#a dance of hearts cod au

[callsign-bunnie]

A Dance of Hearts - Chapter 1 - Regency AU

Horangi had joined the King’s army in the Red Kingdom when he was 16. He’d been kicked out of his own kingdom for… reasons he wouldn’t share. But, he’d been an omega and so he’d lied to cover that up. He’d used an alpha’s blood that he’d killed for trying to rob him to cover his scent and then he had quickly found a potion that allowed him to hide more.

He was teased, frequently, for being a small alpha. It was fine, he could handle that. He could handle no one being able to know him, truly, because then they’d find out what he was and he would… well, the gods could only truly know what would happen to him, but he didn’t think it would be good.

As it was, it ended up being rather easy to hide. As long as he was diligent in taking the potion, which got rid of his heats as well, he would be fine. He was one of King Alejandro’s best soldiers, no one would dare question if he belonged there.

And, he had his own room, a perk of being the best. So, it would be hard for anyone to find out… Yes, everything was going quite fantastically for him, if he said so himself. Nothing could ever jeopardize his position.

This is the Korangi plotline I promised a bit back.

--

Horangi stared at the giant alpha which was kneeling in front of him. His hands were bound behind his back and his face was covered. “You want me to what??”

“Well, rather, King Alejandro wants you to. He’s yours to keep.” Stiletto, another guard, and a high up one, laughed. “He knows you, with all of your impressive skill,” she was not complimenting him, “will know what to do with him.”

“What does anyone do with a random fucking alpha?!” Horangi exclaimed, unable to help his accent as it thickened. “He’s giant, where will he even fit?”

“Figure it out! It’s not my problem. He is yours to deal with.” Stiletto shrugged. “Anyway, have fun…” She chuckled and shook her head as she walked away, leaving Horangi to figure out what to do with this giant alpha.

He frowned at the bag that was over the Alpha’s head, though he was taken back by the almost striking blue from under the mask. The eyes unnerved him. A sign was hanging from the alpha’s neck. Koenig. Horangi tilted his head. “King?” He recognized the language and the word. “Not so regal, now, are you?”

The eyes didn’t change, just continuing to follow his movements. Horangi sighed. He didn’t want an alpha to take care of. This was going to fuck with his plans. Completely. Having an alpha around him… no, this wasn’t good. 

He reached for the bag, frowning when Koenig flinched away from his hand. Regardless, he still fully reached and pulled off the bag. He was met with… just an alpha. He was handsome, no doubt, but there was nothing particularly shocking about him.

Blonde hair, sharp angled features, freckles… That was it. Just an alpha. The only thing particularly striking about him was perhaps his blue eyes and even there, he’d seen plenty of striking blue eyes. 

Now, there was a muzzle over the bottom half of his face. Maybe taking that off would change his mind but he doubted it. Even still, he went behind the alpha and carefully took off the muzzle, wincing at the red indents. They looked angry and painful, uncomfortable. He tsked his tongue as he came back around, waiting for Koenig to relax his jaw before sliding the muzzle out, putting it on his nightstand. “What’s your real name?” He asked, using the common tongue.

Koenig stared at him and for a moment, Horangi worried he didn’t speak the common tongue. But, then he sighed and his eyes looked away. “Leon.”

“I prefer Koenig.” Horangi shook his head. He touched Koenig’s face, turning it from side to side, tilting it back and forth. Still… just an alpha. Nothing striking or of note about him. “I guess you shall sleep on the floor.”

Koenig did not respond, but Horangi didn’t need one. He simply pat Koenig’s face before going to his door, calling out for a servant to come. Once they had came, he ordered them to get him items for a pallet, asking for twice as many, since the alpha was so large. 

Koenig didn’t physically turn his head, but Horangi did watch him tilt just a little, clearly listening. “He is too big.” Horangi sighed at the servant. “So, bring me whatever is largest.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant nodded. 

Horangi thanked the servant and then turned back to Koenig, going to his own bed and sitting on it, watching the alpha. “I will have to tie you before you sleep.”

Koenig looked amused. “You do not trust me?” His accent was thick. Horangi almost had trouble understanding him.

“No. And only a fool would. You would tower over me if you stand.” Horangi answered, simply. Maybe he made fool’s gambles, but… this wasn’t a gamble. It was fact. 

The alpha didn’t speak again and Horangi again looked over him. Fuck, what was he even supposed to do with the man?? Well, he did note that his hair was a bit long. Not in a well kept way, either. So, he’d fix that in the morning. And he’d get him better clothes than whatever this was. Yes, Koenig may technically be his slave, but he wasn’t having him look like one.

Slave… Horangi shuddered and looked up when the servant came back, carrying two large baskets. “Does this work, Sir Horangi?”

“Yes. It does. Thank you.” Horangi went over to the servant, relieving him of the baskets and then he set to work, making a pallet and then he decided to try to figure out how best to tie Koenig. 

He turned to Koenig, who was rubbing his wrists. It took his brain a moment to catch up to the action and his eyes went wide. Koenig looked at him. “My arms hurt.”

Horangi narrowed his eyes. Fine. He would waste a faerie chain on him. Ignore that they were in short supply due to the growing discontentment between fae and humans. “Impressive.” He muttered, snarkily, and then moved to the nightstand where he got out the thin silver chain. 

Koenig watched him come over and secure the little silver chain around his wrist. Horangi then stretched it to a loop in the wall. 

The barracks were repurposed from a very old dungeon, so lots of their rooms had odd loops and divets. 

Koenig looked over the chain, his expression curious. Horangi just ignored him, going back to where he’d been, previously, sitting on his bed, reading a book. 

“You have nothing you wish to do with me?” Koenig asked. 

“I wish to be left alone. I’m going to talk to… Well, likely Lord Riley tomorrow to find out why you were given to me.” Horangi shook his head. 

Koenig was silent for a moment. “You don’t seem pleased with my presence.”

“I’m confused. Do you want to be here?” Horangi sat up and looked at him. 

Koenig shrugged. “I’m setting myself up for reasonable expectations.” His accent was thick. Almost too thick, at points, for Horangi to understand. 

Horangi sighed. “No. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to have to spend the next however long looking after another person.”

“You could neglect me.”

Horangi went silent and then rolled his eyes. “Why am I even justifying this to you?”

Koenig smiled. “I think you want to talk to someone.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay. Can I have that bag back now?” 

Horangi shook his head. “No. But… only because it’s disgusting. We’ll find a better way for you to cover your face.”

Koenig frowned at him. “Why do you care?”

“Because if I am stuck with you, then you’re going to look semi decent. I don’t care if you’re technically a slave.” Horangi shook his head. 

Koenig gave him an odd stare and Horangi got up, frustrated. “Stop staring at me like that. Maybe I should give you the bag so I don’t have to see the way you look at me.”

Koenig still continued to watch him. Horangi made another frustrated sound and grabbed one of his own masks out of his drawers, throwing it at Koenig. Koenig caught it and stared at it before putting it on. 

“Thank you.” Koenig nodded, slightly, and then finally he settled on the little pallet Horangi had made. 

So Horangi finally laid back down and went back to reading. 

-

“What do you mean they’re both out?” Horangi asked the Lady who’d told him that King Alejandro and Lord Riley were both gone for the day. And for several days. 

Lady Mactavish winced. “Prince Kyle of Drodora has gone missing. They’re both in Drodora.”

“Oh fantastic.” Horangi glared at the lady. Then, he realized he was supposed to be an alpha, not an omega, so it likely wouldn’t be taken the same way. So, he took a moment and then softened. “Alright. Can you hold onto a message for them?”

“Yes, sir, I can.”

“Good. My name is Horangi. I have been given an alpha named Koenig and I wish- I wish to know what I’m to do with him.” Horangi sighed. 

Lady Mactavish raised an eyebrow. “But you’re an alpha.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, I’m just confused on why King Alejandro would gift you an alpha.”

“Huh, you’ve reached my conundrum.” Horangi took a deep breath. “Just, please my Lady.”

“Alright. I will.” Lady Mactavish nodded. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, do you want a giant alpha?” Horangi joked. 

Lady Mactavish paused. “Let me see him.”

Horangi hesitated, surprised, and then shrugged. “Fine.”

-

Soap, whom Lady Mactavish had asked him to call him, looked over the alpha, who was sort of just sitting on the little pallet Horangi had made.

Koenig looked up at Soap. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Your accent is thick.” Soap commented. “I’m sorry, why were you given this alpha again?”

Horangi sighed. “I do not know. I wish I did.” 

Soap turned to Horangi. “He’s too big.”

Horangi just laughed, agreeing. “I guess you do not want him?”

“I never said that.” Soap snorted. “Does he want me?” He turned to Koenig. 

Koenig had turned a dark red color which surprised Horangi. He was so confident the night before, where had that gone? Koenig did not answer Soap. 

“I will take that as a no. So, no, I guess I don’t want him.” Soap sighed. “My apologies, sir.”

“It’s alright, my lady.” Horangi bowed his head, slightly. 

Soap bowed his head in return and then left. Horangi made an amused sound when he saw Soap give a flirty little wave to one of the other knights. Maybe the rumors of Lady Mactavish were true. Regardless, Horangi would never truly know. 

He turned to Koenig and sighed. “Alright, fine. I will go into the market and find some new clothes for you. These look ridiculous.” He gestures to the loose torn shirt. Where would Horangi even get a shirt for him?? He’d have to get one tailored, which meant Koenig would have to go with him. Grand. 

Koenig shrugged and laid back on his little pallet. “When will you be back?”

“No, when will we be back. You have to come with me.” Horangi sighed. 

Koenig sat up, surprised. “Why??”

“Because you have decided to be too fucking tall and I will have to get special shirts for you.” Horangi shook his head. 

Koenig made a face. “Will we be around people?”

“It is, in fact, a village.” Horangi nodded. “A rather large village.”

Koenig winced. “Alright.” 

Horangi sighed and watched him try to get comfortable before deciding it would be best if he slept, as well. 

-

Horangi awoke to a soft gasping noise and frowned, slightly. He could also smell blood. This ability had been one of the reasons he had earned his nickname of Tiger. He sat up, carefully, confused why he would be smelling blood unless…

He immediately turned to look at Koenig, seeing he was now sitting up, grasping onto his side and panting softly. A small shank of wood sat nearby, coated in blood, and Horangi sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

After a moment, Horangi got up and went to Koenig, sighing when he flinched away. “If you wanted to kill yourself, you should have chosen something faster.” He murmured, touching the wound.

He earned a growl of pain, but no other response, and so Horangi pulled his hands away from the wound. He tsked when he saw how badly Koenig had gored himself. But… Horangi would be able to heal it enough for him to survive. “Well, I cannot completely heal you, but you won’t die.”

“Let me.” Koenig shook his head. “Let me die.”

“No.” Horangi answered and went to his chest, opening it and looking around for the medicines he had made. He couldn’t risk going to the infirmary so he had made his own medicines.

When he found the ones he needed, he came back and slowly peeled up Koenig’s shirt. The muscle that was under there was a brief reminder that Horangi could pretend all he wanted, but he was still an omega. “I imagined such a great warrior to have more self preservation.”

“There is no preservation in being owned…” Koenig looked away from Horangi, but did not fight Horangi off as he started to heal him.

Horangi put a paste to prevent infection in the wound, not flinching as Koenig grred in pain and then cursed in his native tongue. “Survival is important.”

“I’d rather die than stay captured.”

“Well, you failed.” Horangi shrugged. Koenig was too big for Horangi to be able to keep working on his knees, so he just straddled Koenig and continued to apply medicines. However, he jerked back when Koenig suddenly grabbed him and pulled him close. “Do not touch me!” He hissed.

“You’re not an alpha.” Koenig frowned. Horangi froze and looked down at where he was about to wrap cloth around the wound. “Are you a beta?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Horangi lied and just continued to bandage him. “I am an alpha.”

“You’re lying.”

“No one will believe you.” Horangi simply stated. He looked up and met Koenig’s eyes. “So don’t bother telling anyone.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Koenig shook his head. He furrowed his brows and then went silent, settling back against the wall. “You’re pretty.”

“Don’t start.” Horangi glared at him, though he found himself blushing dark. It’d been a while since he was called pretty. “Just treat me like I’m an alpha.”

“Why? You are not one.” Koenig shrugged. 

Horangi glared at him, again. “Because it won’t change our dynamic. I won’t suddenly bow to you because I’m an omega and you’re an alpha.”

Koenig looked at him for a moment. “I never said it would.” He sighed and then settled back against the wall. “I just wanted to call you pretty.”

“Why?” Horangi shook his head. “Why? It doesn’t mean, anything. Besides, if you saw my skin, you would disagree. So, just treat me as if I am an alpha. If your massive knothead can manage that.” He rapped his knuckles against Koenig’s temple, ignoring when his hand was swatted away.

Horangi pulled away when he didn’t receive an answer, shaking his head and kicking the wooden shank away. He took Koenig’s free hand and attached it to the other, shaking his head. “So you don’t try to kill yourself, again.”

“What do you have planned for me, eh, Kätzchen?” Koenig looked up at Horangi, who frowned.

Horangi turned the word over in his mind. “Kätzchen?”

“Your name is Horangi. I recognize it. It means… tiger, yes?” Koenig asked, furrowing his brows. “So I have called you kitten.”

“Would you call me that if I was an alpha?” Horangi asked, tilting his head.

Koenig seemed to consider. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. I do not think you are less capable because you’re an omega.”

“Yes, well everyone else here would.” Horangi decidedly did not believe him. “And, besides, I don’t have anything planned besides getting you into better clothing. This stuff is… not going to do if I have to take you out, anywhere. Which I will… likely have to.”

Koenig shook his head. “I don’t want to go out. I don’t- I-” His breathing became heavy and Horangi, at first, worried he hadn’t bandaged him correctly. But, then, he realized that Koenig was panicking. 

Horangi frowned. “Why not? It’s just a village.”

“With people.” Koenig mumbled, holding his chest with his bound hands.

A few pieces fell into place and Horangi stumbled back, surprised. “Did you… Did you try to kill yourself to avoid going to the village tomorrow?” 

Koenig avoided his eye, turning a dark shade of red. Horangi sighed and put his forehead in his hand. This alpha was… very dramatic. “You would die to avoid going into a village? You are a warrior, do you not have to regularly interact with other people?”

“That’s why I put the bag over my head.” Koenig answered. “Then… Then it’s not me. It’s just some large intimidating warrior.”

Horangi looked at the bag, which he hadn’t gotten rid of. “Well, the bag is ridiculous. You’re not wearing it. But…” He considered. “Could you settle with a mask and a hood?”

Koenig seemed to consider. “But I am not a warrior, anymore.”

“You are a slave. Trust me, people will ignore you.” Horangi snorted. “They will treat you as if you are not there.”

Koenig raised an eyebrow. “I’m a slave who’s taller than everyone in these barracks.”

“You’d be shocked what people will ignore if they are biased enough.” Horangi answered, shrugging. “You are less than a person to them.”

“Am I less than a person to you?” Koenig asked, his tone earnest. 

Horangi frowned. “No. You are not.” He answered, honestly. “I don’t… agree with slavery. I guess you were fortunate to end up with me.”

Koenig smiled. “I’m not technically a slave. I’m a war spoil.”

“Usually omegas are war spoils. I guess my mind is having a hard time wrapping around it.” Horangi sighed. He went quiet, thinking about how he’d almost ended up exactly in Koenig’s position. 

But… he hadn’t been some great warrior. He’d been considerably less than that. “I need to sleep.” He sighed, finally, and shook his head. “Sleep well. And… Don’t try to kill yourself, again.”

“Fine.” Koenig nodded.

Horangi shook his head and then settled back into bed.

--

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[peachesofteal]

Faerie

Magic!au / Fae!au / COD x reader collection Stories that exist within the same universe and characters that make continued appearances throughout the collection.

The women in these paintings are white but this does not reflect or represent the reader characters in these stories.

Mermaids AO3 Simon Riley/mermaid!reader “And the mermaids, they come once a year  They climb the struts of Brighton Pier  They come to drink, they come to dance  To sacrifice a human heart” - F + TM Which Witch AO3 / Part 1 / Part 2 John 'Soap' MacTavish/witch!reader “I’m not beat up by this yet, you can’t tell me to regret, Been in the dark since the day we met,  Fire, help me to forget” - F + TM Cosmic Love TBA / Drabble here Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick/mermaid!reader "I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you." - F + TM Long and Lost TBA / Drabble here John Price/ !reader "I need the clouds to cover me Pulling them down, surround me Without your love I'll be So long and lost, are you missing me?" - F + TM

[hyperactively-me]

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE LISTEN TO ME PLEASE

141 Task Force + Ale and Kö with a ballerina civilian wife. THEN!!! (NO PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE LISTEN) They came back from a mission without warning and they go to a presentation bcse they never actually saw one AND!!!! Their wife almost pass out in the middle of the stage by seeing them there (they look at her all in love and proud UGHHH).

THIS IS HELLA CUTE BYE-

BESTIE I'M LISTENING. LOUD AND CLEAR. this is so cute omg!!! also, i've never written for anyone other than ghost, and i don't have the confidence to write for anyone other than simon, so please don't be upset but i will be writing this only for ghost. (although, i genuinely want to get some practice in writing for all the other COD men, which i am trying to somewhat do through my king!ghost au, i just don't wanna fuck up their characters too badly haha. if at any point i decide to write for the others, i will totally come back to this prompt!). also, i wanted to make this more into a oneshot rather than blurb/headcanons soooo! yeah!

As the soft notes of The Sleeping Beauty Suite filled the dimly lit theater, you stood backstage, your heart racing. You sat on a spare box, fastening your pointe shoes on securely. The spotlight beckoned, the hushed whispers of the audience creating a palpable tension in the stiff air. The curtains were about to rise, and you were the prima ballerina. As you finished fastening your pointe shoes, you stood, brushing out your tutu. The weight of anticipation bore down on you, but you stood tall, chin up, back straight. You had practiced this routine a hundred times. It was just another night, another ballet. Nothing you weren’t used to. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You didn’t know your husband had just slipped in through the doors. He was still in his uniform, except for his mask and tactical gear. He never wore the mask around you. 

You had no idea that tonight would be different. All you knew was that Simon was not supposed to come back home for another three weeks. He had been deployed for three long months now. Your heart ached just thinking about how long you’ve been without him, the loneliness and longing that came with being a military spouse weighing heavy on you. 

The sudden sound of the orchestra snapped you out of your daydream, and the curtain began its ascent. Your delicate tutu billowed around you as you took your first step onto the stage, your body moving with the grace and precision that only years of training could produce.

But then, in the midst of your pirouettes and arabesques, something caught your eye in the sea of dimly lit faces. A figure, tall and strong, standing in the back of the theater. The world around you blurred as your heart leapt into your throat. It couldn't be.

Simon.

The shock of seeing him in the audience was enough to make you falter, to disrupt the airy balance of your performance. You stumble over your feet slightly, your knees shaky from the sudden interruption. 

You recover as best you can, continuing to dance. Your eyes locked onto his, you wanted to cry. He was home early. And he was here to watch you. His expression was one of awe and pride, like a lovesick puppy gazing at his beautiful wife.

You pranced and twirled, lost in the music and the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. It was as if the two of you were the only people in the world, the stage your sanctuary.

As the final notes of the music filled the theater, you struck your final pose, your breath ragged, your body trembling. The audience erupted into applause, their adoration washing over you like a warm embrace. But your eyes remained locked with Simon's, who was clapping with ferocious fever. His eyes never left yours. You flash him a teary, wet smile.

As soon as the curtains closed, you fell from your pose, taking in a ragged breath. 

Your fellow ballerinas had come up to congratulate you on a beautiful performance, but all you could do was say a rushed “thank you” before you were running through the backstage area. The backstage was a labyrinth of bustling dancers, stagehands, and dimly lit corridors. Your heart raced as you rushed to find a way out into the audience to reach Simon. The echoes of applause still reverberated through the walls, but all that mattered now was him.

Finally, you burst through a side door that led to the theater’s lobby. And there he was, waiting for you, his eyes shining with unbridled love and pride. His dark uniform was a stark contrast to the delicate pink of your ballet attire.

Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you, lifting you off your feet. The world around you ceased to exist as you held each other, tears of joy streaming down your face. His calloused hands wrap around you, squeezing you tight against him. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into his ear, your watery voice filled with pure happiness. 

“I missed you so much, love.” Simon placed you gently back on your feet, his hands cradling your face with care, wiping away your tears. 

“I missed you, Si,” you take in a shaky breath. “So much.”

“I– I can’t believe you’re here, how did you know?”

“I would never miss my wife’s performance, now would I?” 

A mixture of laughter and tears escaped your lips as you leaned in to kiss him, a deep and passionate kiss. It felt like a dream come true that he was here, watching you perform. It had been ages since he was last able to come to one of your performances, and his support meant the world and more to you. You pull away from the kiss, shoving your face into his neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice reverberating in your eardrums. “You looked beautiful, look beautiful.” 

You pull back, looking at him with a huge smile, rubbing his back gently. "Thank you, Si."

He pulls you back into a tight embrace, wrapping you in his warmth and burly arms. More tears welled up in your eyes, and you clung to him, feeling the weight of the months apart melt away.

His words warmed your heart. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The two of you held each other close, savoring the moment as long as you could.

[mi-i-zori]

Lies of Apathy

CoD - Demon!AU - Demon!Ghost x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS : She should have started running a long time ago. But they’re one and the same. No matter how far she goes, she always comes back to him. And the demon knows how to find her.

WARNINGS : Heavy angst with very small comfort, allusions to self-harm, mentions of smut (with consent), blood, description of panic attacks. There are a lot of religious metaphors that come from many, many religions, but none of them is directly mentioned.

Author’s Note : This is something I originally wrote in my native language a while ago, but ended up getting lost in my files because I had no idea what to do with it. So I used it as both a translation and writing practice. Hope you like it !

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Word Count : 12k+

Run. Dodge. Strike. Kill.

Beyond the turquoise shine of the firmament, a mayhem hides.

Waiting to awaken.

It longs for destruction, wishing to make our world and its peace a crude copy of the original Pandemonium. Lost in the soft, spectral feathers of a Fallen, a crimson suffering leaks, drops and runs, engraving its cruel wails into the bones of those who dare hear them. Those who only see it as an incarnation of love.

Oh, how tragic it can be, that imitation of kindness forging those who are supposed to guide the lost souls to the other side of the river ! In the blood of an Angel dance the names of countless minor deities bathing in their corrupted altruism - something the Ghost knows too well.

Sometimes, he remembers how he’s not supposed to be, for the memories of his origins have been erased by a never-ending hatred and despair.

In front of him, the young Hunter falls to her knees, facing the ruins of her own happiness. A peculiar fear tears a whimper from her knotted throat, and the idea of praying before this dilapidated shrine, created by a merciless Divine, leaves a rotten taste on what’s left of her tastebuds. A nameless exhaustion claws at her face, tries to drag her down the abyss of her subconscious. Her heart crumbles upon a way too familiar weight, and her breath gallops erratically in her lungs, her chest threatening to cave in under the ever-growing despair tainting her tears.

Knowing said despair is akin to drowning in its breast, to familiarise yourself with its screeching song and bury your bloodied eardrums among its decaying notes. In this very moment, a monster holds her with a renewed form of frenesy, and something inside of her cannot seem to wriggle out of the thorns covering its arms.

Around her, a baritone voice echoes from the darkness.

- Beautiful sight, it says. Small, vulnerable ya, prostrated in a field o’ ruins. ‘Ow many statues of ‘ope did ya build ‘ere, only for ‘em to instantly be destroyed ?

A familiar silhouette emerges from the nothingness facing her. She doesn’t answer to its usual sarcasm - instead, she allows her heart to bleed one more drop on the cracks littering the ground.

- Wot are ya prayin’ for, this time ? The entity asks as he stops next to her, crossing his arms on his chest. Maybe I can ‘elp.

His words awaken a wave of uncontrollable shivers in her guts. An violent earthquake, cold and cackling. Its growls bounce around her vocal cords as her nails dig into her palms.

- I’m not praying, she says from in-between her clenched teeth, her eyes falling upon the remnants of something she can’t bring herself to recognize. The Gods will never lift a finger when it comes to listening to a Fallen Soul.

The Ghost kneels before her crumpled form, the skull covering his face glinting in the darkness. A long time ago, seeing him like this, lowered at her own level, would have satisfied her ; showered her in a grandeur a part of her has always wished to know, laced with a taste of Paradise. Now, it’s nothing more than sickening. His smile, given away by the obvious crinkling of his eyes, brings a storm of Chaos in her already fractured mind, and she wonders if she’ll ever be able to forget this feeling. Trembling hands rise to grip the short strands of blonde hair of the Fallen, dragging him down to properly face her snarl.

- You poor, pitiful bastard. Why do you keep laughing at me as if it’s all your life has been reduced to ?

She wants her voice to be sharp and cruel ; but it only sounds lifeless, washed away by her exhaustion. The rough edges of a laugh bark inside the abyss of her skull. Her muscles suddenly tense like bowstrings, tightening her grip on his hair.

- Ya think Beasts were once made to live the grandest o’ lives ?

Her jaw snaps shut. Before she even realises it, her arms fall abruptly to her side, their strength devoured by the demon’s words.

- Or do ya think your Destiny is only made o’ ruins ?

The smile dancing in his eyes is much softer now, and it’s as if he had lost the usual malice lingering in his heart. Her own heart skips a beat at the sight, so out of place among such devastating surroundings. It’s a terrifying thing to point out, she thinks, probably the most acrid of all.

Blood covered lips twist in uncertain disgust at the thought.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Kill.

She hates him. She hates him. She hates him.

A metallic flavour melts on her tongue, crude and molten, burning her senses through the gut-wrenching wish to fearlessly face his playful, mocking truths. She can barely feel her limbs ; but she feels the bruises blooming on her skin, born from the war and chaos she keeps tearing through on the daily. In the Ghost’s eyes, the mix of such somber colours, full of meaning and ache, holds a beauty he’s never been able to name.

Her clothes get heavier under the amount of blood pooling through their fibres ; but so do his, and neither of them could tell which crimson belongs to whom. The thought carves a smile behind his mask - doesn’it it make it all so much more interesting ?

- One day, she snarls, you’ll be judged.

An endless cacophony of whistles drills through her head. She knows nothing of the issue of their fight ; but it won’t stop her from clawing at both her freedom and her peace. She fishes her weapon out of the decaying puddles rippling around her knees, and holds it at his throat.

- And I’ll bury you a thousands times under the weight lining the Jackal’s scales.

The entity looks at the blade with mocking interest. A spark of danger dances in his lifeless eyes, only growing brighter as they lock onto hers. He notices the way her features are pulled tight by a bottomless rage. Disarming her is simple, done in the blink of an eye, and he wonders if she’s really going down the path that will lead her to surrender. If she’ll do it willingly, or if she’s still going to fight - if so, how long do they have left ? He knows this question has also crossed her mind, sees it in the tremble of her hands. Even like this, now laying under him like a mouse under a wolf, he finds the young woman to be more than a mesmerizing sight.

