#bc man. how in the world did they go from complete indifference to promising to stay together forever hello

[deus-ex-mona]

real talk: lxl should continue to explore romance fantasy concepts in their songs. it’s clearly working for them~

[solarwonux]

Epitaph || Kim Taehyung (1/?)

pairing: Taehyung x f!reader || roommates!au

w.c: 9.8k (it was supposed to be short, I’m sorry) 

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, co-parenting!au, fwb!au, non idol!au

Warnings: semi-edited :( slow burn, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of insecurities taeyhung is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses) Also I don’t apologize for the one pun I made. It made me cackle when I wrote it so it stays. 

Synopsis: In memory of the man Kim Taehyung used to be. Caught up and  lost in a continuous cycle searching for something that was already there.

Reeling you into a mess that you never asked for because all you wanted was to feel complete and happy

a/n: I’m gonna be honest I was scared of posting this bc lately I have been super insecure about my writing in general. But anyway, I decided to bite the bullet and just go for it. I’m opening a taglist for this so if you’re interested and want to be added send me an ask. Anyway, please lmk your thoughts and I hope you enjoy.xx

m.list || series m.list

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Namjoon is nice. 

Despite the cold indifference on his face, his heart was made out of pure gold. It was proven time and time again like an old science experiment no one could let go of. He was always there for his friends, putting their needs before his own. He took Hoseok in when his parents kicked him out for pursuing a career in dance. He patiently sat and explained organic chemistry to you after you cried on his and Hoseok’s couch because you were failing the class. When his twin girls were born - Areum and Ara - he wept like a child promising the entire world to them. 

He’s nice and doesn’t know any better and you can’t blame him for continuing to invite Taehyung and Eunbi to his bi-weekly barbecue's. Taehyung was his friend too. The same one that he dropped everything for ten years ago when he got the call from the hospital. You didn’t know him then but from the bits and pieces you were told, it was a hit and run, leaving Taehyung in a critical condition. His life was hanging from a thin line before he miraculously pulled through after three weeks of being on life support. 

Hoseok and Namjoon stayed by his side the entire time. 

Hoseok says it’s the guilt that would eat Namjoon up if he doesn’t invite Taehyung. Despite not being a fan of everything he’s put you through; Namjoon can’t seem to cut his oldest friend off. You can’t blame him, you wouldn’t want him to either. He didn’t understand the severity of the situation because just like how you knew bits and pieces from Taehyung’s accident. Namjoon only knew the bits and pieces of what happened that night and you wanted to keep it that way. 

Taehyung deserved a friend that he still could turn to when he found himself wandering through the darkest corners of his mind. You had lived with him for four years before things got messy. You witnessed firsthand how scary it got for him, but nothing you ever did, helped in putting him at ease. 

Nothing ever will. 

“You’re thinking again.” Hoseok flicks your forehead lightly before sitting down next to you, handing you a margarita. “Pretend they’re not here.” He subtly gestures with his glass to the couple giggling in the pool. Swimming and pretending like they weren’t the reason for your lack of sleep these past two days. 

You scoff, tracing the salt ring with your index finger. “Kind of hard to do when they’re right there being all perfect and shit.” You take a sip from your drink, grimacing as the tequila burns its way down your throat. “Who made this?” You raise a brow turning to face him. 

“Jiwoo.” He shrugs taking a sip, cringing at the taste before putting his glass down on the poolside table. You make a sound of acknowledgment shaking your head. Leave it to Namjoon’s wife to make a margarita consisting of just tequila and a tablespoon of mixer. 

Her signature drink - Jiwoo’s Hangover Inducing Nightmare - Namjoon had named it after a particular night when she got too drunk and spent the entire night on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet. Even then, annoyed, he took care of her like she was a rose. Afraid that any wrong move will make her wither in his arms. 

It ached to watch, and maybe it had to do with the jealousy brewing deep within you and the three glasses you had had that night. You longed for a love like Namjoon and Jiwoo’s, so perfect despite its imperfections. It was a love you once thought you could have. Only for it to backfire on you. Stuck watching the person you once loved, hold someone else that wasn’t you. Someone that you could never be because you didn’t have a flat stomach without stretch marks and a c-section scar. You didn’t have a laugh that chimed like church bells. You didn’t have hair luxurious black hair, a perfect nose, and clear skin. And a job you loved. 

Eunbi was perfect, and not you. 

“Hey,” Yoongi taps the toe of his shoe against your shin retrieving you from your thoughts. “Hobi says you’re thinking too much.” He crouches down, putting his hands on top of your knees. “We can leave if you want. You don’t have to stay the entire time Joon will understand.” He turns to face his husband, silently asking for his input. Their secret language. One you can never begin to understand. 

Hoseok nods, snaking his arm around your shoulder kissing your temple. “I’m proud of you for coming, but if it’s too much we can take you home and have a movie night with Hyeon.” He whispers, running his fingers down your arm. Trying his best to comfort you. 

You sigh, Hyeon giggle as he runs around with Ara and Areum. The sound drowns out the smooth rnb playlist Namjoon had put on shuffle and the beating of your heart. 

It was tempting. To go back the way you came this time with Hyeon holding onto your hand tightly, pouting. He loved Namjoon’s bi-weekly barbecue's, looked forward to them. He would talk non-stop about all the games he and the twins would play in the pool. The game of tag they would play with the sprinklers on. Rave about the water balloon fight that even the adults participated in. The competition, a way to determine who got to wash the dishes. 

You couldn’t ruin that for him. End his excitement early because you weren’t feeling well. 

“It’s okay, I just need one of Jin’s cupcakes and I’ll be fine.” You took another sip of your drink, scrunching your eyebrows, remembering why you decided not to drink it in the first place. 

“Alright, but if at any point, he crosses the line. Give us the emergency signal and we’ll bounce.” Hoseok reassures you and stands up taking your drink from your hand. “I’ll get you some lemonade, Yoongs will get you the cupcake, Jin had him hide them when he arrived.” 

You smile and nod. You didn’t have an emergency signal, but that didn’t matter. Yoongi and Hoseok always seemed to know when Taehyung crossed the line. 

It was like clockwork. A routine everyone seemed to have down to a t which is why everyone tried to enjoy the day as much as they could before all hell broke loose. 

This time though you were determined to not let him get to you. He had already taken ownership of your entire weekend the second you read the court letter. But no one else knew about the baseless threat, except for Yoongi and Hoseok. 

You were adamant to keep it that way. 

“I don’t like her.” Jiwoo says. Her head resting on top of your shoulder. “There’s something about her I don’t like.” 

Humming you lick the hot pink frosting from your finger. “You say that about all of Taehyung’s love affairs.” You say, offering her your cupcake. 

She dips her finger into the icing scooping up a decent amount. “It’s true, he has terrible taste in women. They all seem decent at first, pretend to care and then they do something that ruins it all.” She states, licking the frosting of her finger. “Except for you, you’re the best. But you do have your moments too.” She clicks her tongue, giving you a playful wink. 

You gasp in mock shock, putting a hand over your chest. “I am honored...I think.” You laugh, dipping your finger into the cupcake icing. This is why Jin always hid them before dinner. You and Jiwoo always found them and ate the icing of most of them. 

“Do you think she will make it past this month?” Jiwoo cocks her head to the side. “Joon and Jin are convinced that she’ll make it to the end of the fourth month.” She furrows her brows deep in thought, probably recalling the bet all your friends made the second Taehyung introduced his new fling. You never contributed but did keep count. 

They were ruthless and so far Yoongi was in the lead. 

“I think she’ll make it to the end of next week.” She finishes, playing with the baking paper of the cupcake before looking over at you. Obviously curious about your thoughts. 

You shake your head, and bring your knee up, wrapping your arms around your leg. “Jiwoo we’ve been over this. I stopped carrying about Taehyung and his love affairs years ago.” You look at her, taking in the slight pout forming on her lips. “As long as he doesn’t leave Hyeon behind, he can do whatever and whoever he wants.” 

Jiwoo, clearly disappointed that you won’t shit talk Taehyung with anyone, frowns. “What about you?” She finishes unwrapping the cupcake and hands it over to you. “Doesn’t it hurt you seeing him with someone else?” She whispers, covering her mouth with her hand, looking around like she just said something scandalous. 

She did. No matter how many times you reassure all your friends that you were okay. They don’t seem to be able to let your heartbreak go. 

Really, you’re fine. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself to you and Hobi - ” You pause bringing your cupcake up to her lips. Giggling she takes an obnoxiously huge bite, nodding for you to keep going. “- he isn’t the same Taehyung I fell in love with so no I don’t care. Seeing him with someone else doesn’t hurt anymore.” You say, firmly, retreating your gaze from her, shoving the rest of the cupcake in your mouth. 

