two hours. You can feel the indents in your legs and know for certain there are green stains on your bottom. You don’t check though, not with Kol next to you. You go to walk away but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

The breath leaves your lungs as he presses unknowingly on a bite carefully tucked under your shirt, “are you sure, love?”

It’s all you can do to not look at the truck again, staring at the ground, doing your best not to wince at his fingers, “I, uh, yeah. It’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” His finger draws your chin up to look into his eyes, which are delightfully carmel and burning with questions.

“I mean I’m fine.”

You can’t tell if you're trying to convince Kol or yourself. Both, maybe. It doesn’t matter though. You don’t plan on ever speaking to him again. You pull your face from his grasp, stifling another groan when you haul your tote bag onto your shoulder, heading towards the parking lot. You already know your step dad is in that truck, tapping his hand impatiently on the steering wheel, watching your every move. You can feel Kol’s eyes like laser beams on your back.

“See you tomorrow then, love?”

You don’t answer, you just keep walking.

The second time you saw him, he didn't let you go as easily. A week had passed from your first encounter on the football team. You hadn’t realized yet but he had followed you home that night. He knew something was wrong, he saw every flinch, heard every breath. Call it intuition. Call it being a vampire. Call it whatever you want, that was just Kol. And with Kol comes his frustrating tendency to never let things go. He had seen it all, and he was furious.

You reach up, standing on your tiptoes to get your books from the top shelf of your locker, wincing at the action. When you had put your things there for the weekend, you hadn't expected to walk into school the following Monday with bruised ribs. Your stomach pulses with pain, the kind that’s white hot and makes you want to throw up. You have to roll back onto the balls of your feet to avoid collapsing. Crap.

You stare at the books longingly, knowing you only have a few minutes until first period starts. It will only take a second to grab them, right? You can do it. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine. It’s fine.

You reach up again, your shirt lifting with your movements. When the breeze that accompanies the busy hallway skims your back, the wind is knocked from your lungs. It feels like someone kicked you all over again. You power through it though. You need those books. They’re just a little further. The more you move your arms, the more your shirt raises. There's more wind, followed by the same burning sensation. You’re going to throw up.

You fall back on flat feet again, bumping into something hard. Probably another locker. The locker’s hands grip the bottom of your shirt. Definately not a locker. You spin around so fast you can’t help the groan that slips out, your back screaming at you from all the activity. You feel tears threatening to spill. Everything hurts.

You’re greeted by none other than Kol Mikaelson, whose eyes are still, glued to a spot just in front of you. The spot where your back had just been. His hands are still balled into fists, like he’s still holding your shirt. He looks confused. No, scratch that, he looks angry. When he finally looks at you his eyes are pitch black. You take a step back out of instinct, the cold metal of your locker searing into your back through the thin fabric of your tee.

“I, ah, Kol,” your eyes dart around the hallway, checking to see if anyone else was watching, only to find it completely empty, “what’s, uh, what’s up?”

He cuts right to the chase, “what’s on your back?”

Your eyes widen automatically at his question. He can’t know. Right? No of course not. Unless he saw. But there's no way. He moves closer to you, his arm landing right beside your head with a slight bang. You flinch. He’s caging you in slightly, sending your heart into overdrive. Your lungs constrict. His eyes are burning into yours. He’s pissed and you’re not sure why. You can’t breathe.

“What do you mean?” Of course you dodge the question, that’s what you’re supposed to do.

He runs his other hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, “love, don’t play games with me you will not win.”

Your mouth goes dry, your voice is too quiet, “what do you want from me?”

He closes his eyes, squeezing the fist that’s still beside your head. You’re not sure what to do. You could run but you would probably only get a few feet before he’d catch you. Would he catch you? Would he even run after you? No, he doesn’t care. Then again, he’s here. He’s pushing you for something. You’re not sure if you’re ready to find out what.

When he opens his eyes again he looks directly into yours, his pupils dilating, “I want you to show me your back. Now, love.”

“I’m going to show you my back,” you know you’re the one speaking but it’s almost like you’re listening to a recording of yourself.

It feels like your body turns on its own accord, one minute you're facing him and the next you're staring at the locker, in a trance. You don’t remember wanting to lift your shirt up but you do it anyway, exposing your back to Kol Mikaelson. You feel the tears start to fall. You want to run, now, not just debate running, but you can’t, you’re stuck. It’s like your feet are glue to the floor.

“Fucking hell,” Kols words are strangled, “what are they doing to you.”

He touches your back lightly, no doubt skimming the blackened marks on your rib cage. His fingers sting and you can’t help but hiss. You lean away from his touch still holding your shirt in place. You can feel yourself trembling but you start to space out.

Kol’s finger tilts your head to meet his eyes once more, “you can put your shirt back, love. Thank you.”

With those simple words you pull your shirt down, whipping around to face him. You look like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for an impact. Time feels frozen still. Kol reaches to touch your face, his eyes fading back to their usual cola colour. Time unfreezes. And you run like hell.

After that day you had started to see Kol more and more. Staring at you from across the cafeteria, shooting pool in town at the local pub, jogging on the sidewalk in your neighbourhood. Wherever you were, there he was. Seeing him became a normal part of your day but you never spoke to him, not after that day at your locker. You wouldn’t talk to him for another three weeks after that day.

When you open your eyes it’s to the sound of machines beeping. There’s a sanitary tinge of bleach and lemons in the air. Your bed is stiff, the room dim. Your arm burns with a kind of deep itch you’ve never felt before. When you go to scratch it, you find a tube and a needle at the source. That’s when it hits you, you’re at the hospital.

Your heartbeat picks up, the machine beeping faster with it. A lady dressed in scrubs sprints into your room but before she can touch you there’s a hand on your face and then one on your neck, against your pulse point. When you look up you’re greeted by someone that you’re not actually that surprised to see; Kol Mikaelson.

“Kol, what-,” you want to continue talking but your throat burns, like you’re swallowing glass with every syllable.

You end up coughing up a storm, something the nurse must have anticipated because she hands you a glass of water. Her hair is a pretty chestnut colour, pulled into a long ponytail. She has a warm smile on her face.

She picks up the chart at the end of your bed, looking at it while she speaks, “you’re going to want to go easy on that throat for a while, sugar plum. You had quite the little accident. You should feel lucky your boyfriend here found you when he did or you would be in a much worse condition.”

Her voice is like honey, slow and sweet. Every word she says brings you closer to calming down. Until she says boyfriend. As soon as she says that word the heart monitor goes wild. He is not your boyfriend. Yes, he is cute, more so than the average boy. Alright Kol is gorgeous, but that’s not the point. Why does she think Kol is your boyfriend?

You look to Kol for the first time since meeting him for help, hoping he can understand your confused expression.

He nods and looks at the nurse with a smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes, “Sarah, darling, do you mind giving us a moment? I think she needs a second to catch her breath.”

She looks like she’s about to protest but he leans a fraction closer and she smiles back, walking out of the room without another word. Your chest falls for a moment when he calls her darling and you’re not sure why. Kol means nothing to you. Well, that’s not true. You’ve grown fond of seeing him around, but it’s nothing that would warrant being jealous, if that’s what this is.

When she closes the door, Kol turns back to you. That’s when you notice his eyes, and the deep purple circles underneath then. Your breath catches in your sore throat. How long has he been here? How long have you been here?

What happened? The heart monitor starts it’s assault on your ears again.

“Love, listen to me,” he pulls the chair he must have been sitting in next to your bed, “if you want me to tell you what happened then you’re going to have to calm down, alright?”

“Ok,” you whisper back, trying to push past the fire in your lungs.

He picks your hand up with his own and you don’t protest, letting yourself be comfortable with this small touch. There’s a small smile on his face when you glance up at him. He rubs small circles near your wrist, avoiding the IV taped on the back of your hand. He looks lost in thought, his carmel eyes somewhere far away.

“Kol,” his name feels funny in your mouth, like you’re not worthy of it, “please talk.”

Just those few words are torture, something that desn’t go unnoticed by him, “shhhh, don’t talk, ok? I’ll explain everything. But I need to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. Please, love.”

It takes everything in you to keep your heart from spiking. You could lie and say you have absolutely no idea what he wants to ask you but that’s a lie. You’re too tired to lie, too tired to hide, and much too tired to run. You just sigh and nod, letting him have his way.

“Do you know that your step-dad is a vampire?”

Oh. So that’s what he chose. That wouldn’t have been your question, but you let him have it. The short answer is yes. Yes, you do know that your step-dad is a vampire. You had figured it out pretty quickly the first time he cornered you in the kitchen after moving in and sunk his teeth into your neck. The longer answer, to a harder question, is no, your mother doesn’t know. And it has to stay that way.

Instead of saying that, though, you just nod your head. Kol’s hand tightens around yours. You don’t miss the way he sighs. He doesn't sound sad though, instead there’s relief on his face. You give him a pleading look.

“Well, love, it seems like your step-dad had been trying to kill you. I’m not sure exactly how or why. Well, that’s a lie actually. I know how. He was draining you of blood. I do not know why though. Why he would want to hurt you.”

The heart monitor picks up yet again and Kol gives you a funny look that you smile softly at. His eyes widen when he sees it, a small smile spreading over his face as well. The heart monitor slows easily.

“I’m just glad I was jogging when he attacked you. I heard you scream. I'm sorry, I kind of broke your door,” he gives you a shy grin, like that's what matters right now, “when I got to you I thought you were dead. There was so much blood, love. I don’t know where your step-dad went. I just wanted to get you here.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. He was the one who brought you here, the one who found you on the brink of death. He must think you’re such a handful. You bite your lip, looking up at him. You hold back tears, ones you didn't know were welling up in your eyes, and breathe deeply. Of course he notices them.

He draws your hand closer to him as Sarah walks back into the room, “what’s wrong love?”

He brings your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. Your mouth falls open. The heart monitor starts screaming.

He looks around the room and then at Sarah, his eyes fiery and his tone demanding, “what the hell is going on?”

Sarah only smiles, shaking her head lightly, “her heart skipped a beat, hun.”

From that moment the two of you were inseparable. You weren't fully comfortable with him yet but that didn't bother him. Well, not often at least. Sometimes when you flinched, though, his heart squeezed a little bit more than it should have. He knew it wasn't him that you were scared of. That it would just take time. You didn’t know it then, but that was one thing that Kol had plenty of; time.

The glass is icy in your fingertips but the contents make it all worth it. You barely suppress a moan at the strawberry goodness slipping down your throat. You don’t notice the way Kol’s eyes darken from across the booth.

“How is it that you’ve never had a strawberry milkshake?”

The two of you are sat in a diner that’s not special to either of you. It’s just another burger joint. The booths are apple red and faded but comfortable. Music trickles from a retro looking jukebox in the corner. Waitresses flow by in pastel uniforms. It's just the right amount of busy. Kol picked well.

Your eyes close as you take another sip, revelling in the sweetness, “I don’t get to go out that much, what can I say?”

You open your eyes to a stone faced Kol, his shoulders tight and his jaw clenched. There’s a heaviness to the atmosphere but that’s nothing new. Since the hospital you’ve both silently agreed to ignore it. Maybe that’s not the best plan but the first time he tried to talk with you about it you shut down. Not own your own accord, you wanted to tell Kol about it, you just couldn't. It was like you lips were sealed shut. Kol had left it after that.

“Well, then, I guess it’s up to me to show you the ropes then, love,” he leans his face in close to yours, his woodsy scent fogging your mind and lighting your body on fire.

You close your eyes once more, breathing in as much of the dark haired boy as you can. When you re-open them you catch Kol sneaking a sip from your milkshake. His glass now empty and pushed to the side.

You slap his arm gently, gasping with mock anger, “that’s not nice!”