She could easily be mistaken for some kind of divinity, he thinks, and it almost makes him laugh. The sounds, unfamiliar and rough, mimics the memory of what used to be a beating heart in the depths of his chest.

How long ago was it ? The last time he ever felt alive ?

Did he ever ?

Now, he’s supposed to be close to death - or a vessel for it, even. A being of rage and torment, made for walking in a world of destruction and pain, for leaving a path of decay in his wake. He feels it all, yet he isn’t allowed to die. A part of him probably wishes he was ; but he forgot about it since the moment it was sent to lay dormant beyond his consciousness. He doesn’t even know if he’ll ever be able to find it again. If it still exists.

His attention zeroes back in on the desperate soul laying in front of him. The armor she keeps covering herself with is has once again been reduced to shreds by their never-ending fights. There isn’t an inch of her skin that hasn’t been covered in dirt. He takes in the sight before lowering his face next to hers, his rough whisper floating in her ear.

- Oh, lil’ Snowflake.

I can’t wait.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Fight.

Tonight, her favourite restaurant is filled to the brim.

The happiness of her family’s voice gets lost in the cacophony floating through the room. Everything around her is blurred with exhaustion ; but his presence is crystal clear. Behind her, sitting in the shadows of a decorative curtain, the Ghost is patiently waiting for an opportunity to strike. The more time passes, the more easily she can see him in her mind. It’s a stupid game - one they both keep playing, wondering who will break and speak first. Allow the other in.

Maybe the day will come when they finally become one - simultaneously taking a bite of the poisoned apple.

This cruel temptation may be the reason why she’s cursed, she thinks, an invisible wall slowly forming between her world and the one spreading in front of her, filled with the laughter of her loved ones. Her life is made of painful memories, witnesses of a will to live that never really was. The idea that her future could be the same, tainted with the kind of horrors nobody else can see, is terrifying - injects even more corruption in her veins, lungs and bones. A rusty sword dangles above her neck, ready to cut one half of her existence and leave the other to suffer through a ruthless agony, trapped under the weight of its metallic carcass.

She’s not yet ready to drown in her own damnation, but the somber waters never cease to rise. The black tide finds pleasure in torturing her, filling her trachea to the brim before throwing her back to the surface. It cackles madly as she drags her disjointed puppet of a body on the shore, proud of the violence it keeps subjecting her to.

When she thinks about it, the young woman often realises how far back in time this curse goes. It seems to plunge its roots in her very origins, as if vowing to forever haunt her dreams with visions of madness, horrifying and useless prophecies that could have made sense had she been born in humanity’s most ancient of times. But the old Oracles are no more. So she swallows the twisted sights piling in her soul, and fills her daily life with empty smiles. A normality that was never hers.

Her demons were born alongside her. And they will never meet their end unless she succumbs to her own fall.

She saw many strange things and fought an equal amount of nightmares ; she shouldn’t allow any of this to affect her so badly. But it’s in her nature to think and feel, way too much even, which makes her an easy prey to the eyes of Those Who Fell. One of them trails behind her, melts within her shadow. He wants to devour her life even more than any of the others will, and refuse to let her breathe. He knows which string to pinch in order to make her fall, which melody to play to stir up her rage. He forces her to run within his -her- darkness, to get lost in its endless expanse, to confuse herself until she doesn’t know which path she is following anymore ; abandon or redemption. Like an offspring of Eris, he finds pleasure in throwing the apple of discord between her and the world she desperately tries to belong to.

His very presence used to terrify her. But time decided to drop some hatred in the bottomless goblet of her fears, birthing a futile perseverance at the bottom of her guts.

A few seconds fly past her eyes before the vacant chair to her left silently creaks under the invisible weight of the entity. As always when he manifests himself in public, she barely spares him a glance. A part of her wonders if he would act the same, should the roles be reversed. She came to find a peculiar kind of comfort in his freezing presence and the familiar thoughts he brings.

In front of her, her uncle barks out a laugh at a waiter’s joke, tearing her away from her thoughts. Leaning forward to examine the enticing content of her newly-delivered plate, she feels the demon do the same against her back, reminding her of his presence through the cacophony of her thoughts. Usually, she would curse him without hesitation. But right now, this is not something she can afford to do ; not when she has to play pretend in front of her family’s peace.

An invisible hand settles on her wrist as her free hand rises a spoonful of rice to her mouth, allowing the Ghost to measure her tired heartbeat. It sometimes launches itself to a full gallop whenever she has to speak or a sudden crash emerges from the restaurant’s kitchen. Following the same rhythm as the drumming in her ears. The bloodied melody always takes its time to fall back to a steadier beat, and the thoughts that follows hold a suffering the Ghost likes to decipher.

A secret message. A call for help, written in the trickiest of codes.

What a beautiful song, he thinks, burning with chaos ; and the young woman barely restrains the twist of her features when his mockery echoes in her already overflowing mind, threatening to worsen the migraine lingering around her skull.

How good is it to fight anyway ? She sometimes murmurs to herself, shutting off the cackles echoing in the back of her mind. Is the darkness really that bad ?

Maybe her feelings are getting the best of her. Maybe the idea of surrendering to the enemy’s claws comes from the loneliness nesting behind her heart, the one pushing her to more or less willingly seek the Ghost’s company. Maybe she’s simply imagining the spark of sympathy that sometimes dances in his gaze. A part of her insists that there can’t be any light without darkness, and vice versa ; but maybe she’s just reading in-between lines that don’t even exist.

Maybe all these thoughts are the result of another manipulative ambush orchestrated by her demons.

To hell with all those beings made of impurity and fake divinity ! She exclaims silently while laughing at a story she didn’t really hear. Those monsters corrupting the innocents’ dreams, immolating them with waves upon waves of sinful flames, leaving a salty, rotten taste on the remnants of their tongues ! They find happiness in Their victims’ despair, cooing at the ruins of their broken hopes, recalling the misadventures of Icarus and the other mortals They disgraced with Their attention. Be careful to not burn yourself, they cackle and rasp. The phoenix went extinct eons ago ; it’s now impossible to come back from your ashes.

Lie, little dream, lie, the Divine laughs ceaselessly as she surrenders herself to a hopeless optimism. Why not hide yourself behind an illusion ?

Lie, little dream, lie. Why not become a nightmare ?

Run. Dodge. Strike. Fight.

Sometimes, she wonders if her throat isn’t laced with a red string - the kind that, one day, will inevitably be the end of her.

She often turns around to catch a glimpse of it, in an elusive reflection in the mirror, or in the corner of her vision. She read dozens of stories worshiping it as the proof that true love is far from being a myth, saying that seeing it means one’s soulmate is nearby. But only in dreams can such things really exist.

And, sometimes, even dreams can lie.

For the spectre of her destiny created the thread with a mix of love and hate, of strength and cowardice ; a foreign intimacy made to drown them as one. The kind of thing that, should she ever share it with the world, would only be the source of laughter and disdain. She would probably be punished for her lack of gratitude for the life she was given.

Each breath is constantly filled with a bloodcurdling fear of simply existing. Her body never ceases to quake, trapping air in the expanse of her lungs and struggling to let it out. A thousand bear-traps snap at her flesh as she tries to keep pursuing her future, this vision she never really manages to see clearly. She sometimes think about tightening the string around her throat, deepen its colour with the moisture of her own blood ; yet it seems content with just grazing her skin in a satire of love, constantly feeding the frustration nestled in her breast. She never knows if it will ever be merciful enough to slash her neck open.

The Ghost holding the other side of the crimson line is dangerous, murmurs a voice resembling her own. One wrong move would be enough for him to send her over the edge. A clumsy step to the side. A benevolent mistake.

She often notices the small knot clashing with the dull porcelain of his skin. He likes teasing her by wrapping the string around his palm, adding enough pressure to have it leave a rugged caress on her neck ; to remind her of its presence. She loathes the cruel smile that carves his face open when he catches her off-guard, causing her to lift her hand towards her own knot.

She despises them all : him, the world, her Destiny. And she hates her own inability to get rid of the miasma plaguing her mind ; the way her empathy whimpers whenever her eyes follow the never-ending scars mapping the body of the Ghost ; the whispers that make her realise how similar they are to one another.

They are nothing more than two sinners looking for a reason to live.

Looking for redemption.

- Ya know we’ll always be bound to each other, Snowflake, the entity says, cackling in her ear. Why do ya always try to ruin whot canno’ be destroyed ?

Her blood boils as she presses her frozen palms against his throat with a snarl, as if trying to force him into silence by imitating the thread caging her own pulse. She knows how futile it looks, knows the fruits born from this endeavour will hold the bitterness of her failure. Yet she refuses to crumble under the mocking weight of his words, for it would be surrendering to the way this rotten world keeps trying to send her into exile.

The gravel of his voice resonates against her palms.

- No’ tired of fightin’ a ghost ?

Her teeth sharpen into her mouth as he coils an arm around her waist, locking her body against his. She can’t stop a shiver from rolling down her spine ; and, unable to decide if she can really allow herself to savour the frozen warmth of his skin, her fingers tighten around his breath. His Adam’s apple makes a mould of its own shape in the crevices of her hands.

Yet he doesn’t even flinch.

- ‘Ow many times did you try to run away from me, darlin’ ? To make me fall, only to fail ?

- Shut up.

- Wouldn’t take much for us to bend this world to our will. Think abou’ it : we could face ‘em, ‘and in ‘and, laugh at ‘em until our voices break. Take the clay they used to create their dreams with and burn everythin’ with ours.

- Shut. The fuck. Up !

Yet no amount of resistance seems to tarnish his fantasies of despair. She barely has the time to blink before he slips behind her back, his breath burning incandescent holes against her ear. His hollow heart beats silently against her spine - and her arms fall limp against her sides, getting tangled with the crimson rope circling around them.

- We could make our own miracles, he whispers, never letting go of his decaying thoughts.

A broken cackle tears through her clenched teeth.

- So now you want to play like a God ?

One of his hands, torn open by countless cursed knots, comes to circle the neck of his prey. His smile drips into the passion lining his voice, and she can almost feel him against her cheek as his massive frame leans over her shoulders. Their spines could fuse with each other without her even realising it, she thinks, feeling her back crack under her demon’s weight. She wonder if they are now worthy of the crumbling statues haunting the temple of her mind.

- Why no’ ? He says, and her legs suddenly go numb.

The Ghost breaks her fall without any effort, taking advantage of her now lethargic state to hold her tight against his heart. He presses a kiss against her cheek, slowly savouring the taste of a frustrated tear.

- Why couldn’t we be our own Divine ?

Crimson now runs towards the very center of her soul, and she can’t do anything but dive into the motlen marble of the Ghost’s eyes.

Another fight is coming to an end.

Her human heart pumps with an overjoyed frenesy as its end nears once more, but the Hunter is far from glad as she realises said end is nothing more than an illusion coated in sulfur. The entity can see the suffering dancing in her eyes, now reddened by the tears she refuses to set free. The Fates could slice their mutual despair open with a laugh whenever they want ; but they have yet to do so, and he wonders if they enjoy watching the both of them struggle to stay afloat.

- Slowly now, he whispers, slightly loosening his grip to erase the dull ache throbbing in-between her ribs. Wouldn’t be wise to exhaust yourself withou’ me.

A part of him would probably qualify this role of his of Apathy, or Disinterest ; bury himself in a litany of lies to play the perfect villain, always finding a new excuse to justify the satisfaction he gets out of it all. Try to convince himself of how none of this, her, Them, deserve even a shred of his attention. But he knows that, somewhere in what’s left of his angelic heart, slumbers the reality of a longing, a thirst for love and touch he refuses to see. And she knows it too.

He silences the feeling again, covering it with words dripping with his own broken kind of sarcasm.

- This world doesn’t make any sense if you’re not ‘ere.

A sickening growl shakes her guts as she takes in what she refuses to hear. It dies before reaching her lips.

- What a liar, she grumbles, her voice and mind fading more and more with each syllable. You’re just a fucking liar.

The smile he offers her is nothing short of carnivorous, and through it, she could almost make out the virtuous remnants of what used to be his soul. He presses a searing kiss over the bloodied foundation covering her shoulder, incredibly soft despite the sharp, mesmerizing coldness haunting his each and every word.

- C’mon, lil’ Hunter. Give up.

And this time again, the taste of victory flows bitterly against his tongue.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Choke.

When she opens her eyes, her room is nothing but silence, and the chaos of her bed seems covered in a thin layer of ice.

Her entire body is being crushed by an invisible weight as countless shivering waves run along her skin. A choir of ghosts dance in the corner of her vision, their laughter echoing through the walls of her skull. A frozen, corrupted substance flows through her still slumbering veins.

Why is it so cold ?

Her breath quickens as she fights to keep a semblance of control over the ruins of her mind. A sea of urchins is tearing her trachea apart, and she would love to feel her hands smash their spikes through her throat - yet nothing seems to even think of taking pity on her. A river slowly starts running down her frozen cheeks, its flow carrying her thoughts away like a hurricane would a twig, as if trying to drown her in her own mind.

An earthquake suddenly takes over the marble of her hands, and she doesn’t know if it is caused by the ambiant cold or the thunder wreaking havoc inside her ribcage. The magma that was once slumbering in her chest is now trying to escape through her every pore ; and it burns, scorches her insides over and over again as the volcano bursts along with her tears, threatening to carve a new rift on the surface of her heart.

Crushed by her ribs, her lungs refuse to work properly. A pungent breath bites through her bones, as if trying to corrupt even the marrow hiding behind their calcified walls. Her own existence is hoping to tear the guts out of her humanity’s rotting corpse. The decline of a heart filled with despair is tragic enough to become the muse of countless poets and their sonnets ; yet there’s no glory in the mourning of what we once used to be, she thinks, especially when Life itself drinks our tears with a crooked smile painted on its mask of comedy.

Next to her, the mattress sinks. Her eyes, burned by the salt of her tears, can barely make out the dark silhouette leaning over her ; but she doesn’t need them to feel and know who it is. The Ghost lays a burning hand on her cheek, and something inside of her desperately tries to anchor itself to this touch she subconsciously learned to look for amidst the storm.

A somber look covers the entity’s features as his fingers meet the ice of her hands. She’s a warrior ; one he’s used to fight almost every single day. Seeing her in this state is almost disturbing, for he quickly realises there is nothing left of her usual hostility. The Flood swallowed it all.

For once, he’s not the source of her distress, and this train of thought leaves a strange feeling in its wake. Is it rage ? Jealousy ? A mix of both ? It doesn’t matter. The Divine is not allowed to toy with a prey that isn’t Its own.

She barely has the strength to utter a single sound as he takes hold of the fragility of her fingers to bring them to his own neck. The mocking spectres dancing around them suddenly cease all movement. They even seem to disappear the second she starts feeling the echo of a pulse under the scars littering his skin, the confusing proof of the decomposing existence of a life filled with darkness. Its rhythm is slow, silent, ghostly. It gently lulls her mind, offering a blessed shelter against the violent winds.

Her own demon tries to hold her head out of the water ; a situation that would have made her laugh had her throat not be so parched.

- What did it taste like, she finally croaks out as her hand ghosts over his skin, the despair that made you fall ?

Was it similar to the fear haunting the surface of my lips ? Will you end up smearing it on my tongue to break what might be left of my humanity ? Will you be seated on the Emperor’s throne on the highest part of the infernal Coliseum in the middle of which I will inevitably be forsaken ?

Or will I be the one to guide you towards the light ? Will I be able to let you taste the ambrosia of peace I keep looking for ? And if it indeed ends up touching your lips, will I even realise it ?

- Like my own blood, the Ghost says, and she notices the peculiar softness that has replaced the usual sarcasm tainting his voice. Wan’ to try it ?

The kiss he offers her is like a cruel salvation ; a source of comfort immediately shattered by waves of chaos blooming into her soul. It leaves a sour taste on her tongue, akin to a tragedy leaving a trail of weeping arteries and broken bones in its wake. Like the smoking remnants of a battlefield, she thinks, witnessing the horrors she went through ; the nightmares haunting her sleep. A series of erratic visions displayed on the dark screen of her eyelids.

It tastes like the beginning of the end, murmurs a voice lost in the torn expanse of her mind, and she finds herself submerged by the need for more.

The warmth of his skin slowly melts the ice imprisoning her. Yet the tension running between them still has the red thread tightening around their throats, and a part of her refuses to see how good it could be to let him drag her down into his own flames. Let them be hers.

She only now sees the strange pattern they created, made from both violence and peace, love and hatred, as well as a guilty freedom tightening around her guts.

The Ghost probably noticed it too. Even when they exchange words filled with mockery and blood, he always ends up savouring the harsh touch of her hands pulling his teeth back towards her neck. And slowly, surely, he unwinds the knots holding her spirit together, only to tie them up all over again as she wakes up from a familiar anesthesia. A predatory smile carves itself against her neck, sharp teeth threatening to break both her body and soul - progressively widening the rift in the facade she desperately tries to keep in place.

- Relax, luv, he whispers, his abyssal timbre sending shivers down her spine.

His hands clutch every single one of her curves with a desperation she has yet to understand. His fingers seem to reach for her very soul, claws moulding her body to his will. Their hearts dance with each other as he holds her to his chest, exploring the expanse of her back as if he was discovering it for the first time. His breath leaves a scorching ache on her shoulder, and she wonders how his touch keeps getting even more delicious each time.

She lets out a cry as his fingers find her core. Her teeth coax a vicious growl from his throat as they sink into his flesh, and the Ghost drinks up every trembling breath dripping past her lips. A rumble echoes deep within his chest as she loses herself against him, her nails leaving crimson rivers down his neck.

The cold haunting her is now long forgotten. The ice shatters under the Ghost’s fangs, and, for a second, he draws his eyes towards the darkness of the room. They mercilessly pierce the remnants of the now silent spectres that tried to steal his perfect prey. Their silhouettes finally vanish completely ; at the same time, a shuddering whimper shakes the body resting in the iron of his grasp.

- Let’s show ‘em who ya belong to.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Choke.

She feels more than she sees the way her palms turn white under the assault of her own nails. Her heart never slows its erratic rhythm, forcing the mud coating the surface of her lungs to pulse along its beat. A few centimeters away from hers, the Ghost’s chest rumbles with a laugh.

The world could crumble so easily in-between her hands, he thinks ; she’d just need to strengthen her will. She could take over this infernal game and make it eternal, let the Divine Creations burn and burn, turn into a lake of sterile ashes. Ring the final bell and have its sepulcral cries echo in the bones of the Gods. Create her own version of a happy ending.

The world could crumble so easily in-between her hands ; for her determination is a synonym of destruction. And They know it. They are the ones who sent him to her, trying to make her fall. Did They even think he’d try to make her his instead ? To turn her against Their pathetic idea of glory ?

But he has yet to win. An infuriating reality. You should already be dead, he wants to scream, why do you refuse to yield ?

She only looks up at him through the darkness lining her eyes, ignoring the nauseating feeling of her life bleeding along her skin - leaving a series of darkening trails along the porcelain of her bones.

- What about you ? She says, and it’s like she’s reading his thoughts. It’s not like you’re doing much.

And it’s true. He torments her, brings her down over and over through countless excruciating fights. Strikes her weakest spots, both in her body and soul. Yet he knows it’s far from being enough. He wants to see how long she’ll last, what will end up being his coup de grâce ; but maybe a part of him wants her to live, achieve what his distant, decaying memory tells him he was never able to even touch.

His fangs scrape painfully against each other. Under the mask, his jaw is covered with the blood of the lives he took. Hers soaks through his clothes, skin, muscles and bones - but it has yet to taint his teeth, coat the walls of his stomach. He is the reason why his ideas haven’t been brought to light. He knows it well, perhaps he has even acknowledged it.

- You could reign over this world and you know it, she adds weakly, her voice breaking over the words she doesn’t even really need to articulate.

She doesn’t know if she’s glad to still be alive despite the fact that her body should already be lost six feet under, or if she wishes it would be the case.

- You have the power to bring your every desire to life. Make it a perfect reality.

Her muscles weaken with every second that runs through their fibres. Her lungs, filled with a dark, freezing darkness, beg to breathe in even the slightest amount of oxygen as her chest crumbles with exhaustion. Despite all of this, the Hunter refuses to sway, ignoring the waves of pain crashing against her bones. She tries to stand proud in front of the Ghost, feeling him watch intently as she fights against herself. But her legs crack and stumble ; and his reflexes are a perfect proof of his inhumanity when he launches himself forward to catch her, preventing her from shattering her already broken self on the rubble at their feet. He holds her tight against him, letting out a deep, mocking laugh - yet refusing to let her go.

They both know why.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Cry.

A flash of silver.

A familiar sting.

A salty tear.

Another wave of crimson crashes against the porcelain of her skin, violently, beautifully. The puddle swirling around her knees reflects the pathetic face of a broken doll. Her limbs are numb, unable to feel the rain hitting them as if it was trying to avoid her, only aiming for the floor. For a second, she wonders if a Divinity is crying for her Destiny, but the thought quickly falls quiet, silenced by a muted laugh. The Gods never pity their mortals.

Her soul falls into pieces once more on the marbled concrete at her feet, and the faraway echo guides her eyes up towards the sky. The adrenaline born from the usual fighting is slowly starting to fade. On the edges of her blurry vision, the Ghost draws his familiar silhouette out of the fog. The misshaped sarcasm she throws his way doesn’t make him flinch the slightest, making her wonder if this nightmarish entity didn’t place much more faith in her than she ever will.

What a stupid thought, they both whisper, the only thing breaking them apart being the usual snarky smile she forgot to wear to hide her ever-dampening cheeks.

- Ya know you’ll have trouble hidin’ those blood stains, right ? The demon says, kneeling to her side.

A soft sound escapes her lips, scorching hot compared to the rain.

- It’d be useless anyway.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Cry.

She wakes up with a start and a silent scream as sweat runs coldly down her chest. There’s a dry, violent pounding in her skull, enhanced by a laughing tide of cramps tearing her bones apart, its echo bouncing around her sleeping muscles. Despite the confusion lingering in her brain after what is probably her third nightmare of the night, she registers a warmth laying next to her, one she’s surprised to see at this hour. A part of her expected him to come and go as he pleases like he always does - never taking the time to stop, even for a moment. But in the end, him being here isn’t that surprising. Just like her, he’s never been able to leave her side for too long.

Maybe they’ve become each other’s haven among the mayhem of this world.

She shivers violently has she buries her face under the covers once more, ignoring the sweat lingering on her skin. Her hands whiten with the strength she uses to scratch at her scalp, hoping to lose her thoughts among the apocalyptic landscape of her bed. Find an anchor outside of the dreamworld.

- It’s impossible to fully heal, isn’t it ? She whispers more to herself than anything, even though she knows how light of a sleeper the Ghost is. No one can really forget.

Almost immediately, she feels him move against her shoulder, silently turning around to meet her form ; small and trembling under a nameless terror. Pathetic, he would usually laugh, but his own scars burn so viciously that he can only clench his teeth as he faces her pain. Is that empathy twisting his guts ?

What he would do to forget that thought.

- If ya want to forget tha’ badly, I might ‘ave a solution or two.

The Silence is loud as she nods slowly, tiredly. Seeking refuge in the sulfur of his touch.

- Please, she says, quaking as his hand smears layers upon layers of charcoal upon her hips, don’t you wish for the same ?

His lips fall upon the curve of her neck, barely restraining the fangs hiding behind them from piercing the already bruised skin ; reveal the raw pulse hiding underneath.

- Yes, he answers, barely daring to break the erratic rhythm of his breath - and, once more, feeling her melt through the peculiar love of his hold.

When traitorous Morpheus finally takes control over her mind, the sun has already broken through the night, painting the firmament in blinding hues of blue, devoid of any cloud. It claws mercilessly at the Ghost’s eyes, tears a low growl from his chest. On the other side of the window, the world rises to a mix of car engines, footsteps and voices, involuntarily celebrating the light that is constantly trying to burn him to ashes.

The sky has no reason to be blue, he thinks as his forehead meets the window pane, just like his Snowflake has no reason to sigh so serenely in his presence. The atmosphere is soft, warm ; dragging a wave of shivers down his back. A frustrated growl escapes his throat, the night of his eyes sparkling at the taste of a familiar rage. That celestial blue is silently looking down on him, mocking his darkness.

He loathes it.

He loathes her.

A second is enough for his knee to dig into the covers once more, giving him enough support to guide his fingers towards her face. They slowly dance along her skin as the weight of his very existence makes the mattress whimper, before roughly circling her neck. Her blood pumps peacefully under his touch, and his own voice screams in the back of his mind, distorted and rough.

Do it. Take her. Rid us of this nuisance.

His tongue soothes the cracks covering his lips, and a twisted smile eventually slices them open once more as the words settle in his thoughts.

But in her sleep, the Hunter moves - and his excitement dies as quickly as it came to live. She breathes in deeply, her head lolling against the pillows. Instead of braving for a fight like she usually does, she lets her subconscious raise a hand to his wrist, as if she was trying to offer him her silent support.

But that’s not what he wants. That’s not what he is.

What happened to this poor human that fought mercilessly against him, fueled by an endless determination ; the one who bared her broken teeth in his face through a bloody sneer, ready to turn his words against him and burn his entire being to ashes ?

He loathes the way his own mind whispers those words in his ears, exchanging it’s usual coldness for a dry melody made of anger and fear that makes his hold tremble around his Snowflake’s throat. The peculiar understanding they both came to. The doubts this small, vulnerable thing keeps planting in his soul. The fact that he can’t make any sense of the abyss bubbling in his head anymore

So he staightens up, ignoring the way his spine crackles as he makes his way out of this way too-familiar room. He almost expects a knife to dig through his back, to whistle in retaliation for engaging in an unfair fight. Give him a taste of his own medicine, in a way. A painful warning. So he waits.

But nothing comes.

A glance over his shoulder shows that the Hunter hasn’t moved a single inch. She still lays there, swallowed by a capharnaüm of blankets, her sleep-laden breath so slow it barely disturbs the quiet of the room. Her favourite plushie is curled on top of her head, like a guardian trying to keep its treasure from the merciless claws of a nightmare. A fitting description, he thinks, realising it’s probably been months since she slept so soundly.

His teeth strain under the sudden pressure of his jaws. This is the exact kind of peace he is starting to see in the eyes of his prey - as if she was in the process of surrendering, giving up her life to his now familiar hands. He doesn’t understand how she can bring herself to look at something like him and feel so serene. It makes him want to keep her for himself even more, taint the corrupted purity of her soul. He knows she can feel it ; so why does she treat him with so much tenderness ? Even more so after the hell he’s been dragging her through while laughing at her tears ?

A sour smile loses itself to the her sleepy silence as he turns back to sit on the edge of the bed. Perhaps the only reason why he wants her to be his is to understand her better. And once he does, he might finally be able to grasp how similar the chaos brewing in their hearts is. Forging their souls from the same steel.