Maybe you were lying. There were days when seeing Taehyung with someone new hurt because you always found yourself comparing your imperfections to them. But other days, it was fine because even though they had Taehyung you had Hyeon and that was more than you could ever ask for. 

Jiwoo hums obviously seeing right through but she doesn’t voice it. Aware that if she did the two of you would end up in denial city and that was a place where you just ran in circles until finally you broke down. But you looked happy today, at ease for the most part and she wanted to keep it that way. 

So instead she chews soundlessly, squinting, resembling her youngest twin Areum whenever she didn’t believe something someone said. A thought you can’t express out loud especially to the little five year old teenager both Namjoon and Jiwoo were raising. She hated being compared to her parents. She hated being compared to anyone for that matter. The one time Yoongi did it, accidentally, might you had. She dramatically stomped her foot on the ground before running all the way up to the room she shared with her sister and slammed the door. Exclaiming loudly that she was her own person and not Namjoon, or Jiwoo, or Ara and that she now hated Uncle Yoongi. 

They were still repairing their relationship. 

“Then why don’t you date?” Jiwoo, exasperated looks at you pleading.

You roll your eyes knowing this was coming. Could’ve seen it from a mile-a- away if you weren’t so focused on the delicious cupcake you were savoring. 

For years, Hoseok and Jiwoo have tried to get you to date again. They didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t by yourself or in your early twenties anymore. That you had a kid and nearing thirty and no one wanted to date a mom. No one wanted the responsibility of taking care of another man’s son. 

It sucked because for men having a kid was the total opposite. Hence why Taehyung had no problem picking up a new step-mommy every few months. 

“Jiwoo,” You sigh, wishing you still had the cupcake to rely on but that had been the only one Yoongi allowed you to eat before dinner. “I’m a mom, between work and Hyeon I don’t have time to date.” Jiwoo opens her mouth to retaliate but you raise your hand to stop her, making her close her mouth immediately. 

“I don’t care what you and Hobi say. Men don’t want to date moms. They want to fuck moms and not be responsible for what actually makes them a mom. I don’t want to bring someone into Hyeon’s life without knowing for sure that they’ll stay...Plus -” You pause chewing on your bottom lip. “ - I’m not Taehyung. I’m pretty sure my libido has been fucked since before Hyeon was born.” You whisper like it’s the most embarrassing confession you had to admit every week at Sunday School. 

She bites her lip to keep herself from laughing, clearing her throat when she takes in your infamous glare. “That’s not true. I know plenty of men who wouldn’t mind dating hot moms like you.” She winks, wiping the cupcake crumbs on the side of your mouth with her thumb. 

You grumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest like a kid. “Oh yeah, who?” You pout making her roll her eyes at your antics. 

“Jun-” 

“Hana, Bam wait for me.”

Jiwoo stops, her ears perk up and her eyes grow big in size with excitement, forgetting whatever or whoever she was going to say. She turns her head and squeals. Like literally squeals as her eyes land upon the man who just walked in through the gates of her backyard with a child and a dog the size of a horse. 

“Kookie!” She yells, before standing up and running over to him. 

He’s struggling, trailing behind the little girl wearing an Elsa costume, while being dragged by the dog, mumbling incoherently, clearly unaware that his presence had been found out. His struggle only gets worse when the bag that he had resting on his shoulder, slides down his forearm, cutting his circulation. 

Yikes and you thought you were a hot mess. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jiwoo yells again, the sound of his full name making a few heads turn towards the commotion. He groans in annoyance as Jiwoo laughs at his misery before hugging him tightly. “You came, you came, you really came.” She says, while bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“Hey Kook.” Namjoon yells from the grill, saluting him before shaking his head chuckling, earning a few questionable looks from both Yoongi and Hoseok that were keeping him company. Or babysitting him. In case he burns something down again. 

Jungkook returns the gesture as best as he can, given the unpleasant situation he was in. Then he feels one more hard tug on the leash he was trying to hold, and decides he’s had enough. “Can I put all my shit down?” He pulls away from Jiwoo, tripping on his own feet when Bam tugs on his leash again. “Bam sit, Hana don’t move.” The sternness on his voice makes both Jiwoo and the toddler laugh. Hard. 

“I miss when you weren’t grumpy all the time.” She smiles taking the bag from his arm, keeping it from falling off, and looks at the little girl patiently waiting next to the dog. “Hana, I promise your dad used to be the life of the party.” She winks holding her hand out for her to take. 

Hana gasps in disbelief, her face traveling between her dad and Jiwoo as she places her tiny hand in hers. “No way, he’s boring.” She exclaims, causing Jiwoo to laugh and Jungkook to roll his eyes. 

He already regrets coming. 

“Come on I’ll introduce you to everyone.” 

Jungkook makes a noise of acknowledgement, following the overly excited women as she makes her way through her backyard. The last time he was here - two years ago for Christmas dinner with his parents - the pool was not finished. Jiwoo had been annoyed the entire night. 

Now the pool was done. The dead patch of grass that had Namjoon in distress was thriving. There was a patio just for grilling, with a brick oven. Fairy lights lined the fences and through the middle of the yard. Pistachio green pool chairs surrounded the pool. Clearly, things had changed in the last two years he was there. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” 

“Client canceled, Jimin’s out of town. So I just decided to close the shop and come.” Jungkook shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal when to Jiwoo it was. She had been trying to get her brother to come over ever since he moved back to the city months ago. Saddened whenever he used the I’m still settling down excuse that he so obviously exhausted. 

He had no other option but to come. 

Jiwoo smiles. “I’m glad you came, even if it wasn’t your first choice.” She stops walking once she reaches the pool. “That’s Jin.” She points to the man in the pool with pool goggles that were obviously too small for his face. “Jin this is Jungkook.” She says, waving her hands in the air to grab his attention. 

Jin looks over and waves. “Nice to meet you Jungkook, Namjoon’s always talking my ear off at the office about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” He gives Jungkook a thumbs up, before bringing his hands down, making a small splash. “I’d come out to give you a hug but Areum and Ara are in a cutthroat competition right now.” He points towards the swimming twins, each determined to win. 

Jiwoo turns to Jungkook. “He’s Joon’s co-worker and oddly good at baking.” She shrugs and continues walking. 

Hana looks over at Jungkook, eyes bright. He curses mentally because he knows whats coming next. “Daddy can I go in the pool?” There it was, the cute innocent voice he literally can’t say no too. 

“Later, I promise sweetheart.” He cringes, expecting a protest from her but it doesn’t come because she immediately sees Namjoon. The love of her life and forgets about Jungkook, Jiwoo, Bam and the pool, and wraps her arms around his legs. 

Jungkook scoffs. His brother in law is not even all that. 

Jiwoo doesn’t mind though, obviously not jealous that the four year old has had a huge crush on her man since she was born and turns to face the other men that were with Namjoon. “This is Yoongi and Hobi.” She points to them and then to Jungkook. “Hobi, Yoongs this is Jungkook, Hana and Bam.” Jiwoo introduces. 

Hoseok untangles from the other man. His eyes light up immediately, almost as if he was finally putting the pieces together. 

“This is Jungkook the one you’ve been try to se-” 

Whatever Hoseok was going to say, he doesn’t find out because Jiwoo launches herself to the taller man, putting both of her hands over his mouth, muffling the end of his sentence. 

“Don’t listen to Hobi he’s on his second margarita that I made.” She emphasizes like it was supposed to mean something. And Jungkook supposes it does because it earns an eye roll from the silent, grumpy looking man. 

Suddenly he doesn’t want to know the ending of Hoseok’s sentence, because if it was Jiwoo’s doing then it couldn’t have been good anyway. So he settles, in the awkward tension until Namjoon finally speaks up after prying the love struck four year old from his legs. 

“Kook, Hoseok used to be my roommate before he secretly started dating Yoongi behind my back.” He jokes pointing the metal prongs between them. 

Yoongi pushes himself away from the brick counter offering his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Jungkook takes it, shaking it firmly, ignoring the hushed bickering going on between Hoseok and Jiwoo behind him. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, say hi Hana.” Jungkook waves shyly, looking down at the little girl that had managed to make her way behind his legs. She wasn’t usually so shy. Only when things got overwhelming for her. And this moment was definitely one of them. 

Hana wasn’t used to meeting and being around so many people. For three years it was just Jungkook and her. For a year it was just her, Jungkook and his mom after he moved back home to be with her after his dad died. And for the last couple of months, when he moved back to the city so Hana could go to a good school. It had just been her and Jungkook with Bam added into the mix.