He laughs abruptly, some of the strawberry shake landing on his lips instead of in his mouth. Without thinking you reach a hand to his face, wiping the melted liquid off his buttery soft lip. His chocolate eyes lock on yours, his pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest you’re almost certain he can hear it. But that’s impossible, right?

It only takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with your actions at which your cheeks flush on cue. You go to pull your hand back but he grabs it before you can, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. He draws your fingers, the ones coated in syrup and ice cream, to his mouth. His tongue swirls around them and you have to bite back a moan. You can honestly say that nothing has ever felt as exquisite as Kol’s mouth. Not that you have much experience with it. You can’t deny that you wish you had more.

“Kol,” your voice is barely there and breathy, “what are you doing?”

His eyes never leave your own, piercing you as he continues to lazily lick off the ice cream that, in all honestly, is definitely gone by now. A foreign kind of heat pools in the pit of your stomach when he gently bites down on your fingertips. You can’t stop the sigh that falls from your lips. Your whole body is singing from such a simple touch.

He takes his time pulling your hand from his mouth, releasing your digits with a pop, “only making sure you aren’t sticky, love. We wouldn't want that, now would we?”

He doesn't return your hand to his mouth but he doesn't let go of it either. He just laces his fingers through yours in the middle of the table, your heartbeat still echoing through the diner.

When you look across the table again your heart flutters. You see a popular, football star, a fierce protector, one of the most caring people you've ever met. When you look across the table you see your best friend.

And maybe more but that’s for another day and another diner.

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

Chapter II: Overhelming city, just because of you!

Thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr​, you are a moodboard-goddess, this is stunning!

a/n: I hope you enjoy it, as much I did while writing it. English ist not my first language, so sorry for mistakes.

Pairing: ALEX x Reader

Spotify: Kiana Ledé & Jacquees - Only Fan

Words: 1875

Warnings: NSFW and smut, a bit fluff

Summary:  The day with Alex was perfect, but in the end you got an even bigger surprise.

Chapter I

,,Are you ready for breakfast?" She shook your shoulder. "Hey Y/N, wake up, we're late. I wrote Marco that we are going be in the lobby at 10 AM.’’ You never saw her so nervous, it was almost contagious. You only had an hour to get ready and eat.

,,You got his number?’’ You were surprised and start thinking if you’re going too slowly, just because Marco got Ana's number but Alex not yours.

You ran through the hotel room, searching for approppiate clothes and shoes. The light pink/red lipstick looked stunning on you.

~~·······~~

Ana and you left the breakfast buffet and stood now in the lobby. You got impatient. Janina woke you up for nothing, nobody was waiting there. She even asked at the reception, but they didn't know anything.

You were annoyed. It was beautiful sunny weather and you didn't want to waste any time waiting. "Come on let's go, we can do this on our own. They won't come." You went backwards and waited for her to come with you.

,,I hope you like red roses’’ Suddenly you heard this familiar voice behind you. 

,,We are late and I don’t want you get angry, so I brought you this rose. I hope you are not mad.’’ He was visibly happy to see you again. His bright blue shirt matched exactly with his eyes, he looked amazing.

He lifted you up so that only the tips of your toes touched the ground. You hugged him tight, like he did.

Marco and Alex rented bikes, so you could change quickly the places. You were impressed by the beauty of this colorful city.

~~·······~~

You stopped at a park. They prepared a picnic for lunch. It was so cozy to lay on that blanket; you closed your eyes to feel the sunbeams warming your face. You felt Alex searching for your hand. His thumb stroking the back of your hand. Your hand squeezed his, signaling that you liked his touch.

You turned your head to the other side looking for Ana. Marco was lying on the top of her, kissing her slowly. They were hidden behind a tree, so you couldn’t see what they exactly were doing. You looked at Alex again in the hope he also saw that, so he maybe would kiss you too, but he didn't.

You broke the silence ,,I want to go up there’’ And pointed with the other hand to Tivoli’s ferris wheel.

,,The view up there is beautiful. Good idea." He sat up and glanced down at you. It was a perfect situation to kiss you, so you took a deep breath.

But Alex got up and went to Marco. "Marco!’’ He yelled.

"Hey, Marco! He yelled again. He was too busy, kissing her neck.

,,Hey lovebirds, you can continue at home, let’s go to the ferris wheel’’. Marco seemed a little bit annoyed, that you disturbed them, but after a minute he was laughing and smiling again.

You got on the ferris wheel and were a bit nervous. The sun was slowly going down, so the view turned out to be much better than expected. The wheel started to move, and you reached for his hand. To be on the highest point of the wheel was a magical moment.

You looked at Alex and said quietly, 

,,Thank you…this is an overwhelming city, but just because you’re by my side’. He touched your chin so lightly that you barely felt it, like he was afraid to hurt you.

His bottom lip touched yours, he was so nervous that he wasn’t even breathing. You closed your eyes, to feel the kiss more intense. Your knees were shaking, you felt the kiss all over your body, that you almost got dizzy.

It got cold as soon as the sun went away. Alex and Marco had a surprise for Ana and you, so couldn’t go straight to their apartment, they said, so you went to the hotel first to take a shower and then to their home for dinner. Ana had the address, because you didn't still have Alex's number.

The building looked from outside discreet and a little bit old fashioned. Their apartment was in the top floor, so you took the elevator. You checked your make-up and hair in the mirror for the last time. Marco and Alex were leaning against the door frame as you walked out.

Ana directly jumped into Marco's arms and kissed him. Your shyness prevented you from taking the first step. You weren't sure whether you could kiss him or not and especially because he was the one who kissed you. Alex took you by the hip and pulled you to him. His lips awakened your feelings again.

He stopped kissing you abruptly. "Come in, our neighbors are too curious, I don't want to be their evening show".

The apartment was modern and decorated in a minimalist way. You could see hole Copenhagen through those huge windows. Alex did a room tour; you liked his grey bedsheets and the colossal jacuzzi in his bathroom. You imagined how hot it would be seeing Alex naked in there.

,, Why do you need a mirror above your bed?" You noticed how he thought about what to say.

"Hm, what do you think?" He grabbed your hips. You put your arms around his neck.

"Tell me." He nibbled on your lip before kissing your neck.

,,Because I want to look at your ass while you're riding me." He whispered in your left ear. You became goosebumps all over your body and you felt a cool wave running over your back.

His hand slipped over your ass. "You can also see yourself cumming while I please you with my tongue." He kissed him so rough that your back hit against the door frame.

"I would like to keep watching you guys, but we should eat dinner first, I'm so hungry!" Marco stared at you with a little smirk in his face. You nodded. Alex squeezed your ass before you let go of him and clapped it as you turned away.

You had absolutely no idea what Danish dish this was, but it smelled so good and the taste was even better. Marco was telling a funny story, but you noticed that Alex did not pay attention at all. He was staring at at your breasts. You were wearing a top with deep V-neck, the fabric was thin so he could see the pattern of your bra throught it. You leaned forward, to let him see more of your body and of course to provoke him. You ran your wet tongue over your lip and smirked. He took a sip from his glass, but his gaze remained on your decollete. You liked that game.

,,So how can you have so much time for us? We have already Tuesday and none of you went to work." commented Ana.

It seemed as Marco either Alex wanted to answer the question. 

Marco answered after a while. ,,We are actors, we play in the same series and finished shooting last Friday."

"Oh really, I hope you are not disappointed, if I never saw you on TV’’ you said ashamed.

Alex told you everything about it, how long they we’re acting and what the series is about.

,,To be honest, I’m really happy about that. I want you to love me Alex and not this character Ivar. Yesterday in the pub, we noticed that you didn’t know who we really are, so we decided to keep it secret for the moment.’’ He hoped you didn’t get mad. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't. You felt so attracted to him.

,,Should we give them our present now?’’ Marco whispered to Alex. They stand up and came back with two big golden gift boxes.

You thanked and opened it carefully to not damage this beautiful loop. 

,,Oh wow, is this a dress? How I deserve this?’’. It was a beautiful dark blue shimmering dress with the matching high heels, it overwhelmed you. You took the dress out of the box and discovered a second little box.

,,I want you to come with me to a charity event tomorrow, you will repent.’’ Alex said and took the diamond chain out of the little box, to put it on you.

"But Alex, I can't" You pressed the dress against your chest you to feel the soft fabric.

"No, why? Don't you like the dress?" He couldn't hide the disappointment.

,Yes, of course...I’d be glad to, but I do not necessarily wish to be on TV."

"I'll do my best to keep you out of the public eye, I promise."

"So if that is the case, I will be in the background, if you are ok with it.’’

,,Of course, there will be no cameras at the afterparty, don’t worry.’’ 

He hugged you and kissed you. ,,More wine? Let’s celebrate!’’ He raised his glass.

Marco and Ana had a lot more wine than you and were already pretty drunk. Marco ran to music player and started a playlist. The first song was Only Fan-Kiana Ledé and Jacquees. Ana and he went to the balcony and rocked gently in their own rhythm.

You loved that song. ,,I want to dance’’. You pulled him by the hand and pushed him onto the sofa. 

,,Keep your hands next to you’’ you said in a stern voice. Your hips moved according to the rhythm of the music. Your butt brushed his crotch and you heard a low moan. You went on your knees, your face passed his crotch again. You pulled with your teeth his zipper down, his dick nudged your jaw. The wine made disappear your shyness. You sat on his lap and moved slowly feeling his dick on your ass. Your hips did circles, up and down, side to side. His hands slid slowly under your shirt and grabbed you by the waist. They felled down, he squeezed your ass and pressed his lips against yours. You were already horny before the lap dance, but he didn’t know it.

You noticed Marco's eyes watching you through the balcony window, at the same time kissing Ana's neck. He smirked when your eyes met.

Alex stood up and walked into his bedroom. Your legs were around his waist, holding you tight so you couldn’t fall. He started to kiss your neck, his tongue traced over your breasts without touching the nipples and passed your navel. He teased you.

Alex forgot to close the door completely, so Marco heard your loud moan, when Alex finally reached your clit. Alex looked up to you and smirked. You took his head away from pussy, jumped on him and thrusted his thick dick into you, without warning him first. One short moan escaped his mouth. He glanced down at his cock and watched it disappear into your pussy again and again.

He let his head fall back and mumbled. "You're crazy"

,,Do you like what you see in the ceiling mirror, huh?’’ you asked him while making him a hickey on his neck. 

,,I could watch you for hours, elskede’’. You jumped harder and faster, hearing your buttcheeks clapping against his hips.

"Uh, yes." He groaned and smacked your ass with both hands.

He loved this roughness and couldn’t prolong his orgasm. You keeped the pace. Feeling his warm seed running out your pussy triggered yours.

He grabbed your chin and pulled you down. "Stick out your tongue" He bit into it and you whined. "Hush and kiss me!"

~~·······~~

Alex was still sleeping, when you stood up the next morning. You had to put his shirt on, because you didn't have any clothes with you. The shirt covered your ass and you didn’t wear underwear. Everyone was sleeping anyway so it didn't matter.

,,Do you want a cup of coffee?" You were frightened.

"What are you doing awake Marco?" Your nipples shimmered through the light fabric, so you tried to cover your breasts with your hands.

"I could ask you that as well" He poured himself a cup.

"I made too much and Ana is still sleeping. So do you want or not?’’ You took your cup and sat on the couch and saw Alex's belt laying on the floor.

Your shirt slipped up as exposing your butt cheeks unintentionally as you leaned forwards to pick it up.

,,I saw you having sex yesterday, he satisfied you well’’ He said in a jealous tone.

,,Weren’t you with Ana?’’

,,Ana was so drunk. She felled asleep little later."

You were so shocked that you didn't comment on it.

"I’m sorry, a gap was open and...-"

"and what?!" Your tone became brisk.

"- you were so sexy." You blushed.

"I won't tell anyone, don't worry.’’ He added.

You were confused. Did you like it or not?

Alex interrupted your thoughts. ,,Are you grabbing my girlfriend? Maybe you should ask for permission first.’’ He laughed.