Or perhaps the roles will change, and he will become nothing than a frail and vulnerable lamb. An easy prey caught in the destructive jaws of the Hunter.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Think.

Above her, a string of neons blink.

The young woman has no idea of what pushed her to once again get lost in the smelly bathroom of this nightclub - the one her friends keep dragging her to. Her eardrums haven’t stopped ringing violently ever since she stepped foot through its doors - perhaps because of the music that’s way too loud for her senses, the multicolored lights tearing at her retinas, or the uncontrollable amount of blurry faces swinging way too close for her comfort.

She doesn’t belong here.

Despite the nauseating swaying of her vision, she notices a more-than-familiar silhouette lingering in a corner of the room. He seems way too big for fit comfortably in the small space, engulfing it completely with his darkness. A stark contrast to the colorful graffiti littering the walls.

- ‘Ow many times do ya plan on makin’ tha’ back an’ forth between the dancefloor and this shithole ?

If the mockery in his tone only serves to irritate her more than she already is, the young woman doesn’t have the strength to meet the Ghost’s eyes. Instead, she stares at her own reflection among the suspicious dirt covering the mirror dangling on the wall, akin to a failed portrait made by a drunk painter. She thinks about taking a picture and submit it to the first museum of contemporary arts she stumbles upon, to top it off with a ridiculous title. Who knows - with a little bit of luck, she could maybe earn a little bit of money. Make it easier to reach the end of the month.

As that thought runs sarcastically through her mind, she ignores the dry chuckle rasping from the corner behind her.

Somewhere beyond the door, the DJ makes a poor transition to another music she barely recognizes. All that’s left in the tired void of her mind is the struggle of her own existence and the calm breathing of the entity, wafting against her neck despite the small distance between them. Her eyes meet once again the cracked lights in the mirror, and she can almost see it pulsating against the wall along the beat coming from the next room. The music keeps screaming in the rancid air, and her blood almost crystallizes in her veins when it’s joined by a chorus of screeches and whistles.

- I need to get away from here, she says, knowing the Ghost heard her despite the ambiant chaos.

She can feel him shift behind her as she reaches towards the dilapidated door with a trembling hand, desperately trying to shut off the pain lingering in her marrow.

- Let’s fuck off then, he answers almost immediately, and she wonders if he, too, hopes to get rid of a loud ringing in his ears.

She barely has the time to step out of the bathroom that she’s assaulted by the sounds, the smells, the touches. The singing voices and bodies burnt by an impossible amount of toxic liquids and smokes, a violent choir telling her to get away, away, away - GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE ; and she has no idea of which is stronger between the screams of the nightclub or the cries of her heart. Almost instinctively, she reaches behind her, seeking a destructive yet familiar contact in the hand of the entity following her. But her pride is a powerful force, and her arm stays stuck to her side.

Yet the Ghost knows her well. He feels what she does as if he was the one living inside her head ; and he kind of is, in a way. Perhaps he is the one feeling all of this, and not her ? He quickly silences the thought, enveloping her hand with the charcoal covering his own, squeezing so tight it’s almost painful.

It soothes an ache in his own non-existent heart. He wonder if she knows, feels, everything about him too.

Another nightmare comes running down his back ; a memory, the laughing spectre of what used to be a majestic pair of wings, which he used to fight in the Divine’s name until It abandoned him to his own abyss, tore his feathers apart to burn them to ashes in the flames of Its arrogance.

He almost feels the need to throw his eyes into another mirror shining below the erratic lights, as if the crevices running along its surface could give him what he lost ; a new kind of feathers, way too sharp for the immaculate hands of the Gods. But the Hunter keeps walking, dragging him along.

And the Ghost follows. For she’s his only shelter in this bubble of suffering they both unvoluntarily insist on sharing.

Run. Dodge. Fight. Think.

How do you mourn a devastating loss when you’ve never had anything to lose ?

Tell an Angel a tale of love, and they will carry it in their dreams. Listen to the beating of their heart, akin to a bird’s song celebrating the rising sun. Watch the molten gold reflecting off the ink of their blood drop from the wounds their longing for such a feeling caused. Realise how beautiful the depths of their darkness is, abyssal and mesmerizing ; how empty it all is, devoid of any sense.

The Ghost isn’t too different, he who lives thanks to those who unknowingly need him, who convinced himself that he was made to serve their torment. His very existence is proof that, if he can’t find a soul to pull him forward, he is nothing ; which is why he looks for his redemption through countless paths made from wounds that aren’t his. He dips his feet in puddles tainted by the blood of mortals, the crimson life -and death- of those whose hatred and suffering only serve to fuel his own.

A long time ago, he forgot what it’s like to love.

Maybe he remembers the meaning of caring for someone. But does that mean his feelings were once given back to him ? The thought is both ridiculous and horrifying ; a description that fits him well, too. It has become impossible for him to get rid of the impression that, if he one day decides to let go of the his Snowflake, these shreds of memories would also slip through his fingers.

So he holds on, so strongly that his knuckles whiten and crack under the corrupted ink of his skin. He doesn’t know whether or not he could speak of love - if he should. Behind the deformed skull covering his face, the entity hides a terrified snarl.

Sometimes, alone in his own darkness, all of this makes him laugh. How lucky he is to have something to fear, something to drive him forward ! And how undeserving he is of it, Fallen that he is, he who fell so long ago in a bottomless well of which he will never get out !

During his most vulnerable moments, laying down next to the Hunter among the chaos of her bed, he lets his doubts break through his voice.

- You’re mine, aren’t ya ? He asks, and she murmurs something he can’t catch before clearing her throat.

- Yeah, she answers sleepily, I’m yours.

Her hands get lost in the gaping scars littering his back, and he allows himself to be lulled by such a light touch, devoid of the usually anxious trembling interrupting her days. Among his sighs, now peaceful thanks to this intimacy they barely think to share, his muscles tense periodically. She feels more than she sees the earthquake hidden behind the baritone notes of his voice ; and she knows his fears too well, these nightmares that keep trying to shatter the pieces of her heart. She can almost see his eyes look for an answer she might not really dare to give him, for she almost knows him better than she knows herself ; and vice versa. Or maybe not, whispers and echo that sounds eerily close to a mix of their voices, but she refuses to torment the already too twisted soul of the Ghost.

What made you like this ? She sometimes yearns to ask. Who made you into those ruins of a man, constantly trying to drown you in a bottomless abyss ?

But she knows she will never be brave enough to loudly articulate those questions, even if he might already know about them. So she settles for snuggling against his peculiar warmth, covering the tangle of their bodies with a toasty piece of her covers, not really knowing which one of them she is trying to bring comfort to. A yawn escapes her lips as she holds him against her chest like a damaged, oversized plushie - not unlike the one sleeping peacefully next to her head.

- And you’re mine.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Dream.

The era she lives in is made of corruption and greed, she thinks, its horrors rivalling with the ones found in the deepest pits of Hell itself. Or perhaps it’s a form of Paradise ? Maybe she’s nothing more than a demon hidden in a masquerade filled with pure, ancestral beings, her flaking skin gripping the velvet of her costume, threatening to tear it apart like the Gods did her soul. Maybe she’s one of the few who see the Truth hidden behind this never-ending show, this cacophony in the middle of which she’s forced to survive despite the fact she’s not meant to be there in the first place.

In a world covered in scorching waves and deadly shores, where is she supposed to find herself a halo ?

Sometimes, she wonders if the Angels of today pray when the sun rises, kneeling in front of the loud cries of their coffee machine. If the remnants of what were once sacred melodies dance in the ashes if their memory, disappearing behind the echo of the last drop falling into a cup they will never empty completely.

She wonders if their now blunt teeth break cigarette after cigarette, their ends piling up on the cold and dirty tiles of public restrooms, the walls around them covered in holy quotes they have long since forgotten. If their tongues happen to trip on the syllabes of a language they can no longer understand.

She wonders if their mouths are still filled with ambrosia, tainting every other food with a flavour they now know as forbidden. If they still remember lazing around in the middle of starry clouds, once upon a time when their glasses were never empty and their laughter ran along the skyline.

And she wonders if they would still be able to recognise their brothers and sisters behind the corrupted aura surrounding them, the foam born form the Lethe that lingers in their eyes. If they meet each other under the noses of the mortals species they now belong to, their sanded claws tearing the silky skin covering their bones, as if trying to find an illusion of peace in the ocean of confusion they are doomed to roam.

Are there even such beings, nowadays ? She murmurs. Remnants of sacred ruins destined to sway forever between their forgotten paradise and the hellish grounds they always feared ?

- You’re overthinkin’ again, a voice echoes at her side, and she can almost see two dots of dried blood light up at the edge of her field of vision.

She doesn’t even think about turning her head towards the sound, her own eyes focusing on the darkness of her ceiling.

- Would you be able to answer any of my questions ?

Her mattress suddenly caves in under a weight she now knows too well. The Ghost leans over her, a foreign expression carving his face behind the skull of his mask.

His silence is as somber as it is eloquent.

- Your fall, she insists, did it hurt ?

- ‘Course it did.

Of course it did, echoes a smiliar voice floating in the darkness. I felt my wings decompose as I tried to slow my fall down, the stars burning my fingertips over and over. My hands have been torn open by the lightning crawling around the atmosphere, and the clouds cried waves upon waves of salty tears upon my wounds. My scapulars tore the muscles of my shoulders apart, and my feathers burned among a sea of flames I once came to admire.

This nightmarish moment still haunts my entire being. I can still hear my own screams bounce around my skull, refusing to quiet down despite the passing of time and the crevices that line its walls.

Of course it hurt.

- Of course, she repeats once more with a pale voice, as if the memories twirling in her mind had always been hers.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Dream.

Angels are sacred beings, spells a voice lost in the young woman’s mind, whose wings have been carved in a block of purity, and whose feathers sway along the rhythm of a virtuous wind. It’s easy for them to lose it all. Remember this, for the next time you catch the eyes of a Fallen.

Inside the Ghost’s ribcage, a somber void sits where a heart once was. The cracks of the Genesis hide a bottomless abyss, cruel and bathed in despair. She never knows how to resist to its alluring call, the loving whispers twisting her soul and turning it into a palette of rotten watercolours.

She’s been standing in her bathroom for a long time now, watching her reflection in her foggy mirror. Her hair clings to her face, still wet from the heat of a way-too-long shower, yet she does nothing to move it. Truth be told, the reflective glass only shows her a vague, colorful shape ; but she knows herself well, so much that it has become impossible to ignore the marks lingering on her body. She’s the reason behind many of them, guided by the honeyed words of her nightmares, always so cold against the invisible flames licking at her skin.

She should run. She knows that too well. She should have started running eons ago, even, but something inside of her refuses to get rid of her chains. She could escape to the other side of the world - yet nothing could stop her from coming back to the entity that, despite their constant fighting, somehow keeps her head out of the water.

Migh’ be our Destiny, is what he always says, persuading her to stay by his side. And it could be true, for the Fates are vicious and cruel, always looking for a way to laugh at their pathetic efforts to stay afloat.

He used to be an Angel. Everyone is to meet at least one during their life, and another one after their death ; no matter its nature. The Divine no longer cares about the purity of the entities It sends to the mortal world, and might even find some pleasure in seeing the consequences of Its own failures, convincing Itself that none of them is Its fault. The Gods will always see Themselves as better than anything else, and the Ghost hopes she never forgets it.

- And there she is, he says as he steps closer to her exhausted form. Back again.

The echo of his footsteps sends shivers down her spine. A bitter taste haunts the dried walls of her throat, soon taken over by a nauseating sweetness - the kind that makes her want to hold even more of it between her teeth.

Run, the voice whispers once more. You poor little thing, it might not be too late to escape him. But she knows this regret will soon go silent, making it even more easier to stay. So she stays, unmoving as he gets closer and closer, until there’s barely an inch left between their chests.

- Tha’ was quick. Missed me tha’ much ?

His smile is impossible to describe. Her reflection is clear in the bloody lake of his eyes ; showing her the peculiar fascination that paints her features, sometimes broken by rays of doubt and desire. Their lips barely graze each other as he leans in, yet the touch is so vivid compared to everything else that the Hunter wonders if it wasn’t just her imagination.

- Your ego knows no bound, she mumbles, her voice lacking its usual sharpness.

The Ghost smiles, knowing too well how captivating his inhumainty is. She constantly tries to get rid of this malicious attraction that chains the both of them, dipping her finger in the spectral thoughts whispering how much better she is than all of this, than this Fallen who knows nothing about the depths of love. It’s all an illusion, a dream created by an infernal fever. A trap. She’s aware if this - so why does it all seem so real, sometimes ? Could it be that all these silent, vulnerable moments are nothing more than the sparks of futile hope she thought was real ?

She should run. But she wants to know if there isn’t even the smallest of truthful lights hidden behind this never-ending nightmare.

- You always say that Destiny’s the reason why we’re constantly brought together, she murmurs weakly, dropping her head against the Ghost’s torso as he holds her there, hands coated in a silent tenderness. But how could that be, since I always do my best to avoid you ? How do you keep finding me ?

For a moment, the entity feels his eyes widen with surprise. He quickly hides it behind a sly smile, cruel and warm. This time, he dives even deeper to really meet her lips, and she can taste the rust that seems to haunt his every touch.

She should run. But she doesn’t. She never will.

- I jus’ follow those who are waitin’ for me, Snowflake.

She sometimes wonder if she’ll ever be able to forgive their mutual sins ; and the voice in her head cackles. You’re bound to a being that lives for this, it says, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten ? The laughter refuses to stop as she realises again and again that she’s far from being Holy - something that the Ghost knows too.

- You always save me from my demons because you want to kill me yourself, don’t you ? She asks, her words bouncing strangely around her dried throat. You’re the only Death you’ll allow me to have.

He sucks in a breath, the darkness of his features twisting under his mask. Those questions -or statements ?- rouse an unknown feeling from the void ; new, complex, indecipherable. She can almost feel his usual arrogance quiver in her own heart, abruptly hidden by the melancholic sigh crossing his lips.

After a moment of silence, the entity places a kiss on her shoulder, light as a buttefly. Something loud echoes from his thoughts, a conflict lost eons ago to the abyss, while his own silence offers no denial or confirmation. So she keeps herself quiet, holding her certainty in a corner of her blurry mind.

And in her dreams, when Morpheus laughs as he asks her if she’s found herself to be seduced by his newfound vulnerability, the exhausted Hunter simply offers him a bitter smile, drinking her own tears from a golden cup.

She no longer has an answer.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Hope.

Among the universe in which she lives, the Hunter never knew a single end ; only strings of never ending realities and gargantuan burdens holding the cruel thoughts that keep laughing at her misery. Destiny has never been on her side. Which makes her laugh ; maybe she stopped believing in it too long ago to care.

She couldn’t say when exactly she lost the taste of happiness that came with the old memories of her youth. Instead, her tastebuds tremble whenever a tired and distressed breath invades her mouth in the hopes of being set free, twist under its sour flavour as she tries to swallow it. Some times are not made for sighing.

The Gods decided that she was made to wither in Chaos, but she’d rather see things differently. She doesn’t like the idea of the cruel, broken concepts They make, those that never hesitate to unleash waves of suffering on thousands and thousands of innocent souls. She tries to focus on the positive things they sometimes leave in their wake, no matter how difficult it is to find them, how easily they can crumble in her hands.

For now, she’s stopped fighting. But the cascades of her own blood are now weaved in her soul, constantly retelling tales of the wars she’s been through. She can do nothing more than to wait for the next storm. Which she does.

Among the uiverse in which she lives, comfort comes and goes however it pleases. More often than not, it goes down a path drastically different than hers, so far away that she loses sight of it. Those periods of time stretch out for so long that when this peace comes back, meeting its almost unknown silhouette triggers her reflex to fight - her soul screaming at the potential enemy standing in front of her.

Fight ! It pleads. Fight ! Fight ! Fight !

Survive !

Yet she silences it for now.

Outside of her window, the city still hides behind a thick veil of fog. As always, it should be too early for her to be awake ; but her eyes refuse to stay closed, and her mind focuses on the heavy feeling crushing her waist. The Ghost lays beside her, still fast asleep with an arm slung over her frame, his body easily engulfing hers. It’s a good opportunity for her to observe how his short, blond hair fades into the porcelain of his skin, shattered by countless scars of all colours. She dares run a hand through the blond calamity of his hair. How strange it can be, she thinks as he sighs against her breast, to sometimes boil with hatred and disdain for the other, yet still share those quiet moments of intimacy whenever the fight ends.

She used to wish for him to disappear. And yet now, she finds peace in his presence.

What happened ?

In her eyes, the entity did nothing to deserve even an ounce of kindness. He dragged her down over and over again, enjoyed building her back together only to break her again, drew tears and blood from her very soul to savour the taste. But so did she.

The Divine keeps laughing at their pain by offering them fake opportunities of redemption. But they both know they can only find their salvation in the other’s soul, walk side by side towards a new world of their own creation. If the thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, she still sees how attractive it can be to slowly burn out in the heart of the Ghost while cradling him in hers - free both of their souls of the miasma haunting them.

This is a fantasy based on nothing, cackles a distorted voice in her head. And it’s true. No matter how much they try to redeem themselves, how many times they tear their own knees apart while praying, and how many rebellions they go through in order to cut their own strings, the skies will never allow them to leave Their grasp. But they stopped caring a long time ago.

Raising a trembling arm to her eyes, the Hunter smiles. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her lips as she silently follows the too-many marks littering her skin - a familiar sight, with an ever-growing number. She realises how similar her scars are to the Ghost’s. The canvas of their bodies is covered in white lines, rugged burns and deep, purple bruises that never stop appearing, and her vision sways before she can finish counting.

Yet she can’t stop her eyes from following the crevices lining the entity’s back. They rise and hide among a valley of broad muscles, holding the memories he refuses to share. The visions he can’t forget. Her own back is probably the same. They are covered in the painful remnants of what used to be their wings, the spectres of their freedom weighing heavy against their bones.

- I know you’re awake, Ghost. Stop pretending.

She immediately feels him smile against her skin, his fangs threatening to catch on the red lines crossing her chest.

- No’ pretendin’, he answers with a low and cheeky voice. Admirin’ my work.

- Oh, fuck off.

That drives a cackle out of his throat. He could have followed up with one of his usual snarky comments, but he chooses to nuzzle the crook of her neck instead as she slowly rakes her nails along his scalp. The gesture is soft, tender - so different from the times she claws at him instead, either during their fights, or their rougher moments of intimacy. An empty glance to her face, one she tries to avoid, tells him that she probably had the same thought.

The atmosphere is strange during this morning, bathed in a shy light, but the Ghost doesn’t pay it any mind. The room is perfectly silent, and it would be a shame to ignore this opportunity to get a glimpse of her beautifully complex mind.

How many times did he see his Snowflake’s eyes hold the darker hues of a violent rage, an abyssal despair, or any other feelings she couldn’t decipher ? He reads her like an open book, so satisfyingly transparent. How beautiful it is to watch how her story writes itself to the rhythm of her thoughts, of the days they weave together ! For now, all he sees is a slow melancholy digging in-between the lines, akin to a storm brewing on the horizon. An infinite tiredness that has him silencing the teasing he was tempted to articulate.

- You miss it, don’t you ? She finally says, interrupting his observations.

She hesitates slightly, pausing in her train of thoughts. How could she summarize the entirety of their mutual struggle in one sentence ? Her own saliva becomes painful to swallow, dragging against the dry walls of her throat. It’s like a marble of lead is blocking her oesophagus, leaking the poison of doubt in her system.

- The Chaos, she continues, her voice sounding incredibly raw. You keep chasing it, but it’s getting away.

The Ghost rolls onto his back, grunting as the rust of his bones hinders his movement. She isn’t wrong. Just like Violence has tried to break her soul, his is tainted by a visceral need to ruin all order. All is boring when Peace settles in ; silent, clean. Unsufferable.

But when he looks at the Hunter and her milky scars highlighted by the rising sun, the entity thinks this moment of rest -which will obviously be too short for her tastes- isn’t that bad. He appreciates the calm floating in the air, and her presence too, even if their relationship might be far from ideal. To stay here, bathing in the misty morning glow without holding a blade to the other’s throat, is something he finds himself to enjoy quite well.

He slowly sits up, allowing his head to stretch lightly to the side. The smile he gives her is full of harmless malice.

- Ya’d miss me, eh ? If I left to pursue tha’ Chaos.

- Oh no ! Not at all !

- Always so shy, he sighs as if her reaction offended him. Neva’ sharin’ whot ya really think.

He leans above her, voice lowering, and his arm twisting in a way that can barely support his weight. It wouldn’t take much for him to fall into his previous position.

- Bu’ maybe we could create our own Chaos ?

- We already do that quite a lot, she quips back while rolling over to turn her back to him. It’s enough for me.

She feels more than she sees the way his smile now leaves his fangs on full display, showing how much he enjoys troubling the morning peace with his dark and honeyed words. He softly takes hold of her wrist, where his lips come to follow a path he now knows more than well.

- Bu’ didn’t I hold your hand ta guide ya towards peace, multiple times ?

Face halfway buried into the pillows, the Hunger grimaces. These words reflect a twisted truth, ensnare her throat like the red thread that runs along her skin.

- You hate Peace, she breathes.

- And ya know nothin’ o’ it.

Sometimes, she thinks, « dangerous » isn’t powerful enough to define the Ghost - especially when his thoughts get so close to hers. When she finally decides to meet his gaze, she finds the usual spark of arrogance dancing behind his pupils. Yet there’s also a hint of laziness and sincerity, one she seems to see more and more as time passes. Body still heavy with sleep, she raises herself towards him, and languishly runs her thumb across the traitorous curve of his lips.

- You know your offer is tempting.

Among the universe in which she lives, the Gods like to play like cowards, binding them together as one tormented soul. They both despise Them for giving them so many feelings they will never control. On one side of the coin, it’s freeing to be carried by the dangers they hold ; but on the other side, constantly standing in the eye of the storm is exhausting. Like fighting with bare hands against a raging fire.

- And I know you’re gonna refuse, Snowflake.

She simply cackles.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Hope.

She doesn’t remember much about the happy times of her childhood. The earliest memories she holds are already painful, filled with an almost visceral need to survive against the infernal obstacles that Life keeps throwing in her path. They keep repeating that it’s like this for everyone, forcing her to reduce her own armor in pieces and tear out the heart beating behind it, showing this corrupted world the gaping wounds it has to beat with ; the searing edges she had to cauterize herself in order to not bleed out on her own ; the cries she swallowed into silence to avoid being treated like a stranger to her own existence.

Maybe they’ll come to see how difficult it is for her to keep going, she thinks, to hold her head high when everything tried to drag her down.

Her eyes, circled by her tired pain, get lost in the phosphorescent stars haunting her ceiling. Their pale, green light has always been a guide, a sturdy anchor protecting her against the merciless currents of her thoughts whenever she feels like giving up. Being a Celestial must be tiring, she sometimes whispers while imagining said creatures flying among clouds and comets. She can’t imagine what it takes to bear the weight of the hopes and dreams of others when one’s has already left this world to wander in another.

She always thought she never believed in Fate ; yet when she lets herself be carried away by the abyssal timbre of her Ghost, that demon she now knows more than herself, she remembers that it’s impossible to escape its languid clutches. Sometimes, a part of her wonders if she wasn’t wrong to listen so much to her doubts.

Her body is covered in scars she is ashamed to wear. But her fight is still far from whatever ending it might follow, and something in her mind murmurs that they can’t be that bad, those white marks she shares with the Fallen she’s come to love.

Her bones crack as she turns her pillow over to meet the cool fabric of its unused side ; but it’s the touch of the entity laying on top of her that keeps making her shiver, and a light laugh escapes her when his charcoal-covered claws brush against her ribs. It’s a rare melody, and it convinces him that, somewhere, the firmament must be torn by the miraculous and silent dance of a shooting star.

His thoughts only quiet down when she slides a hand along his scalp to feel the softness of his hair, the clarity of her voice echoing through the silence.

- Don’t you want to see it from up close ? She asks, causing him to raise a curious brow.

- See whot.

- The shooting star.

The Ghost smiles, littering her skin with butterfly kisses filled with reverence. To see the one he gave his love to so eager to do the same is a beautiful feeling, and he realises how lucky they both are to have met each other while looking for a new kind of ataraxia.

- No need, he whispers, nuzzling in the crook of her neck.

I already have one.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Kill.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Live.

[sinnah8]

Anything but you

Anyone But You AU

Konig x Simon sister, soap x ghost, and previous Alejandro x Simon sister

a/n: I recently watched the movie Anyone But You, and I got back into reading cod fanfic. So why not put the two together?!?. The reader is in her early twenties while Konig is in his late twenties, lmk for part two I hope you enjoy:)

warnings: 18+, mentions of alchol

three years you and Alejandro were together, he was practically family to everyone. Until he decided to take a pause on the relationship. you weren't really sure why it took him a month for him to start seeing other people.

So one fateful day you and some friends decided to go to a club to get over him. you decide to have one drink and just watch your friends have fun and mingle. seeing them dance and talk to other guys made you a tad bit jealous. you huff to yourself as you walk up to the bar to get another drink. “Vodka cranberry” The bartender nodded but as soon as he turned his back a man approached you.

He was tall muscular and looked way too shy for his own good. you see in the distance a bunch of his friends snickering. you rolled your eyes “just leave me alone-” his heart dropped as he looked back at his friends “Nono they gave me the confidence to come and talk to you.”

Finally, you thought a breath of fresh air “What’s your name?” he loosened up "Konig you?" you smiled "Y/n wanna ditch this place?" Konig nodded without hesitation.