Her social battery was still developing causing her to get overwhelmed easily. Even if he tried his hardest to be patient and reassure her that everything would be fine at the end of the day. 

It was still a work in progress.

Yoongi grins and crouches down holding his hand out to her. “I’m Yoongi but you can call me Yoongs. What’s your name?” He tilts his head with curiosity, despite already knowing her name. 

Shyly, Hana sticks out her hand and shakes his gently. “I’m Jeon Hana.” She says, a light blush appearing on the apples of her cheeks. 

Yoongi nods, “It’s nice to meet you Jeon Hana. If you find me later I can tell you where the hidden stash of cupcakes are but you have to keep it a secret.” He smiles, sealing his lips with an invisible zipper. The little girl nods, copying his movements and Yoongi ruffles her hair making her giggle, before looking at the older man with a dreamy smile. 

Looks like Namjoon was officially out of the picture. 

He stands up feeling triumphant, stumbling to the side after being encased by his husbands arms. “He keeps saying he doesn’t want kids, but I think otherwise.” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes in fake annoyance, “babysitting Hyeon, Areum and Ara is enough for me.” He says, causing Hoseok to roll his eyes.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you Kook. I like you a lot already.” Hoseok winks at Jiwoo, earning one of her famous looks that could murder someone. Jungkook should know, growing up he had been at the receiving end of 99.99% of them. Especially when she entered her rebellious teenage stage, leaving Jungkook two more years to catch up. 

“That’s enough, let’s go.” Jiwoo grabs both Jungkook and Hana’s arms, dragging them away from Hoseok before he could say anything else. 

“I don’t know where Taehyung and Eunbi went.” Jiwoo mutters looking around her backyard and shrugging like she could care less. “Eunbi is Taehyung’s fling of three months. It doesn’t really matter anyways. It’s too messy to explain.” She brushes it off walking straight to you, lounging on a pool chair with Hyeon lying on your chest. 

The mention of your name from Jiwoo’s mouth takes you out of your daze. Your fingers playing with Hyeon’s hair come to a halt as you look over at the culprits that disturbed your peace. 

They both stop in front of you, her arm around his waist pulling him closer. “This is my brother Jungkook, his daughter Hana and puppy Bam.” She motions with her hand, perking Hyeon’s interest. Sleep gone when he sits up with a wide smile, 

“Hana you know aunt Jiwoo?” He says tilting his head and then turning to face you. “Mama this Hana my best friend, she sits next to me in class.” Hyeon says, squishing your cheeks before getting off your lap and standing next to the little girl. Leaving absolutely no room for you to protest or acknowledge the situation. 

Hana hugs the boy, bouncing on her toes making Hyeon giggle. Immediately Jungkook’s face hardens, obviously getting into protective dad mode. But when Hana pulls away and looks at him with those big round eyes that are his kryptonite he immediately settles down, putting away his defense mechanism. 

There was nothing he needed to worry about. He thinks. 

“Daddy, Hyeonie always shares his crayons with me.” The little girl grins before grabbing onto the boys hand, “Can I go play now?” She pouts, batting her eyelashes. 

Jungkook sighs and nods, “Don’t run around the pool or you’ll get hurt.” 

“We won’t.” She jumps in glee before tugging on Hyeon’s hand and walking towards Yoongi. Her new boyfriend that promised to tell her where the secret magical cupcakes where. You think you hear her say. 

Before you can stand up and call out towards your son, just to let him know that he needs to be careful and that he can’t have sweets before dinner. (A rule you’ve already broken.) Jiwoo claps her hands and sits next to you. “That was easy.” She wraps her arms around you, bringing you close. “Who knew your kids were already friends.” She smiles with mischief and taps your nose with your finger. 

“Hyeon has been talking about Hana since the first day of school. He wanted to invite her over but I got caught up with work and Taehyung always has to make things difficult so I just forgot.” You say, putting your head against her shoulder. 

Jiwoo gasps lowly before snapping her fingers and facing Jungkook, who was standing confused looking at you with something that could be mistaken for adoration. He just thought you were pretty, that’s all. 

“Taehyung is Hyeon’s dad but don’t worry they’re not together. He’s dating Eunbi remember I told you?” Jiwoo explains, while you roll your eyes. 

“Thank you for telling him my entire life story.” You sit up finally looking at the man in front of you, while simultaneously forgetting how to breathe. 

He was absolutely breathtaking and the last time you were rendered this speechless was years ago when you first met Taehyung. He was only wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair a dark wavy mess and you were absolutely floored. Enamored, tuning out whatever he was saying about his roommate backing out from the deal two days before moving into his new place. Angry that he had already put down the deposit and the payment for the first three months, thinking he’d get his roommates half on the day they moved in. 

That was when you tuned in again. Well actually a little before when he said he needed a new roommate stat. Then you tuned out listing the pros and cons. Each one ending and starting with him so without hesitation you volunteered. It had made sense at the time. You were looking to move out of your apartment. Exhausted by the many conquests your roommate brought home and tired of crashing on Namjoon, and Hoseok’s couch whenever the water heater broke. (Which was more often than not.) But all attempts at finding a place on your own that was decent and fit your budget, were deemed as unsuccessful. So when Taehyung voiced his thoughts about needing a roommate you jumped at the opportunity. 

Your first mistake. 

Jiwoo pinches your side, annoyed, “I’m just keeping him in the loop.” She shrugs. “I don’t want him to be confused if the two of you start arguing and then Hobi jumps in to put in his two cents and then we have to separate the three of you.” 

“Way to render me as unstable in front of your brother, which by the way I didn’t know you had.” You finish and face the man in question. 

He was still standing there unsure of what to say or if he should move. This time you let your eyes wander, unapologetically. He looked like the poster boy for every one of your teenage girl dreams. He had an entire tattoo sleeve decorating his right arm. The corner of a chest piece peeking out of the collar of his black t-shirt. An eyebrow piercing and if that wasn’t enough to make your knees weak, the lip piercing definitely did. Then you swore you almost moaned when you took in his thighs so muscular and meaty making your mouth water. It only got worse when you spotted the ending of what could possibly be a flower tattoo hidden underneath his forest green swim trunks. 

He was a walking sin and your son’s best friend’s father. 

An absolute hazard. 

“I’m her step brother.” He clears his throat, squatting down to pet his dog, who had taken it upon himself to lay down at his feet. You hadn’t even noticed it. To busy drinking in his owner like a glass of champagne. 

“The pragmatics aren’t important. You’re still my baby brother.” She coos leaning over to pinch his cheeks. But before she could grab a hold of them he gently swats her hand away. An embarrassing giggle escapes you, immediately turning his attention to you, shutting you up. 

You bring a hand up to your mouth clearing your throat. “It’s nice meet you Jungkook. I’d properly introduce you to Hyeon but it seems like him and Hana found Jin’s cupcakes.” You point behind him, Hana chasing Hyeon with sparkly blue icing all around her mouth. 

Jungkook moans in defeat. “If she doesn’t sleep tonight. I’m leaving her to you and Namjoon.” He glares at Jiwoo and then smiles at you. If your heart wasn’t slightly racing before. It sure as hell was now. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

Jiwoo claps excitedly, bringing the two of you back to planet earth. “Namjoon’s calling me I’ll leave the two of you to talk. Don’t worry about the kids we have everything under control.” She stands up fast, a proud smile on her faces as he makes her way around Jungkook ruffling his hair and giving you a thumbs up. Jungkook is clearly confused, but you’re speechless again for an entire different reason. 

You understand now. And your silent hypothesis was only proven correct when she ran straight to Hoseok and not Namjoon. You glared at them, made sure they knew that you knew what they intended to do. Hoping they could feel you ripping them apart slowly and painfully in your head. Your glare only deepened when they laugh sending you a thumbs up motioning crudely towards Jungkook. 

He was oblivious to what his sister and your best friend were trying to do. Lost in his own little world petting his dog. He only remembered that you were still sitting in front of him when he heard your humorless laugh. 

“They’re fucking umbelievable.” You mumble. 

“What?” He tilts his head to the side, big eyes innocently and tenderly looking at you. You want to scream because how could someone you met literally minutes ago be so detrimental to your health. 

It was devastating. 

You brush it off. Push the warm thoughts you were having about Jungkook deep into the crevices of your mind. You didn’t have the privilege to fall for some again. Especially when your first love was in the vicinity with his current love. Especially when he had lured you into the messiest situation of your life. First giving you your entire world only to threaten to take it away for whatever fantasy he had conjured up. 