Chapter III: I kissed you and you don’t even know

[hiimsociallyawkward]

the darkest hour pt 2

i'm back with my bs. this is for my bestie @lady-ofmagic-andstars. basically, all of my dumb thoughts while i watched 'darkest hour pt 2', 04.02 of merlin. in case you weren't aware.. ✨spoilers✨

right off the bat i'm sad

ok when i first watched this i was really confused. i mean, you see others when they interact with the dorocha have that perpetual frost on their face right? all of them, every single one. so imagine my surprise when merlin has no frost on his face, and he's miserable yea- but he's not dead??

like tbh, watching this again, ik why but when i first watched this, i was SO confused.

arthur looks so worried slkdjfalskfsd

him being willing to abandon the mission to get merlin back to camelot to be treated 😔🤪😎🤤🤩 lots of emotions

LANCELOT. of course it's lancelot. santiago is perfect. actually.

merlin looks so SICKLY. it physically pains me to see him like that

okok hahaa. the scene where percival is carrying merlin. i have several notes on that.

1) ik it's supposed to be all 'noble' looking. yk? them walking in slow mo, percival carrying merlin like he's been slained in battle. knights looking knightly

ALL I CAN FOCUS ON IS THE LACK OF PROPER NECK SUPPORT FOR MERLIN. PLS TELL ME I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE.

like pls

second note, idk why this remind me of hagrid carrying harry back

idk maybe that's just me but it feels oddly reminiscent

colin is SO pale my heart is actually hurting for him what the heck

asf;lsdjfa;lsdfj 'take me with you' stop.

dude they ACTUALLY care about each other. i just love them. arthur is so worried rn and while i'm like 'alsjfalsdj i don't want arthur to be sad and worried' we can see just how MUCH arthur cares about merlin.

like yea, we KNOW that they care about each other. but arthur is the prince and merlin's a servant so arthur can't have friends, but they're friends, and they care, and it makes me happy

ok it's sad and everything that merlin's basically dying but is it bad of me that i chuckle at merlin SLUMPED over on his horse?? probably.

but i mean, merlin is already raising himself up so he can sit more comfortably on the horse. ik that doesn't mean that he's in the clear yet, but he's doing a LOT better than the other people who ran into the dorocha. idk where i'm going with this

to quote the destiny and chicken podcast (who i love btw, if you want an awesome merlin podcast, check them out), they stay on arthur's face for SO long after merlin and lancelot leave.

i feel EVERYTHING that arthur is feeling in this moment. he's so pretty

there's another beautiful landscape. i'm not even sorry i'm gonna attach them ALL.

tell me that's not gorgeous

LMAO WHAT IS GWAINE DOING IN THAT TREE.

gwaine is the EMBODIMENT of 'boys will be boys' when he sticks his hand into that tree and gets swarmed by bees.

he's adorable and i love him

ok but also, someone tell me why capes are so hot. someone TELL me.

separate from the episode but on the note of capes being hot, i want a cloak SO BADLY. like the whole gist. floor length, big hooded cloak. why?? it's not like i'm sneaking anywhere but still. ✨cloak✨

ok the line where leon goes 'if anyone can get merlin back to camelot, it's lancelot' and arthur's face?? idk what to make of it. someone help me pls.

ok actually this probably isn't the best reaction shot but someone please help

the only thing i can think of is that arthur momentarily forgot and was reminded that merlin was in danger bc of him?

another thought is that he thinks he should take merlin back instead of lancelot?

ik for a fact you guys are better at analysising this stuff than i am so pls, thoughts?

i love lancelot so much. first time i watched this, i was CRUSHED

him carrying merlin to the lake(?) pond(?) area and then covering him with his cape? i love it

ok idk why but i love the idea of merlin instinctively going towards the water

it makes me think back to how he's made of magic and basically everywhere, espeically nature, has magic and instinctively- he wants to connect with nature as much as he can so his body just puts his hand in the water

a dumber thought i had, his hand is ✨sparkly✨in the water HAHAH

omg when the water called lancelot i deadass thought it was freya. i'm actually dumb i have WATCHED this before and i STILL thought it was freya

'a future that has been written since the dawn of time' makes me so proud but also so sad at the same time

it's like, yes, merlin is going to 'save the world' but it's like he's there just to do that. anyways, i just want him to be happy

MORE SPARKLY

these water spirts are op but also MORE SPARKLY. hehe i thin kthat's so funny

also, i'm literally only like 7 mins in. buckle yourself in

l;askdjflskdjf arthur going into the tunnels with the wilderons?? i miss merlin ouch. AND THE GAJA BERRIES. arthur misses merlin.

ok percival tackling gwaine?? cuties ;))

heheheeh gwaine kicking a skull and then running directly behind arthur for protection?? pls stop. i already love you

HAHA OK. THEM WEARING THE GAJA BERRIES ON THEIR FACE REMINDS ME OF THIS FACE MASK . THAT'S LITERALLY HOW I LOOK WITH THAT THIS FACE MASK ON HAHAA

yes im dumb, but the 5 of them slowly peeking over the rock and then ducking back down?? i love that so much they're so cute

omg what's wrong with me. not these knights literally FEARING their lives and me going 'they're so cute'

ANYWAYS

gwaine you absolute dumbass. smh merlin just took it but you just HAD to stab it. #cancelled

FRICK. YOU. AGRAVAINE.

YES. i have a love hate relationship with gaius, but BUST into the council room. king energy right there

smh gaius you pUSH over.

I LOVE GWEN RIGHT HERE

YES

FIGHT FOR WHAT IS RIGHT

DON'T LET ALL THOSE SMELLY OLD COUNCILMEN PUSH YOU AROUND

THIS IS ACTUALLY QUEEN SH!T RIGHT HERE EVERYONE ELSE CAN LEAVE

stfu agravaine 'gueniviere'. ST F UP

ok gwen. pop OFF

you KNOW that arthur would've fought agravaine on this. GO GWEN for speaking her mind

oh look at me with anotehr fic rec. sort of, not really. ok but this scene with gwen talking about all the villagers remind of this fic called To Love, Honor, and Piss Off by @thenerdyindividual .

ok so it's basically a fic where basically merlin and arthur have this 'arranged marriage' type thing for 3 years, and merlin is arthur's 'common consort'. what that means is that arthur marries merlin as a show of good faith and to learn more about what it means to be a commoner- merlin giving arthur the tea about commoner life

anywAYS. check that our if you want, but i loved it

stfu 'i feel the pain as much as you' agravaine. hop off my dick

YES. GWEN. PLANT THAT SEED OF DOUBT THAT AGRAVAINE MIGHT NOT BE ALL THAT HE SEEMS. i love gwen :,)

wow when she's intellegent with her speaking so everyone HAS to side with her but also respectful so NO ONE can get mad at her?? i stan. i ACTUALLY stan

santiago is so pretty

the PANIC in his voice. i stan.

HAHA AND MERLIN'S SNARKY 'SHH'

merlin is ready to GO. he's like, sorry for almost dying. that was ill advised of me.

i'm actually soft for any displays of friendship ever. what does that mean about me 💀 KIDDING. anyways..

i love the *swing* *duck* 'yea, not as quick as arthur

sa;kfs;akdfj lancelot insisting that merlin go back to camelot and merlin just nOt

LADS

stop rn. lancelot's face when merlin turns away. i am in pAin. I AM SO SAD OVER LANCELOT. PLS LANCELOT.

this isn't exactly, but morgana's paleness from here on out reminded me of merlin when he was literally DYING.

anyways, that's my note on that

like, yes- i get it- morgana is evil now. but idk should i feel bad for her? she looks so pale and ghasty and just :(

aksfhaskdjfas;ldf morgana

HAHA MORGANA IS SO EDGY IN THIS MOMENT. 'I'D RATHER DROWN IN MY OWN BLOOD THAN SEE THAT DAY' SO DRAMATIC. WHY IS SHE SO EMO/GOTH. LIKE IK I SHOULD BE SCARED FOR WHAT THAT MEANS BUT I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING

stfu don't kill gwen i'll KiLl you

agravaine literally needs to die

stop. i am literally SCREAMING when agravaine is asking gwen to meet him in his chambers. PLS. STOP. STOP STOP STOP. I NEED A WHISLTE. I BITE MY THUMB AT AGRAVAINE. HE NEEDS TO SACK THE HATEFUL MANSION. BETTER YET I'LL BURN HIS MANSION

again, someone tell me why capes are so hot. especially these red ones?? i'm in love with them.

ok see this guy?? he just died with the forst on his face. not merlin?? he started getting better. surly that should've tipped them off that merlin was different

merlin's little head quirk when he does magic. ALSFJASLDFJAS MERLIN. NO ONE SAID YOU WERE USELESS. AND IF THEY DID I WOULD BEAT. THEM. UP. GIVE ME ADDRESS RN.

wow. seriously. i'm gonna attach all the pretty landscape pictures

morgana's like 'i'll cut a b!tch'. ok ik morgana's evil and everything, but morgana flinging that guard against the wall is bad ass

oh this is weird but gwen telling agravaine to 'show courage' but the whole room tinted green? ik this isn't harry potter or anything but idk i thought that was interesting. i'm not abt to go into if i think agravaine is a slytherin or what but still

STOP. GET. YOUR. HANDS. AWAY. FROM. HER. I ACTULALY HATE HIM. SHE'S SO UNCOMFORTABLE. BACK THE FRICK UP AGARAVINE.

morgana :( smh you can't deny that morgana and gwen carried for each other and morgana flinging gwen away is making me sad. don't touch me

asldjfasldasd 'you're never alone' elyan i love you

lancelot and merlins being lads. omg no them talking about gwen

lancelot is SO noble. stop this reminds me of Die for you in secret by @emrysofmagic so much right now. not gonna lie. your fic LITERALLY lives in my head rent free and sometimes i think of it and my heart just HURTS in those last few chapeters. PHYSICALLy. i am in pain. anyways.

stop the trope where it's like "i love them, but i just want them to be happy. it doesn't matter if they're with me or not. i just want them to be happy"

I WAS LITERALLY SCREECHING AS MERLIN WAS CALLING KILGHARRAH i'm not even capping

ok so it's been like a month ish since i've watched merlin bc i was waiting for @//f-f-podcast 's destiny and chicken podcast, so i don't exactly what terms kilgharrah and merlin are at right now

still i think it's very sweet of merlin to bow slightly when kilgharrah looks at him

'the bravest and most noble of them all' 🥺

aw. merlin is really saying good bye right now

ok this scene is weird bc like i said, i don't rlly remember how merlin and kilgharrah are right now but it still makes me sad

asldjfslakdjfasd merlin and kilgharrah are old friends now. that makes me happy but sad at the same time

ok the 'it will be an empty world without you, young warlock' kills me.

obviously, we know that even though they butt heads, kilgharrah and merlin both care about each other

not only is kilgharrah being forced to let merlin go right now, but he's making peace with the fact that he'll be alone

the last dragonlord is planning to die. and kilgharrah is going to be alone again, like he was in that cave.

another thing is that if merlin died rn then we would never have aithusia. i'm kinda going on a tangent now but idk this scene is sad

this forest is so pretty

literally just lancelot's face and lancelot in this whole episode.

that's my note

HAHA GWAINE BURNING IS SOCKS

LADS BEING LADS

I LOVE THEM

omg i always see posts about this.

like merlin and lancelot planned that lancelot was going to walk in first and trick them and THEN merlin walked in

that's so funny to me. they're SO dramatic HAHAH

merlin looks so happy

BRO

ARTHUR

JUST HUG

HIM

PLS

STO

P

JUST HUG HIM WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM

Tell me why they actually look MARRIED here. PLS

🥲🥲 SELF SACRIFICING IDIOTS I LOVE YOU BOTH YOURE BREAKING MY HEART

LADS I LOVE THEM

🤠🤠 arthur wanting Gwen to be happy is KILLING ME. He loves her so much

This is so pretty. Honestly like how

Who let merlin have this many pretty landscapes

HOENSTLY

Lajs;dlkfajd buds in a boat together.