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! This was one HECK of a week, and it couldn't have happened without all of the submissions I received! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

✨ = 18+ content

Fics:

The Clone Wars: Vermillion (Clone OC Specter x f!Reader) by @dickarchivist New Members (Fives x OC Rasha Skohl, Echo x OC Ari Nierre) by @fives-lover ✨ The Den (Kix x OC Nihlus Brek) by @for-the-sake-of-color ✨ Dancing Lights (Wolf!Wolffe x f!Reader) by @the-bad-batch-baroness ✨ I Yearn, And So I Fear (Wolffe x OC Kazi Ennari) by @enigmaticexplorer ✨ Man on the Moon (Fox x Riyo Chuchi) by @emeraldvsociety ✨ In Command (Rex x OC Senna Aven) by @wild-karrde ✨ Eight Shades of Blue (and the Touch of Orange) (501st Legion x f!Reader, Cody x f!Reader) by the_rain_on_kamino (AO3) Crèche to Command by Boredom (AO3) The Commander Swap by @brainrotrants Dominoes by meridianpony (AO3) Fox Hates Red by @stormyblue90 Dead Dog by @corvod

The Bad Batch: ✨ Stars Beyond Number (Echo x Riyo Chuchi, Gregor x OC Cerra Kilian) by @dystopicjumpsuit Tooka Dad (Crosshair x OC Rayla) by @drafthorsemath Sunflowers & Blasters (Crosshair x OC Isabella Ramót) by @523rdrebel Low Battery (Crosshair x gn!Reader) by @523rdrebel ✨ Cleaning Up (Tech x f!Reader) by @reader6898 Secret Kingdoms (Knight!Hunter x f!Reader) by @jedipoodoo/@lizartgurl A Cosy Bed: A Stardust Conspiracy Fanfic by @just-here-with-my-thoughts

Call of Duty: ✨ If I Had a Heart (Ghost x Soap) by @cod-fishing

Legends of Chima: The Forgotten Legends of Chima by @olivescales3

Marvel/MCU: Black and Tan (Bucky x Sarah Wilson) by @btwxsixesandsevens

Crossovers: The Misadventures of Cosplay Man (Danny Phantom x DC Comics Crossover) by Shynnohwen (AO3)

Art:

The Clone Wars: How Dominoes Fall by @frostycatblr-fandom-files Temeura Morrison Study by @keldabekush Cody with Long Hair Art by @rochenn Commander Cody Art by @captora Blade to Blade by @rackcty Anakin and Ahsoka Art by @finpews

The Bad Batch: The Bad Batch Dark Souls AU: Character Introduction by @amorfista The Bad Batch Dark Souls AU: Introduction by @amorfista Hunter and Omega Art by @eggdrawsthings Tech Art by @talesfrommedinastation

Critical Role: Caleb Widogast Art by @middimidoris

Avatar: The Last Airbender: Zuko Artwork by @chiptrillino-art

Yonderland: Cake Bake Lady Edith Art by @bahoreal

[ryuzakemo128]

Duchess of Manchester

Pairing: Duke! Simon Ghost Riley x Duchess! Wife! Reader / Aelora Raengyreon x Duchess! Wife! Reader

Content Warning: Graphic mention of threats. Violence. Emotional distress. Failed Marriage alliance brought on by your husband. Aelora's temper. Royalty AU. Possible incest between Aelora and Aelor.

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers (And Template): @cafekitsune

Note: Someone gave me the idea of introducing a hotd type of thing for a royalty Au for COD.

Words: 1665

Summary: “Duchess, this is your first and final warning.” Aelora’s fraternal twin brother, Aelor, told you. “Do not mistake this as a mercy. It is a mere kindness in regard to your prior circumstances.”

“I will have you executed if you interfere with your older sister’s martial affairs. Regardless of their temperament and treatment towards you. You cannot and should not interfere with the martial business in her regard. Do not overstep or face the consequences. Keep your husband on a tight leash, duchess. Preventing a second marriage from your family does your parents or your sister no benefit. You are now of a place of privilege, girl. A duke would know of this. Yet he seemed in adequate in assessing the needs of others. Keep your slimy fingers away from the affair, or I will cut your fingers off myself with a rusty pair of garden scissors, you are ungrateful, moron. Keep your feelings away from the matter. Your feelings do not matter in this situation. I will, and I can have you executed if you continue to misuse your power.” Aelora to you, the wife of Duke Simon Riley. Her crimson eyes piercing through your soul.

“Duchess, this is your first and final warning.” Aelora’s fraternal older brother, Grand Duke Aelor, told you. “Do not mistake this as a mercy. It is a mere kindness in regard to your prior circumstances.”

“I am not afraid to make you a widow.” Aelora continued as Aelor finished. “I would rather not make you one. But I will not hesitate in doing so. Your trauma doesn’t give you the right to squander the potential of others around you. Duke Riley, your attempts to provoke a reaction will not go unnoticed either. Ruining the potential marriage between your sister-in-law and future spouses make me more inclined to believe you cannot control your emotions. A political marriage about to bloom can't be squandered, you inept child.”

“Maybe if her face didn't look so much like a sour lemon, she would have more luck.” Simon argued.

“Maybe if her brother-in-law knew how to shut the fuck up, she wouldn't have to look like she sucked on a sour lemon.” Aelora snapped back at him. “You overstepped not only once, but three times this evening. You have brought endless shame upon your family's name as well as your heritage, Duke Riley.”

You felt a sizzling tension in the air, and the room seemed to shrink around you. Your heart hammered in your chest as you took a step backward, watching the power dynamics unfold before you. Aelor's grip on his sister's arm tightened slightly, as if to hold her back from lunging at Simon. His eyes never left Simon, a silent warning that he would not tolerate any more disrespect.

You heard of her marriage to her older brother, Aelor, something your husband Simon had only whispered about in the dead of night. His words painted Aelora as a cunning and ruthless leader, feared and revered by all who knew her. Yet, in the brief moments you had spent with her, you saw a hint of vulnerability, a softness that did not align with the cold steel you heard so much about. It was as if she was two people in one, a complex dance of fiery temper and guarded emotion.

“You can't be serious, Simon.” you hissed. “That would be incest.”

Aelora's gaze swung towards you, and for a moment you felt the full brunt of her fury. “In our world, the royal world, such trivial matters are overlooked for the sake of alliances and power. The union of a sister and brother is not so uncommon if it secures the throne or prevents a war.”

'No wonder Soap wished for her to be wed to someone other than you,' You thought, looking at Aelor. 'Soap, bless his soul, was always too kind for his own good. Though with her own rumours of madness in the royal court. It is really that much of a wonder you would rather have my older sister wed without the interruption of either me or my husband.' You spoke with a calmness that belied the chaos in your mind.

'Now, if you'll excuse us, Duke and Duchess Riley, we have matters of state to attend to.' Aelora said coldly, her eyes never leaving Simon. 'Do not make us regret our decision to extend this olive branch tonight. It is not one we shall repeat.'

You couldn't help but notice the possessiveness in Aelor's touch on Aelora, the way his eyes flashed with a mix of anger and protection when Simon spoke. It was clear that the bond between the siblings was not just political, but deeply personal. As they turned to leave, you felt a strange sense of relief mixed with fear. The air in the room was thick with unspoken threats, and you didn't want to be caught in the crossfire of their power struggle. Strangely enough, you felt like you wanted to, needed to prove yourself to Aelora, to show her that you weren't just a pawn.

Simon prevented Aelora from leaving by placing a hand firmly on the door frame. “Hold your tongue, Aelora. You may be the crown's favourite, but do not forget who holds the purse strings here.”

“Your funds are not required for that wedding. You ruined it by your own choices, actions, and words. To act without thought of consequence. How would you feel if it was your older sister?” Aelora now calmer after Aelor had retired for the night.

“How would you know what I feel?” Simon replied, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Why did you think I asked in the first place? Do you not comprehend my questions, or should I ask for your wife to translate them in even plainer English for your northern ears?” Aelora countered.

Simon's jaw clenched at her words, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the door frame. “You think you're so clever, don't you? You and your fancy words. But let me remind you, I am the Duke of this land, and you are but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.”

“I am a grand princess, soon to be grand duchess, heed my warning.” Aelora reminded him with a raised an eyebrow at his temperament. “What do you think you gain from this?”

Simon took a deep breath, his chest puffing out as he tried to maintain his pride. “I want what’s best for my family. I want peace and stability, not a marriage that could ruin us all!”

“'Ruin us all?' or ruin your leverage over someone else?” Aelora questioned. “Your sister-in-law seeks a marriage alliance not a marriage complication. What she may or may not have done is not up for contention. Now or tomorrow.”

Her tone was cold and precise, cutting through the room's tension like a knife slicing through the stillness of the night. The candles flickered as if even they felt the intensity of the exchange. Simon's face reddened, his hand slammed down on the armrest of his chair.

“The decision has been made, Duke Riley. You will respect it," Aelora continued, her voice unyielding. “Your selfishness and spite will not dictate the future of my family. Her sister is not a tool for you to manipulate.”

Simon took a step closer to Aelora, his own anger now fully ignited. “And what gives you the right to make decisions for her? You're not even her blood!”

“Do you really think kindness should only be shown from blood alone? The term is Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” Aelora countered again. “We will speak of this in the morn.”

Her words echoed in the corridor as she and Aelor left, leaving you and Simon in a room that felt colder than it had before. The silence was deafening, filled only with the distant sound of the castle's night watch. You stared at the spot where Aelora had been standing, her presence lingering like a storm had just passed.

A captured moonlight in a body of a human, porcelain, alabaster, as if the sun never reached her skin. Albino is the term you heard people use for her condition.Her eyes, a stark contrast to her pale visage, were a deep shade of crimson, so dark they were almost black, fringed with thick lashes that cast shadows on her high cheekbones. Her hair, like spun white, cascaded down her back in curls, a stark contrast to the crimson dress that clung to her slender frame. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, as if she was floating rather than walking. The room grew quiet as she entered, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and power.

Aelora took her seat at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping over the assembled nobility. You watched as the lords and ladies bowed their heads in respect, some with genuine fear, others with veiled loathing. Her brother, Aelor, took his place beside her, his own eyes a slightly paler shade of the same crimson. His posture was regal, his expression unreadable, yet his hand remained possessively on Aelora's shoulder.

Aelor's finger nails digging, biting into Aelora's flesh, reminded her of the gravity of the situation. She felt his tension, his silent support, his unspoken rage. It was a rare show of vulnerability from the stoic Grand Duke, and it sent a shiver down her spine. You saw it as a testament to their bond, one that seemed unbreakable even in the face of a potential political crisis. Though the placement of his hand seemed far more intimate for a sibling relationship.

You brought this up with your husband, the intimate touch from Aelor to aelora. When you got to bed, you couldn't help but bring it up with Simon. "Simon, why do you think Aelor holds Aelora so closely?"

Simon's eyes grew distant as he thought. "It's not just affection. It's more than that. It's a silent message to everyone here. A declaration of ownership, of protection. He's telling us all that she's his, and no one messes with his own."

[grizzersmamma]

A Gentle Touch | Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish | Daemon AU

Summary: First fic in my Call of Duty daemon AU. A short fic about Soap and Ghost touching each other's daemons for the first time.

Notes: Unedited we die like OG Ghost.

Pairing:  Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish.

Warnings: Fluff, Past Childhood Trauma.

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Next

John often wonders what must have happened in Simon’s life for his daemon to pick such a fierce form to settle on. Elanor is a beautiful creature, sleek and elegant and dark as the night. A stunning panther as large and dangerous as her human, able to go from quiet and disinterested to fighting with a surprising amount of power and speed in the blink of an eye. 

She tears through their enemies with brutal strength, yet still dances about the battlefield with unmatched grace and agility. John can never resist pausing to watch her work, just as taken with her as he is with her counterpart. He knows he must look like a lovestruck fool, but he can’t help it, far too enamoured.  

It was difficult to describe what it was between Simon and himself – he found all the potential labels lacking... something – boyfriend sounded too childish for the intensity of their relationship and partner felt too formal. They were just Ghost and Soap. Johnny and Simon. A package deal. Two halves of a single entity.  

Despite their closeness, Simon still had a certain weariness around their daemons. He would always get so visibly anxious whenever Gwen, Johnny’s daemon, got too close to him. He will allow the other daemon near his own, but will otherwise shy away from her.  

Elanor is always happy to receive attention from Gwen, laying passively while the honey badger eagerly grooms her fur. Price seems to think it’s absolutely hilarious whenever he sees the beastly daemon rumbling away happily while her face is covered with drool. In public, the two daemons are the picture of professionalism, but the moment they’re away from prying eyes? The poor feline is being smothered with affection.  

The first time Johnny asks if Simon would like to pet Gwen, the man had jerked back as if he’d been physically struck. “Why would I do that?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in what must be a scowl behind his mask.  

It’s difficult to not take his clear reluctance to heart, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Perhaps he had misjudged how their relationship was progressing? They had slept together, spent evenings whispering sweet nothings to one another and discussed fanciful dreams of what the future may hold. Yet, he must have misread things if Simon is so repulsed by the idea.  

He’s about to brush off the idea when Simon continues, “why would you want me to hurt you?”  

Soap simply blinks, “why would that hurt me?” he asks, gently taking Simon’s hand and encouraging him to sit on the bed beside him. He gets the feeling this is going to be a long conversation.  

“Touching her will hurt you,” Simon sounds just as confused as John feels.  

“You wouldn’t hurt me, Simon,” he starts gently, encouraging Gwen up and onto his lap, “I know you wouldn’t, I trust you.” He knows it can certainly hurt when someone grabs another person’s daemon as it’s easy to use too much force, but surely Simon knows how intimate the action can be, right? How it can bring two people so much pleasure and joy? 

It seems that is not the case, as Simon hesitates, staring hard at the small honey badger. “You’re sure you want me to touch her?” his gaze is intense, searching for even the tiniest hint of unease or uncertainty.  

John nods, “of course, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Gwen crawls to the very edge of his lap, leaning forward until her neck is stretched out towards Simon. He’s cautious to respond, offering out a hand to her so she can made the first move, freezing in place as though he’s dealing with a wounded animal.  

The badger, although very excited to finally be able to interact with Simon, moves slowly to nudge her nose against his open palm. She gives it a quick sniff, pleased when she encounters his familiar scent, before nuzzling her face against him. He’s still wearing gloves, the layer of fabric still separating them from true contact, but it’s a start.  

Over the weeks that follow, Simon begins to grow more comfortable touching the smaller daemon, getting into the habit of scratching her head whenever she’s within reach.  

It isn’t for another month that he finally places an ungloved hand to the top of Gwen’s head. Simon’s eyes are constantly darting between her and Soap, waiting until he’s sure neither are distressed, before his fingers slowly, very slowly begin to caress the animal’s fur.  

The sensation of Simon’s hand so tenderly stroking his daemon has John near enough melting, his whole body tingling with delight. His head is fuzzy, hardly a thought passing between his ears, and he can tell Gwen feels the exact same given the way she flops down into Simon’s lap with a pleased sigh. That reaction seems to be all that Simon needs to relax into the action, starting to scratch just under Gwen’s chin, before massaging his fingers down her spine.  

By the end of it, both Soap and his daemon are practically a happy puddle stretched out on the bed, drifting just on the edge of sleep.  

Touching Elanor is a much more complicated subject.  

He doesn’t want to ask to touch her, not when Simon clearly has some sort of trauma surrounding people touching her without permission. He wants to allow her to come to him first, lest either of them feel as though he’s trying to pressure them. They don’t discuss it and, after a while, John simply forgets about it, content with knowing they will never feel comfortable enough to allow it.  

He is proven wrong, however, one day when he’s sitting on his bed, working on a sketch in his journal. Simon is across the room sat at Soap’s desk working on some paperwork.  

From the corner of his eye he sees Elanor slink over, creeping up and onto the mattress. He isn’t paying much attention, not until she lays down right beside him, her side brushing up against his leg. His stomach flips as a thrill runs down his spine. Glancing up at Simon, he sees the other man hasn’t reacted, continuing to scratch away at the papers before him.  

“Elanor?” he whispers to the massive cat, meeting her beautiful golden eyes.  

She blinks up at him, staring at him silently.  

John moves his hand toward her, pausing just before her face to give the feline the chance to move away should she need it. But to his surprise, she leans into his touch, rumbling in obvious delight.  

Simon, meanwhile, whirls around as though he’d been jabbed, gaping at John and then at his own daemon. He looks anxious, but says nothing, only watching how John gently cards his fingers through the cat’s dark fur. The brit shivers, breath catching as Soap’s fingers feather down her back.  

“Sorry,” John laughs, pausing his movements, “is this... is this okay?” 

Simon’s throat bobs in a dry swallow, “yeah, uh, yeah, it’s fine.” His face is brightly flushed, looking everywhere but at John. His shoulders have drooped and he seems to be struggling to remain upright, hands tightly gripping the desk. “You can keep going if you want,” he mumbles.  

Trust Simon to never ask for something he wants, simply allude to it vaguely. Regardless, John starts stroking Elanor’s soft fur, his whole chest filling with pride at the way both man and daemon relax. Gwen cuddles up against Elanor, nosing into the panther’s side, the two daemons quickly passing out together.  

When John finally looks over again at Simon, the man is resting on the desk, peacefully asleep just like his daemon.  

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬𝐨 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

⬷ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ┊ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: dancer!minho/artist!felix. brothers best friend troupe. college au. age gap (abt 4 years). minho pov. extremely dark themes throughout, including smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

word count: 4.7k

the playlist 🗡️

a/n: half of this chapter was fluffy and cute, and the other half was incredibly angsty lmao. sorry about that guys, but I just can't seem to HELP ITTT when it comes to minlix!! 😩😭 I just finished writing chapter 10 for this fic... idk how long its gonna be, but I still have a few more ideas for chapters I wanna do, so I'm aiming for around 15 total - but we'll see if that changes depending on how I feel and shit 😜 hope you guys are enjoying, and thanks for all the love and support~ 🤍

🗡️ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

̶﹒⊹﹒ɪ sᴇᴇ ᴀ sᴀᴅ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sɪɴɴᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ！،، 🌌  𖥻 𓂃 ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ʜᴀʀᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ʟɪᴠᴇʀ╰╮ 🌑

As it turns out, by the grace of all things and every God high up in the sky, Minho and Hyunjin ended up passing their exam with final colors. Their professor loved the contemporary part of their dance, and it was well-received across the entire class.

  With one of the biggest exams for the semester done and over with, Minho found that he had more time to himself for once. He only worked his part time gig at the arts studio three times a week, so when he wasn’t busy helping with the teaching, he was back at home in his dorm, studying up the material he had missed for the past few weeks because of that stupid exam.

  “You’ve been awfully focused these past few days, I’m surprised…” Chris said, breaking Minho out of his daze of thought. He was curled up on their living room couch, furiously typing away at his laptop’s keyboard. 

  Looking up from his screen, he stared at Chris who was busy devouring a bowl of rice with spam he had just made for himself. He had just got back from the campus gym, so he was subsequently drenched in sweat. 

  “Yeah, I’ve got a lot to catch up on since one of our biggest technical exams is finally done.” Minho said, taking a glance at his phone and seeing the few texts he had missed while he was focused on studying. 

  Looking at the time, he read that it was just past eight in the evening. 

  The texts were all from Felix.

  Minho’s heart skipped incremental beats as he unlocked his phone and scrolled through the text thread. 

  Today 

8:13pm

  I know youre probably busy with work or homework… But I wish we could hangout sometime. 

  Sorry if that sounds really fucking weird, its just— this week’s been a lot. 

  Instantly, Minho felt his fingers typing out a response. 

  Chris is leaving soon to go to work. If you want, you can come over to our place. 

  In the back of his mind, Minho could sense the urgency of Felix’s tone. A tiny voice inside of him whispered warnings— that inviting him over wasn’t a good idea and he should stay out of Felix’s way. Yet Felix texted him back in an instant. 

  I’ll be over in an hr. I’ll bring my homework and we can study together :) 

  Just like that, Minho was turning to Chris and watching him place his bowl into the dishwasher. “Are you still going to the studio with Changbin to work?” He asked, trying to seem nonchalant. Like he hadn’t just invited his best friend’s little bother over when he knew Chris wouldn’t be home. 

  But there was no crime in that. There was nothing in the friend code or university code that said you couldn’t hang out with your friend’s little brother. 

  “Mhm— I just gotta take a quick shower then we’re meeting up for a couple drinks before working,” Chris said, walking out of the kitchen and towards his bathroom. He tore off his shirt, displaying sculpted abs and chiseled arms. “Probably won’t be home til early tomorrow morning. You know how much Changbin loves to change tracks up at the last fucking minute.”

  Minho let out a tiny chuckle at that. Changbin could be incredibly decisive at times, and it drove Chris crazy. But his best friend also realized that Changbin was a genius, and Chris had never regretted a song they had changed based on Changbin’s feelings. “Well just text me when you’re heading back, yeah? So I can make us breakfast or some shit…” Minho wailed across the dorm as Chris closed the door to the bathroom. 

  He heard a faint “will do” just as the shower turned on. And with that, Minho leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, taking in a deep breath. His legs shook a little bit, and his heart was still thrumming in his throat. Even still, he made to focus on his computer screen and homework instead of thinking about the night ahead. 

  The hour passed by in a quick flutter of movement on Chris’ end of slow heartbeats on Minho’s end. Within thirty minutes, Chris was showered and out the door, waving Minho a silent goodbye since he had his headphones on. Immediately, Minho was able to relax into his spot. 

  But not for long, because soon after there came a stark knock on the door. 

  Minho didn’t even register he was getting up from the sofa and that his legs were moving until his arm was reaching out and opening the door. 

  And just like that, there Lee Felix was. 

  Standing in the limelight of the dorm behind Minho’s back, he smiled up at Minho with shining teeth and pretty pink lips. 

  Felix was dressed head-to-toe in pink. He was wearing an oversized baby pink and white knitted checker sweater, with dark pink shorts to match and a fushica puffer coat to match. 

  “Hi.” Is all Felix said, smile glinting up at Minho, blonde tresses a little wind-swept from the walk over to his dorm. 

  Leaning against the doorframe, he widened it a bit to open up a gap. “Come on inside, it’s drafty out here in the hallway.” Minho ushered him forward, and as Felix slipped through the threshold, Minho caught whiff of his sweet scent - of strawberries and cream and everything good in the world. 

  Felix gently placed a bag down on the counter, taking out a bag of chips and some candy. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought snacks. I can never study on an empty stomach.” 

  Minho just leaned against the fridge in the kitchen, watching as Felix’s delicate fingers opened up the bag of peach rings. “You don’t have to apologize about bringing food over, Lix. I get it, trust me.” Minho’s focus landed on Felix’s legs, the skin there smooth and milky. His booty-shorts were so fucking short, Minho could make out about half of his pert asscheeks. Minho grabbed ahold of Felix’s jacket as he began to take it off, hanging it up in the nearby closet. “Aren’t you… cold?” He asked, motioning with his eyes up and down the length of Felix. 

  The younger man simply chuckled lightly, grabbing his tote bag from off the kitchen counter and trailing over to the living room. “Nah, I get really hot in the library so I don’t let to dress in thick layers.” 

  “That’s where you were when you texted me?”

  Shrugging slowly, Felix perched himself in one of the corners of the couch, slipping out his drawing pad. “Yeah, I— I couldn’t really focus there today. Thought maybe a change of scenery would give me some inspo.” 

  Minho took a playful bow of courtesy, slinking back to his own spot on the other end of the couch. “Glad our dorm could be of service to your studying then.” He gave Felix an easy smile, positioning his laptop back on top of him. 

  It was silent for a few minutes, as they focused on their own work. Minho always liked to play music when he worked, and he mostly liked jazz. So the soft jazz coming from his laptop played in the background in a relaxing kind of way. 

  “How are you… otherwise?” Minho started, not taking his attention away from his screen and he continued the research he needed to get done for one of his midterm papers. “Over text you said this week’s been hard.” 

  Felix was quiet for a few moments, seeming to gather his thoughts. In the background, Minho could hear the distinct sound of a pencil scribbling against paper. “Yeah, uh— just bullshit with my friends, that’s all. Drama like that really drains me, ya know?” 

  “You wanna talk about it?” Minho asked, scrolling through the internet to find anything that was relevant to his research. 

  “Not really… I don’t wanna be a bother.” 

  That made Minho stop in his tracks. 

  His eyes slinking away from his computer screen, he gave Felix a knowing look. “You’re never a bother, Lixie. And talking about your problems can help relieve some of the tension sometimes.” 

  Felix ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and Minho swallowed around the lump he felt in his throat at the sight of his earring-covered lobes glinting in the lamplight of the living room. “I know— I just… I wish I had friends who weren’t so wishy-washy all the fucking time. It’s exhausting sometimes.”

  “Hmm, that makes sense…” Minho started, resting his head against the back of the plush sofa. “But, from the looks of everyone at the party that night, it seems like your friends have— a lot on their plates to begin with.” By a lot, Minho meant substance abuse. But there was no way in hell he was going to grill into Felix about his choice of friends just then. Not when he could sense Felix really needed him in that moment. 

  After that, Felix grew quiet again. Minho took a peek over to his corner of the sofa and noticed his hand moving across the canvas paper, drawing an outline of a human shape. His nimble fingers moved so fast, it felt like Minho blinked and he was already done shading the outline. In that moment, he realized just how talented Felix was. 

  “What are you working on?” Minho finally asked, pressing his spine into the couch to get a better look. His focus was entirely too much focused on Felix in that moment, but he couldn’t help it. 

  Felix turned his sketchbook towards him. “It has to be a human portrait centered around romantic realism. I just can’t seem to fucking find inspiration.” 

  Making a funny pose on the sofa, Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Felix. “What? And I’m not your muse?” 

  “God, you’re so fucking stupid— just… shut up.” Felix laughed, chucking a nearby pillow at Minho’s face. But Minho’s reflexes were incredibly fast from dancing all the time, so he caught it mid air and threw it back at Felix’s stomach. He let out a squeak of surprise, not expecting Minho to move so quickly. “You are a menace.”

  “Yeah but you love it…” 

  Minho didn’t know why he said what he said. The words just… seemed to slip out of his mouth, before he was even registering what he was saying. 

  Felix just stared at him for a few moments after that, before he stood up from the sofa abruptly. “Imma grab some snacks, I’ll be right back.” 

  He was fleeing the scene. Leaving Minho’s side because he had made the situation uncomfortable. He had fucked up, like always. So he decided to focus back on his research. Felix returned soon after, a bag of chips and two drinks in hand. 

  “Is that… soju?” Minho raised an eyebrow Felix’s way, his heart skipping a little bit at the thought of Felix drinking alcohol. That definitely wasn’t a good mix for either of them. Or for Minho’s heart. 

  Shrugging nojcholantalty — like drinking alcohol while trying to study isn’t something out of the ordinary for him — Felix pushed one of the cans towards Felix across the living room’s coffee table. “Sometimes liquor helps me focus better— gives me inspiration, in a weird way.”

  Just then, Felix made to roll his sweater’s sleeves up. Minho tried not to be nosy, or pushy. But he couldn’t help his eyes trailing after Felix’s arms. They were bandaged up or raw anymore. Instead, the fresh scars were completely healed and fading into the myriad of other ones. 

  He knew it wasn’t his place to pry or to even feel concerned. They had barely spoken in over five years, and him blowing up at the party that night was one of the causes for Felix to start again. But even still, he felt a huge weight lift off of his shoulders at the sight of Felix healing again. By the looks of it, it seemed like he had been clean for a while. And Minho hated himself so much for the fact that he was a part of ruining that journey. 

  “I’m fine, Min. Don’t worry.” 

  Felix’s voice cascaded around Minho’s ears, soft and quiet. Forcing him out of his daze of thought that he had gotten lost in by staring at Felix’s arms. Minho could feel the expression on his face melt just a little bit, as he watched Felix eat a couple of salty shrimp chips and take a long swig of his grape-flavored soju. 

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He found himself saying, reaching across the sofa and giving Felix’s bare knee a light squeeze. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, even if it’s just by a tiny bit.” 