You shake your head, “It’s nothing do you want a drink?” 

“I’m driving but it’s still early so I can have one beer.” He nods, giving you another award winning smile sending your heart into a frenzy. 

Suddenly Jiwoo’s Hangover Inducing Nightmare didn’t seem like the worst idea, because either way you’d end the night fucked. 

Your heart wasn’t settling down anytime soon. 

After coming back with your drinks you took the seat next to him on the patio couch. The dog he had with him - in which you later on learned was named Bam - was off running around Namjoon’s backyard. 

The conversation flowed easily liked running water. You learned that his mother had been married to Jiwoo’s father ever since he was four. He majored in art history and got married to his long time girlfriend shortly after graduation. He didn’t utter a syllable of her name or said anything further than her being Hana’s mom. The pain shot through him like fireworks. It did every time he thought about her. You could sense the distress radiating off of him, avoiding your eyes and drawing mindless circles against the condensation of his beer bottle. 

The last thing you wanted was to see him in pain so you changed the subject. Found out he recently moved back to the city after being away for almost two years. Left his job at a tiny start-up company, counted all his blessings and opened a tattoo studio with his best friend - Jimin. 

It was weird.

It had taken Jimin almost five months of living with him back in college for him to hold a conversation with him. Nearly a year before he was comfortable enough to open up to him. But with you it only took him an hour to tell you everything. You didn’t push or pry. You just listened and he found himself wanting to tell you more. 

In turn you did the same. 

Told him how you moved to the city at eighteen chasing a dream you still hadn’t achieved yet. That you met Jiwoo and Hoseok in a jazz history class, and were stuck with one another for a group project, that Hoseok had skipped out on. Leaving you and Jiwoo to do all the work for him. (The easiest A he had ever received.) You told him how you introduce her sister to Namjoon. Boasted proudly at you how were the sole reason they were married, but not to ask them because they will deny it until their last breathe. 

You told him about your freelance work as a writer and the pros and cons of being Hoseok’s assistant at the media company he owned. Joking how you fully new that if it wasn’t for nepotism you wouldn’t have gotten the job in the first place. He laughed; actually laughed at your joke and it made you sweat because Taehyung never did. 

Jungkook listened closely, hung onto every single word that came out of your mouth while you told him about Hyeon. Left out everything that had to do with you and Taehyung. Simply stating that you weren’t together because it just didn’t work. He didn’t push you to go into further detail, just like you didn’t push him and you appreciated it. 

You and Taehyung were a whole can of worms and you didn’t want to scare him off. 

Talking to Jungkook was nice. A breath of fresh air. Simple. Like how it was with Taehyung before the waves crashed down and everything changed.

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“Nope, that’s a big commitment and I don’t think I am ready for that yet.” You shrug, putting your drink down. Jungkook had finished his beer halfway through your life story, and now he was just holding onto his bottle to keep his hands from shaking with the amount of nerves that were running haywire throughout his body.

He smiles down at his lap, biting his lip to keep his laugh from escaping. You notice squinting your eyes bumping your shoulder against his. “What?” 

He shakes his head, setting his empty beer bottle next your your full margarita glass. “Nothing.” He toys with his lip ring, the action sends shivers up your spine. “It’s just that you have a kid and think tattoo’s are a huge commitment.” He chuckles, the sound making its way into your chest and settling down. “It’s cute.” 

You slap his arm gently, fake hurt written all over your face. It only makes him laugh harder, earning a slightly annoyed sigh from you. “That’s different. A tattoo will live on my body forever. What if I get one and then don’t like it years later?” 

“Then you either get it removed or cover it up with another.” He bumps his knee with yours. Making you realize how close the two of you were sitting. 

Unaware of the many eyes that were looking over, already placing their bets. While one pair remained stoic, hands tight around the towel he was holding. The nasty green flowers that bloomed in his chest surfaced again. And this time he did very little to push them away. 

“It’s not that simple.” You blow out a raspberry. The few sips you had taken of your drink finally settling down. Hence why everyone did everything in their power to avoid it. Well everyone except you, Jiwoo, and Hoseok. The three menaces to society that got drunk on sips rather than gulps. 

“I like piercings better. The pain is over fast and they can be removed.” You say with your nose perched up. Jungkook is amused and sneakily (not so sneakily) he moves his arm to rest on the cushion behind your head, moving closer and turning his full body to face you. 

“I refuse to believe you’ve gotten any piercings besides the standard earlobe ones.” He teases, obviously aware of the many earrings decorating your ears and the faint scar on the side of your nose, indicating that it was once home to a nose piercing. But he found out early in the night how much he liked to tease you. Loved the way you would get flustered and tried to hide it. It did wonders to his beating heart.

You gasp, arms crossed. “I’ll have you know Jeon Jungkook that I had my nipples pierced years ago.” You say smugly when you visibly see him struggle. Eyes the size of moons. His neck turning red. 

He was not expecting that. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You giggle patting his back. He really did try to regulate his breathing without you taking notice. But of course things never go his way because after taking one breathe in. His saliva ran down the wrong hole and he started choking. 

So much for being smooth like butter. 

You laughed and gently patted his back. Your touch sending sparks of electricity through him instantly. A feeling so foreign to him; a feeling he hadn’t felt in years that it sent a rush of panic through him. It settled in the deepest crevices of his body, familiarizing itself again. 

Jeon Jungkook was royally fucked. 

“S-Sorry.” He opens his mouth to breathe again. Coughing up the remnants of his embarrassment. You smile gently moving your hand back to your lap. He winces, already missing the warmth of your touch, but he holds himself back from reaching out to grab it again. To hold it close to him until the heaviness of your touch starts to feel like second skin. 

Instead he scratches the back of his head, awkwardly. “Had?” He mumbles, eyes still wide. “If you don’t mine me asking what happened to them?” He finishes and seriously wants to punch himself multiple times as soon as the words are out in the open. Afraid that you might now view him as a pervert because he was totally not wondering what your boobs looked like underneath the dim light of his bedroom, decorated by two silver bar bells. 

No, he wasn’t entertaining the idea. At least not anymore.

“I almost died.” You shrug nonchalantly. Like the vital piece of information was not throwing him off guard. He wasn’t the piercer in the duo; Jimin was. But he knew enough to know that piercings shouldn’t cause death’s or near death experiences. 

He gapes at you as you stand up, holding your hands out for him to take. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been through worse.” You give him a reassuring smile, wiggling your fingers for him to take. 

Jungkook does, still frozen in disbelief. Definitely resembling a deer caught in the headlights, until the realization that you’re holding his hands dawns over him like morning dew. “H-How, wait what?” 

You giggle, letting go of his hands and patting his shoulder softly. “I’ll tell you the story some other time.” 

“Why not now?” He whines, like Hana does when she doesn’t get what she wants. But his curiosity got the best of him and he realizes this because he clears his throat to speak again. “I mean...Cool yeah take your time.” He says with fake suaveness, but it has you desperately wanting to throw everything you have ever known out the window to hug him and never let go. 

“It’s not a very fascinating story but I will tell you one day.” 

Before he can say anything else Namjoon’s voice booms through the backyard calling everyone to eat. Perfect timing, but Jungkook doesn’t care. Because even though he is watching you happily walk away from him right now. You had said one day which implies that you’re not tired of him yet. Which means that you want to see him again. Jungkook hates that he feels like he’s fifteen again and confessing to Sol for the very first time in the corridor between the boy’s and girl’s bathrooms before homeroom. 

He hates that he feels better than that moment too. 

Dinner went by smoothly. 

Jiwoo, thanks to her interior designer skills decorated the long wooden dinner table to the nines. Everyone was assigned a place. A cute little wooden board with the utmost perfect calligraphy of everyone's names on top of their designated plate. For the centerpieces, there were wreaths of baby breaths and purple chrysanthemums placed in the middle between every white candle that was lit up. The wax melted and staining the wood, which Namjoon would, later on, scrape off in annoyance. 

The bi-weekly barbecue’s at the Kim’s were a festive event. No matter the date or season, the four of them went all out. 

Of course, due to Hoseok and Jiwoo’s scheming, you were sat next to Jungkook. That earned an eye roll from you as you glared at the culprits who shied away from you giggling. Hyeon was sat next to you on your right and clung on to your hand making it impossible for you to eat comfortably. But you didn’t care, it made you feel all giddy inside. Hyeon couldn’t go long without being with you. Always finding a way to cling on to you for comfort and warmth. You almost wanted to laugh in both Eunbi and Taehyung’s faces. If they were really serious about taking you away from your son you were more than positive that Hyeon would grow up to resent Taehyung. Not so much Eunbi. She wouldn’t be staying for much longer anyway. 