This reminds me of going to amusement parks and there’s always that boat ride

They’re the cutest

Ok so they also have this picture. It’s actually 3 pictures spliced together because the episode pans down and it’s really badly spliced (sorry) but LOOk how pretty that is.

WTF

Omg not me literally copying merlin with his slow mo head flick at the wyverns to make them go away

;sldkfjasdlkjasd leon percival and elyan and my heart.

Ok i’m not even gonna try to lie. They all have my heart

Frick you cailleah

Omg i was like ‘gwaine you dumbass’ jK i love him. Pls don’t come for my neck

Asldjfasldjfka ‘i’m prepared to pay whatever price is necessary’

HAHA CAN YOU NOT. WHAT IS WITH THIS CREEPY ‘COME HITHER’ HAND MOTION MS CAILLEAH

Stopp rn. ‘It’s my density

STOP. I AM HOWLING. LANCELOT

WHY

COME BACK

NO NONO PLS. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME.

stop rn merlin is all alone.

PAN TO ARTHUR WHO IS LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY EVERYONE.

Stop they all look so sad. I’m so sad.

merlin looks like he’s cried

I’m not sure abt arthur with his ‘no man is worth your tears’ type business but still

I am ✨sad✨

I screamed at this picture. I am depressed

Anyways

Gwen’s face is killing me

I’m so sad i don’t even want to write commentaries

Arthur realizing that lancelot only died because he loved gwen

Gwen standing in front of the fire

Aslkdfjasldjfa im so sad

HER STANDING IN FRONT OF THE FIRE ALL ALONE.

I. AM. SO. SAD.

STFU THAT THRONE IS NOT “RIGHTFULLY” YOURS MORGANA

STOP PLS GET AWAY

WHAT IS WITH THIS WEIRD TENSION

PLS DO NOT STAND WITHIN KISSING DISTANCE

IK YOU’RE NOT TECHNICALLY BLOOD RELATED BUT STILL.

PLEASE.

STOP.

I HATE AGRAVAINE

✨we hate agravaine in this house✨

😭😭 not merlin having ANOTHER secret. I’m so sorry bby

Anyways! I’ll be back next week to rant more about the wicked day so I’ll see you then! thanks I love you bye

[thegoodomensdumpster]

(1) I'm fat and I fucking love the crumbs, it's such a bummer that they won't be around anymore. Besides, stereotype or not, some fat people (like myself) are messy and gross and some aren't and that's okay. I liked seeing myself represented in Aziraphale here, and it sucks that it's now being cencored. I'm fat and I'm messy and the fact that people want to hide that that's a thing makes me feel more ashamed about who I am than I wouldn have been if it was just left alone.

(2) I'm sick of the trope that fat people have to always be pristine and constantly ON AIR just to be given the same respect that a thin person would have, even if they themselves were also messy. I loved your crummy Aziraphale, he made me feel like I was still worth something and capable of great things and worthy of a dedicated love. He made a lot of people feel like that. Art shouldn't be cencored. This asks breaks my heart a little, because... I’m not the authority on validating people of course, but in case anyone needs to read that: OF COURSE you are worthy of love and respect and just being a human if you are messy, if you are fat, if you are messy and fat, or if you happen to fit a stereotype that mainstream media have rendered harmful. Because you are people, not fictional characters, and you exist beyond these stereotypes boundaries. You are complex, and alive, and your existence matters.

More under the cut for discussion on character design, stereotypes, tumblrfoolery, and my own incapacity to know what to do. The most important bit is above, but if you guys want to take part into a bigger conversation with me, either by replying to this post or MPing me, I’m welcoming you with open arms. It got a bit long, but hopefully it isn’t too confused.

(Also, quick side note: I’m not deleting any of the crumb jokes previously made, so if you miss them, you can still find them in the archive of this blog under the crumb omens hashtag.)

My opinion on character design is actually this one: there is no inherently harmful trait for a certain type of people, it is all a question of context and quantity. In the case of a character that is fat and messy, if it just happens that, among other fat people, one of them is messy, then it’s not a stereotype, and it’s not harmful. However, in our current media landscape, those two attributes happen to be associated way too often, enough that it leads to essentialisation of fat people ( aka: if you’re fat, you’re necessary messy, lazy, etc... these reductive associations are almost systematic ).

In the context of my blog and my work at large, if you’re familiar with it, I think it’s safe to say that I, personally, don’t use the fat and messy character as a stereotype, because I also depict other fat characters as non messy characters. Thats for my context. That’s also probably why, when I made all the crumb jokes, I didn’t even think about this stereotype.

But the thing is, I don’t post my fanarts in a vacuum. Especially on Tumblr where posts tend to have a life of their own when they get reblogged. They get cut from their context, hence only showing the tip of the iceberg, which is what I consider to be a harmful stereotype. And even within their context, it might still come as insensitive and hurt people who have been badly affected by this stereotype. And this has nothing to do with my original intentions.

This would lead to the consideration of how much of a private / public venture exactly a blog is, and to what extent should we take mainstream depictions into account when we design characters ourselves, and how much can we expect people to take things into the context of the OP’s work, or the OP’s blog, or the website it was posted on... This is something I’m scratching my head over, I’m not sure I have an answer to that. I’m not even sure there is an answer to that. But what I know is that this specific blog, though it still is MY blog, also has a following big enough that I cannot fully consider it as private ( although, I never consider any internet space to be really private ...).

However, I one hundred percent agree that there is a huge issue in, as a reaction to these harmful strereotypes, not allowing minorities and oppressed group as appearing any less than perfect. This is a terrible response, a terrible pressure, and it’s as much dehumanizing as only seeing people through the prism of stereotypes. And I know I can not satisfy everyone when I make a choice, but I do try to make the choices that hurt the less, or at least the ones that won’t hurt the group of people I care about (and by that I mean: I would not hesitate to make fatshamers feel ill at ease, but I do not want to hurt fat people over fatphobia).

So, yeah, it does feel like I fell into another trap that ends up guilt tripping people. But I don’t know how to react, I don’t where to stand, because I don’t know which reaction would bring the less suffering. It seems that there is no perfect answer, and fat people might get hurt either way. I just know that, since I’ve been made aware of the kind of hurt the crumb jokes could do, I’m feeling uncomfortable myself continuing them. So, this is not strictly censorship. Because, at least right now, I don’t feel like I want to continue them either. Maybe my mind will change, I don’t know, but I have the feeling that maybe my issue is mostly based on the media (aka: a tumblr post) rather than the joke itself. Because if, for instance, I had one messy fat character in a comic book where you can see other fat characters in all their diversity and complexity, then it wouldn’t feel like I’m tapping into a stereotype, and therefore I doubt it would make a lot of fat people ill at ease. Because that one messy fat character could hardly be cut from the context of its book. But with a tumblr post that can escape its context or directly be surrounded in a tumblr search on my blog by other similar post declining the same messy joke with the same fat character... I don’t know. 

I just, really, really don’t know.

I feel saddened by the hurt I’m doing to people either way, and I’ve received several messages of fat people telling me they liked the crumb jokes. But I cannot know if people who were actually hurt are just silent on this issue or if I’m just ... anticipating a hurt that wasn’t there to begin with ( because the original message that made me aware of this issue wasn’t actually written by someone who personnally felt ill at ease at that joke, it was just pointing it out as fatphobic, which I agreed to be an issue as well ). 

So, yeah. If you have any insight on this issue, absolutely feel free to contact me. This is an important conversation to have, or at least it is to me, and it touches on many important topics so it’s ... potentially long and convoluted and confusing. But I want to learn, I want to do better, and I want to help people feel good about themselves. This is possibly my number one goal as an artist. 

<3

[believemeiknow]

Warning: there's some swearing, blood, gore too i guess, so don't read if it makes you uncomfortable. Thanks

That beat drumming in my head. It's making me dizzy. Like it's all I can hear, all I can see, all I can feel. I don't even think that it's coming from my chest, where my heart should be. It's coming from my head, my messed up brain. Always.

Boom, boom-boom.

Boom, boom-boom.

And then there's blood everywhere, splattered all over this dark alley's walls. Red like it should be, like violence. Black like it always is, like the secrets she hid from me. Wait, no. Blood isn't black. Right, it's red. Just red.

No secrets anymore, right love?

What do you want from me?

That filthy rat kept fiddling with my sanity and I didn't even know. Patience was running low, forgiveness, growing thin. She just tried to take everything I had, whether it belonged to her or not. Thinking about it makes my head hurt even more, if that's possible.

Why don't you run from me?

She knew that I liked killing as I've already done it before. I guess she knows even more now. I was dangerous. I still am, if that dead body going limp against the wall is any proof. I still have a knife in my hand, all bloody.

And I still have that fucking drumming in my head.

What are you wandering?

She looked so pretty with that blood dripping from her neck and her open eyes looking directly into my soul. They really were unique. The kind of eyes that look at every little detail and remember them all.

Curious little bitch. She should've stayed out of my business.

The thumping would end soon. It always does.

What do you know?

She had discovered things. Sins that I promised myself would never see the light of day. The rat was there just to throw me under the bus and I couldn't let that happen, right love? Right?

God, my head hurts. Can't the pounding just stop already?

Why aren't you scared of me?

I spotted a figure to my right, where the alley joined that crowded street -usually crowded. Not today. But someone was watching the scene. Weirdly enough, they didn't move.

So I turned around to fix those oh! so familiar treacherous green eyes. Hm. Not so unique anymore, right love?

She looked at me the same way you were looking at me seconds -minutes? hours?- ago: unphased. Not an ounce of fear in her eyes, hands or shoulders that all looked just like yours. Really, my headache started to make me hallucinate, that's how bad it was. I even started to hear screeching on top of the thumping, but it left as fast as it came.

Why do you care for me?

Nobody was moving. The ground and dark buildings were dancing around, but neither me or that woman flinched. She had your eyes. And a celestial aura surrounding her that I can't seem to explain. Blue and red lights flashed around her as if she was an angel sent to watch over me. Wait, red?

No, that must be an illusion. It's just that the blood on her shoulder, neck and chest confused me. No red lights, right love?

God, my head.

When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

Then it hit me. Literally and figuratively.

She looked just like you, little rat, because she was you. How can I be so oblivious? I'm an idiot.

You weren't an angel. Oh, no. You were a demon sent directly from hell to bring me back down with you. You planned everything, didn't you? You knew I would figure you out. You knew I would kill you. You knew the police would find me and you just knew I would die. They shot me, little rat.

And as I feel the thumping finally going away, I can see your devilish smile and the only rational thought I get is this.

"You bitch... You don't deserve my death to be yours. But then again, you have a bad habit of taking what doesn't belong to you, right love...?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Hello,

So I guess most understood that the italic writing was song lyrics? My inspiration was Bury A Friend by Billie Eilish. I wrote that with no particular characters in mind, so no, it's not from a tv show, movie or book.

I hope that you liked that, really. That was my first time writing something and POSTING it and... I'm kind of scared. But it's ok. It'll be find.

Anyway, have a nice day/night (go to sleep, it's way to late right now. AND I know that you have stuff to do tomorrow morning. Close that thing in your hand and make sure you look fresh tomorrow) and I look forward to my next post!

Bye, guys, gals & non-binary pals

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

Bitch Boss || J.HS

Pairing : Jung Hoseok X Reader

Genre :  Fluff, tad bit of Angst?

Summary : " Second thing you need to know? My name is Jung Hoseok, and you're mine."