  Motioning with a tilt of his head, Felix gave Minho an easy smile. “Now quit distracting me, because we both have work to do.” 

  After that, the entire dorm fell into a serene kind of quiet. The hours passed by, the clock ticking gradually with each assignment that Minho got done. He was surprised to find how focused he was, with half a bottle of peach-flavored soju in his system and an increment amount of potato chips filling his belly. 

  Even still, the quiet presence of another person right beside him helped to comfort him into an ease of focus. Felix had turned on a relaxing ambiance on the tv, so along with Minho’s jazz playlist still running, the sound of crickets and wind chimes played in the background. 

  Felix was altogether very quiet, completely honed in on his craft. And he was right— the alcohol did seem to give him some form of inspiration. He sat cross-legged next to Minho, and the older man distinctly noticed, in the back of his mind, how with each hour that passed, Felix grew a little closer to him on the couch. 

  By the time midnight rolled around, they had been studying for a good four hours. Minho’s brain felt like mush from reading and writing so much, so he decided to give it a break for the night. Turning to Felix’s place beside him, he realized that the younger one was gone from his spot. 

  He was so focused on his computer, he hadn’t noticed him get up from the sofa and trail over to the bathroom. Felix notebook was laid out on the coffee table, and Minho’s temptation got the better of him. 

  Honestly, he couldn’t help it. 

  Minho’s hands were holding onto it’s thick binding before he even thought better of it, fingers gently flipping through the pages. There was all kinds of compositions— of landscapes, outfit ideas, food. But he stopped his flipping when he got to a… certain page. 

  The character that Felix had drew was smudged at the edges, the lines indiscreet and fluid with the movement of the person. By the looks of the broad shoulders and muscular legs, Minho assumed it was a man. The coloring of the piece was in shades of dark charcoal and pencil-grey. Altogether, it was a beautiful drawing. It looked like the man was in the middle of an intense dance segment, arms spread out and legs twisting as he rolled over into his next routine. 

  In the corner of the piece, Minho could make out a small, black bird. 

  It was a… 

  Raven. 

  Upon realization of what the smudged shape in the corner of the page was, Minho could feel his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. 

  Because… 

  The raven had always been his favorite bird. 

  He remembers the deep talks him and Felix used to have in their childhood, about the raven and other birds like it. About how relatable they were and how misunderstood they were. 

  Just like that, the feeling of all the puzzles piecing clicking together throbbed inside Minho’s head. 

  The drawing was… based on him. 

  Fuck, it was him. 

  The character, with it’s greyed lines and romantic fluidity was Minho.

  He couldn’t stop staring at the page, his eyes drawn on the raven that was perked in the corner, looking down on the dancing figure. 

  And before he could even make his mind up on what the drawing was actually about, the sketchbook was getting ripped out of his hands abruptly. 

  Minho’s head shot up, eyes wide as he met Felix’s stormy gaze. 

  “I told you I don’t like people looking at my personal work.”

  “But you failed to mention how I am drawn in your personal work.” Minho pushed back, watching as the fury starting brewing on Felix’s face. It darkened his eyes and caused his lips to flatten out into a straight line. 

  Felix walked over to his side of the couch, shoving his supplies and sketchbook into his canvas bag. But his movements were a little bit halted, his cheeks a little pink. The bastard was drunk already, with just one bottle of soju.

  “What do you know about my artwork? You have no idea who my muse is—” Felix said under his breath in that deep voice of his that he only got when he was upset. Then he was pulling away from the sofa and giving Minho a sardonic kind of grin. “Thanks for the invite. It’s been… enlightening.” 

  Minho could feel his heart breaking a little bit in his chest. 

  Why had he been so stupid? 

  Fuck— why had he looked at that stupid sketchbook, when on the first day of their meeting Felix had explicitly told him he didn’t like people looking at his art? 

  But he couldn’t seem to help it in that quiet moment— the book had called out to him, prompting him to grab ahold of it even against his better judgement. And then he found the drawing of him and he couldn’t stop—

  He reached out to Felix just as he was passing his side of the couch. And before he could think any better, Minho was grabbing ahold of Felix’s wrist and stopping him from moving with a gentle tug. “Lix, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to pry, I had no right to,” he started, his touch around Felix’s wrist forcing the younger man to turn and look down at him. He was still frowning, but the furrow in his brow was gone and Minho could already feel his resolve melting slowly. “And I don’t mind. Being your muse, I mean. I find it— flattering.”

  “Who said anything about you being it?” Felix asked, but the way that the words trembled on his lips a little bit, Minho could gauge that he had hit the nail on the head.

  Then, Minho’s other hand was persuading Felix to drop his tote bag on the floor. That prompted Felix to stare down at him with wide eyes. Slowly, Minho brought Felix close to him. He was still sitting down on the couch, but his laptop was long gone from his sight and closed. 

  “Please, stay. I like having you here,” Minho said in a quiet whisper, both his hands squeezing Felix’s a little bit. Then their fingers were slipping between each other’s easily, and Minho caressed the soft flesh of his palms. “Besides, you’re too tipsy to make it home tonight. It’s too risky.”

  “You don’t actually want me here tonight, Minho. You just don’t want something happening to me when I leave here—” 

  “Don’t say that. You have no idea what I want.” Minho’s words interrupted Felix’s tipsy, pity-induced speech.  

  Brushing his fingers against Minho’s, Felix stared down at him. His gaze had shifted a tiny bit, his cheeks coloring a brighter shade of pink. “Oh yeah? And what’s that… Minho?” Minho’s name curled and danced off of Felix’s tongue like the sweet whisperings of a mysterious faerie. 

  Coming a little closer to his space on the couch, Felix squeezed Minho’s hands. And with one look at him, one look at his messy blonde tresses and the way his pink oversized sweater swallowed up his entire frame, the way his hot pink booty shorts had ridden up on his thighs even more throughout the night…

  Minho already knew the answer to Felix’s question. 

  He had known since day one. 

  He had just been too afraid to face it. 

  To come to terms with all of his feelings, thoughts, and wants. 

  But for once, he was tired of running. 

  He was tired of being the first one to leave. To pull away. To end things. 

  So in that moment, Minho did the only thing his half-soju-addled brain could process. 

  “You're what I want. What I've always fucking wanted,” Minho whispered finally, his words halting everything else in the dorm around them. 

 The energy between them shifted, and for a moment, Felix was still staring down at him with red cheeks. Still holding his hand and studying Minho's face and the older man stared up at him from his seat on the couch. 

  Then, all of the life was draining from Felix's face. Minho watched it happen right in front of him, as Felix yanked away from his grasp altogether and straightened himself again. 

  "You're more ridiculous than my high friends, Minho." Is all he said, before he was taking ahold of his tote bag again and grabbed his empty soju bottle. "But I'm not even surprised, because you've always been like this." 

  Frowning Felix's way, Minho watched as he neared the kitchen and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. "Been like what? What the fuck are you talking about Felix-" His voice was short, matching Felix's clipped one. 

  Turning around, Felix leaned against the kitchen counter and leveled Minho with a dark glare. "Don't fucking pretend like you didn't just tell me last week that you wanted to be only friends," waving a finger in the air and shaking his head in disbelief, Felix's tone grew louder in his anger. "Don't fucking play with me like that Minho, I won't take that bullshit from anyone... but especially not from you!" 

  Minho was silent for a second, watching as the rage flooded Felix's entire system as he slipped on his shoes to leave. Minho was standing up from the couch before he even registered his own movement, and was speaking before he even understood what he was truly saying. 

  "Why? Because you're constantly led on with your stupid one night stands?" 

  Throwing his hands up into the air in a form of defeat, Felix turned to him and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Oh God- here comes the slut shaming. Everyone act surprised, the campus' resident bookworm is slut shaming again!!" 

  Now Minho's voice was growing louder, matching Felix' energy. But yet, he was still moving closer to him. And now that the younger male was shoving his arms through his jacket, Minho was already near the kitchen counter. "I didn't call you that, Felix. I'm just saying- don't act like it doesn't affect you when you and I both know that it does." 

  Pointing a finger at Minho, Felix shook it in a venous kind of way. Eyes narrowing into slits, he threw daggers Minho's way as the words slipped from his mouth in an icy tone. "You're just jealous because everyone else gets to fuck me but you don't." 

  "Don't put words in my mouth when you have no idea what you're talking about." 

  "But it's true, right?? It's why you stormed out of the party that night like a little baby throwing a tantrum. It why you got mad at me at the elevator and it's why you avoided me after the fact." 

  Minho could feel his heart race against his ribcage then, the fury building up inside of him. It coated his throat in a dry feeling, lighting up his veins and making his fists clench at his sides. "Don't act like you're the innocent one here when you're slutty ass was doing shit to make me jealous in the first place." 

  Felix threw another glare his way, his one a lot darker than the last and his eyes dancing with a murky tirade of emotions. However, at that moment, all Minho could pick out was blind fury and wrath. Much like how he assumed he looked. 

  Leaning his back against the front entryway's coat closet, Felix stared up at Minho with a dark stare. His gaze was drawing the older man in, until they were but a few steps away from each other in the small space there.

  "Yeah and it worked, didn't it? You liked it." Felix started a sly kind of smirk spreading across his mouth. The kind that wasn't full of playfulness, but instead poison. "You're so fucking predictable, it's comical sometimes-" 

  "Just shut up already." Minho blurted out, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared Felix down. And against his better judgement, against all things he knew were right - he couldn't help but think about how pretty and perfect Felix looked just then... backed up against a wall, into a corner, peering up at him with a swarthy gaze and a firm line in his lips. 

  Fuck, he looked really hot. 

  "You can't tell me what to do." The way the words slipped from Felix's lips came out in a bratty kind of tone. "You're not the boss of me. I'm an adult now, I can do and say whatever the hell I want." 

  "If you don't shut up I'll literally-" 

  "Make me." Felix cut Minho off, raising a dark eyebrow his way. 

  "What?" Minho asked incredulously, now only a hands-reach away from Felix who was still pressed up against the closet's door. Still holding his bag in one hand and dressed in his coat. 

  "I said, make me. If you want me to shut up so badly then-"

  Felix's bratty tone, and the way he was glaring up at Minho with his arms folded, was the last straw to break the camel's back. 

  Pointing a finger towards the door, Minho tilted his head towards it. "Get the fuck out. Right now." 

  His words seemed to startle Felix out of his stupor of anger, his focus breaking and his eyes melting a little bit. But then the frown was returning and he was once again glaring at him. "And what are you gonna do, force me?"

  "No, I'll just tell Chris." 

  Felix scoffed incredulously which was quickly followed by a dry, mirthless laugh. "You act like us hanging out in a grave sin to humanity." 

  "To Chris, it would be." 

  "You don't even know him like that- you have no idea what you're talking about." 

  With that, Minho strode over to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and grabbing ahold of the handle. "And yet... you guys haven't had a sit-down conversation in over four years. Funny, but I think I know him a little better these days than you, Lixie." Minho drawled on in a low voice it was just barely above a whisper. He was taunting the younger man with the endearing nickname, saying it with as little emotion as he could muster.

  "You being seen with me isn't a fucking crime." Felix seethed, and Minho watched as his knuckles turned white from holding onto his bag a little too hard. And yet, he neared the door. Walked into Minho's space and stepped through the threshold as he opened it. 

  Then Felix was completely out of the dorm, peering up at Minho with dark, slitted eyes and thinly-pressed lips. Leaning against the doorframe, Minho looked Felix up and down with a slow gaze. 

  "Try to tell that society when they find out an adult fucked a child." 

  "And then society will lose their minds when they find out the 'adult' was only eighteen and the child who fucking wanted it was a teenager." 

  Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Minho caught Felix's eyes. Their gazes held there for a few seconds, in the delicate limbo they were perched on - not quite saying what they meant, but instead speaking in twisting words and lies. 

  Grabbing ahold of the doorknob again, Minho began closing it. Shutting Felix out, once again. "A child never wants that kinda shit, Felix." He said, eyes flicking down to the bag on his shoulder. "Good luck with your project." 

  And then Minho was slamming the door in Felix's face, steadily locking it. 

  Then, he was pressing his back against the wood of the frame, 

  Sinking down, down, down, 

  Until he was sitting on the chilled tiled floor, 

  Head in his hands, dark locks yanked between his fingers,

  Warm tears cascading down his chilled skin. 

  He had always been so, so fucking stupid. 

  Since the very beginning.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

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[gomzdrawfr]

the agony of imperfections and lost

a prodigy once soared, melody adored with perfection now suffers with pieces and symphony left unfinished a silent pain with wrist betrayed each notes falter, with the end replaced by sniffles and pain

☾⋆⁺₊♫✩°｡

AU: pianist!Raven and piano technician!Price

between classes and lectures I've been doodling an AU for my cod oc Raven :] it's the first AU I've ever thought of for a very long time and I didn't start writing and drawing a few things until recently (my friends are huge enablers ah ha)

this AU is heavily inspired by the anime Your Lies in April so if this familiar that's why

Prodigy Raven who used to swoop every piano competition stopped participating one day due to various reasons.

She can no longer finish any pieces.

It starts off with pain, and then progresses into fits of spasms and shakes on her wrist.

That was however, not the main issue.

As she will herself to play more to overcome the issue, another problem raised where notes and tune muffles out as she approach the end of any song, rendering her unable to map out the tempo and the feel of the piece, which was the most crucial aspect in performance((and also hence why the art wrote "when will the sounds return"))

again and again, she attempted to play and only met with tears and pain at every end, and so she stopped playing.

It wasn't years later when her friend invited her to a concert hall that she would attempt playing again, and met a man with an unmistakable beard she thought she will never meet again.

here is a fic I wrote below, you can listen along with the spotify song linked below, and as always I hope you enjoy this lil blurb ⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝

tags: a lil angsty and mentioned of struggles with chronic pain

𓍢ִ໋. 𝄞 ✧˚ ༘ ♪ ⋆｡˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖♬ ♪₊ ⊹

Raven found herself at the concert hall, involuntarily dragged there by a close friend who was settling some business with the hall owner. Having no interest in the conversation, she idly wandered around.

Eventually her attention was drawn to the main hall, the area was dimly lit with only one light shining above a magnificent grand piano on the stage, when was the last time she had even seen a grand piano?

The golden words that etched on the front of the piano captivated her, "Steinway and Sons", and she ran her fingers delicately along its shiny polished surface, despite promising herself not to touch it.

how could she resist when such a beauty is in full display within her reach?

Perhaps there was a lingering wishful hope within her that pulls her through the haunting echoes of her past struggles.

Perhaps this time it would be different, after all, it's been so many years.

As she took a seat and opened the fallboard, she knew she had to play something.

Little did she know she was not alone in that hall.

John Price, a famous piano technician was scheduled to carry out his tuning services on the grand piano, has arrived earlier than the expected time in order to explore the place.

It gives opportunity for him to figure out the environment, and to assess the condition of the place.

To him, a piano was like the heart of the human body, requiring care and love with every factor taking into account, such as the air moisture content, exposure of sunlight, humidity, temperature...the list goes on.

As he walked onto the area from the backstage, he was surprised to see a figure seated at the piano. When he wanted to call out, the tune of a song stopped him.

A familiar melody, a classic.

He recognizes this song, however, with the way the sound and notes were played, it felt as if he was listening to it for the first time.

Liebesleid. Love's sorrow.

As he pause and listens, watching as the fingers of Raven danced around the black and white, he felt himself washed by the emotions of the piece.

remorse, pain, emptiness and cheery? was it hope? yet he can't help but felt bittersweet.

Each note was played with perfection, the pauses, the tempo and the timing were accurate, and with the sway of the pianist, he could feel the emotional depth infused into the piece.

And yet as the song approach the second half of the song, something in the air shifted.

The tempo increased, the intervals between notes were shorten, and slowly wrong notes emerging as well, with some keys played with more force and vigor.

Eventually the song stopped, and only the sound of stifled sniffles filled the air as the figure slouched forward.

((if you're curious and still listening along on spotify, the errors starts around 2:42 she stopped around 2:57))

"It happened again"

Raven thought as she struggled to control the shaking of her hands, and the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"it hurts....it hurts so...so much"

She lets out a shaky breath; it wasn't the pain of her wrist that was eating at her.

It was the act of not being able to complete a piece.

She pressed her palm up her eyes, a weak attempt to stop the shaking of her arms and the tears that kept flowing.

A hand on her shoulder was what brought her back to reality.

Startled, she looked up into a pair of blue eyes, with gentle gaze that melted away her panics.

"You alright, luv?"

The man asked, and Raven composed herself, wiping over her tears as she gave a weak nod.

She apologizes for the state she was in, gingerly stepping up from the bench, only to be met with a chuckle and another reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"It was beautiful"

He complimented, nodding his head towards the piano as Raven pauses.

"no, it's not", she thought internally, but just gave another thankful nod.

"thanks"

John raised a brow at that, taking note for her answer.

"something tells me you disagree, hm?"

She wonders for a good moment if she should speak her mind, and after deciding that the chances of meeting this man again is slim, she gave her comments.

"I didn't finished it"

She spoke, glancing back at the piano as her eyes soften as the echoes of her instructor came to mind.

"you're not worthy to even be in the same room as the piano if you can't finish the piece. It's not just about the techniques and music theory only, you need to focus on the flow and the dynamic of the piece, honor the composer, bring the composer's vision to life." "alright, play it again Raven, how bout putting your body into it this time huh? I've seen others played better than that" "you know you need to win, make me proud dearie"

"well, a song doesn’t need to be complete in order for it to be good"

His voice brought her back as she frowns slightly, the older male simply smiles as he goes on.

"what matters is how much you put your heart into it"

He takes a step forward to her.

"and you, certainly poured your soul into that song, hell, felt like I was listening to Fritz Kreisler himself, ha!"

She could only blink as she chuckles, a warm feeling embrace her heart as she hummed.

"you flatter me...uh-"

"John. John Price."

He extended his hand out as he smiles.

"Raven."

She smiled, shaky hands now no longer tremble as she gave the firm handshake. Something tells her that this will be the first of many more meetings.

[callsign-bunnie]

A Dance of Hearts - Chapter 5 - Regency AU

The ride to Drodora was short as Koenig promised, but it was also incredibly uneventful. Even between Horangi and Koenig. They ended up on opposing sleep schedules, so both were rarely awake at the same time.

--

Horangi was incredibly grateful when they arrived in Antalon, because he had ran out of things to do. He’d lost his charcoal and Miriam had threatened to make him pay for the dress if he’d destroyed it. (He was praying the charcoal would wash out.)

So, when they arrived, late at night, to yet another tavern and inn, he let Koenig go up to the room before following Miriam to the tavern, ordering a plate of fried potatoes and a thing of ale before sitting with her at a table. “We will pick him up tomorrow.” Miriam nodded. 

Horangi paused. “Miriam… Why did you pick this job up? You hate Laupin.”

“3000 gold, Horangi.” Miriam laughed. “Hell, I’d fuck a fae for 3000 gold.” 

Horangi relaxed. Yeah, that was morality losing money. “1500 gold.” He chuckled, reminding. 

“Ah, ah. 1650.” Miriam snorted. “You’re not pulling a fast one on me, Horangi.”

“Damn.” Horangi laughed and feigned disappointment. “Fine. 1650.” Even that was still a decent amount of money. “And favor with the king,” he supposed. 

“Exactly.” Miriam nodded and shrugged. “You know me, Horangi, my morals are not the strongest when it comes to gold. Neither are yours for that matter.”

Horangi disagreed, but he supposed she had a point. “Everyone has a price.” He nodded. “Everyone can be bought. I think anyone would do something atrocious for the right price. Steal… Kill their lover.”

“What about you?” Miriam asked, sipping her ale. 

Horangi paused. “What about… me?”

“What would make you do something atrocious? Say��� kill your lover?” Miriam shrugged. “Or, go against your biggest value?”

Horangi wasn’t sure what his biggest value was, but he found himself thinking of Koenig. What would make him kill the alpha? “I don’t know.” A few ideas ran through his mind. Revenge? Maybe. Horangi could be vengeful. “I don’t know.”

“Would you gamble him away?” Miriam tilted her head.

Horangi tensed, since that was a sore subject. When he’d come to the Red Kingdom, he’d needed money. He’d found betting his body was a sure way… Problem was, he wasn’t a good gambler. Ended up being easier to just sell the damn thing.

Then, he’d started to disguise himself as an alpha. “No.” He shook his head. Even if he knew he’d win. Not for… himself. He knew he’d never win Koenig’s trust back. No matter how addicting the game had became. He wouldn’t. “What about you?”

“Hmm…” Miriam sighed. “I don’t think hating Laupin is my biggest moral. I think… a fear of what might happen if I don’t would be good motivation. A fear of what I’d be letting loose. What I’d be… letting into the kingdom.” She sighed. “We all have fears, too, Horangi. Fear is just as decent a motivator as greed.”

Horangi frowned, unsure what she could mean by that. But, he didn’t ask, and turned to his potatoes, continuing to eat them. He missed his home kingdom’s foods, sometimes. He didn’t know how to cook any of them, and he found he’d forgotten how many of them tasted. 

Both sat in silence for a while before Horangi decided to speak again. “In Semworth… I attempted to free Koenig. I told him that he could go and he didn’t have to stay.”

“I’m guessing, since the giant alpha is still here… that he didn’t go?” Miriam nodded. “Makes sense, he seems rather enamored with you. Those eyes follow you wherever you go.”

Horangi laughed, since he could have guessed that. “I wonder if a caged bird can truly be enamored, though… He has this… anxiety around people. How do I know he is not just staying out of fear of having to leave?”

“I suppose that is a valid concern.” Miriam nodded. “I suppose you won’t. But, it is his decision to stay. Regardless of his intentions. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“I don’t know.” Horangi answered, honestly. “I really don’t.”

“Well, then I suppose you’ll have to think about it.” Miriam sighed. “I think you should learn to live with it. You’re clearly lonely and you need someone to help you loosen up.”

“I am plenty loo-” Horangi stopped, hearing Miriam snicker and he glared at her, blushing dark. “I am just fine. I am not uptight. I just… have a lot of things I need to worry about, in the day. Besides, you don’t see me around everyone else.”

It was the truth, Horangi was playful. He liked to mess around with Stiletto and Roze, and he had an eye for games. He had a dark backstory, but… he didn’t let that darken him. “Maybe I just don’t like you .” He joked.

“That’s good, because I don’t like you. ” Miriam shrugged.

Horangi laughed, not offended. Miriam was abrasive and no, he didn’t think they’d get along under other circumstances. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “I’m exhausted, I think I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Miriam smiled. “Sleep well.”

“Sure.” Horangi got up and went up to the room. Or, his room, because she’d gotten separate rooms this time. When he got there, he saw that Koenig was already asleep, barely able to fit on the bed. 

He liked being a knight, he really did but… Something about Koenig put a flash of consideration of retirement in his head. Retiring, settling down… 

Maybe he’d find a farm in the countryside. It wouldn’t be like home, but Horangi had been to the countryside of the Red Kingdom. There.. You really understood why the kingdom used to be called Aela. It was sunny and beautiful and… There would never be any people, so Koenig would be content, too. 

Horangi wouldn’t have to hide who he was. What he was. 

Ah, maybe after this war. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Horangi pulled off his outer clothes and left them draped on a chair before climbing into the bed with Koenig, hugging him from behind and tracing over a tattoo of a crown on his shoulder. He wondered why they called Koenig “King”. 

Granted, he didn’t know much about Nehelune or their customs and language. But, he knew it wouldn’t be very… accepted over in the Red Kingdom to call anyone Rey or Reina. Odd…

Horangi brushed it off. He wasn’t planning to wake Koenig to find out and he knew they’d likely be busy the next day for him to ask, then. 

He did find himself thinking of Nehelune. Because Horangi was a member of the King’s Guard, specifically, he didn’t go outside of the kingdom during battle. He was meant to stay and defend if they were attacked. Or, occasionally run missions when they weren’t. “Missions” being used lightly. King Alejandro typically didn’t have much use for them, unfortunately.

Though, maybe it’s the sign of good strategy that he didn’t. Horangi didn’t know, he wasn’t much for strategy. 

This wasn’t to say Horangi hadn’t seen his fair share of combat. He hadn’t always been in the King’s Guard. He’d been just a little Knight, once, marching into battle. But… That had been in Gaenia, which was a much smaller Kingdom, about the size of Laupin, in a little corner tucked between Drodora and the Red Kingdom.

It’d been a quick battle, more just for the inconvenience of King Alejandro even having to ask them to rejoin the empire. The King had said no when King Alejandro had asked. Which… Horangi had heard that even Nehelune and Laupin had laughed at them for that.

Gaenia had severed any goodwill with Nehelune or Laupin for being stubborn and small minded. While neither Nehelune or Laupin were considerably large, by any means, they both had had their advantages in combat. If it hadn’t have been for Artemean forces, Nehelune likely wouldn’t have lost, for sake of their size and how combat minded they are.

But Gaenia had a bit of a superiority complex, despite their main magic being plant magic. Plant magic. They can grow flowers. Horangi said this as someone who’d been there, himself. Yes, Plant magic could be rather dangerous, but most of them had spent most of their lives focusing on gardening, not combat. 

So, they’d been crushed rather easily. Horangi had barely been in combat a year before they were surrendering. Drodora hadn’t even had to send reinforcements. 

But, other than Gaenia, Horangi hadn’t been out of the Red Kingdom much, save for his travels through the continent. And most of that had been at night when not much of the kingdom could be seen. As such… He really only knew about the Red Kingdom. 

He wondered if Koenig would ever be comfortable traveling to Nehelune… Seeing it. Maybe Koenig could tell him about it. 

Maybe… 

Horangi settled in to sleep more, yawning. He hoped. 

-

Horangi looked at the other omega in front of him. Prince Lucas… How they had gotten away with saying he was simply a Lord’s Son, no more than a lady, was beyond Horangi because he was definitely a Prince and he was… strikingly similar to King Alejandro.

His hair was curled in the same way, though it was kept longer, kept out of his face with clips which appeared to have flowers on them. His eyes were the same rich brown, his skin almost the exact same shade, maybe a shade or two darker because of his time in Drodora.

He had a strong nose, a sharper jawline, and his bottom lip was plump, while the top stayed thin. Though, Horangi considered them closer to what everyone liked to “War Bow’s Lips” as his top lip curled in a way most omega’s did. 

As he stared at them, while his “father” talked to Miriam, he had the same picture of perfect indifference that King Alejandro could pull up. Often while Sir O’Conor was explaining battle strategies. 

Horangi glanced at Koenig who, despite having most of his face covered, seemed to be having the same thoughts as Horangi. He moved closer to the alpha and murmured, “they would have had to have had him inside most of the time. Anyone who had seen King Alejandro would have noticed the resemblance, immediately.”

All of Lucas’s omega features were perfect mirrors of King Alejandro. It was almost uncanny and they could have been brothers. Uncle and Nephew definitely made sense. 