After dinner, Hyeon gave you a kiss on the cheek thanking you for cutting up his food before he Hana, Ara, and Areum ran towards the bucket of water balloons. You weren’t sure where the water fight after dinner stemmed from but it was a must. One year you had gone on strike to omit it completely (because you always ended up losing and it wasn’t fair) but of course, you lost, and the tradition stayed much to your disappointment. 

You helped Jiwoo clean up, ignoring every comment she made about Jungkook, that was meant to impress you. 

“He graduated with straight A’s” 

“He volunteered at a homeless shelter every Christmas for five years.” 

“He moved in with our mom after dad died.” 

“He once drove five hours to the next town just to get this special blueberry donut Hana desperately wanted.” 

When she got to the twentieth reason as to why you should date her brother and then marry him. You excused yourself to the bathroom for a breather. It wasn’t like you weren’t interested in Jungkook. You were very much in compliance with the idea of just pouncing his bones, but that was all due to sexual attraction. You didn’t know much about him except for what he had shared with you earlier. He didn’t wear his battle scars out in the open, even if you had caught onto the cloudiness behind his eyes a few times. You didn’t know if he was ready for another relationship, especially with someone who was already a mom. 

Maybe he didn’t want another kid yet either? 

He didn’t know your history and you were more than positive he didn’t want to get caught up in between all the drama that centered around you and Taehyung. He looked like the type of guy that wanted to live his life peacefully and drama-free. And your life was very much not that. Unfortunately. 

Jungkook was nice, but the last time you dove into something headfirst fearlessly. You ended up in the middle of a never-ending storm. You didn’t want to get someone else caught up in it, especially someone like Jungkook. 

You sigh, patting your face dry with one of the hand towels. Slightly proud of yourself that you had made it this far without arguing with Taehyung. Though he was the one that started most of the arguments, somehow the blame would always be shifted on to you. Because you were angry, overly emotional, and hurt. Or whatever other reason Taehyung always threw at you. 

You shake your head, the motion sending the thought of him to the depths of your brain. He didn’t matter. You’ve had a great day and night so far, and you were determined to get through the next hour with your head held high. A slight bubble of excitement forms in the pit of your stomach. Taehyung had done everything in his power to avoid you today, and chances were he was going to avoid you for the next hour. For once you might be going home from one of Namjoon’s bi-weekly barbecue’s feeling at peace. 

For the most part. 

The reality of your situation was still burning brightly in the forefront of your mind. But if Taehyung could ignore it, pretend like everything was okay. So you could you. He always grumbled about how much stronger you were than him. It’s time for you to live up to that perception because he wasn’t going to tear you down. 

At least that’s what you had hoped because the second you opened the door to the bathroom you were met with Kim Taehyung’s icy stare. The one he reserved for you. It was belittling and frustrating all at once because for four years - almost five - you still didn’t know what you did in order to earn it. 

His lip was in between his teeth, arms crossed in front of him. His hair was messy with the drying remnants of the pool water. His shirt was thrown on haphazardly and the bright yellow shorts clung onto him like he had gone days without eating. The thought crushing your heart, knowing he only stopped eating when he was wallowing deep in the dark spaces of his head. If that wasn’t enough proof that he wasn’t doing well, the eye bags that matched yours were a dead giveaway. 

It was getting too much. You were starting to care again and he didn’t deserve your care in the slightest. But he was blocking your way. You could see the ark that signaled the end of the dark hallway illuminating brightly behind him. Your exit was so close, but still so far away. Fifteen steps to be exact. But you needed to get away, and you almost did. At least you made the attempt. Took one step to the right before he was pushing you into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, trapping you in between his body and the sink. 

“What are you do-” 

“Are you going to fuck him?” He spits out. The venom laced in his voice was so prominent you felt the after-effects deep in your body. 

You gape at him, blinking slowly, registering his words before you feel the anger rise inside of you. How dare he? “What the fuck Taehyung, let me go.” You place your hands on his chest to push him off, but of course, despite his fragile state he was still stronger than you. Of course, you could feel the his muscles underneath your palms and of course, he wasn’t going to let you go until he got his answer. 

That’s who Taehyung was. Strong and persistent. Like a pesky weed that always grew back no matter how many times you tried to pluck it. 

He grips the counter behind you, jaw locked so hard that the pressure threatens to shatter it. “Are you going to fuck him?” He asks again, the fire behind his eyes melting the ice and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’ve seen Taehyung angry before. You’ve been at the receiving end of many of his temper tantrums. But you’ve never seen him angry like this. Like someone just took something that was his and he wants it back. That sends a flare of anger through you because how dare he?

“No,” You reply pushing at his chest again, hoping this time he gets the idea. “But even if I was why do you care?” His eyes go wide and he finally lets go. He moves away creating the distance the two of you needed, turning to face away from you. He’s caught and he knows that he’s caught but he won’t admit it. 

Stubborn as always. 

“I don’t.” He mumbles running a hand through his hair tugging at the roots, mentally screaming at himself for being so careless. “Just don’t want the mother of my child, fucking around like she’s some common whore.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His face shifts in-between emotions until it settles in nonchalance. Like what he just said didn’t stab you in the heart multiple times. 

You grip the bottom of your sundress, breath stuck in the back of your throat as the tears pool up in the corner of your eyes. Not because you were hurt - that part will come later - but right now you’re so angry you want to bite his head off. “Fuck you Taehyung.” You’re seething, blinded by rage searching for anything to hold on to. Anything that will hurt him the same way he’s hurt you because he deserves worse. 

“In the four years that I’ve been a mother I’m interested in one guy and that automatically makes me a whore?” You push yourself off the counter and close the distance between the two of you. “You fuck someone new every few months, and have been doing that even before Hyeon was born. But I’m the whore?” You jab your finger in his chest hard, cringing at how it sends a jab of pain through your hand but you choose to ignore it. You had more pressing matters at hand. 

“The girl you’re fucking now wants me out of the picture because Hyeon refuses to call her mom that now she’s convinced you that I’m unfit to be a mom. When you and I and everyone in this fucking house knows that she won’t be around for much longer.” You scoff shaking your head, poking your cheek with your tongue. “But I’m interested in one guy and I’m the fucking whore.” You shake your head and step back. “You’re unbelievable Taehyung almost had me convinced for a few weeks that you were decent but you haven’t changed you’re still the same insecure man I slept with all those years ago.” You run your hands through your hair, tugging at the roots, your chest heaving to the same rhythm as his. 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, stares at you with the same teary gaze he gave you when he apologized for not being there for you during your labor. You forgave him then, but you were done forgiving him. He never deserved you or Hyeon or Eunbi or anyone else that was in his life. “And I regret it so fucking much because Hyeon deserves a better father, one that loves him and not one that uses him as a prop to fill that gaping hole in his chest.” 

That does it. 

That opens the wound right up and he reacts before he even lets time settle deep within him. One second he’s opening his mouth to say something, anything to send you in a spiral of self-doubt because he knows you’re right and he hates it. And the next he’s pinning you against the sink and his mouth is on yours kissing you furiously. Like he’s trying to prove a point. Like he’s making up for lost time. 

Your eyes are wide and you almost kiss him back. But everything settles down fast and you push him away. “What the fuck Taehyung you can’t just do that.” You place your hand on top of your chest in a poor attempt to calm yourself down. 

Taehyung is alarmed, running his hands through his hair, avoiding your gaze as he tries to comprehend what just happened. He hasn’t kissed you in almost five years. And the first time he did, he couldn’t pull away. Addicted to the way your lips seemed to mold perfectly with his. It scared him. Everything about you scared him because it made him forget about the walls he spent years building. Yet, here he was with you. In this stupid tiny bathroom remembering why he’s kept his distance from you. 

“I-I...S-...I mean I.” He stammers. 

You scoff, shaking your head. Back then you would’ve stayed until you got an explanation from him. Now you could care less, disgusted by how nice his lips felt on yours while his new fling or whatever was roaming around Namjoon’s backyard. “Just leave me alone Taehyung.” You sigh before turning around, unlocking the door faster than anyone can blink, and walk out. Leaving him behind and stunned as he beats himself up in his head. 

You would’ve stayed until he was better if Taehyung had called out after you. He didn’t, so you kept walking, unaware of the tears flowing down his cheeks. 

He remembers why he hates himself so much. 

You’re walking to your car fast. Hyeon is in your arms begging to stay five more minutes. 