Wordcount: 1.7k

[ A/N: Lmao guys, here I am. Stress writing while I could also be studying. But no. My shit ass just had to stress write for no valuable reason. Anyway, I had this idea with Hobi in a gang au for like two years already and here it finally is. Also, I didn't check my spelling lmao. Enjoy!]

The man in front of you seemed to think the same, because he gulped before chickening out.

You glared at the man in front of you. Hard. Very hard, in fact if glares could kill, the man in front of you would be lying dead on the floor.

" I'll just-" His voice cracked.

He swallowed before clearing it.

" My friend will talk to you." He said before leaving.

You rolled your eyes before going to inspect your nails.

It's been four hours.

Four hours since this rookie gang had caught you. You were pretty sure that you would have no problem getting out of here.

A new man entered the room while you were more intrested in your nails.

" So, princess. There's only a few things you'll need to know. First of all, you're not leaving this place. Ever. Or my side to be more specific." The man smiled.

Way too angelic you decided as you looked up from your nails.

Not leaving his side?

" Second thing you need to know? My name is Jung Hoseok, and you're mine."

-

It's been a few days since you've been living with Hoseok, and so far, so good.

Apparently he was part of Bangtan, one of the most feared gangs in South Korea, and he did not know that you were trained to be an assassin. He tough you were an ordinary girl with a big mouth.

" C' mhere." Hoseok opened his arms in expectations of you running into them.

You raised your brow at him, once again inspecting your nails.

" What is it with you and your nails? Want a manicure or something?" He asked.

You snorted.

" You don't understand women at all do you?" You asked sharply.

" Oh shit, are you on your period? What do you want me to do? I can get you chocolates and stuff. Maybe a heat pack?-"

" Let me go." You asked, more like stated as an order.

The shine in his eyes left, and his smile faded into a thin line.

" No." 

" That's what's wrong with you, Hoseok. Not me. You canmot keep a woman here and expect her to love you." You stated.

You would use your assassin skills, but you couldn't. No matter what happened, the most you would do is knock someone out.

The reason why you haven't full up attacked Hoseok yet was because you couldn't kill, you knew that he wouldn't let you go that easily anyway. And because you could see the hurt little boy underneath the layer of guns and bombs. You knew you had to think trough your plan of escaping.

Meanwhile the look in Hoseok's eyes softened.

" I'm sorry..... Come with me." He ordered and turned around.

Once he realized that you were still seated and not planning to get up anytime soon, he turned back to you and walked over, grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

" Where are we going?" You asked him.

" Training."

-

His training of that afternoon turned out to be much easier than you were used to. Apparently he decided that you should learn the basics for when things go south while he isn't around, you didn't complain about it. 

Today he was going to teach you how to use a gun.

A poor choice really.

" No, you're supposed to- Yeah, like that exactly. How did you know I was going to say that?" He asked.

You gulped but shrugged.

" Well, it's loaded already. Tey to hit the target." Hoseok told you.

Your eyes widen.

The thing was loaded?

An extremely poor choice really.

You turned the gun to him, pointing it directly over his heart.

Hoseok's eyes widen as he didn't expect the move.

" Y/N, don't play around with that. " 

Your eyes sharpened and clicked the safety off.

" Y/N, I'm serious-"

You managed to get him to shut him up by turning the gun and hitting the furthest target straight in the bulls eye.

He turned to look at it before turning back to you.

" There's something I haven't been really honest about Hoseok. I'm not as innocent as I look." You smiled coyly before putting the gun down on the table in front of you and walking away.

" Fuck that was sexy." Hoseok said as he watched you walk away.

He grinned to himself before shaking his head.

" Time to redo that background check."

-

It's been a few months since you've been with Jung Hoseok in his mansion. And suprisingly enough, you didn't hate it. In fact, you were slowly falling in love. It pained you when you realized it. It had started with the little moment back in the training session, and then he started letting you go around the property freely, and up till now he started downright spoiling you. You smiled as you tough of him. 

Your little moment was cut short however as the wall beside you exploded.

Literally exploded.

Your ears were ringing as you tried to get up, but your legs were giving up on you.

" There she is, experiment 0572." Someone said.

You were suprised to hear anything trough your ringing ears.

Your suprise was cut short as your eyes sharpened.

Experiment 0572.

The name you were given as assassin.

The name you had before you ran away.

Before Hoseok decided to take you off the shitty three jobs you had and decided that you were his.

The fear of losing of what you had now managed to get you up on your shaking legs, your hands balling at your sides before you threw the first punch.

A poor decision as you were weakened.

-

" Hoseok! We have serious problems!" Jungkook yelled ad he entered his office.

" Can't be more worse than this stupid gun which needs to be fixed." Hoseok grumbled back.

" It's about Y/N." Jungkook breathed.

Hoseok stopped with what he was doing and turned his full attention to the younger.

" She's taken from your house. I don't know all the details. Just that there was an explosion and these weird lookimg dudes were there and- I don't understand any of it. Just watch this, maybe you do." Jungkook said, slamming a sd cards onto his desk.

" It's the security tape from outside. Yoongi hyung's already searching for the van that appeared in the video." Jungkook said as Hoseok nodded, wasting no time and putting the sd card in his laptop.

The wall blew up and you were catapulted backwards. 

Hoseok sucked in a breath at the sight.

He was caught by suprise when he saw you get up.

" There she is, experiment 0572." A man smirked down at your form.

Hoseok looked at his screen in confusion, experiment 0572?

The man smirked at you and something inside you snapped as you threw a lunch at his face, he was quick to react , throwing a punch right on your sleep, effectively knocking you out.

" This is experiment 0572?" One of the other men in the room asked.

" She's stronger than she looks.I've seen it on tape. Now let's move it before whatever sugar daddy she has comes back home." The man who knocked you out said, and another man unceremoniously threw you in the back of the van.

Hoseok felt rage built up inside him by the sight of someone hurting you. He rewound part of the tape, taking a closer look at the logo on his jacket.

He smirked as he got a clear picture of the tiger on the back of the man's vest.

Hsg.

Hsg was a small rising gang, but not for long.

Because they obviously didn't do their homework right.

You might be some kind of expiriment to them, but you are overall Hoseok's.

And they will certainly not get away with taking what is his.

Hoseok smirked as he called Yoongi.

-

You woke up to the sound of screaming, as if someone was suffering.

A sound you hated.

The sight that came with it was a sight you hate just as much.

There's a lot of blood around you, and a few dead bodies.

Not a pretty sight.

Your stomach wad empty, but if you had any food in it, you were pretty sure that it would have been out by now.

" Princess?" You heard a voice call softly from beside you.

Your eyes lighten up in realization.

Hoseok was here.

He had actually come to save you.

You started mumbling trough the gag that was placed in your mouth.

" I know, I know. I got you." He said as he took the gag off you, holding you in his arms.

You started crying with closed eyes, you weren't sure when the last time was that someone held you.

You especially had never experienced the feeling of being held so secure before.

Your eyes opened again as you took sight of the man in doorway, it was the very man who had knocked you out.

Your eyes widened when you realized he was holding a gun in his hand, and it was aimed right at Hoseok's back.

With a shaky breath you took Hoseok's gun from it's holder.

You felt Hoseok still against you.

" Y/N-"

You clicked the safety off and shot the man.

Twice.

One bullet in both shoulders.

You didn't have it in you to kill him, you couldn't do it.

Hoseok pulled away from you, but didn't let you go.

He took the gun from you and shot the man straight in the head.

" I'll always have you. Thank you for having me." He  wishpered in your hair as he pulled you back into an embrace.

[averykedavra]

Leave No Trace (Chap. 10)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

Wind whistled in his ears. His eyes opened of their own accord. He was staring up at the sky. He could see the mountain peak, gray rock and spiky green trees against blue sky. It was such a nice day. Shame he had to die on a nice day like that.

Were those the gryphons, those black smears? Patton was falling too fast to see. He kept his hand clenched around Virgil's. His hair whipped around his face, curls flying each and every which way. His glasses teetered on the edge of his nose. He closed his eyes again. His heartbeat had stopped entirely, waiting, bracing for impact.

Then there was impact. But not what he imagined. Not the dull thump of ground.

Claws, curled around his chest. Patton opened his eyes one more time.

Large, thin wings. Black and yellow scales. Wind that started to move sideways. Towards the path below. A descent, but controlled. A glide.

Patton looked to Virgil and grabbed Virgil's other hand, pulling Virgil closer. Virgil didn't hesitate to grab Janus' legs and hold on.

It was a terrible position. It must be hurting Janus. But they were still flying. Still in the air. Which was all that mattered right now.

The trees were growing in size. Would they miss the path? Would they overshoot and land in some Fae's den? Would they crash into the trees and dash their brains out on the bark?

Patton sounded like Remus. That was enough thinking, then. Patton hugged Janus' side and hoped instead. He hoped they'd be okay. He hoped they'd keep flying. He hoped he'd hit solid ground soon.

Janus had caught them. Janus kept his promise, which meant they would be okay.

They had to be.

The ground was getting closer. Sky, ground, trees, Virgil. Everything spun. Something roared, or maybe that was just the wind rushing in Patton's ears.

They were heading towards a tree. Tree! Patton shrieked and tried to twist away from it.

The tree soared past them by a millisecond. A branch caught Patton in the face.

The path rose up to meet them.

Impact.

It was like the snake all over again. Large and weighty and almost too sudden to hurt. Patton lost his grip on Janus' scales. He tried to roll but only managed to weakly fall to the side. The world spun around him. Everything was darkening. Funny—it shouldn't be evening yet.

Patton shook his head, setting off little fireworks of pain behind his eyes. Had Janus landed on top of him or something? Something was pressing him to the ground. His arms and legs refused to move. They throbbed dimly, and Patton had a feeling it would hurt something awful later, but for now they didn't seem to have processed anything. Shock. Was he in shock? He didn't feel very shocked, but he didn't feel much of anything. Was he going to pass out?

No, he couldn't pass out, what would Virgil do—

Virgil!

Patton threw himself upright. Pain lashed his back and more blood dripped down his shirt. He ignored it. He wildly looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was lying on the path, only inches from a line of iron rods. Patton scooted away from it. Trees hung around them. Branches littered the path. There was a large section of sky directly above them that didn't look natural. Little broken branches and torn-up leaves lined the edge.

Had they done that?

Patton eased himself to his feet. He took off his glasses, wiped the blood off them, and put them back on. The world fell into place a little more. He looked down at himself. He was bloody and his overalls had been torn in several places. The light blue stripes on his shirt were barely visible.

Well, he was alive, and that's what counted.

Patton knew he had to turn and look for Janus and Virgil. He knew it. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to know what he was going to find.

"Guys?" he asked the Woods in front of him, voice wavering. Please, please let someone respond.

There was a long silence broken only by distant screeching and the rustle of trees. A bird piped nearby, three long notes, a descending scale, bouncing to the top and rolling to the bottom and starting over again.

"Virgil?" Patton called. "Janus?"

He still didn't want to look.

"Ugh." Something shifted. "Pat?"

Patton almost wept with relief. He spun around and saw Virgil, sitting on the path, rubbing his shoulder. Virgil looked up and smiled.

"Kiddo!" Patton cried. He rushed over and kneeled by Virgil. "You okay?"

"I—I think?" Virgil winced. "Everything kinda hurts."

"Yeah," Patton said sympathetically. "We fell pretty hard."

"We fell," Virgil repeated, like it hadn't fully sunk in. "We fell off a cliff."

Patton looked up. He could see the peak of the mountain far away from them, the sheer cliff face towering above the trees. "Yeah. Hard to believe."

"I thought we were dead." Virgil shook his head. "We're not dead, right?"

"No." Patton took Virgil's hand and pressed it to his wrist. A heartbeat, a little fast but steady. "No, Virge, we're okay."

"We made it." Virgil's face broke into a huge grin. "Pat, we made it!"