“I doubt this myth more and more.” Koenig agreed, his eyes watching Prince Lucas, who was not looking at either of them, and instead was looking at Miriam and Lord Nikolai, who bowed his head slightly at them when he noticed them looking.

Both were quick to bow back and then Horangi furrowed his brows. “How old is Prince Lucas?”

“He doesn’t look to be much older than 20…” Koenig murmured, turning to Horangi, who turned to face him back. 

“That would make him four years younger than King Alejandro. How could his family have all died the day of his birth and Prince Lucas be 20?”

“They didn’t die on the day of his birth.”

Both Horangi and Koenig yelped loudly and turned to see that Prince Lucas had moved over to him. Finally, the expression of indifference broke and he smiled brightly, his eyes almost appearing to close slightly with it. He didn’t lean back slightly as King Alejandro did when grinning, and in fact, his posture didn’t change save for him lowering his chin slightly. “I beg your pardon??” Koenig asked, holding his chest.

Horangi’s own heart was definitely skipping a few beats and he took deep breaths before relaxing. Fuck. 

Prince Lucas laughed, softly. It was sweet, like a bell, but still full and round. Horangi… was starting to question if he was completely alpha minded or if the years of being a knight and feigning attraction for omegas had gotten to him a little. Then, pointed ears poked out of his hair and Horangi and Koenig shared a look. Ahh. 

Half fae. Obviously, he wasn’t full fae because there were no wings to be seen and he didn’t look quite nearly as ethereal as the very few Horangi had seen were. He hoped Miriam didn’t know. Explained why King Alejandro’s opinions on Fae differed drastically from his father’s. In fact, he’d made no effort to either persecute them or free them. 

“I said that my family did not die on my King Tío’s birth.” Lucas repeated. “They died when I was one year old and my King Tío was 5 years old.” 

Even his accent was distinctly Aelian. Old Aelian. King Tío… like Uncle King. “Why does everyone say that they died on King Alejandro’s birth? Even Miriam said so.” Horangi asked, now quite perplexed.

“I do not know. I imagine it’s because of his reputation, they want to claim he is cursed or something.” Prince Lucas shook his head. “He is not cursed. They died of an illness that was going around. As did my Duke Tio the next month. They like to make things more fantastical than they are, do they not?”

Horangi looked at his ears poking out and shook his head, reaching up to touch the Prince’s hair so he could hide them. “Don’t let anyone see those. In fact-” He pulled the clips out of Prince Lucas’s hair, so his curls covered the ears completely. “Do not even let Miriam see them.”

“She cares that I am… half fae?” Prince Lucas glanced at Miriam and Lord Nikolai, who were still talking. They were discussing Prince Lucas’s arrangements to Horangi’s knowledge. 

Koenig snorted, softly. “Yes. Most people will.” 

Horangi slipped the hair clips into Prince Lucas’s pocket of his skirts, glad to see he was already in plain clothes, just a dress meant for traveling among commoners. It did nothing to hide just how regal Prince Lucas was. “No one is going to buy that he’s just a commoner.” Horangi turned to Koenig, who nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to stay by him. Who knows who or… what will find things to do to him.”

“I agree.” Koenig nodded. “Maybe he should cover his face?”

“Why would I do that??” Prince Lucas asked, frowning. “I thought the dress was to hide who I am.”

“You are… beautiful.” Horangi laughed, though it was more cruel sounding than he meant. “Incredibly. Absurdly. You are certainly royalty… You hold yourself like royalty.”

“Lord Nik taught me how a Prince should behave.” Prince Lucas shrugged. “He knew I should be married one day. Likely to a King or Heir… How am I to hold myself any other way?”

“Slouch!” Horangi said. “You could hold a glass of water on your head and it would not fall.” He shook his head and then got into his bag that Miriam had given him, getting out the pot of Kohl she had bought from a trader. It was becoming more and more popular in Aela. She’d decided to treat both of them with a pot. 

“Hold still.” Horangi muttered, moving to Prince Lucas, who did not look the least bit pleased. But, he didn’t protest so Horangi sloppily applied the kohl, making it look messy and like someone who was trying to imitate the ladies at court would do. 

Horangi had intended to use it to look more terrifying, but he was glad he had it, now. Prince Lucas’s eyes almost darkened with the effect of the kohl and Horangi stepped back before shaking his head and putting the pot back in his bag. “Koenig, do you still have those berries from lunch? I’ve seen you eating a few.”

“I was-” 

Horangi cut him off with a look and Koenig went silent, getting the berries out of his bag. Horangi then took one and burst it into his hand, using it to paint Prince Lucas’s lips and cheeks. “Better?” Horangi asked as he stepped back and looked.

It was… marginally better. He definitely did not look quite as regal and he looked plenty unhappy. “I doubt he’d get a second glance.” Koenig winced. “He’s still too pretty.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be offended at being too pretty.” Prince Lucas glared at both of them. Then, he did an odd thing, sort of plopping on the floor.

Horangi shrugged. “Just continue acting like that, you’ll be fine.” The glare was deepened and Horangi shuddered, seeing another expression he’d gotten from King Alejandro. It was intense and definitely sent a chill of fear down Horangi’s spine. 

Finally, Miriam appeared to be done, coming over to them. So, Prince Lucas stood and went back to Lord Nikolai, hugging him. Miriam sighed. “We are good to take him. Lord Nikolai already brought a covered carriage around.”

Horangi nodded and sighed. “He is…”

“I know.” Miriam laughed. “Definitely Prince Lucas. Do you agree, now?” She turned to Koenig, who winced and nodded. “I told you. We should leave as soon as possible. There will be no stops, we have supplies to last us the 8 days it will take to get back to the Red Kingdom and the horses are trained for long distances like that.”

Horangi nodded. “Yes. We should go.”

-

Horangi watched Prince Lucas look out the window of the carriage, almost appearing to be in awe of everything. They’d been traveling for two days and he looked no less excited by the endless view of Forest. 

“Have you never been outside of your home?” Horangi asked. “What did Lord Nikolai call it… Little… Palace?”

“Malen'kiy dvorets.” Prince Lucas answered, finally sitting back. “Little Palace is correct. And no, I’ve not been outside Little Palace much.”

“Why Little Palace?” Miriam asked. Horangi had to say, he was quite surprised at her. She’d made an effort to be friendly and sweet to Prince Lucas. 

Prince Lucas blushed. “He has a… deep friendship with the King of Drodora. King Price named it. He was over there quite often, actually. Lord Nik helped him look for Prince Kyle.”

“Did Prince Kyle and Prince Garaidh know about you?” Horangi asked, remembering the two Drodorian Princes. 

Prince Lucas shook his head. “The only two people that knew who I was were Lord Nik and King Price. Well, and my King Tío of course.”

Horangi ahhed and then went quiet, watching him lean back out the window. He wondered about King Phillip… if he would be a kind husband to this omega. It wasn’t any of Horangi’s business and he couldn’t do anything even if King Phillip wouldn’t be but… he hoped he was. 

Prince Lucas appeared to be a naive omega and he seemed of sweet temperament, though it seemed to be short like his uncle. Maybe Horangi saw a bit of a younger version of himself in the omega. Beautiful and sweet and wide eyed… Naive. 

So, Horangi leaned out the window and pointed to their left. “That is where your husband rules. Way off in the distance. Have you heard anything of him?”

“I got to see a bare glance of him.” Prince Lucas nodded. “King Price had brought him, my King Tío, and Lord Riley to Little Palace while they looked for Prince Kyle. It was less than five seconds while Lord Nik introduced me but… I saw him.”

“What did you think of him? If you managed to think of him at all in that time?” Horangi asked, frowning. 

“He was beautiful. Quite handsome in the ways an alpha should be.” Prince Lucas smiled. “I suppose… at the time, I did not know we were to be engaged or I would have found myself trying to pick up more of an impression. What did you think of your husband when you first met him?”

Horangi at first paused, confused, before realizing he must have meant Koenig, who was looking out the other window silently. Lord Nikolai had given him a sword, which his hand had stayed firmly on. Horangi had gotten his own, as well, but he had it hidden under his skirts.  

Horangi glanced back at Koenig, who met his eye for just a moment and they softened before Horangi looked away. “I thought he was too tall.” He admitted, laughing softly.

Prince Lucas blushed and then giggled. “He is rather tall.” He nodded.

Miriam snorted. “Let’s stop and set up camp. Eat for a moment, get some rest. You and Prince Lucas can do whatever omegas do, together.”

Horangi rolled his eyes but Miriam snapped her fingers and the horses slowed to a stop. Koenig was the first out of the carriage and Horangi followed, helping Prince Lucas out. Miriam set up a small area for them to eat at and so Horangi pulled Prince Lucas to a patch of flowers.

They were just wild flowers, several of whom Horangi could name, but he didn’t focus on them, turning to Prince Lucas. “Are you nervous to be married to King Phillip?”

“Who wouldn’t be? I know very little about him.” Lucas sighed and shook his head. “But, this is the best for both me and the Empire.”

Horangi frowned and then nodded, since it was the truth. If what he’d heard about how King Phillip would not join the empire without a marriage alliance was true… Then this was for the best. “You know what Shadow Magic is, right?”

Prince Lucas nodded. “I do… I also know I will not see the sun much in Laupin. And… It is eternal winter there.”

As if summoned, snow started to fall around them, lightly dusting them and the ground. Prince Lucas shivered and Horangi reached forward to secure his cloak around him, tighter. He decided that when they finally returned, he would ask King Alejandro to allow him to guard Prince Lucas until he was married. “Sweet thing…” Horangi frowned. 

Prince Lucas relaxed and smiled, shyly, at Horangi. “Thank you… I… I didn’t get to say it before, but you are beautiful too… Even if I can see very little of your face.”

“You would not think so if you could see all of it.” Horangi laughed. He noticed that Miriam seemed to have finished the food so he tugged Prince Lucas over to the small camp. 

When they were done eating, Prince Lucas asked if he could sleep near Horangi, so Horangi allowed him to, letting Koenig and Miriam stay up to watch. He put his cloak over Prince Lucas for extra warmth, hugging the other omega. He hadn’t known him very long, but he already regarded him with great affection.

Maybe it was because Prince Lucas and he were so similar… Maybe it was because Horangi hadn’t gotten a chance to form a bond with another omega in so long. Maybe it was just fate. But he had already decided that nothing was going to happen to Prince Lucas under his watch. Nothing.

--

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[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

gert's random fusion aus: pushing daisies

sorry, i just realized i never explained what "pushing daisies" is, and while i'm not going to give the full run-down of every relevant detail--you will find this more compelling if you've seen it/are familiar with it--i'll give the basics real fast. ned is a piemaker who can bring back the dead with a single touch--and kill them again with another. the problem is, if they're alive again for more than a minute, someone else will die in their place. he found this out in the most traumatizing fucked up way possible btw. anyway, his best friend is PI emerson cod, with whom he investigates bizarre murders as, you know, they can interrogate the victim. albeit for one (1) minute only. and then ned brings back his childhood sweetheart/crush, inadvertently killing a corrupt graverobbing funeral director, and they fall in love again--with the caveat, of course, that they can never touch, because if he ever touches her again, she'll die. cue cute shit like kissing though plastic wrap and having clear walls on their bed (?) and that kind of thing. since she's still legally dead, she tries to help her aunts from afar, who have been shut-ins for a while, and there's some other stuff going on too with a waitress in love with ned (olive my beloved), emerson cod's ex-wives (and a child!), and a mystery from ned's past. i think that's all the basics? anyway, on with the show.

Trent Crimm is a journalist, so perhaps it isn’t surprising when he’s murdered. He dies alone, and afraid, and with no one to care. And then he wakes up with Ted Lasso peering down at him, worried, with soft, kind eyes Trent hasn’t seen since he was a teenager. Who knew that his schoolyard sweetheart could bring back the dead? Certainly not Trent. (Although his college friend, Beard, now a private investigator, apparently very much did.)

Now Trent, still legally dead, has to deal with, among other things: the trauma of his murder and identity of his murderer, his ex-wife and daughter (who still think he is dead, and he secretly suspects might be better off without him, even though he misses his daughter dearly), his growing feelings for a man he can never touch again, his father, and also, you know, all the bizarre murders he, Ted, and Beard are roped into investigating.

Also see: Ted struggling with depression, divorce, fatherhood, baking, and his own past (including a dreadful secret he is keeping from Trent), Beard struggling with a femme fatale to his noir detective, and whatever the hell Roy, Keeley, and Jamie are doing in the background with their synchronized swimming act.

Some notes:

Rupert is almost certainly the one who killed Trent, or had him killed. For, you know, knowing things he shouldn't; looking into things he shouldn't, etc. Half wondering if Rebecca should be involved--not as in she helped kill him, but as in she found out about it or was unwillingly involved--because that could make things even more deliciously complicated.

Ted and baking and building community--whether biscuits or pie, charming everyone he meets

(Trent was poisoned, by the way. So that baking thing. Oh boy.)

I do have a lot of feelings about Trent dying alone and being terrified of that happening again even though he refuses to admit it and keeps a cool and steady facade. Cue Ted getting him to be emotionally vulnerable, and also bonding with Beard at a point where they're trapped together in a situation that could kill them.

Ted and Trent's whole dance around each other only gets more exceedingly complicated, because Ted inadvertently broke his heart a decade or two ago, and now he's brought Trent back from the actual dead. Mixed signals, maybe. Regardless, they are very sweet and wholesome 90 percent of the time.

Thinking about that scene where Ned and Chuck dance on the rooftop in beekeepers outfits--Trent trying to find ways to fill the time now that he can't exactly be a journalist, and while he does end up throwing himself into helping Ted and Beard with their cases--he has his own relevant skills, after all--as well as trying to take care of his child and ex-wife from afar, he can't do that all the time: and Ted has bees on the roof, for the honey.

And also just again, them slow dancing like that. ough.

The whole thing with Trent's ex and daughter I'm not married to (haha) considering I don't think he'd actually leave his daughter thinking he's dead (and I think Ted would not be okay with that, too, for obvious reasons) however I'm not sure how else to handle it and I'm also thinking about him genuinely wondering if they're better off without him and then at some point, of course, them finding out, and. painful emotional growth ensues

Ted is also struggling with his own divorce and kid, because he has secrets and he's kind of terrified that Henry will have his ability, or something similar, even though there have been no signs of it so far. He hadn't planned on having kids, and while he could never regret Henry he's scared of what kind of father he'll be and what kind of damage his secret could do.

I'm not gonna lie, the last line of the summary about roy, keeley, and jamie was a bit of a Silly on my part, so I'm not sure if it would have become something, but I do have ideas running in circles in my brain. Something something, working together, triangles are the strongest shape, something something, practicing and being the best you can be?

Episodic format with case-of-the-weeks involving the other characters, such as the players, Rebecca, etc?

I admit, while part of what makes Pushing Daisies compelling is the tragic impossibility of Ned and Chuck's situation and also the complete non-explanation for how, exactly, Ned got to be Like This, I'm a sucker for a fix-it, and some ideas included: Ted giving up his gift (and dealing with the pain it's caused him and not being "useful", that he's worth more than this gift) OR just. really rotating a scene in my head where for [waves hands] plot reasons Ted knows he has to touch Trent again, let him die again (to bring him back? to stop something terrible? because they've learned something about the origins of Ted's ability?) and just. Trent's near tears but in that smiling this has to happen way, and Ted--Ted gets to kiss him, for real, with no plastic wrap between them, just once, and then Trent crumples in his arms and Ted is just. devastated. Now the question is, does he wake up, or is there another way to bring him back?

(This also works so painfully with "Trent being afraid of dying alone again" because... he doesn't. He dies in Ted's arms, surrounded by friends who will miss him.)

Also thought about this ability being connected to Ted's... Issues(TM), namely his forced positivity and repressed depression and shit but that's kind of soup brain right now

ALSO SEE! Beard and Jane have some fucked up shit going on in the background that eventually gets resolved. Beard occasionally slips into noir detective mode, just like Ted and Trent occasionally slip into romcom mode, despite the fact they're all living in vividly colorful murder mystery bizarro world.

I considered Nate as Olive, albeit in a rather different way, but it doesn't quite fit. Also see Rebecca as someone who hires them under false pretenses but then, ah. doesn't?

Ted and his immortal dog he can't actually pet, please

ALTERNATE TAKES:

Trent is a journalist who can bring back the dead for exactly one minute. It’s extremely useful in his line of work, until he comes across the unattended body of the man he fell in love with over a decade ago, and unfortunately, cannot resist temptation. Possibly featuring Roy Kent as a detective he reluctantly assists, because I find that to be a particularly funny duo.

Ted brings back his best friend from the dead. Trent Crimm, investigative journalist, finds out about his ability and decides to do nothing about it. I find this one compelling despite it not being very fleshed out because I just think Trent finding out a very important secret and deciding not to reveal it, and not even use it, even though it could be very useful, and then he ends up befriending Ted anyway and Ted offers to help... meanwhile Ted and Beard are having their own issues w--wait actually. Wait. I just considered. This... this doesn't really fit with the OG Pushing Daisies but it could be compelling regardless. Ted brings back Michelle, and while she's grateful (because, you know, Henry) it fucks up their relationship even further, especially because they can't touch anymore, and while she's not exactly asking him to undo it she didn't ask to be brought back, either. ANYWAY. And Trent and Ted getting into shenanigans. And probably Beard, too, anyway.

Alternatively, something about Roy as Ned and Keeley as Chuck and possibly Jamie as either Emerson Cod or Olive is.... hmmm.... interesting

idk i'll probably have more thoughts on this later but!!! here you go. this au is too big and complicated in my brain to likely ever get a proper full-sized fic, unless i really get hit with an inspiration whammy, but i might write a few snippets. we'll see

[homestucksongcomics]

Masterpost of Song Comics Part I (A-K)

*Unfortunately, due to a peculiarity of tumblr, a post containing too many links will not have any of them function. Thus, the masterpost has been broken into two parts.*

Organized by musician alphabetically

Last updated on 07/18/2021

See Part II here: Masterpost of Homestuck Song Comics Part II (L-Z)

#:

Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down by absinthianlyunheroic

This is War - 30 Seconds to Mars by caffieneandcarpaltunnel

I’m Not Your Boyfriend Baby - 3HO!3 by awildcale

A:

Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy by irlmako

New Tomorrow - A Friend In London by maria-artz

Hand Over Mouth, Over and Over - A Lot Like Birds by binart

Skyfall - Adele by stormfather

Song of Healing - Adriana Figueroa by talkshitnojutsu

Everything Stays - Adventure Time by starchip-one

Kiss my Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep - AFI by 413art

Prelude 12/21 - AFI by toastyhat

Another Day - Air by chubsintubs

A Whole New World - Aladdin by copper-fish

Mercy Me - Alkaline Trio by brainbent

Hothouse - Aly & AJ by dristr

Evelyn, Evelyn - Amanda Palmer by p-pamda

Luck - The American Authors by timehwimeh

21 Guns - American Idiot Cast by jankyweeaboo

Pittsburgh - The Amity Affliction by anafigreen

Inevitable - Anberlin by suchirolle

Ready to Die - Andrew W. K. by askherroyalcondesce

The Age of Not Believing - Angela Lansbury by toastyhat

Director - The Antlers by gin-and-djinn

Kettering - The Antlers by cloudymew

My Mamma Said - Aqua by xamag-homestuck

Suburbs - Arcade Fire by porrim-maryam and collaborators

Wake Up - Arcade Fire by catprinx

We Used to Wait - Arcade Fire by drawingspecibus

R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys by dacadaca

The Ballad Of Love And Hate - The Avett Brothers by umjulikins

Hey Brother - Avicii by esmeblaise

Wake Me Up - Avicii by a-vodka-mutini

Sail - AWOLNATION by theamazingzombiegirl

B:

If I Die Young - The Band Perry by japhers

Memory - Barbra Strisand by toastyhat

Glitter and Gold - Barns Courtney by chibigaia-art

Daniel in the Den - Bastille by tomato-bird

Pompeii - Bastille by maria-artz Broken

Pompeii - Bastille by toastyhat and oskarna

Above the Clouds of Pompeii - Bear’s Den by groveofsketches

Let it Be - Beatles by toastyhat

The Fool on the Hill - The Beatles by robotoucan

All the Pretty Little Horses - Becky Jean Williams by purplecalamity

Pieces of Sky - Beth Orton by awildcale

Sweet Dreams - Beyoncé by dacadaca

River Below - Billy Talent by kamdensl

Rusted from the Rain - Billy Talent by crispychocolate

Just a Game - Birdy by redwordsoncavewalls

Kill the Lights - The Birthday Massacre by xamag-homestuck

Red Stars - The Birthday Massacre by lord-caliborn and tricotee

These Days - The Black Keys by digitallyimpaired

In the End - Black Veil Brides by rinasart

Let it Be - Blackmill (feat. Veela) by awildcale

Bad Sun - The Bravery by crashtest-therapist

Dear Agony - Breaking Benjamin by yukishii-chan

Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin by nevernoahh

Give Me a Sign - Breaking Benjamin by perceptur

I Will Not Bow - Breaking Benjamin by themockingcrows

First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes by usatoria

Can you feel my heart? - Bring me the horizon by domingoos and Yumegurren

Seeds - Brooke Fraser by anno-bannano Broken

Kodaline - Brother by zzpopzz

When I Was Your Man - Bruno Mars by babynarwalshineyeyes

P.O.W. - Bullet for My Valentine by anafigreen

C:

Angel with a Shotgun - The Cab by dawngyocry

How Are You - Cage the Elephant by facetiousfanatic Part 1

How Are You - Cage the Elephant by facetiousfanatic Part 2

How Are You - Cage the Elephant by facetiousfanatic Part 3

The loneliest Girl - Carol and Tuesday by cassandraooc

Morning Has Broken - Cat Stevens by thlange

Star Spangled Banner - Chase Holfelder by chillybuns

Between the Bars - Chris Garneau by roselalondee

Dirty Night Clown - Chris Garneau by idontevenknow-anymore

Dirty Night Clown - Chris Garneau by immabananana

Enter the Circus - Christina Aguilera by askinsanegamzee Broken

A Thousand Years - Christina Perii by angstyelf

A Thousand Years - Christina Perii by mari-victal

Burning Gold - Christina Perri by raspberrylemonhead

Fall - Cider Sky by nevernoahh

Falling (Demo) - The Civil Wars by zomdi

Safe and Sound - The Civil Wars by karaokekarkat

Hum - Clara C by nymphicus

3 Foot Tall - Classifed by kyrah-art

Summer Day - Coconut Records by kathysbrotherssister

Fondu au Noir - Coeur de Pirate by derperistical

Fix You - Coldplay by absinthianlyunheroic

Paradise - Coldplay by Moonpaw

The Scientist - Coldplay by ikimaru

Up with the Birds - Coldplay by the-rag-tag-earl

Viva la Vida - Coldplay by raspberrylemonhead

Viva La Vida - Coldplay by rozeart

Yellow - Coldplay by mariedisgrace

Young Volcanos - Coldplay by kawo-shin

Princess of China - Coldplay (feat. Rihanna) by sora-la

Chin Up - Copeland by vriskamidfangserket

Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows by hopelesslyblithe Broken

Crywank are posers - Crywank by p-666t

D:

Thrice - Daedalus by foramen-magnum

Something About Us - Daft Punk by moxel

Something About Us - Daft Punk by yazzdonut

Emotion - Daft Punk (MissingNo remix) by doomzy

The Spine - Darren Korb (Transistor) by rose-ebottles Broken

Youth - Daughter by zelpixel

Raise Your Weapon - Deadmau5 by marintan

Go Get Your Gun - The Dear Hunter by mcsiggy

Whisper - The Dear Hunter by prospt and collaborators

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie by davsturdur

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie by inusushi

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie by kawaiifarts

Bottom of the River - Delta Rae by wwhatevven

Perfect Insanity - Disturbed by vasheren

Just Be Friends (Instrumental) - Dixie Flatline by cheese3d Inspired by Litlte Red Riding Hood

Pity Dance - Dn Stith by jazzango

Venus Hum - Do You Want to Fight Me by shubbabang

Everything You Ever - Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog by thesassylorax

My Eyes - Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog by equiu5

Close Every Door - Donny Osmond by allegro-designs

Baby Mine - Dumbo by gayrupunzel

E:

I See Fire - Ed Sheeran by arachnerdsgri

I See Fire - Ed Sheeran by themockingcrows

Small Bump - Ed Sheeran by janecrockeyre

Cosmic Castaway - Electrasy by themockingcrows

Telephone Line - Electric Light Orchestra by daily-beta

You are my Sunshine - Elizabeth Mitchell by the-rag-tag-earl

Goodnight Sweet Ladies - Emilie Autumn by amporasexual

Asleep - Emily Browning (originally by The Smiths) by joker-ace

O Come O Come Emmanuel - Enya by pseudocon

One for the Money - Escape the Fate by ikimaru

Follow the Sun - Evermore by ladygrit

Fever Dreamless - fadeintocase by peregr1ne

F:

Centuries - Fall Out Boy by sixofclovers

Immortals - Fall Out Boy by etcterrayellowmoon

Immortals - Fall Out Boy by mari-victal

Immortals - Fall Out Boy by quiversarrow

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up) - Fall Out Boy by toastyhat

The Kids Aren’t All Right - Fall Out Boy by i-am-a-riceball

The Kids Aren’t All Right - Fall Out Boy by scarlettheknight

The Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy by dopingues

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy by orangelemonart

Caught Like a Fly - Falling in Reverse by viria

Tragic Magic - Falling in Reverse by elasticitymudflap

Heavy Storm - First Aid Kit by moxel

Wolf - First Aid Kit by spooneaterarts

100 years - Five for Fighting by orangelemonart

Superman - Five for Fighting by grimbarke

Hurt Feelings - Flight of the Conchords by koroke

Rise - Flobots by lyricstuckbeatdown

Blinding - Florence + the Machine by collaborative

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine by rosemaryserver

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine by starkthirdeye

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine by toastyhat

Dog Days Are Over - Florence + the Machine by greatbiglyricstuck

Dog Days are Over - Florence + the Machine by m0thboy

Girl With One Eye - Florence + the Machine by kingdomzombified

Kiss With a Fist - Florence + the Machine by miraculoustang

No Light, No Light - Florence + the Machine by dacadaca

No Light, No Light - Florence + the Machine by nappotuna

Only If for a Night - Florence + the Machine by glueball

Seven Devils - Florence + the Machine by fangirlinginleatherboots

Seven Devils - Florence + the Machine by themockingcrows

Shake it Out - Florence + the Machine by cod-tier

Tear out my Tongue - Florence + the Machine by wheresmyhamlet

What the Water Gave Me - Florence + the Machine by colonoscolypseart

With an Axe - Foxy Shazam by oldshiel

Something Stupid - Frank and Nancy Sinatra by toastyhat

Some Nights - Fun. by greatbiglyricstuck

G:

Mad World - Gary Jules by ahabsiconoclast

Mad World - Gary Jules by prospitheir and aze

Mad World - Gary Jules by synnesai

Where Everybody Knows Your Name - Gary Portnoy by calliotp

Child of Light - The Getaway Plan by dingohugs

It All Dies Anyway - The Gits by skittykitty55

Take Me Away - Globus by toastyhat and splickedylit

You’re the One That I Want - Grease by doodlebonez

Top of the World - Greek Fire by eggsand-santoast

Song of the Century - Green Day by babakinkin

Song of the Century - Green Day by delinked

Song of the century - Green Day by the-rogue-0f-light

Boats and Birds - Gregory and the Hawk by striderprovider

Hard Knocks - Griffinilla and Alex Cole by colouredteapot

H:

Colors - Hasley by innocuoussketches

Anything - Hedley by valeriannnn

The Unquiet Grave - Hellen McCrocry by madreamcanular

Coming Back Down - Hollywood Undead by flynnagan

Coming Back Down - Hollywood Undead by skittykitty55

Levitate - Hollywood Undead by anafigreen

SCAVA - Hollywood Undead by scarlettheknight

Temporal Shenanigans - Homestuck ost - Rachel Macwhirter by arachnerdsgrip:

Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier by metaname

Take Me To Church - Hozier by sailerscrimshaw Broken

God Help the Outcasts - Hunchback of Notre Dame by velocitiestrumpet

The Court of Miracles - Hunchback of Notre Dame by moc-tod-ffuts-modnar

That’s Okay - The Hush Sound by porcupet

Where We Went Wrong - The Hush Sound by canni8al

Wine Red - The Hush Sound by zeborah

I:

Volatile Times - IAMX by xamag-homestuck

Bad Karma - Ida Maria by margarethours

Amsterdam - Imagine Dragons by paperseverywhere

Bleeding Out - Imagine Dragons by rapidopatter

Demons - Imagine Dragons by muraokami Broken

Demons - Imagine Dragons by rapidopatter

Fallen - Imagine Dragons by maria-artz Broken

I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons by abbiwhozit

I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons by catkindness Part 1

I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons by catkindness Part 2

Nothing Left to Say - Imagine Dragons by paperseverywhere

On Top of the World - Imagine Dragons by lickfoot

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons by falloutboyonboy

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons by rachelhungry

Thief - Imagine Dragons by mikimosh

Warriors - Imagine Dragons by turretsyndr0me

Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap by kingdomzelaybli

The Devil’s Carnival - In all My Dreams I Drown by artblogofminji

Don’t Stop - InnerPartySystem by spocktalia Broken

What We Will Never Know - InnerPartySystem by lets-lyricstuck

Cinders and Smoke - Iron & Wine by laughingandgrief

Walk the Moon - Iscariot by cissaisthisyou

The Weekend - Islands by daily-beta

J:

R.I.P. Everyone - J.J. Demon by trickstercarlos

Fallin’ - Jake Bugg by awildcale

I Won’t Give Up - Jason Mraz by impudentkid

I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young by asexualls Broken

Sufferer’s Final Sermon - jbriner by sketchloft

Be Thou My Vision - jbriner (originally a hymn) by mrdespondency

O Death - Jen Titus by canni8al

Oh Death - Jen Titus by artweaver5

If the World Should End - Jennifer Damiano by atrueenglishman

The Hanging Tree - Jennifer Lawrence by sixofclovers

Highwayman - Johnny Cash by toastyhat

What A Wonderful World - Joseph William Morgan ft. Shadow Royale by jayspants

The Stars - Jukebox the Ghost by innocuoussketches

K:

Die Young - Ke$ha by gelasticat

[S] Ke$ha: Enter - Ke$ha (Die Young Remix by captaincrapster) by ket3

Because of You - Kelly Clarkson by timehost

Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson by karaokeoctoberkat

Britland City Theme - Kenashcorp by stormfather

Animals - Kids in Glass Houses by faun-songs

Dustland Fairytale - The Killers by spiritleaf

Mr. Brightside - The Killers by mlle-annette

Sam´s Town - The Killers by gei-may

Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers by toastyhat

I Will Never Forget - Kimya Dawson by moxel

All I Want - Kodaline by godtier8itch

[gallivantingheart]

mischievous gentleman

who?: slytherin!joshua/jisoo x reader

word count: 572

genre/s: hp!au, fluff

warnings: none (shua being a lil’ shit)

synopsis: Joshua loves to tease, and always manages to skid out of trouble much to your disbelief.

He's a mischievous gentleman, holding your books for you on the way to class, but above your head to stall.

You jump up and down, arms raised as well. "Jisoo, come on! We'll be late otherwise!" You giggle, even as you lose humour with his teasing - the glitter to his pretty eyes makes you keep laughing.

The warning bell goes off and you drop back onto your heels and pout. He looks down at you, eyes wide, the same as his grin. Your arms are crossed now.

"Told you."

He tucks the books against his side and slings his satchel around to the base of his back, grabbing your wrist gently with his free hand. "Not yet. Come, this way."

You run, robes tangling behind you down the hall, gasping out as he yanks you into a sharp left. There is the frame of Sir Cod, still pondering his catch of the day, the string hanging from his blunt blade. Even his helmet looked as if a fish was eating him.

"Ah! Joshua! Quite the catch, hmm? Would Lady Swift like it, do you think?"

Jisoo takes a moment to breathe and releases a soft, polite smile. "Yes, absolutely. Sir Cod, we're running late for class, could we please pass through? Rainbow Trout?"

The aquatic knight looks up, a little dazed as always and hums consent, the portrait swinging open. Hand still tightly gripping yours, Jisoo breaks off into a run through the dark echoing hall. It smells a little cold and wet, but you don't think much of it. Not with the way Joshua beams, laughing as he takes in your shocked expression. A pretty feline grin that makes your heart thunder just a step faster than before. Your footsteps echo, fighting the sound of the birds chirping in the exposed rafters while his robes snap and tangle with your knees. The door is just ahead and you throw out your wand, casting it open wordlessly to keep up your momentum and letting in the warm light. You break out into the south wing of the castle, the stone cooler to the touch than the west side that you were just in. There is a touch more grace to how he ascends the next flight of stairs, your hand slipping away. Still, he holds your pile of books, safety tucked under an arm. The indirect light still makes his mousey green-brown hair glow a little.

He turns on the next landing to see you still standing. "Come on you. Or else we'll be late for sure."

He dances down a few steps, holding out a hand for you to take. Eyeing the gesture for a moment, you take it, letting him guide you up to charms class. This time he doesn't let go when you walk into class, instead tugging you quickly to a little space by the wall. You're instantly shy, feeling as if being paraded across the entire classroom. Jia gapes and shoots a double thumbs up along with a wink. You widen your eyes and shake your head, unable to convey much else. The final bell rings just as your butt hits the lacquered wood, Professor Flitwick scuttling in, the speedy shuffling in compensation of his height.

Joshua sets your books down in front of you ever so gently, laying your textbook out to share. "Just in time, huh?" He murmurs, a troublesome curl to his lips.

Cheeky.

[jalapeno-princess]

We’re Not Just Friends

He’s so cute what the fuck

Best friend Mark X Reader

Genre: College AU, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, THE FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF

Word Count: 10.7K

Summary: You and Mark have been friends for as long as you could remember. The two of you were like magnets; wherever you went, he’d follow and vice versa. With that being said, you did what you thought was one of the best yet biggest mistakes you could ever do in a friendship, you fell in love with your best friend. There were times where you felt as if he reciprocated your feelings, but you ultimately pushed any idea of being more than just friends with him. That all changes one night when he gets drunk and admits a little too much information you weren’t quite ready for.

A/N: Hey guys, so I was in Marshall’s the other day when the song “Friends don’t” by Maddie and Tae came on (I highly recommend you listen to it while reading this I make quite a few references to the song in this story) and I couldn’t stop putting ideas together while shopping (I actually pulled to the side to brainstorm I actually hate myself). With that being said, this is one of my favorite stories I’ve written so far and I hope you all enjoy it!

They don't cancel other plans Have conversations with nothing but their eyes They don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate Hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night Couldn't even tell you why They just felt like saying "hi" Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys Finding reasons not to leave Trying to hide the chemistry Drive a little too slow, take the long way home Get a little too close We do, but friends don't

As a junior in college, sleep was a foreign word to you. You’ve been getting at least three hours of sleep this week since you’ve been preparing for finals; so you savored every minute of slumber you could get. Tonight was the first night you allowed yourself a break from studying and you were going to make the most of it by sleeping in. 

When you felt your phone vibrate, you couldn’t help but groan at the idea of your alarm going off; but it occurred to you that you turned off all your alerts for the day in order to get some well deserved rest. A huge part of you, the one that’s been dying to continue dancing around in dreamland wanted to ignore whoever was trying to get in touch with you. They could wait until the morning to talk to you. However, there was only one person who would dare to wake you up in the middle of the night and it was the same person, the only person you didn’t mind taking you away from your dreams. 

Once you took a look at his caller ID, you released a frustrated sigh but the smirk that rose on your face at the idea of him was very contradicting. “You better have a good reason for waking me up Mark. What is it?” The phone was silent for a few moments and you had a hunch that he was feeling remorseful for waking you up knowing how tired you’ve been from all the all nighters. 

“Hey y/n. Did I wake you? I’m sorry about that.” Although he had an apologetic tone in his voice, you’ve know him long enough to know that he wasn’t the least bit sorry. Mark never did anything he would have to apologize for. Plus, you could hear the glint in his voice and it made you smile softly to yourself. 

“It’s fine. Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” He giggled at your many questions and you could feel a blush rising on your cheeks at the sound. Mark Tuan in more or less words was the love of your life. You made the mistake of falling in love with your best friend and because you were afraid of him not reciprocating your feelings and losing him if he were to find out, you kept it to yourself. 

It was hard. You only fell more and more in love with him as the days went by. The two of you met in middle school when he accidentally hit you in the face with a volleyball. He was extremely apologetic and did not leave your side at all for the rest of the class time. Actually, he hasn’t left your side at all since that fateful day in P.E. but you weren’t complaining. Mark was everything you could’ve asked for in a best friend and more. 

Although everyone in your grade knew him to be extremely shy and timid, he was a completely different person whenever he was around you and you were very happy to be the lucky person that got to see his outspoken and overly energetic side to him. He was smart; he had one of the top grades in the entire school. He was quite the joker, even if a lot of the jokes he told were extremely cheesy and sometimes did not make sense. He was athletic; joined any sport that your school offered and was captain of the baseball, soccer and water polo teams. Plus, he was a sight for sore eyes. 

Sure, you’ve seen quite the amount of cute boys in your three years of college, but Mark was a sight to behold. Standing at 5”9 with the prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen, a well-defined jaw line, sharp nose, and the most adorable heart shaped lips, you knew he was God’s favorite. Sometimes you didn’t understand why he was wasting his time being friends with you. He was such an intelligent, overly talented and interesting person. All the guys at your college wanted to either be him or be friends with him and a lot the girls wanted to date him. They made it quite obvious that they envied you for being the lucky girl Mark spent most of his time with but you couldn’t blame them, he was perfect. 

As much as you loved being his friend, your stupid and naive heart craved to be more. You wanted to be the one to hold his hand, the one to kiss his pretty pink lips, the one to hold him and be held by him. You wanted him to see you as more than just his friend; although, there were times when you did question his feelings for you. As a communications major, you were very good when it came to observing people; Mark being your number one test subject or so you called him. 

You were quick to pick up on how he always needed to be touching you, whether it be slinging his arm over your shoulder when the two of you would watch a movie, tapping gently on your thigh whenever you’d go for a drive, pulling you to his side and tightly gripping on to your waist in a crowded area or sitting in between your lap while he played video games. He explained to you once that your presence made him calm and the skin ship was because he needed “evidence that you were real”. The dreamer in you wished that his gestures and not so subtle touches meant more than what he claimed to be. 

Then came the stolen glances. You’d catch him from time to time staring at you at the most randomest times. You noticed he looked at you a lot when you’d be studying or while you were eating and that’s when you felt the least amount of attractive so you were sure it was because he thought you looked funny. 

There was once time that you slept over at his apartment and you fell asleep on the couch while the two of you watched stranger things. When you woke up, you were quick to realize that he probably carried you to his room like he normally did. As soon as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, you saw Mark already looking at you with a specific look in his eyes. It was a mix of adoration and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. He’s never looked at you like that before and when he realized you were awake, he immediately closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Neither of you talked about that incident and he acted completely weird the next morning but things settled down not too long after. 

Another thing that you noticed, was his jealousy. Mark could get extremely jealous whenever it came to you. If he saw any guy get a little too close for his liking, even if it was one of your mutual friends, he’d go insane. One thing you could do without was his anger. When Mark got angry, he got really angry. You never understood why he would get upset at the idea of you interacting with another guy, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. There was one time the two of you attended a hotel party and got yourselves stuck playing spin the bottle. When you spun the bottle and it landed on Jinyoung, you didn’t think much about it and crawled over to him, leaving a chaste yet sweet kiss on his lips. You didn’t think it would cause Mark to give you the silent treatment for three days and when he finally did talk to you again, he gave you a lame excuse as to why he acted like such an asshole. 

You weren’t stupid, with the way he looked at you and treated you as if you were the most delicate flower, you knew he had to have some sort of feelings for you. You just had a hard time understanding why he was so adamant on keeping it to himself. If he did have feelings for you, you felt as if he was keeping it a secret from you for the same reason you were keeping it from him; he didn’t want to lose you. 

“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I just couldn’t sleep. I should’ve played cod or something instead of bothering you. I knew you took the day off tomorrow for rest. I just—I want to talk to you. It’s been a week since we saw each other. I miss you.” The last words came out as a whisper, but you heard them and your heart fluttered at the thought of him wanting to talk to you because he missed you. Why did he have to do and say things that confused you? He told everyone that the two of you were just friends, but behind closed doors the two of you were in your own little worlds. As if nobody else existed and you liked it that way. 

“I miss you too. I promise once finals are over, I’m all yours okay? I’m sorry I’m putting all my time and effort in to school but you know how anal I get when it comes to my grades.” He giggled softly and although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was playfully rolling his eyes because it was true. See unlike Mark, you actually had to put in effort whenever it came to your education. He was naturally smart and you found it quite unfair but he never failed to help you if and when you needed it but you never wanted to bother him. He already had a lot on his plate and you didn’t want to add your incompetence to his already hectic schedule. 

“It’s fine. Do you—would you maybe wanna go for a drive? I’ll come pick you up. We don’t have to go anywhere far, honestly we could go on a drive around your block and I’ll drop you back. I just—I’d like to spend time with you.” You were glad he stuck with a phone call and didn’t try to FaceTime you because it would’ve been quite obvious his words were having an affect on you. Something felt off with the way he was acting. There were times where the two of you would go weeks without seeing one another and he was completely fine about it. 

One time, he went to Taiwan for an entire month to visit his family over summer vacation and you missed him dearly. That was the longest you went without seeing him, but he contacted you every single day so it made you feel a little bit better. So why was he wanting to see you so badly? 

“Yeah sure. Give me ten minutes. I’ll see you soon. Drive safely.” As soon as you heard him hang up, you practically leaped out of bed and ran straight to your bathroom. Mark has seen you at both your best and your very worst. He made it known that he didn’t care if you looked like an actual ogre, nor did you want to make it obvious that you wanted to look nice for him but you didn’t want him seeing you with your hair all over the place while your breath smelled horrendous. 

You threw on one of his jackets and a pair of shorts while flat ironing your hair and before you knew it, he texted you that he was downstairs. Once you made it down to the lobby, your breath hitched at the sight of him and all his handsome glory. His hair was disheveled; it was obvious he ran his hand through it a couple times. He was leaning against his pick up truck and although it was dark, you could make out that he was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with a white tank top. You silently cursed him for going to the gym more often in his downtime because his arms grew three times the size they were back in high school. When his eyes landed on your visibly exhausted frame, he sent a cheeky smile your way before opening his arms out to you. 

“Mmm, I’ve missed your hugs.” He pulled you closer to his chest and placed his chin on top of your head. The two of you stood there for a couple of seconds before he pulled away to take a good look at you. If you had the choice, you’d allow him to hold you for the rest of the night. Mark’s arms were your favorite place to be. You always felt so safe in his embrace. He was always so warm and smelled like the cologne you bought him that he’s been looking at for a few months. 

“You know y/n, once finals are over I think you need to sleep for a solid two months straight. These dark circles are taking away from your beauty.” He brought his hands up to your cheeks and began to examine your entire face but you were quick to shove him off. If he continued to caress you like the way he was currently doing, you were sure you’d blow your cover and you did not want the night to end before it even started. Although he’s complimented you on your looks many times in the many years you’ve known him for, you could never get used to hearing him tell you how pretty he thought you were. 

“You’re one to talk grandpa. BamBam told me all about how you almost broke your back the other day when you attempted to do a martial art trick. How many times do I have to remind you that you’re no longer the fifteen-year-old boy that you used to be? I swear to God Mark Tuan if you break a bone, I will kick your ass.” His laughter filled the entire parking lot and you found yourself laughing along with him. For a grown man, his laugh was high pitched and very adorable. You were sure he could light up an entire room by letting out the faintest of giggles, his laughter already did wonders on your heart. 

“Even if I do break a bone, you’ll nurse me back to health right?” You scoffed and playfully rolled your eyes but deep down you knew you’d do anything for the devastatingly handsome boy in front of you. You also wouldn’t mind having a reason to stay by his side for as long as possible. Like the gentleman he was, he opened your door for you and helped you buckle your seatbelt. You were sure he saw it as a friendly gesture and you knew he wanted to help you out as much as possible, but you couldn’t handle him bringing his hand across of your chest and down to your upper thigh. It’s as if he knew exactly what he was doing by helping you. 

When he got in to his side of the car and started to reverse out of the stall, his free hand immediately found your lap like it normally did and he began to drive away. To where, you didn’t know nor did you care. You didn’t care where the two of you went, you just loved being around him. The car ride was filled with laughter, mainly yours because Mark turned the radio to the country station and began singing a couple songs out of tune and in the worst country accent you’ve ever heard. 

It was in moments like these where it was just the two of you, laughing and smiling like idiots that made you feel the most unhappy. You were unhappy because you wanted more. You wanted to be the reason behind his contagious smile. You wanted to be the reason he couldn’t go to sleep at night because his thoughts were so clouded by the idea of you. You wanted to be his motivation; you wanted him to do the best in anything that he did with the idea of making you proud. You wanted to be the one he told his friends and family about. But you were only his best friend. Every time he introduced you as his best friend, it felt like a stab to the chest. However, it was the truth; so you had no reason to be bothered by the fact that that was all you were going to be to him. 

“Something wrong bub?” You were too busy thinking about the unfortunate situation you were in and didn’t get to hear Mark ask you if you wanted something to eat. 

“No, I’m okay. Sorry, it’s just—finals. Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about my possible grades. I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Tonight is about us. What were you saying?” He waited till he pulled up at a stoplight before turning to face you and brought some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Hey, don’t stress too much. I’m sure you did amazing like you always do. If only you allowed me to tutor you more, I’m sure you would’ve had an easier time understanding the material. What? Am I not good enough for the all mighty y/n y/l/n? By the way, I decided with going to McDonalds since you didn’t answer. I’m in the mood for a McChicken—don’t look at me like that. What? Come on y/n—where do you want to go then? You drive me nuts woman. Popeyes? You’re in the mood for fried chicken? At 2:30 in the morning? Why can I already see you wanting fried chicken when you’re pregnant one day? I feel like it’ll be one of the foods you’ll crave the most. You know I’d do anything for you and I can’t wait till you become a mother, I’m sure you’ll be such an amazing mom. But don’t you dare wake me up in the middle of the night for fried chicken I will disown you. You’re lucky you’re cute. Their chicken sandwich better taste as good as McDonalds.” 

You knew you wanted Mark around for the rest of your life; you wanted to be best friends forever. Unfortunately, nobody knows what the future holds. For all you knew, he could get a girlfriend sometime soon and she could disapprove of your friendship; causing you to lose connection with one another. The idea of losing Mark was both mentally and physically painful. You could actually feel your chest tighten at the thought of waking up one morning and no longer having him in your life. With that being said, no matter how many times he’s brought up your future together, it always caused butterflies to swarm in your tummy. 

“I hate burdening you if I can handle doing something on my own. You already have so much to deal with, so tutoring me should be the least of your worries. Whatever you say asshole, I’m sure my future husband would be willing to do that for me and I’ll make sure I’ll rub it in your face. Dude, Popeyes shits on McDonalds. Are you joking? Why am I even friends with you, you’re such a loser with bad taste.” You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the entire conversation, but as soon as you realized Mark wasn’t laughing, you turned to face him and froze when you saw his jaw clench and his grip on the wheel tightened. 

Did you say or do something to upset him? Why did he get mad all of a sudden? As you were about to speak up, he made his way through the Popeyes drive thru and began ordering. You smiled like an idiot to yourself when he gave your order to the cashier. Although you ordered the same meal almost every single time, you found it cute that he memorized what you wanted. Once he paid and got the food, he drove down an all too familiar road you’ve been down quite a few times. Both you and Mark had a special place only the two of you knew of. You stumbled upon it one day after getting in to an argument with your parents and ended up bringing Mark there a couple days later. The two of you would go there whenever you both had free time. It was a nice, deserted beach. 

During the day, it was extremely beautiful but at night, it was indescribable. Especially because you spent most of your time there with Mark. Some days, the two of you would swim, skip rocks or attempt to build sand castles. Other days, more so when you went at night, he would lie on your lap and have you run your fingers through his hair while the two of you would listen to the waves crash on the shore. You’d find yourself looking at him adoringly and there was one time you were so close to connecting your lips together, but you chickened out and clumsily ended up pushing him off of your lap. 

The car ride was tense and he didn’t say anything the entire time. You decided to allow him to speak up when he was ready. It was something you learned throughout the duration of your friendship. Mark was short tempered. He would lash out on people at the smallest of things, but you were very understanding and extremely patient whenever it came to his mood swings. He’s apologized for it many times and did his best to work on it because he hated lashing out on you of all people, but some days he just couldn’t help himself. As soon as he parked the car, he motioned for you to get out and made his way to his trunk. He immediately hopped in the back without helping you like he usually did and when he saw that you weren’t getting inside and that your arms were crossed in frustration, he let out an irritated grunt. 

“What? Get in here. Do I have to help you with everything?” It was your turn to scoff. How did he go from singing to the top of his lungs at a Carrie Underwood song to giving you the cold shoulder? 

“If you’re going to be an asshole for no reason, you can just take me home right now. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did or said to upset you but I’m sorry.” There were situations where Mark was in the wrong, but you’d find yourself apologizing because he was never one to give in. He was the definition of stubborn. However, you noticed that you were the only person that he’d give up his pride for. He hated the thought of upsetting you and putting the two of you in to an awkward situation. So he’d apologize as soon as he knew things were going south and tonight was no different. Right as you were about to open your door, you felt him gently grip at your wrist and before you knew it, he was picking you up bridal style before jumping on to his truck bed. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just being stupid. Please forget all about it okay? Fuck, I’ve ruined our night together didn’t I? I’m so sorry y/n.” You shook your head before leaving a quick peck on his cheek. Kissing each other was a normal thing between you and Mark. The two of you would kiss each other’s foreheads and cheeks all the time. Sometimes he’d even kiss your nose, your chin and even your shoulder blade but he had yet to kiss you where you wanted to kiss him the most. 

“Talk to me Mark. What’s bothering you?” You intertwined your fingers together and gave him your full attention. You knew something had to be heavy on his mind and you wanted him to be honest with you. He pulled his hands away from yours to your disappointment and scratched the back of his neck before taking a bite of his food. 

“Y/n I love—this chicken sandwich holy shit. This is good. I don’t know why I was settling for that pathetic excuse of a chicken patty at McDonalds. It’s nothing okay? Don’t worry about me. Eat your food, I know how you get when your chicken isn’t crispy and I don’t want you complaining later.” The two of you sat in silence eating your meals and you hated the fact that the atmosphere was filled with animosity. Once the two of you were both finished, he pulled you on to his lap and rested his chin in the crook of your neck.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” You shrugged before leaning back in to his embrace. It was weird how the two of you could go from arguing one minute to cuddling as if nothing happened the next but you never questioned it. 

“Probably staying in all day. Oh—I need to go to target. You drank all of my milk and failed to tell me. I’ve been eating my cereal DRY for the last week thank you very much.”

“Can I come? I think I need some groceries too.” You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the idea of Mark shopping for his own groceries. The older boy practically lived at your apartment. Sometimes you would even offer to look for an apartment together but your mutual friend Jackson always complained about you “stealing his roommate”. A lot of his clothes were sitting in your closet, he brought over some of his toiletries each and every time he slept at your apartment, most of the cubby holes in your shoe rack were taken up by him and he even bought an Xbox specifically to leave it at your place. You wouldn’t mind living with Mark, but sometimes you were glad Jackson was so adamant on keeping him at their place. Sharing the same space with him would surely drive your feelings through the roof.

“You mean some groceries to leave over at my place. You never go shopping for your own shit. Sometimes I feel like you’re only friends with me because you like mooching off of me and because I help keep you alive. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be taking your vitamins everyday and your health wouldn’t be as good as it is now.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You grocery shop for fun, who the fuck does that? Oh yeah, OLD PEOPLE. Don’t sound so upset, you had fun the last time I came with you to the grocery store.”

You giggled at the memory before turning around to flick his forehead. “You almost got us kicked out because you were fighting with a six-year-old over a Chewbacca figurine.”

“IT WAS THE LAST ONE Y/N. I HAD IT FIRST. The punk just had to start crying and his mom came telling me I was immature for fighting with a first grader.”

“You know sometimes I forget that you’re a 23-year-old senior in college and not the same 12-year-old boy from middle school. I love that you’re still a child at heart by the way. Sometimes the adult life can get a little hectic. You’re like my personal escape. Like, a breath of fresh air. I don’t say it all that often, but I’m very grateful for you. You mean a lot to me, more than you’ll ever know Tuan.” If you were facing him right now, you’d be able to see how red you made him by your sweet words. He left a gentle kiss on your jaw before leaning himself further in to the truck and pulling you down with him. The two of you stayed like that for almost two hours, stargazing and basking in the other’s presence. No words were shared but the silence spoke volumes. 

You couldn’t help but think back to a few hours ago when he was about to admit why he was so bothered but instead admitted his love for the chicken sandwich. Was he finally going to tell you how he felt for you but lost the courage as the L word fell from his lips? Why did he always have to make things so difficult? When you noticed the sun slowly making its appearance against the shoreline, you squeezed Mark’s bicep to let him know that maybe it was time to go home. 