It hurts you to see the fat crocodile tears running down his cheeks, but after everything that went down in the bathroom. Staying the rest of the hour was not an option. So you ignored the calls of your name, grabbed Hyeon who was in the middle of a game with Hana and the twins, and the rest of your stuff before booking it to the garden gate. Ignoring all of the protests and calls coming from your concerned friends. 

“Baby please it’s almost bedtime we have to go home.” You try to reason with him, opening the back door to your car and settling him down into his car seat. 

He huffs, crossing his arms in front of him, his bottom lip wobbling. “But we always stay for the fireworks.” 

You sigh, pushing his hair back revealing his forehead before wiping his cheeks with your thumbs. “I know Hyeonie but it’s getting late and mommy is very very tired.” You sigh. The exhaustion drops down onto your shoulders like a blanket. “I missed you.” 

Hyeon sniffs, lifting his hand up, poking your cheek with his finger. “Daddy made you upset again.” He tilts his head and crosses his arms. “I hate daddy because he always makes you cry.” He whispers looking past you at his feet that were against the backrest of the passenger seat. 

“Hyeon don’t sa-” 

“Can I stay with you forever and never go to daddy’s house?” He looks at you with pleading eyes. It tugs at your heartstrings. Knowing that even as a four-year-old he was way more perceptive than he led on. Still hearing him tell you his true feelings towards his dad. True feelings that were masked with excitement whenever you drove him over to Taehyung’s place, hurts so much that you feel your heart contract in pain. 

You blink back tears, placing two fingers under his chin and turning his face so he’s looking directly at you. “Hyeon, I know daddy and I aren’t normal and sometimes we fight a lot but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you. Just because daddy makes me angry and makes me cry that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you Hyeon.” 

“He doesn’t,” Hyeon exclaims kicking the back of the seat, making you jump at his sudden outburst. “He’s always buying me toys I don’t like and giving me food I don’t like and drinking that weird gold juice and screaming and I hate him.” He yells kicking the back of the seat multiple times. 

You break. The sob escapes you before you can stop it, watching as your son experiences heartbreak and betrayal all at once before the age of five. You feel like a failure and it’s debilitating because you can’t say or do anything to make it all stop. So you just bury your face in your hands and cry with him. 

That’s all you can do, so that’s all you will do. 

It feels like hours before you feel a warm hand on your back. Your name escaping the back of their throat like it’s foreign. Like it’s new. 

You lift your head up fast enough to almost give yourself whiplash. Your eyes settle on Hyeon whose hiccuping, trying to regain his composure. You can hear the angry yells from Namjoon’s backyard and you feel terrible for ruining everyone's night. Again. 

“My sister took the girls to get ice cream.” He says, grinning. His hand is still on your back making you look at him, and then Hyeon who is gaping at him with curiosity. 

“Let me drive you home.” 

You shake your head, whipping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I don’t...um I-”

“Momma I want to go home.” Hyeon crooks, reaching over and kissing your cheek gently. You sigh and close your eyes nodding your head. 

You weren’t in the right state of mind to drive, and that sucked because you didn’t want anyone else to be dragged into the mess Taehyung dragged you into years ago. But Jungkook was here, with stars in his eyes looking at you like you were an entire galaxy that had been left undiscovered. 

He doesn’t hesitate when you hand him your car keys. Instead, he walks to the driver's seat, waits for you to get into the passenger seat before getting in. He starts the car double checks if you and Hyeon are strapped in safely before pulling out of the driveway and drives. 

You’re aware that he doesn’t know your address and eventually, you will tell him. But for right now you just want to get away. He understands so he does that and drives. 

[hajimine]

BETWEEN THE NOTES — SEMI EITA x GN!READER

synopsis: for as long as you can remember, you and Semi Eita have always hated each other—but a couple of tender glances and one too many bottles of beer later, you find out that maybe you were looking at it the wrong way this whole time.

genre: fluff, (kinda) enemies to lovers, musician!au, mutual pining but they’re both idiots, jealousy, etc.

warnings: alcohol + intoxication (nothing bad happens), slight suggestive themes, vulgar language, kinda fast paced?

wc: ~2.5k

to: @archivednikes happy birthday shawdy <3

special thanks to: @rintaroll for beta-ing & telling me a lil bit about how bands work and stuff bc idk shit lol :,)

“Semi, get your ass moving,” you huff. “You’re gonna make me late.”

He gives you a smug look and raises a slitted eyebrow. “Did something crawl up your ass and died? What’s up with you?”

You exhale heavily through your nose and stare at him, unimpressed.

“We gotta catch the afternoon train if you wanna reach the venue in time for our gig. This is a really good opportunity for me, don’t you dare mess it up.” you say, gathering the last of your things for the trip.

There is a tingling sensation crawling down your spine, as if someone is staring at you. You look over your shoulder curiously, opening your mouth to utter another snarky remark to get your partner to stop gawking around and get ready.

But the intensity behind his gaze caught you by surprise.

Those hazel eyes of his—ones that are usually sharp and cold—held a sort of softness in them as he looks at you. When you caught him staring, his gaze did not falter one bit.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from traveling down the perfect slope of his nose, continuing down to his pouty lips.

As much as you hate him, you can’t deny that Semi Eita is an attractive man. Heck, even the word attractive isn’t enough to express how infuriatingly hot he is.

Your gaze stays on his lips for a second too long. Have they always looked this soft and inviting?

The dry cough from the opposite side of the room is the only thing that managed to break you out of this trance. Semi Eita’s trance.

Your manager stands by the door, tapping her foot on the wooden tiles impatiently.

“Now, lovebirds,” she narrows her eyes, “Save the PDA for tonight, yeah? We’ve got a schedule to follow.”

You roll your eyes at her, cheeks uncomfortably warm. And just like that, the strange yet tender moment you shared with Semi dissipated into thin air.

。。。

You don’t know if you should take pity on the gray-haired singer or if you should laugh at him.

Currently, Semi’s head is bowed down in shame as he gets an earful from his manager in the middle of a crowded train.

You see, the four of you should’ve arrived at the venue by now. Both your managers are very strict about schedules, and they planned to arrive at the bar two hours before the agreed time.

Thankfully, his bandmates have been a little more punctual than him and have successfully boarded the 4pm train. But Mr. Popular right here just had to stop every few minutes to take pictures with every single fan he met on the way to the station.

“It’s half past five now,” his manager whisper-shouts, “Do you know what that means?”

Semi tries to give her an awkward smile to calm her down. It doesn’t work.

“It’s rush hour! What if we won’t reach the bar in time? It could ruin both your careers, do you know that?” she glares at Semi once again, but there is less bite in her voice now.

“I’m sorry,” Semi starts, plastering a charming smile on his face, “I only wanted to be nice to the fans. Wouldn’t make too good of an impression if I just ignored them, no?”

His manager sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She motions for Semi to stop talking with a wave of her hand.

The singer grins, and out of the corner of your eyes, you can sense his sharp gaze on you once more.

You try to ignore it.

。。。

When your group reaches the bar, Semi’s bandmates are almost done preparing themselves for the gig.

The bar is dimly lit and cool, the multitudes of warm overhead lighting being the only source of light in the room. It’s not too busy tonight, you observe. Some people still donned their work clothes, perhaps rushing over to the bar right after a long day at work—mingling around with friends to let loose for a little and enjoy themselves.

“Dude, where were you?” Aito asks, eyebrows turned downwards in a frown.

Semi pats the guitarist on the side of his head, “Relax, we’ve got plenty of time to prepare.”

Aito rolls his eyes, completely used to his bandmate’s antics.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “By the way, are we gonna have a little after party later?”

“Uh,” Semi’s eyes flicker towards you for one second, then back to Aito, “I dunno man, might be too tired to get wasted tonight.”

The guitarist narrows his eyes. He didn’t miss the way Semi’s gaze lingered on you.

“Y/N,” Aito smirks. “You coming to the after party?”

You were listening to their conversation this whole time, finding the whole exchange quite amusing.

“Eh, I don’t see why not,” you smile sweetly, “It’s gonna be even better now that this dude isn’t coming anyways.” You pointed your thumb at the vocalist.

From where he’s standing, you hear Semi scoff.

“Y’know what?” he sneers, “On second thought, I am going. How does that make you feel, huh?”

You shrug, feigning indifference.

“I literally do not care.”

“Piss off.”

Aito throws his head back in laughter, shaking his head as he walks away from the scene, muttering about people being too clueless and dense for their own damn good.

You adjusted your equipment bag on your shoulder, exhaling loudly to try and calm your heart down.