And Patton received an armful of Virgil. He awkwardly hugged Virgil back as Virgil laughed or cried into Patton's shoulder. Either way, no judgment. Patton stroked his back in circles and let Virgil tremble in his arms for a long time. He half-expected Janus to yell at them for wasting time, but Janus could keep that to himself. Virgil needed the rest, and—

The last fuzzy bit of Patton's mind clicked into place.

"Janus!" Patton yelled, standing up. He'd forgotten Virgil was still hugging him. Virgil yelped and stumbled.

"Sorry," Patton muttered, scanning the trees. The path behind them was empty. The path ahead of them was—

There. Crumpled on the ground.

Patton ran down the path, Virgil still clutching his hand. He fell to his knees again when they reached Janus. Virgil squatted on Janus' other side.

Janus himself was silent, his eyes closed, hair falling across his face. Scratches littered his face and arms. Blood soaked his shirt. The hat Patton made had been torn to shreds.

"Janus?" Patton asked. He knew Janus wouldn't answer. Sure enough, there was no movement.

"Is—" Virgil swallowed, looking sick. "I don't know if he's alive."

Patton reached out and took Janus' hand. It was limp. He pressed his fingers to Janus' wrist, closed his eyes, and waited.

A dull thump. Then another.

Patton beamed. "He's alive."

"Great," Virgil said. Maybe it was meant to be sarcastic, but it didn't sound insincere. Virgil placed his hand over Janus' mouth. "He's breathing, too. It's steady."

"Thank heavens." Patton reached for Janus and stopped himself. "What…what do we do?"

"I don't know." Virgil poked Janus' nose. "Try to wake him up, I guess."

"Jan?" Patton asked, shaking Janus' shoulder. "C'mon."

Virgil swatted Janus in the forehead. "Hey. Get up, idiot."

"Come on," Patton pleaded. His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, and he realized tears were threatening to spill over. "Please, please, come on, wake up, please—"

"Pat?" Virgil asked, reaching for Patton's hand.

Patton shook Janus again. Those yellow eyes didn't open. Patton had a sickening memory of the last time he'd seen Janus unconscious. Back in the courtyard. He'd been lucky to survive that time—they'd all been so lucky. Maybe it was Fae luck, maybe it was plain old regular luck, maybe it was the skill Janus had to always avoid consequences.

Maybe the rest of the world had finally caught up to him.

"You can't," Patton said to no one. "You can't die. You can't! You're—it's not right, we need you, we—I—come on, please, Janus—"

"Hey!" Virgil punched Janus in the arm. "Get up! You're making Patton sad, and that's not allowed!"

"Don't punch him," Patton complained, moving Janus out of Virgil's punching range. He found himself with an armful of Janus. He was so light. He shouldn't be this light! His head lolled onto Patton's chest. On any other day, Patton would be overjoyed to finally get to hug Janus. This…was not what he wanted. It was like their talk with the Faerie all over again—Janus was not meant to be silent. He was meant to be loud and annoying and sarcastic and mean and pretty and strangely kind and alive.

Patton brushed a few locks of hair out of Janus' face. They were sticky with blood.

"I have an idea," Virgil said, reaching for his canteen.

"What is it?" Patton asked, curling around Janus protectively.

Virgil popped the canteen open and grinned.

"Hey," Patton said. "Don't!"

"What? It might work!" Virgil's expression softened. "It's worth a shot, Pat."

Patton bit his lip. "I guess. Just don't waste too much water—we'll need it to clean our cuts. And, um, let me get him off my lap first?"

"Right." Virgil scooted forward. "Prepare for a soaking, snake. I'm gonna drown you back to life!"

"Please don't," Janus complained.

Patton gasped. Janus' eyes were still closed, but his face had gained his telltale wrinkle of annoyance, and he was shifting in Patton's arms.

"You're okay!" Patton squealed, and Janus' eyes flew open. "Oh my gosh, we were so worried! Thank heavens you're awake!"

"What?" Janus looked around. "Why am I—let go of me!"

"Oh! Sorry, Jan!" Patton slid Janus onto the path. Janus immediately tried to stand up. He managed both feet before he flinched and slipped to the ground again.

"Watch it," Virgil said. "You've probably got a broken bone."

"None of my bones are broken," Janus snapped.

"Do you know that?"

Janus curled in on himself. "Leave me alone."

"We're just trying to help." Patton sidled closer to him. "Could you tell us where it hurts?"

"Nowhere," Janus snarled. "Get away from me."

"Okay," Patton said, pausing and holding up his hands. "I won't go any nearer. I'm only trying to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." Janus climbed to his feet, despite Virgil's growl of "You're kidding me." He swayed a bit but somehow managed to stay upright. "Tell me if my stuff is still here."

"Your knapsack?" Patton asked. "Haven't seen it. It probably fell off. But—"

"Should have known." Janus stalked forward. Blood dripped from the edge of his shirt onto the forest floor, and he made a stifled hiss every time his foot hit the ground. "Come on, we've wasted enough time."

"Wait—" Patton tried to get up to follow Janus. His legs screamed in protest. "Janus!"

"Get back here, you little—" Virgil grabbed his crossbow and chucked it at Janus. It fell to the ground behind Janus' feet. "That's because I ran out of bolts. Stop walking, snake."

"I thought you wanted to get moving," Janus said, not turning around.

"Yeah, but—" Virgil made a strangled noise of frustration. "Jan, you're in pain!"

"I am not."

"You clearly are!" Virgil looked about to tear his hair out. "You're gonna get yourself killed—get all of us killed—'cause you won't admit you're hurt! You're insufferable!"

"Shut up!" Janus hissed. "Come with me, watch your step, and shut up!"

Patton watched the way Janus' shoulders tightened, the way his feet seemed to trip over nothing at all, the way he listed to the side. The splatters of blood behind him, forming a gruesome trail of breadcrumbs.

"Janus," he called, trying to throw everything into that word. His concern. His fear. His thankfulness. Janus had saved them, and he was wounded thanks to it, and Patton didn't know what to make of that.

"Get up," Janus only said, giving Patton a cold look.

Patton swallowed. Okay. Not working. Janus was clearly dead set on walking off his injuries. But—if he was forced to stay—

"Fine," Patton said. "Keep walking! But my kiddo and I are going to stay here for a little bit! Virgil's wounded, and—" Patton looked down at his own chest and swallowed. "I'm. I'm hurt. So…I want to rest. Because I need it. We need it."

Janus had stopped walking.

"And we don't want to lose you." Patton swallowed again. "We agreed not to run off, remember? No splitting up. So…can you stay with us, just for a bit?"

"I—" Janus sighed. "Fine. We can't have you collapsing, after all. I'll stay over here, and you two can bandage yourselves or something."

"Thank you," Patton said, and found himself meaning it. "But—um, I'm not very good at medical care. So—"

Janus sat down on the path, tucking his legs to his chest. "I'm not, either."

"I could still use the help." Patton glanced at Virgil. "Right, kiddo?"

"Yeah," Virgil agreed. "We can use you to test if the bandages are idiot-proof."

"Virgil!" Patton exclaimed.

Janus snorted, just a bit. And he unfolded himself again, walked over, and tentatively sat by Patton's side. Patton winced when he saw Janus' limp. He wished he didn't have to make Janus walk back, but he needed Janus here if he was going to sneakily bandage his injuries.

"So," Patton said, turning to Virgil. "How're you feeling, kiddo?"

"Not great," Virgil said. "Bunch of scratches."

"We'll tend to those in a bit." Patton opened his knapsack and pulled out the first-aid kit. "Where's the pain greatest?"

"My ear's bleeding a lot," Virgil said, cupping the ear in question. Blood was dripping from it, forming a little river down his neck. "My shoulder hurts more, though."

"We'll do the shoulder first," Patton said. "Ears bleed a good amount. You could have torn something in your shoulder. Can I see it?"

Virgil took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. There was a long, thin gash over his shoulder. Blood leaked from the corners. Patton's stomach twisted.

"Right," he said, trying to stay upbeat. "Janus? Pass me Virgil's canteen?"

Janus did.

"Thanks!" Patton reached forward and carefully took Virgil's arm in his palm. Virgil hissed. "Okay, this might hurt, so I'll go slow."

Virgil nodded and clenched his jaw.

Patton dribbled a little water on Virgil's cut, grabbed a clean cloth from the first-aid bag, and began to wipe at the cut. Virgil tensed and dug his fingers into his calf. Patton reached out and pried his hand away from his leg, taking it in his own. There was a lot of blood and a bit of dirt, but after it had been cleaned up, the cut itself wasn't too deep. Thank the fields. Patton sighed in relief and took the bandages from Janus' outstretched hand. They were running out of bandages already, he noted. Well. Nothing to do about that now.

Janus held Virgil's arm in place while Patton wrapped the cut. Since it was on Virgil's shoulder, it was a little awkward to bind, but he managed to do it and even tie a little bow over top. Virgil ran his fingers over the bandages and smiled a bit.

"That okay?" Patton asked.

"It's great." Virgil flexed his arm. "Doesn't hurt too much to move."

"I'm glad!" Patton wiped his bloody fingers on his overalls. "It's not perfect, but hopefully it'll keep the bleeding away, and once we rescue Logan and Remus we can get you better bandages."

Virgil nodded. Patton handed him the canteen and a few bits of cloth.

"Rinse out your smaller cuts," Patton said. "If there's anything else big, let me know, okay? I'll patch it up for you. Cycle through cloths so they don't get dirty. And be gentle around the edges, but be thorough, and—"

"I know how to clean a cut," Virgil said, smiling. "Worry about yourself, Pat. I'll be alright."

"Awesome!" Patton glanced at his own blood-soaked front. "Yay. Let's, um, let's do this."

"Oh, come here." Janus grabbed the bandages and the rest of the cloth. "We've only got one canteen—Virgil, give me some water. Please."

"Sure, snake." Virgil slid the canteen over as he wiped away blood from his chin. "Don't hog it all."

"Great." Janus looked Patton over. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Patton blushed violently. "I—I'm wearing overalls, I can't."

Janus rolled his eyes. "Take off your overalls and roll up your shirt, then. I can't clean the cut without seeing it."

Patton paused, but he knew Janus was right. Carefully he loosened his overall straps and pulled it down to his waist. Then he gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to his shoulders. It gave way with a small squelch. The smell of blood filled the air, salty and thick.

Janus stared at Patton's chest for a few seconds. Patton flushed even deeper.

"That's…a pretty ugly cut," Janus finally said. "A few of them, in fact."

"Damn," Virgil agreed, his tone betraying his concern. "You're bleeding a lot, Pat."

Patton looked down. His chest was almost a sea of blood and a few violent scratches slashed across his abdomen. He quickly looked away again.

"Hold still," Janus instructed, shifting closer and splashing some water on the cuts. He pressed some cloth to the wounds. "I'm trying to get it to stop bleeding."

"Thanks," Patton said again, dutifully ignoring the fact that they were inches apart and Janus was touching his chest.

"It would be a shame if you died of blood loss," Janus said idly, "so I'm doing a community service. How does it—tell me how it feels."

Patton thought about it. It wasn't as searing as he thought it would be, but maybe that was because his whole body had hurt for days now, and he was kind of tired of being in pain. "It's fine."

"Is it now." Janus started wiping at the blood. "Do tell me how fine it is, Patton. I'm totally not currently cleaning your blood or anything."

"It—" Patton whined as Janus hit a tender spot. Janus paused and glanced up at him. Patton gave him a little nod to continue. "It's not terrible," Patton finally said. "It hurts when I move, but if I stay still, it's more like an ache."

"That's good," Janus said. "Unless you're lying to me?"

Patton spluttered his way through a denial. And Janus laughed, a soft smug sound that made Patton's stomach flip for a reason other than disgust.

"Relax, I'm kidding." Janus returned to wiping at the cut, a smile still playing around his lips. "Of course I'm kidding. You're a terrible liar, I would be able to tell."