“Since we’re hanging out later today anyway, did you want to come over to my place? Or we can head back to yours? It doesn’t really matter. If you wanna be by yourself, that’s fine too. I’ll just drop you off and come back later.” You gave him a soft smile before sitting up right and reaching over to play around with his hair. 

“Let’s go to yours. I wouldn’t mind spending time with Jackson and I miss my baby Milo.” He nodded in agreement and helped you down before making his way to his side of the car. Once he began to drive away, a small frown rose upon your face when he didn’t move his hand to your thigh. This was the first time in a long time that he drove with both hands and you knew that something was genuinely bothering him. 

You tried to take your mind off of Mark and put all your focus to everything you’d see while he drove to what you thought was going to be his apartment. However, it seemed as if he was taking a detour down different neighborhoods and you were surprised when you took a peek to see how fast he was driving and found out he wasn’t going fast at all. In fact, he was going under the speed limit. Something must’ve struck a nerve with him; Mark was known for his speed. He hated slow drivers and hated being in traffic which is why you found it unusual for him to be going at such a slow pace. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He released a soft sigh as he turned in to his apartment structure and nodded slowly. 

“Just tired. You’re not the only one staying up late to study. Oh, before I forget, you’re never a burden y/n. I’m never too busy for you. Actually, you’re one of my main priorities. So don’t feel like you can’t approach me if you need my help. Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” When the two of you made it up to his place, he tried his best to quietly open the door knowing that Jackson was still asleep. As soon as the two of you made your way in, Milo was all over you. You lowered yourself down to the little puppy and picked him up while leaving kisses all around his face. 

“Hi Milo! I’m glad to see you missed me. I missed you too cutie pie. Has daddy been taking good care of you and feeds you the snacks I bought?” You made your way to Mark’s bedroom and scoffed when you saw how neat it was. For someone who was constantly busy, why was his room so clean? Your room was in the exact state as your life, messy. Since you’ve been in here more times than you could count, you walked over to your side of the bed and laid down. He was quick to join you but not before taking off his shirt. 

You were used to Mark being shirtless, so you learned how to control your emotions and facial expressions over the years to prevent yourself from making it aware that you enjoyed it. However, you could feel your breath going shallow, especially when he would pull you in to his embrace like he was currently doing so right now. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his cheek against yours so that your faces were practically smashed together. The two of you weren’t strangers to spooning and cuddling, but there were times that you’d feel something hard against your thigh every now and then so Mark would keep his distance whenever it came to holding you. 

Not too long after the two of you got in to bed, you felt his warm breath against your neck as soft snores fell from his lips. You on the other hand could not find it in yourself to fall asleep. Your mind was too clouded with the events that happened during your drive and it confused you more than you already were. You began to let your eyes wander around his bedroom and giggled softly to yourself when you saw the Chewbacca figure on his desk. When you felt something vibrate in your back pocket, you remembered you put your phone in there and quickly brought it out to turn it off to prevent any noise from waking Mark up. 

As you reached to put your phone on his night stand, your heart fluttered at the photo of you from your senior prom back in high school. You remembered that night like it was yesterday. Mark was quick to ask you to be his date and you agreed right off the bat. Even at that time, you knew you wanted all your best memories to be shared with him. Your parents were extremely excited when they found out that the two of you were going together. They were all secretly hoping that you and Mark would end up with each other one day but they never did or said anything because they waited for the two of you to discover your feelings on your own. Even your mom claimed that she had a huge feeling that Mark had developed a crush on you but you never believed her. 

How could you though? You and Mark have been friends for almost a decade and he never showed signs of taking things further between the two of you. Prom night was one of the best nights of your entire high school career and you knew it had a lot to deal with the person who’s arms you were currently in. He bought you the prettiest bouquet and corsage, complimented you at least twenty times on how beautiful you looked, he even made it clear that you were the prettiest girl there but you knew he was just saying that because he was your best friend. The two of you danced almost the entire night and he entered a game in order to win an expensive pair of speakers which was currently sitting on your kitchen counter. 

Any time spent with Mark was amazing. He gave you his full attention and made sure you were having a good time no matter what the two of you were doing. Slowly, in attempts not to wake him, you found yourself turning around in order to take a good look at him. You gently began to trace his handsome features and you had to stifle a laugh when his nose scrunched, probably from being tickled. Why did you have to be such a coward? Why couldn’t you just tell him how you felt no matter the consequences? Finally, after contemplating what you would do about your feelings for Mark, you placed a kiss on his nose and fell asleep. 

When you woke up, you weren’t shocked to see that Mark was still asleep. He was an extremely heavy sleeper. There were so many times he’s found himself late to school and practice because he slept through his alarm. You took a few moments to get used to the light that was coming through his window before trying your best to leave his embrace without waking him up and when you succeeded, you turned on your phone to see what time it was and made your way into the living room. As you were about to head in to the kitchen to find something to make for you and Mark, you failed to notice Jackson on the couch, smiling at you like an idiot. 

“Good morning sunshine. Looks like somebody got a nice rest while wrapped up in your loverboy’s arms. He’s still asleep isn’t he?” You jumped at the sound of his voice, not knowing that he was there with you and rolled your eyes at his sarcastic statement. Jackson was known to be a prankster. He always made snide remarks about your relationship with Mark and he would always hint to you every now and then that Mark had feelings for you but just like how you were when your mom confronted you about your feelings, you couldn’t believe Jackson either. No matter how badly you wanted to. 

“Of course he is. I slept like a baby. Hey, what’s with you guys and being shirtless all the time? Do neither of you own any shirts?” The cheeky boy winked at you before pulling you in for a hug. 

“Gotta flaunt off the goods while we still have them. You can take off your shirt too if you want. I wouldn’t mind seeing you shirtless—ow! You’re always so abusive whenever it comes to me. It’s not like I haven’t seen you practically naked before.” You ignored him while making your way to the fridge and looking for something to cook. The two of you began to update each other on what you both did in the last few weeks since you’ve seen each other. He updated you on how basketball season was going so far and invited you to some of his games. 

The two of you continued your conversation and he brought up something that caught your attention. “Hey y/n, I know you’re not one to drink, but there’s more than just alcohol involved whenever we go out to bars and clubs. Why don’t you come with us? I’m sure Mark would finally come out with us if he knew you were tagging along. Come on, we all know baking desserts, playing modern warfare and staying up watching reruns of the office together is fun, well; for you guys. But you and Mark need to get out and do something college-like for once. You know how many times Mark has cancelled plans with us just so he could spend time with you? God, you both are so smart yet so stupid.” 

Mark was cancelling out on plans with the guys in order to hang out with you?You tried your best not to show to Jackson that his confession made you feel all warm and giddy on the inside. As the retaliation was on the tip of your tongue, Mark released a yawn to make it known he was in the room. “Ah, if it isn’t the devil himself. I was just inviting y/n to come out with us to the club on Saturday. You coming?” 

Mark gave you a look of curiosity before walking toward the fridge. “Y/n hates the club. And we can’t, we already have plans.” 

It was your turn to look at him in confusion. You don’t remember making any plans with Mark and most of your so called “plans” consisted of the two of you laying around your apartment doing nothing. Jackson shrugged, not surprised by his older friend’s response and gave you a knowing look. 

“Yeah, but she said so herself she wouldn’t mind letting loose since we only have one year left in college. Y/n must not know about your plans because she said she’d be down to come. Don’t be such a party pooper Mark, hang out with us. You’ve been already missing out on so much of our gatherings anyway. It’ll be fun!” Y

ou felt him before you could see him. He found his place behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders while hiding his face between your shoulder blades and let out a frustrated grunt. “Fine! Whatever. But only if y/n is going. I don’t know why you want me to come out with you guys anyway. You all get drunk the minute we walk in and flirt with anyone that has legs. I always end up driving you drunk bastards home. Quite the college experience of you ask me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his sarcasm and began plating the bacon, eggs and fried rice you made for the three of your for breakfast. Other than the constant laughter that fell from your lips whenever Jackson and Mark would bicker over nonsense, you stayed quiet and focused on eating while they conversed. Once you all were done eating, Jackson mentioned throwing on a movie but Mark was quick to shut him down. You had a feeling it had to do with what happened the last time you all watched a movie together. Before you could sit down, Jackson pulled you on to his lap and refused to let you go. The daggers Mark sent through the back of Jackson’s head didn’t go unnoticed by you; in fact it made you quite happy. You loved how protective he was whenever it came to you. 

“Y/n and I actually have plans today. We need to go grocery shopping.” Jackson’s brow raised in amusement. 

“We? You’re actually buying food for us?” 

“No. I’m going to buy food to eat whenever I’m at her place. When do I ever eat here?”

As soon as the two of them finished their bickering, you said your goodbyes to Jackson and made your way to the grocery store. One thing that Mark never failed to do was make a fool out of you every single time you took him grocery shopping. However, you couldn’t say you didn’t have fun whenever he would tag along. If the two of you were to go at night, he would jump in the shopping cart and have you push him around. But in most cases, he’d stand behind you and practically trap you between his body and the cart while taking over to push. He forced you to go in and out of every aisle to make sure the two of you weren’t missing anything. 

“Y/n, serious question, Doritos or Cheetos puffs?” You thought about it for a few seconds before giving him your answer. 

“Doritos.”

“Okay, Cheetos puffs it is.” You scowled at him but before you could really react, he was driving the cart in the other direction. As soon as you felt that you were finished, you pulled to the side to make sure you had everything you needed and nothing you didn’t. 

“Cheese in a can? Really Mark? You’re not even going to eat it—“ he was quick to cover your mouth and you counterattacked by licking his hand. 

“Lick it all you want, I’m in to stuff like that.”

“Ew gross.” 

To your dismay, Mark handed the cashier his card and paid for the entirety of your groceries. This wasn’t the first time he’s done this. Whenever he tagged along with you, he’d always end up paying for your groceries no matter how much the bill came out to and his excuse was because he used and ate a lot of your groceries. 

After returning back to your apartment and the two of you put the groceries away, you spent the rest of the day reading a book while found his way on to your lap and played grand theft auto for a couple of hours. These were the days you loved the most. Although he was quite loud and violent whenever it came to his video games, you felt at peace and the most serene when it was just the two of you lounging around. 

“Hey y/n?” You hummed in curiosity and placed your book down in order to give him your full attention. “This morning, when you talked about your future husband and shit like that—do you—do you actually want to get married? Like, you want a wedding and to spend the rest of your life with someone?” 

You thought about the exact moment he was referring to and nodded in agreement. That was around the same time he grew angry and you couldn’t help but feel as if the idea of you ending up with someone else bothered him. “Of course I do. I’ve dreamt about having a beautiful, big wedding surrounded with all my friends and family. I like to look at wedding dresses and rings from time to time. How come? Don’t you?” 

He shrugged before continuing to play his game; the way he tensed up at your response caught your attention. “I guess. I don’t know, I don’t see myself settling down with anyone I guess. I don’t want anyone getting in between us. I refuse to live without you y/n.” You smiled softly before placing a gentle kiss on his neck. Sometimes you felt like the skin ship you shared was beyond normal than what most friends did. But the two of you were used to it. 

The kisses on your jaw, your neck, behind your ear; it wasn’t normal for friends to do things like that but here the two of you were. It never bothered you, in fact there were times where you couldn’t stop kissing him and had to forcefully stop yourself in fear of him finding it weird. 

“I think that’s why I’ve been single for so long. Since you are—well—you, my standards in men are pretty high. So I’d want them to be at least half the man that you are. Honestly, you and I should just get married.” His breath hitched and it was in that moment where you knew you fucked up. 

“I mean—you know. If both of us are still single once we reach thirty—then I would marry you—you know—if you asked.” You let out a sarcastic laugh and wished the ground would swallow you whole. 

“You would? Really? You’d want to marry me?” You nodded, shocked that he found it surprising. He was the only person you saw yourself getting married to, but you still had yet to make your friendship change in to a relationship. 

“Of course I’d want to marry you Mark. You’re my best friend. Why? Do you not want to marry me?” He placed the controller down and turned around to face you. The conversation was soon turning pretty serious. Mark never turned his video game off for anybody, not even you. His xbox was the only thing before you that he paid more attention to. 

“Of course I do. Nobody comes close to you y/n. Let’s make a pact, if were both single when we turn thirty, we jump the gun and marry each other. Deal?” 

You grinned like a school girl at the idea of marrying Mark one day and nodded quickly before intertwining your pinkies together. Mark returned back to his game and you with your book but not too long after, you found yourself falling asleep on top of Mark’s back and he giggled at the feeling. 

“You’re the only girl I want to marry.” 

They don't almost say "I love you" When they're downtown somewhere, just a little drunk They don't talk about the future and put each other in it And get chills with every accidental touch

Two days later, you were at home studying for your last final of the semester when you felt your phone vibrating. You tried your best to hide it in attempts to focus on your many notes in front of you, but you couldn’t help but look at it from time to time and saw that Mark was out at a bar with Jackson, BamBam, Jinyoung and Jaebum. 

You let out a giggle at every video of the guys forcing each other to take shots and you couldn’t help but wish you went with them. Forcing five months of notes in to your brain in one night was driving you insane. Seeing Mark’s name made your heart flutter, just like it normally did and right as you were about to let it go to voicemail, you answered his call. 

You haven’t seen him since he left your place right after the two of you ate dinner. He knew you had to study, so he wanted to give you his space but you found yourself typing out his number a couple of times because you missed his presence but ended up deleting the text completely. 

“Y/nnnnnnnnn. Hey, how’s the studying going? I miss you. You should’ve came.” You knew he was drunk and there was nothing more entertaining than a drunk Mark Tuan especially because he wasn’t one to drink all that often. In fact, alcohol changed him in to a completely different person. If he had a few shots of liquid courage in him, he could tell you the history of the Pillsbury dough boy. 

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re beautiful. Your point is?” You mentally cursed the guys for allowing him to get so drunk but he was making your extremely boring night all the more fun.

“Where’s the guys?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere here on earth. Why do you care about them huh? Focus on me. I’m the only one you should be thinking about. You’re the only one I ever think about—and I think about you all the time y/n.” 

Every word that fell from his lips tugged on your heartstrings but you were smart enough to know not to believe him. He was drunk and had no idea what he was admitting to you right now. “Mark—“

“I love you. Y/n. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why you were so surprised to—to hear that I want to marry you—look at you. You’re the most ethereal human being in the world. You’re so beautiful and you—you make me so happy. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know you’re studying for biology right now, but do you think you could learn to love me?” 

You didn’t even realize you were holding in your breath the entire time he was confessing his love for you. Even if he was drunk, his words sounded so sincere. You didn’t know what to say, it was too much to take in. Were you hallucinating? Did staying up all those hours finally drive you to the brink of insanity? Before you could find the courage to respond, you heard murmuring through the phone and soon Jaebum’s voice was replacing Mark’s. 

“Hey, do you mind coming to pick him up? He’s drunk off his ass if it wasn’t already obvious. You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about the rest of us. We’re all fine. It’s Mark who ended up drinking a little too much.”

“Of course. Can you text me your location? I’ll be there soon. Take care of him for me would you?” You debated on taking a taxi, your mind was too clouded with his entire confession and you didn’t think you were in your right mind to be driving but you didn’t want to have to wait for one while taking care of a drunk Mark by yourself. Why couldn’t the guys just take him back with them? They were the ones who allowed him to get so drunk, why were they making him your responsibility? 

The entire drive to the bar was mind wrecking and you even found yourself running a few red lights. What was going to happen when you had him all to yourself? When you pulled up to the bar, your eyes immediately landed on the group of boys hovering over who you assumed to be Mark. Smiles all rose on their faces as soon as they saw you approaching but you were too focused on making sure Mark was okay. 

“Can I get some help to my car please?” Jackson and Jinyoung wrapped their arms around his shoulders and carried him to your car while BamBam and Jaebum walked alongside you. 

“I guess it’s out there.” You looked at BamBam in curiosity and earned yourself a knowing look. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about y/n. I can’t believe it took him getting drunk to confess his feelings for you, but it had to come out somehow and he obviously wasn’t going to tell you how he feels sober. I’ve never seen someone as in love with a person like Mark is with you. That boy looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass. You must be blind not to see it. And don’t get me started when it comes to how much he talks about you. Whenever he actually comes out with us, you’re all he talks about. “Y/n loves coming here.” “Y/n showed me that last week.” “I hope y/n did good on her test.” “Did you guys see y/n last week? She looked so pretty in that dress.” I’m sure he could write a novel about the love he has for you—ow. What was that for?” 

The younger boy rubbed his shoulder from where Jaebum hit him and you couldn’t help but snicker. “That’s enough. Let mark go in to depth about his love for her. If he finds out your dumb ass practically confessed his feelings for him, you’re going to have to catch the bus home. Drive safely y/n. Let us know when you get home. And good luck with him. Please do something with the information you found out tonight. It’s been long enough don’t you think?” 

The boys all pulled you in for quick hugs and you began to drive away, making your way back to your apartment. He looked so peaceful yet so inebriated. His cheeks were pink and his eyelids were swollen yet he still looked so good. You hesitantly reached for his cheek and grazed you’re thumb against his Cupid’s bow. 

“You silly, silly boy. What am I going to do with you?” Bringing him upstairs by yourself was a challenge. If waking him up while he was sober was hard, attempting to get him up from his slumber was even more difficult. Not only did he not wake up at every single attempt of shaking him and practically whisper yelling in his ear, but his body was practically deadweight. What normally was a two minute walk from your parking lot to your apartment took almost twenty minutes. You praised yourself once you made it to your front door and dragged him inside, pulling him towards your room. His breath wreaked of alcohol and you weren’t sure if you wanted to try and get him to brush his teeth but after a while, you ultimately decided against it. Why put yourself through even more work for you? 

You took off his clothes and helped change him in to one of the shirts he left at your place before heading back in to the kitchen to get him a bottle of water and painkillers you knew he would need in the morning. After changing your clothes and preparing yourself for bed, you found your place next to Mark and brought his face in to your hands. With his confession and reassurance from both Jaebum and BamBam, you were confident in your decision to confront and confess your love for him when he was completely sober. You gave yourself a few moments to admire the handsome boy in front of you and placed a soft kiss on his lips before sleep finally took over. 

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of something rustling and a soft groan that you knew came from Mark. He released an exhausted sigh before pulling you closer to his chest. You decided to pretend you were still asleep in order to see what his next move would be and when you felt the multiple kisses along the back of your neck, it took every bone in your body not to react. “If only you knew.”

“Knew what?” The scream that filled your room on top of the thud that came when Mark fell off your bed made you erupt in laughter. You quickly ran over to his side to help him back up on top of the bed but your giggles still continued. He glared at you and crossed his arms out of frustration and you decided to give him a break. 

“You little shit. You scared me. How did I—why am I here?” You knew he was trying to redirect your attention away from his confession and you were going to play along for a few minutes before taking your confrontation head on. 

“You got piss drunk and the boys called me over to come get you.”

“Those assholes. I always take them home after their drunken stupors, I don’t know why they can’t do the same for me. They should know better than to bother you. You’re already tired as it is already. I’m sorry about that.” You shook your head before handing him a few pain killers and the water bottle. 

“It’s totally fine Mark. How are you feeling?” He groaned. 

“Like shit. I um—I didn’t say anything embarrassing did I?” This was it. It was time to finally find out for yourself what Mark’s exact feelings for you were. Although it has been hinted to you many times, and the truth came out last night, you wanted to hear him say it himself, sober. 

You didn’t give yourself any time to think before your lips connected with his. It felt so natural to you. You cupped his cheeks with your palms as your lips moved softly against his. However, once you tasted the alcohol and noticed he wasn’t reacting, you pulled away. 

“W—what—did you just—did we—am I still drunk? I have to be. There’s no way—why did you stop? What the fuck is going on?” His stammering was extremely adorable and before you could respond, his lips were back on yours. Kissing Mark felt too good to be true. His lips melded perfectly with yours, as if the two of you were made to kiss one another. 

“You told me you loved me last night. This is my way of letting you know I feel the exact same way. I’ve been in love with you for so many years, I can’t even count how long on my hands. I never thought I was good enough for you, nor did I think there was a chance you would ever feel the same. I was always just your best friend. The idea of us being something more than friends was an unrealistic daydream I would hope and pray would become a reality. Over the course of our friendship, our parents, friends and even our teachers would try and tell me that you harbored feelings for me but I never believed anybody. We’ve been friends for so long already. If you liked me, you would’ve done something about it a long time ago. I really wanted to confess my feelings for you on many occasions, but the idea of losing you was one I couldn’t even fathom.” 

With the way he was looking at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes at your confession you were sure you’d melt in to a puddle right there. “You’re my best friend Mark. My person. My soulmate. Hearing you tell me that you love me is such a beautiful and indescribable feeling. I meant it when I said I would marry you because I knew you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. There’s nobody else but you Mark. You’re it for me.” 

He brought some of your hair behind your ear and just as he was about to kiss you, you dodged his lips no matter how badly you wanted to feel them against yours again. 

“You just confessed your feelings for me, let me kiss you—“ 

“Brush your teeth first stinky and then we’ll talk.” He rolled his eyes before stomping over to your bathroom. 

“The love of my life is denying me kisses I can’t believe this bullshit—“ the blush was warm on your cheeks and you knew if you were to look in a mirror that you’d be as red as a tomato right now but you didn’t care; Mark had that effect on you. You could hear how rough and quick he was brushing his teeth and the thought of him rushing in order to kiss you again made your heart flutter. Soon, he clumsily made his way toward you and practically tackled you on to the bed. He wasted no time attacking your face with kisses and finally bringing his lips to yours. 

You would have never thought, in all your years of being friends with Mark that you would one day have him hovering over you with his grip tight on your waist as your tongues battled for dominance, roughly clashing against each other. Kissing Mark was otherworldly. His lips were soft and melded well against yours and the way he was touching you, so gentle yet so seductively was driving you insane. You playfully brought his bottom lip in between your teeth and the growl that came from the back of his throat sent chills down your spine. 

“Fuck—shit—fuck—you—you’re so beautiful y/n. So fucking beautiful and extremely sexy. God, I am so, so in love with you baby. Ugh, I love how it sounds calling you that. Baby. You are MY baby.” 

He grinned widely and stole one more kiss from the corner of your mouth before continuing. “As much as I did not want to go out last night, I needed something else to consume my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how badly I wanted you to be mine. You know how hard it is? Seeing that breathtaking smile of yours, hearing that contagious laughter than makes me smile like an idiot, holding you in my arms, running my fingers through your hair and not being able to kiss you? Not being able to hold your hand and letting the world know that you’re mine? It was torture y/n. From the day we became friends, I knew you were meant to be someone special in my life. I just didn’t know how special nor did I know how much you would mean to me. You’re my entire world y/n.” He pulled you on to his lap and softly cupped your cheeks.

“You are the most selfless, hardworking, generous, kind-hearted, caring and extremely supportive person I’ve ever met. You are the reason I put so much effort and energy in to every little thing that I do. I want you to be proud of me. If you’ve been wondering why I get so angry whenever it comes to you and another guy; like you and Jackson that one movie night, you and Jinyoung when we played spin the bottle, hell, even a few nights ago when you talked about your future husband, it’s because I was jealous. The thought of you loving someone else, kissing someone else, settling down and starting a family with someone who isn’t me sends an upsetting feeling to my stomach. Pathetic isn’t it. I’m a coward who couldn’t act on my feelings because I was too afraid of your reaction so I had no right to be jealous. The reason I got so drunk last night was because BamBam and Jackson wouldn’t stop joking around about how cute you and Park Jinyoung would look together. Fuck Jinyoung—wait—don’t. The only person you’ll be fucking from now on is me. But I hope you know you’re stuck with me and my dick for the rest of your life. Now that I have you, you’re mine forever. I’m never letting you go. My beautiful y/n, I love you so much.” 

He smiled in to the kiss as soon as he felt his lips on yours and quickly wiped away your tear as it fell down your cheek. “To think, if only I got you drunk earlier, we could been in this position sooner.”

“Well I heard that drunk sex is the best kind of sex, so if you want to take a few shots of tequila and celebrate our newfound relationship by bouncing on my dick for the rest of the day then I’m all for it—ow y/n—I’m going to let you know that slapping is only fun if I get to do it to you—I hope you’re this wild during sex. Honestly, what did I get myself into? I’m kidding—come back here. Let me love you baby!”

[myfineline]

WIP Folder Challenge

I was tagged by @fallinglikethis - Thank you!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Disclaimer - I’m purposefully leaving out three of my WIPs since I’m undecided which I’ll be working on for the WIPs Anonymous Writing Fest, which is definitely happening! Everything else is in the someday-maybe category :)

Won’t You Blow Me Down - Kid Fic where Louis is a single dad and Harry is the really cute Music Together teacher. Lottie and Gemma may or may not have had something to do with it.

Everybody, Rock Your Body - Bachelor Party Fic in which Louis is the Best Man and Harry happens to be the really attractive (and flexible) instructor for their Pole Dancing class.

Cupcake Wars - Self indulgent Cupcake Wars Fic starring Baker Harry and Celebrity Guest Judge Louis who is in need of some extra special cupcakes for his new album release party.

Just Kidding - Kinda Sorta Kid Fic where Louis and Harry meet at a local playground and not everything is what it seems.

Birthday Surprise - Fic Bases on a Bro Pal Meme I saw a million years ago on my dash. Louis is the Birthday Boy and he’s really missing his best friend Harry. His friends have big plans.

Cape Cod Exes to Lovers - When Harry finds himself back on Cape Cod in his mother’s summer cottage nursing a broken heart, the last person he expects to see is his first love Louis - who still happens to be his neighbor. Summer on the Cape ensues, maybe even a romance.

Back Home - Harry finds himself living back home with his mother helping nurse her back to health after a bad fall. The last thing he expects is his mothers Physical Therapist to be his high school teenage dream.

Gifts and Curses - Beauty and the Beast ABO where Harry’s an Alpha with a secret and Louis is an Omega that does not want to marry Gaston.

Frozen Heart - A Frozen AU where Prince Harry has to find his newly coronated sister in the North Mountains before he’s forced to take over the Kingdom. Thankfully he finds a couple of local guides and an interesting stranger to help him on his journey. Starring Harry as Ana, Louis as Kristoff, Liam as Sven and Niall as Olaf.

Famous/Non-Famous AU - Louis is an ex-childhood star who’s best known for sharing the silver screen with now Academy Award Winner Harry. When Louis is invited to participate in an Anniversary Magazine spread and small promo signing the last person he expects to show up is Harry. Turns out some friendships are hard to forget.

10 Year Reunion AU - Harry and Louis manage to be two ships passing in the night all through high school. None of the same classes, friends or extracurriculars. Until the night of the senior banquet when they exchange yearbook messages - wish we could have gotten to know each other, maybe we will see each other around.10 years later and in the height of social media they’re getting ready for a high school reunion where the only people they care about seeing is each other.

Since all of the people I was planning on tagging have already been tagged - I encourage anyone who wants to participate to please consider this as a tag from me!