。。。

It is in moments like these that you remember why you decided to go forth with this career path, no matter how rocky it may be.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sing the lyrics of you and Semi’s song; every ounce of the jittery nerves you had just a few moments ago long gone.

There’s nobody else in this world that can ever take your place

Some of the customers are listening intently, others just nodding along to the song, and the rest not even listening at all.

You could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly against your chest, the sweat trickling down your forehead and into your eyes making it harder for you to see the crowd.

And when the day’s all done and dusted, all I ever need is to be in your arms again

You whip your head towards Semi, just like the countless times you rehearsed this song together.

“It shows chemistry,” your manager had said, “play it up for the crowd, will ya?”

The butterflies in your stomach flutters about restlessly when you notice that Semi has been looking at you this whole time.

His eyes—sharp and intense—held your gaze, unabashed. Steady. Sure.

Will you stay tonight? ‘Cause baby you’re all that I need, and you’re all that I want.

And in that moment, with your eyes locked on each other, the world seems to stop.

Nothing else matters, Semi’s lopsided smile says, only you.

。。。

The performance flew by in the blink of an eye, and it’s a little past midnight now. As promised, your managers held a little after party in the shared lounge of your penthouse suite.

It’s not as fancy as it sounds, you smile to yourself. There are suspicious stains on the gray carpet, and the furniture smells vaguely of cigarette smoke and sweat.

Bottles of beers have already littered the floor and glass table, and you haven’t even started drinking.

“Duuuude,” Yuuto slurs, “Why are ya so tense for?”

The bassist points at you and Semi, eyelids drooping as he tries his best to keep them open.

“C’mon guys,” Aito clasps his shoulders and massages them roughly, “Relax a little, we did amazing tonight.”

Semi shrugs his friend’s hands away, annoyed. He snatches an unopened bottle of beer from the cooler and opens the cap with his teeth.

You gulp. He hands you the bottle wordlessly before grabbing another one for himself, chugging it down quickly. You mirror his actions, hoping that the alcohol can dull the annoying fluttering in your stomach that refuses to leave ever since the two of you shared that intimate moment on stage.

For fuck’s sake, what’s going on with me?

Your trick works, in a way. Your stomach feels pleasantly warm now, and your breathing has finally evened out. Another unopened bottle of beer lays invitingly on the couch and you reach for it, opting for a bottle opener instead of doing it like Semi.

“Bro,” Yuuto grins at the singer, drool threatening to leave the corner of his mouth, “Did’ya see that blonde chick in the front row? She was hardcore eye-fucking you dude.”

“Ah,” Semi takes another swig of his beer, a cute flush blossoming in his cheeks.

Wait, what. Cute?

“She gave me her number when we were gathering up our stuff.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“You gonna hit her up or what?” Aito teases, smirking.

The singer shrugs, “Maybe, I dunno.”

Your breath hitches, and Aito’s smirk widens. You raise your eyebrows at him, silently telling him to fuck off.

“Where’s Kai?” you hear Semi ask. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the drummer since after the show was over.

“Oh,” the guitarist laughs, “Fucker left us for some girl he saw in the bar. Might see him tomorrow morning, might not. Who knows?”

The vocalist hums and walks over to where you’re sitting, plopping down on the old couch.

“The managers?” Semi casually drapes his arm on the back of the sofa. You feel yourself tensing as your heart races uncontrollably, and the singer looks over at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

Aito scratches the back of his neck, quickly losing interest in the conversation.

“They decided to sleep in early. Long day, I guess.”

Semi nods and rests his head on the top of the couch, exposing his defined jawline. His eyelashes look so pretty from this angle, they’re long and fluttery and they almost…

Huh?

“Eita, are you gonna hit that blonde girl up or nah?” Aito provokes, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You clench your teeth and reach for yet another bottle—your fourth one this past hour. Or fifth. You don’t bother counting. Semi looks over at you again, but this time his eyes holds a sort of concern in them. You scoff to yourself.

“Uh,” the singer looks at his friend weirdly, “Why are you so insistent on this? I did say maybe didn’t I?”

Aito laughs. You almost recoil in disgust.

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles, “It’s just that she’s really hot and she’s your type so—”

You stand up abruptly, knocking over some empty beer bottles by accident. The regret is immediate. You can feel the acid in your stomach traveling up your esophagus, tickling the back of your throat.

Semi quickly stands up when you clasp a hand over your mouth, trying your best to hold it together.

“Shit,” he mutters, “You okay?”

He rubs tiny circles on the small of your back, an action that’s supposed to be soothing but instead causes tingles to run up and down your spine. You shiver.

Another wave of nausea hits before you could respond, causing your knees to almost give out under you.

“Whoa there, angel,” Semi wraps his arm around your waist, holding you flush to his side to support your weight.

You groan softly as your head spins uncomfortably. Droplets of cold sweat is starting to form on your forehead, adding another layer of discomfort upon you.

“You wanna go to your bedroom?” Semi murmurs close to your ear. You shiver again. At this, Semi thought that you’re freezing so he drapes his leather jacket on your shoulders, holding you close.

You nod weakly as you try to blink the black spots in your vision away.

From somewhere around the room, you hear Aito snicker, “Stay safe!”

You turn your head around to give him a deathly glare, but all you see is a big blob of blurriness.

Dammit.

。。。

Semi takes the key card from your bag and pushes the door open, placing your duffel bag on the floor after

He guides you to the bathroom—with gentleness you rarely see from him—and sets the toilet cover down so you can sit on it while he wets a towel with the running tap water.

“You still feel dizzy?” he asks, voice soft.

You stare at his fingers as he wrings the towel and shakes your head.

Semi holds out the cloth and pats your forehead with it, the coolness allowing you to feel a little more refreshed.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he wipes the back of your neck carefully.

Shit. Has he always been this thoughtful?

You shake your head again, telling him that you just want to go to sleep.

He sighs and gives you a half-smile, holding out his arm to help you to the bed.

Semi still has it in him to give you a little but of privacy as you wiggle out of your tight jeans, looking away until you slip under the covers.

He helps you pull the plush white comforter closer to your chest, tucking you in.

Your mind doesn’t feel as hazy as it was a few hours ago, but the leftover alcohol coursing through your veins gave you a sort of boost to your impulses.

“Eita,” you whisper, reaching out towards the singer, “Stay?”

The singer halts in his steps and turns to look at you.

“Uh, I don’t know Y/N,” he starts, “You’re drunk right now.”

“No I’m not,” you say, steady voice proving your point. “Please?”

Semi glances over at the door and sighs. He chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds before sighing again.

“Okay.”

。。。

You’re struggling to open your eyes when you wake up, the harsh sunlight streaming into the room completely unfiltered.

Drunk you completely forgot to close the blinds, it seems.

You groan audibly, wanting to pull the covers above your head to hide yourself from this cruel world.

You freeze. Why can you feel someone’s soft breaths on the crown of your head?

Nervously, you reach out in front of you, eyes still shut closed. Oh no.

You force your eyes open, grimacing from the sudden brightness. Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. Semi Eita, your supposed nemesis, is sleeping soundly a few inches away from you, arms wrapped around your waist.

What the hell happened last night?

A small squeak leaves your mouth as you fully realize the situation you’re in. The small noise wakes Semi up from his slumber, causing him to slowly open his eyes, squinting at the bright light.

“Morning, angel,” he croaks, voice raspy with sleep.

My god does he look pretty in the morning.

You stay there, frozen and unblinking. All the words at the tip of your tongue seem to disappear from existence.

Semi blinks, sitting up quickly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubs his eyes vigorously, “I should’ve said no when you asked me to stay. Fuck, you were drunk and I—”

You grab the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, a small smile gracing your lips.

Your thumb grazes Semi’s bottom lip, dragging it down every so slightly before releasing it, enjoying the way he seems to unravel under your touch.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?” you murmur, trying to keep your cool as your heart hammers against your chest loudly.

At this, Semi breaks out of his reverie and laughs, “I thought you’d never ask.”

a/n: if you’ve made it this far, please feel free to let me know what you think about this fic! and please REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED mwah <3

© HAJIMINE — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim any of my works as your own, thank you.

[plan-d-to-i]

Idk if you’ve ever answered this before but, do you think wwx ever regretted the core transfer bc of what jc chose to do with his power? Personally, I feel very bitter and angry that he would misuse wwx’s sacrifice like that and have a ton of fans praise some kind of reconciliation between them bc of it

I'd say Wei Wuxian didn't let himself think about it. Didn't let himself dwell on it enough to get mired in regret. He's a deeply thoughtful person but he's not indecisive. He's a man of action. When jc was missing, he found him. Hostage, he saved him. Going to die without a new core- he found a way to do the impossible and give one to him. What use was it to think about the core transfer after the deed was done and there was nothing to do about it, or any way to not have done it regardless of what jc would do with it? Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian made him promise to be a human shield for their son swear he'd protect their turdy son before they died and it's clear that he took those words to heart completely. What other option did Wei Wuxian have that didn't compromise his moral code and sense of honor?