"Oh, really?" Patton asked. "Well, I might need some proof of that, mister!"

Janus chuckled. "Tell me a story, then, and I'll tell you as soon as I know it's a lie."

"Hmph." Patton searched around for a suitable tale. He decided on one of Roman's embellished stories. "Um, one time I was with Virgil—"

"Tell me when," Janus said.

"September," Patton blurted out. "Um, yeah! We were walking together in town, and this cat came up to us. And I'm allergic to cats."

"I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I'm really allergic!" Patton giggled. "I break out in hives, have trouble breathing, everything! I went to the apothecary and got a draught for it, but it doesn't always work. So I'm supposed to stay away from cats."

Janus glanced at him. "Let me guess. You don't."

"They're so cute," Patton said. "And they've got these little white paws, and these long whiskers, and you can rub their belly and they purr so loud, and their fur is so floofy, and their ears are little and pointy and twist about, and they've got little pink noses perfect for booping, and—"

"Booping," Janus repeated.

"You know, booping?" When Janus didn't show any sign of recognition, Patton frowned. "You've never been booped? Can I boop you?"

Janus looked wary. "Is it painful?"

"Nope! Look!" Patton reached out and pressed a finger to Janus' nose. "Boop!"

Janus went cross-eyed trying to look at Patton's finger. "I totally understand that."

"It's fun! And it always makes Virgil giggle!" Patton booped Janus again. "Does it make you giggle too?" Boop. "I bet it does!" Boop. "I see that smile!" Boop. "C'mon, I wanna hear you laugh again, it's so cute!" Boop. "Don't swat my hand! You can't hide from me!" Boop. "Aw, you cutie, I can see you giggling!"

Janus pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle his laughter. "I'm not laughing," he said. His little chuckle in the middle said otherwise. "Stop trying to distract me. I'm cleaning your chest, and you're telling me a lie."

"Right," Patton said. "So this cat, it comes up to us, right? It's really, really cute. And Virgil tells me not to pet it, 'cause I'm allergic, but I accept death."

Janus was back to business again, tossing a bloodied cloth aside and reaching for a new one. "Virgil could have stopped you."

"He knows not to get between me and a cat!"

"But he just did, verbally."

Patton cast around for an explanation. "Not physically, though. I become a demon when small cute animals are around. And Virgil had a, um, broken arm! So he couldn't have stopped me."

"A broken arm." Janus began to wrap bandages around Patton's chest. "Do tell me how that happened."

"He fell down the stairs!"

Virgil gave Patton a betrayed glare. Patton smiled sheepishly.

"He fell down the stairs." Janus chuckled again. Gosh, that was the best sound! "Okay, carry on."

"Yeah." Patton mentally rewound his story. "Virgil couldn't stop me from petting the cat. So I pet the cat and went on my way, since we had errands to do—"

"Errands." Janus savored the word, and Patton could hear the question in it. But it wasn't an actual question. None of them were. And that—that felt so…freeing. Conversation was no longer painful. Janus was going out of his way to make Patton comfortable.

What kind of evil person did that?

"Errands," Patton agreed, nodding. "We were, um, going to market. To get some, um, strawberries!"

Janus' eyes flickered over Patton's face. "I thought it was September."

Patton squeaked. Oops. "Um, very late strawberries?"

Janus laughed. Yep. Best sound ever. "Good try, Patton."

"Hey, I got pretty far!" Patton pouted. "It's so hard to keep my story straight! Partly because I'm gay, but all those little strings are tough to keep track of!"

"That's what they say," Janus said. "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything." He huffed. "Personally, I have a fantastic memory, and telling lies is often easier. So 'they' are wrong."

"Easier?" Patton asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

"And more fun." Janus wrapped Patton's bandages tighter. "Tell me if this hurts."

"It's snug, but it doesn't hurt." Patton fumbled for the right words. "Jan…you lie. A lot."

"How'd you know?" Janus asked, smirking a bit.

"Yeah. But—why?" Patton shrugged. "I mean, I get some of them, but…why others?"

Janus was visibly tense now. Virgil sat behind him, still methodically cleaning his cuts, studiously avoiding the conversation altogether.

"I—" Janus' face did a little twist that was gone before Patton could decipher it. "Lies are safer."

"Safer? For who?"

"Everyone." Janus stretched the ends of the bandages out. "Me."

"You?" Patton didn't have to keep his voice soft. It softened all on its own. "It's safer for you?"

Janus slipped one end under the other and started to tie them with deft fingers. "That's one way of putting it."

Patton steeled himself. "Is that why you won't tell us you're hurt?"

Janus' fingers spasmed on Patton's bandages. He recovered in an instant and knotted Patton's bandages together. "I finished," he announced. "If it's not too tight, try to twist around in it, or stand up."

"Janus," Patton said. "You're allowed to be hurt."

"Rich, coming from you," Janus snapped. That would have hurt before Patton got to know Janus. Now he saw the desperation in the jab, the way Janus was lashing out in his own defense. It wasn't a real insult. Janus didn't mean it. He was just—he was just like Virgil. Scared, and pretending he was angry so he seemed in control.

"We won't hurt you," Patton said instead of everything else. "I promise."

Janus' face darkened and he stood up abruptly. "How do you two feel?" he asked. "Can you walk? Patton, not addressed to you, feel no obligation to answer."

"I think so," Virgil said, tossing a bloody cloth into the Woods. He pulled himself to his feet. "Yeah, that stings, but it's not too bad."

"We can always rest if you need to," Patton said. "And we'll take things slow, okay, kiddo?"

"Got it." Virgil looked at Patton. "How's—hope you're feeling alright."

"I'm okay." Patton pulled his shirt down, smoothing the bandages and reconnecting his overalls. Standing seemed kind of daunting. So he took it one step at a time. He placed his hands on the ground, shifted his weight to his feet, and crouched for a few seconds until the stinging faded. Then he unfolded his knees, pushed off his hands, and stumbled to a standing position.

"Nice job!" Virgil said. "You're still good."

"I'm still good," Patton agreed, giving Virgil a little thumbs-up. It pulled at his bandages but didn't hurt. He felt okay—better than he had on the cliff. Blood still covered some of his smaller scratches, but there wasn't time or a place for a long bath or cleaning session, so he'd have to make the most of it.

They were okay. Patton was okay. Virgil was okay. Janus was—well, alive. And Patton couldn't ask for more than that.

Then Janus began to lead the way again. Okay, Patton was going to ask for a little more than that.

"Janus," he called.

"Tell me if there's a problem." Janus looked back. "With you."

"There—there is." Patton stepped forward. "If there's a problem with you, that's a problem for all of us. We're a team. We communicate. Please. Jan—can you let me take a look? For me?"

Janus was silent for a long time. Patton didn't like when Janus had his back to them. It made it even harder to reach him, even harder to figure out what he was thinking, but Patton wasn't any good at those normally, anyway.

"Will you use this against me?" Janus asked.

It was a question. And Janus knew exactly what he was doing.

"No," Patton said before the pain could rise. "Never."

Because he wouldn't. That was just wrong. And mean. And it wouldn't help anyone. And Janus didn't deserve that.

"Hey," Virgil said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Don't do that. No questions. Jerk."

"I—" Janus turned around and looked almost apologetic. "I only wanted to make sure. I won't do it again."

"You'd better not," Virgil mumbled.

"Come on." Patton sat down and patted the spot next to him. "Sit down, Jan."

Virgil sat down as well. Janus cautiously walked forward. Every muscle in his body was still tense, like he was awaiting execution. Patton wished he could reach out and shake Janus loose. Or give him a hug. But that made Janus uncomfortable.

Finally, Janus sat down next to Patton. He tucked one arm around his legs and watched Patton apprehensively.

"So." Patton grabbed the last of the bandages and cloths. "Where does it hurt?"

"Stomach," Janus finally said. Gritted and forced, like he was bracing himself. "And leg."

"Which leg?" Patton asked.

Janus rolled up his left pant leg. Patton winced. Blood was crusted around a long jagged slash down the side.

"That's ugly," Virgil said. "You were gonna ignore that?"

Janus hissed at Virgil. "No one needs your opinion."

"Okay, you two, calm down." Patton poured the last of the water on Janus' leg. "Tell me if this hurts. Actually tell me. Okay? I'll ease up if you say so."

Janus nodded. But Patton decided to take it easy anyway. He had a feeling Janus wouldn't be fully honest about it.

He started cleaning up the blood, placing one hand on Janus' foot to keep him steady. This was so awkward. Janus kept staring at him, tense and ready to jump away at a moment's notice. Janus didn't trust Patton, even though Patton trusted him, and that—that hurt, weirdly enough. It made Patton feel a little sad. He knew it probably wasn't his fault, but he wanted Janus to be comfortable, and he'd failed.

"Thank you," Virgil said.

Patton and Janus both looked at him. He was chewing on his knuckles and not meeting their eyes.

"You're welcome?" Patton ventured.

"It was. Um. I mean, Pat, you're great, thanks for helping us, but—" Virgil gestured to Janus. "It was for him. Actually. Thanks—thanks, Janus."

Janus stared at Virgil uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"You saved us." Virgil shifted, sitting on his hands instead, still looking uncomfortable but determined. "You didn't have to do that. You could have let us die."

"I did have to save you," Janus argued. "I need you as much as you need me."

"Why?" Virgil asked.

Janus opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Yeah, thought so." Virgil shrugged. "Look, maybe this is all part of your master plan. Maybe you'll betray us. Probably you'll betray us. Still, though…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks. For saving us. You got hurt for us, and—you could have—" Virgil curled into himself. "I thought you were dead. For a second."

"I'm not," Janus teased, but Patton saw the fragility of his smile.

"I know that now," Virgil grumbled, smirking. "Anyway. Yeah. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Janus said delicately. "Thank you for not panicking when I picked you up."

"I was panicking anyway," Virgil said, "so it just got added to the panic pile. Don't do it again, and we're good."

"We shouldn't need to." Janus glanced at the path ahead. "We're back on level ground and hopefully we'll stay there."

"Hopefully," Patton agreed, wrapping the bandages tight. "Does this hurt?"

"No," Janus said.

"Good." Patton looked up and smiled. "Unless you're lying to me."

"You'd never know, would you?" Janus smirked. The smirk slid off his face soon enough, when he seemed to realize it wasn't a joke. Not really.

"It…it hurts a little." Janus tucked his bottom lip under his top one and looked away. "Near the knee."

"Oh! Okay, thanks for telling me!" Patton unwound the offending bandages and rewrapped them. "Is this better?"

"Yes."

"Great!" Patton tied a neat little bow on top. "How does everything else feel?"

"I…" Janus looked like he was debating whether or not to say something.

"Hey." Patton shot him a smile and placed a hand on his arm. "I just want to help."

"Right." Janus nodded to himself. "I…the real damage is in my dragon form. It doesn't show up right now, but as soon as I shift back, I'll…I'll probably collapse again."

"So don't switch back," Virgil said. "Easy-peasy."

"It's not that simple." Janus paused again. "I can still feel the pain. It's lesser, but it's there, and it won't leave until I address the problem."

"First of all, I hear you. Second, don't want to be near you as a dragon, no offense." Virgil looked around. "Third, there really isn't space to transform."

"Could you, like, half-transform?" Patton asked. "Maybe stop in the middle or something? So we could look at your wings or something without the rest of you?"

"That would be incredibly fun, but no." Janus shook his head. "It's either-or. If it's possible to stop the transformation halfway through, I haven't figured it out."

"Figures." Virgil climbed to his feet. "I'll go down the path and let you guys do the dragon thing far away from me."

"There still isn't space." Janus waved a hand. "You know what? Never mind. I'll be fine."

Patton glowered at Janus.

"I'll…" Janus paused. "I'll wait until we find a better space to transform?" he ventured.

Patton nodded. "And?"

"…and I'll tell you if it hurts?"

"And?"

Janus threw up his hands. "Well, now I've run out of things to say. Thank you?"

"I—oh." Patton didn't know why that made him feel so warm and bouncy. "Um, not what I meant, but…you're welcome? It was no problem!"

Janus coughed lightly, his own face slightly red. "What did you mean, then?"

"I meant that we'll take things slow." Patton demonstrated this by taking almost ten seconds to stand up. "Yeah, we need to get to Logan and Remus, but if we hurt ourselves getting there, we're doing nobody any good."

Virgil smiled. "Glad you're with me. Don't want you collapsing, Pat."

"Fine." Janus began to walk again, and Patton noticed that his step was far steadier than it had been. "Follow me, then."

Patton summoned his courage and trotted up to Janus. "Nope!"

"I beg your pardon."

"Sure, have my pardon!" Patton lengthened his stride to keep up with Janus. Virgil walked up to Janus' other side. It was a little cramped, but it worked.

"What—" Janus sighed. "You're just going to stay here, aren't you."

"Yep!" Patton clapped his hands. "We're a team. And teams stick together! Plus this way, we can catch each other if we fall."

Janus rolled his eyes. "Nobody's going to fall—"

And immediately he tripped over a rock, winced, and slipped. Patton wrapped an arm around his waist. Janus slumped into his side. Patton pulled Janus closer and helped Janus regain his balance. His traitorous brain told him that they were very close together and that Patton's arm fit snugly around Janus' waist and Janus' eyes were narrowed in concentration as he straightened up. His traitorous skin decided to blush basically everywhere. And his traitorous face softened until Patton realized he was smiling dopily at his worst enemy.

Stupid brain, stupid skin, stupid face.

"Um—" Patton coughed and tried to wipe the smile from his face. "Watch your step, Jan."

"Right," Janus said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant as he scooted out of Patton's arms. "You too."

And sure enough, the next time Patton fell, Janus caught him. And the next time Janus fell, Patton caught him. And the next time Virgil fell, Janus made a huge production of complaining about it, but Patton noticed that he immediately grabbed Virgil's arm and hauled him upright.

They were slow. Each step was painful. Virgil swore under his breath every time he stepped wrong. Blood dried on Patton's hands and clothes, leaving swaths of dark red-brown on his favorite overalls. It smelled even ickier when it was dried, less wet and salty, more stiff and powdery and rotten. The Woods watched them. The food in Patton's knapsack weighed him down.

But they were moving forward. They had made it past the cliff. They were on solid ground, far away from slashing claws and golden beaks, far from messages in spiderwebs and spiders themselves and burning towns. They'd made it so far already. And if they'd made it this far, they could make it the rest of the way there.

It was weird, probably, to be so hopeful. But right now—just for right now—everything seemed to be looking up.

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

[madeinxiu]

i understand

hanbin imagine 'cause why not

title is lowercase intended

angst (i love writing and imagining angsts)

listen to 'back to december' by taylor swift to get the desired feels

word count: 2075

It has been a long day for you and all you crave for at the moment is just hours of relaxation on your favorite night spot, the riverside. Every night you would always visit the river, just feeling the night's cold breeze as you listen to the passing vehicles on the road.

Unfortunately for the past weeks, you haven't been visiting the riverside as often because of the increasing pressure at work. But finally here you are, after a long day of exhaustion.

You glance around the place as you always do. Fate must've been playing with you when your sight landed on the back of a man's green hoodie, his posture slightly crouched, and you know that figure really well.

Thoughts ran through your head. You hesitated whether you should call his name and offer to talk. How stupid, you thought. How can you just casually call the name of that man and offer a small talk? That man who once gave you everything including his love. His love that you chose to throw aside.

Memories of that night quickly spread to your mind like wildfire. The way his eyes filled with sadness and tears, him saying nothing at all as you stared at him after you said the words "Hanbin, set me free."

The guy in green hoodie turned around, as if expecting someone to be there, and locked eyes with you. You searched for something, just anything, in his eyes but it showed nothing. Not love, not hate, just nothing.

He made his way towards you with his lazy walk. As soon as he reached your way, no one dared to speak up first. You just looked at each other. But then he decided to break the silence.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile. You couldn't be any more happier because of that smile. It's beautiful.

"Hanbin," you breathed out. It was silently spoken but it carried the weight of just saying his name.

"You know, I was actually here yesterday as well since someone told me you often hang around this place. It's nice," he stated softly like the way he always talks, eyes wandering around the place.

Silence overtook the place once again as your mind was filled with questions. You're confused why he'd visit the place just because someone told him that you often visit it. You're confused as to why you felt this way in front of him when you're the one who pushed him away. You're confused as to why he doesn't seem like he hates you just like you thought he would.

He landed his eyes on you and you can't help but catch the familiar look in his eyes that you so strongly miss. He's still the same Hanbin you hurt a year ago.

"Why- why are you here?" you finally managed to ask.

"Let's get some coffee first. It's getting chilly out here anyway so let's go in a cafe," he said and turned around to go to the direction of a nearby cafe.

"Wait," you called to him but he didn't hear you. You just decided to follow him and go along with everything that's happening.

After ordering and finding a good seat spot, you decided to clear out the confusion and asked him directly.

"Hanbin, what's going on?" He answered right away,

"I wanted to talk to you. Just about anything."

You have convinced yourself that Hanbin hated you since he's the type of person who holds a grudge especially if it includes his feelings. But now here he is in front of you, claiming he wants to talk to you about anything.

Awkwardness surrounded the area. You just don't want to bring up anything from the past especially hurtful memories from your break up so you just sat and thought of things to say. Whereas Hanbin just silently observes your awkward self like he always did back then.

"I just, I'm- I am glad you came all the way to this city to see me," you silently say with your head partially bowed in embarrassment.

Hanbin just responds with a chuckle. Luckily, the orders came, saving you from the awkwardness.

"How's life, I guess?" If he wants to talk to you, you might as well start the conversation and pretend you don't feel uncomfortable.

"Life's good. Still the usual. Work is busier than ever, it's tiring so this atmosphere relaxes me. I kinda miss my family too," he rambles.

"Oh, Hanbyul. How is she?" you really just spout random things to say to not let the silence overtake your table.

"She just started primary school last month and I couldn't be any more prouder." You admired the love Hanbin has for his little sister. You adore Hanbyul so much so hearing this news is also satisfying for you.

With the short length of your talks, you realized one thing. He has his guards up. And you know why. It's because the last time Hanbin saw you is still fresh in his mind and the words you spoke are still loud. He's protecting himself.

FLASHBACK

Hanbin had been feeling uneasy with your relationship for the past weeks. He'd noticed you've been distancing yourself away from him and you never answered his calls and messages. According to your housemate, you've only been inside your room and never went out unless you needed to eat or take a shower.

He respected your decision of wanting space at first. But as time passes, he realizes it gets unhealthy in your relationship.

So there he was, three roses on one hand and a fastfood takeout on the other hand, in front of your room.

With gentle knocks and a soft call of your name, you immediately know it's Hanbin. Your heart ached once again when you heard his voice.

Nonetheless, you should make your decision.

And so you let him in. Hanbin couldn't be any more happier that you let him in.

The first thing that he wanted to do was embrace you tightly but he saw your expression and realized something bad is going to happen.

"Y/N, babe," said Hanbin quietly as he inches forward. The things on his hands were placed on the desk in your room.

"Hanbin, please," you replied, your voice sounding exhausted as if you're tired of everything.

"What do you mean, babe? What's wrong?"

"Let us not pretend like nothing's wrong, Hanbin. You know well what's happening," you answered soullessly. You can't ignore the fact that your heart is slowly breaking as your conversation goes.

"Y/N, just tell me, please," Hanbin pleads and you heard the desperation in his voice.

Silence surrounded the room.

"I barely saw you for the past weeks, please just tell me what's wrong-" you cut him off without even noticing you did.

"That's the point. The moment I needed you the most, you weren't there. The time where your fans called me a 'slut', a 'bitch', a 'stealer'. Hanbin, it hurts. Their words hurt," you said, though silently, the exasperation is still heard.

"We talked about this, Y/N. Please let's just ignore them. We can't let them ruin us," Hanbin pleads and you can see the need in his eyes as he reaches for your hand. You quickly directed your eyes away from his as you feel yours get filled with tears.

"They obviously hate me, Hanbin."

"But I love you."

"Your love will not stop the death threats I receive from some of your fans, okay?! I can stand it if it's just against me but my family is also getting threats!" By now, tears are falling from your eyes and you wiped it quickly away.

Hanbin took few steps backwards in shock.

"You didn't tell me you received death threats," he said silently as he stares at you with sad eyes.

"Hanbin, set me free."

You were being selfish, you're well aware. You're hurting him, you're aware. But you believe this is the only way for Hanbin to live without media and the fans bugging him about having you as his girlfriend.

You also wanted to save yourself from the harsh words the society shouts at you. Instead of talking it out with Hanbin, you decided to end everything and left him alone. It's selfish.

Hanbin's eyes slowly fills with tears and his lips form a thin line. He looked down for a moment and when he raised his head once again, your heart broke for the hundredth time that day.

He has a sad smile on his face, tears he so desperately prevents from falling, and eyes talking to you.

"I understand," said Hanbin and quickly pulled you in for a hug. "Please live the best life you deserve."

You loved him and you still do. The moment he wished you the best life that day is the time you hated yourself for not being strong enough. He didn't deserve a coward person like you.

"Why did you really came to see me, Hanbin?" you said after minutes of long silence. You figured he had something important to say. It has been a year since you broke up and him showing up like this is really suspicious.

"Honestly, I went here to give you something," he said with a soft voice and reached in the pocket of his hoodie.

"I had this when we were still together. I figured I'd give it to you for our second anniversary. But then, you know, it happened." He said while holding a beautiful necklace on his palm. Memories once again filled your mind.

"I've been holding on to this ever since we parted ways. This gave me hope everytime I'd thought about you. She has been a great companion," he said, referring to the necklace as a 'she'.

"But now, I'll give her to you. I realized I've been holding on to this for too long and now I'm ready to finally move on. I'm ready to finally let go of you," he said.

He has been staring down at the necklace while talking and as he lifted his eyes to look at you, you felt the longing between you two.

You said nothing but only looked at his eyes. You still love him.

"Here, please take it," he said, finally breaking the painful eye contact.

"No."

Hanbin looked at you, taken aback.

"Sorry, what?"

You stood up and dragged him out of the cafe. You just let your heart decide this time.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'm ready to lower my pride just to say this, Hanbin. I hate myself for leaving and I hate myself because I still love you," you said while swallowing your pride.

"You can't just say that, Y/N," Hanbin said, his voice sounding stronger.

"I'm sorry but this is how I feel. I'd go back to the night we broke up just to fix things. I regret not having to fight for us. I regret being too selfish at that time-" he cut you off.

"You're still being selfish now!" he said, almost raising his voice.

You felt small under his gaze and his voice.

He continued emotionally, "You told me to set you free and I painfully finally did. Set me free, Y/N."

"But freedom only did nothing but made me miss you more. I only ever realized how important you are when you're not mine anymore." You know you already sound desperate. You couldn't care less. Hanbin is finally in front of you and this is the only chance you have to fix the things you broke including each other's hearts.

"What do you want me to do? I am trying so hard to forget you, Y/N. I am fixing myself," he said, just as desperate as you. You saw how broken he'd become because of you.

You let his words sink in to you. You already broke him and you want to fix him by making him yours again? That's just selfish.

"If we loved again, I swear I would love you right," you sincerely says as you continue,

"But if the chain is on your door and your heart is already closed, I understand. I'll also let you go now," you said, the emotions in your wavering voice is eminent, as tears fill up your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I need to guard myself now. I don't want to get hurt again." And he grabs your hand as he places the necklace on your palm.

"Goodbye."