“she turned to Wei WuXian and pointed at him, “Wei Ying! Listen to me! Protect Jiang Cheng, protect him even if you die, do you understand?!”

Wei WuXian, “Madam Yu!”

Madam Yu raged, “Did you hear me?! Don’t talk nonsense to me, I’m only asking you—did you hear me?!”

Wei WuXian couldn’t struggle out of Zidian. He could only nod his head.” (Chapter 57)

Jiang FengMian stared into his eyes. Suddenly, he reached out. Only after pausing in the air did he finally touch Jiang Cheng’s head, slowly, “A-Cheng, be well.”

Wei WuXian, “Uncle Jiang, if anything happens to you, he won’t be well.”

Jiang FengMian turned his eyes to him, “A-Ying, A-Cheng… you must look after him.” (Chapter 57)

“He remembered every single thing he promised Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu—to help and take care of Jiang Cheng.” (Chapter 102)

But there's no doubt that it wasn't an easy thing to do, or an easy choice to live with. And we're actually told precisely how Wei Wuxian feels about it:

“He didn’t want to be reminded again and again of what it felt like when his core was cut out of his body while being fully awake. Nor did he want to be forced to remember how grave and heavy of a sacrifice it was.

If this were exposed in the past, he’d most likely laugh and comfort Jiang Cheng, ‘It’s not that big of a deal anyways. Look at me all these years. Without the core, I still managed to come through, didn’t I? Beating everyone I wanted to beat, killing everyone I wanted to kill.’ But now, he indeed didn’t have the strength left to put up such a confident, nonchalant pretense. From the bottom of his heart, he knew he wasn’t so indifferent about it after all. Was it really that easy to move on from such a thing? Of course not.

The seventeen-to-eighteen-year-old Wei WuXian hadn’t been any less proud or competitive than Jiang Cheng. After all, he had been a prodigy once, gifted with exceptional talent. He could fool around all day, break curfew all night, and still perform way ahead of everyone else, including those who’d practiced and studied in earnest all day long.

But whenever these thoughts plagued him during sleepless nights—that he would never again rise to the top using righteous, conventional practices, and that he would never again stun the world with his swordsmanship—he would instead imagine what would happen if Jiang FengMian had never brought him back to the Lotus Pier. Then, he might never have brushed shoulders with cultivation at all. He might never even know of the existence of this mystical, surreal world, and remained a street rat who only knew to run from dogs. Or he might have become a cattle herder who played flutes all day, stealing vegetables to scrape by. Either way, he wouldn’t have been trained in cultivation, and wouldn’t ever have formed a core to start with. Whenever he thought about it this way, he would feel much better.

Just pretend this to be a repayment, or an atonement. Pretend as if he never had the golden core to start with.

After explaining things to himself like this again and again, it was as though he was truly as confident and as nonchalant as he made it seem on the surface, and along the way he could even praise himself for such a state of mind, whether he was lying or not.

But that was all a lifetime ago." (Chapter 103)

So back to the question did he regret it? Let's say he regretted what he had to do, he regretted having to do it, but he didn't regret doing it or having done it because being the kind of person he was- he didn't really have another choice. It wasn't about jc -core transfer is not a love language -but letting him die when it was in his power to save him would have gone against WWX's personal values. Even if jc ended up using it against him, as he did, not having given it to him would have made WWX into a type of person he didn't want to be. Just as he couldn't obey jiang cheng and let the innocent Wens die. Some people have principles and live by them even if the personal cost to them is immeasurable. Unlike jiang cheng who's like “Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism!”. It's also why reconciliation between them is impossible. Wei Wuxian and jc never shared any world views -which jc demonstrated clearly in WWX's past life. Now Wei Wuxian doesn't feel bound by any debt to the Jiangs anymore. That was all a lifetime ago. Literally.

[robininthelabyrinth]

An AU where NHS is the one JGY kills? How would NMJ react to this? Would he care about his morals in the wake of his little brother murder? Would he take JGY life as enough “justice” for his brother bc if u think about it the last time a sect killed one member of his family (the Wen) he was down to go to war and kill them all and that wasn’t someone he had swore to protect :)

Something, once shattered, could never be put together quite the same way as before; it was a truism as applicable to the soul and the heart as it was to objects. And when his brother was killed over a matter of politics, a stupid disagreement between sect leaders over a question of principle, Nie Mingjue’s heart shattered – and his convictions with it.

Wei Wuxian had once heard it said that one should fear most of all the patient man, a gentleman waiting ten years for vengeance; whoever had said that, he thought, had never met Nie Mingjue after he’d blackened. The man wasn’t patient in the slightest.

It hadn’t seemed so bad in the beginning. The man had brought his brother’s body to the Burial Mounds, the corpse curled in his arms like a child, and he had knelt before Wei Wuxian could stop him.

“You revived Wen Ning, even though he was a child of a Sect,” he said, and his eyes were like black coals, the fierce light that had once shined within them utterly extinguished. “Can you revive him, too?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated.

“I will not hold it against you if you can’t,” Nie Mingjue said. He should have been angry, Wei Wuxian would later remember thinking; Nie Mingjue was known for his anger, his rage – why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he raging? It was only later that he realized that Nie Mingjue’s grief was so complete, so all-consuming, that it had pushed him somewhere beyond rage. “But I would ask that you try. In return, I will help you defend those you protect, now and going forward.”

That was a tempting offer. Wei Wuxian had been forced to split from the Jiang sect because they could not protect him; the Nie, on the other hand, were more established, stronger. If they survived this loss, they would be very good protection.

Still, Wei Wuxian wouldn’t sell a false bid of goods.

“He won’t come back to life,” Wei Wuxian said, coming forward to put a hand on Nie Huaisang’s chest. There was resentment there, not as much as Wen Ning, who had suffered so much and kept it all to himself, no, but enough. Whoever had killed him had been someone he had trusted, and he had died angry and betrayed – and no one did anger better than the Nie. It would probably be enough. “He’d still only be a corpse. You know that, right? Your sect above all others abhors the existence of evil –”

“I don’t care,” Nie Mingjue said. “It was my righteousness that failed him; I will not let it stop me again.”

“He wouldn’t be evil,” Wei Wuxian tried to explain. “Wen Ning isn’t evil. But he’d still be a corpse.”

“Even if he is evil, it doesn’t matter,” Nie Mingjue said. “I won’t be able to stop until I see him again.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t know what Nie Mingjue meant, and he was so uncomfortable with having the unbending, unyielding sect leader kneeling before him, begging him the way Wen Ruohan could have only dreamed of, that he doesn’t ask any more questions, merely agreed to give it his best effort.

He should have asked.

He should have –

He didn’t know what he should have done. At any rate, he would later learn that Nie Mingjue spoke the truth: he would not stop. He couldn’t stop.

He left his brother in Wei Wuxian’s care, and he returned to the Unclean Realm, and from there he set for to Lanling, to Koi Tower, where the people who had killed his brother lived. Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure what happened there, isolated from gossip as he was; by the time one of the Wens dared go down to the village and heard about it, everyone had universally started to refuse to talk about the entire event, naming it taboo.

Still, they heard enough.

Perhaps Jin Guangshan had hoped that his younger brother’s death would drive Nie Mingjue into a qi deviation, or perhaps he’d thought that Nie Mingjue would be so bound up in his belief in justice, his respect for etiquette and law, that he would not be able to respond in force. Perhaps he simply didn’t think it through at all.

He certainly didn’t think that Nie Mingjue would come to Lanling in the middle of the night, without warning nor declaration of war, and raze Koi Tower to the ground before half the cultivators of the Jin even knew what was happened. Who knew what salt was used to sow the fields, what monsters were willingly unleashed, but the entire city died almost overnight, the ground turned to ash, flames hot enough to melt gold rising up to the heavens with a roar like a dragon, the people was put to the sword – some people believed the children had been spared, others denied it. Nobody knew anything for sure.

They said Nie Mingjue was like a martial god, eyes indifferent even as he reaped life after life – Wen Ruohan had carefully cultivated his inner sect disciples from the most powerful he could find, and they almost all fell before Nie Mingjue’s blade; Jin Guangshan’s cultivators, who were selected on the basis of other considerations, didn’t stand a chance. There was no mercy, no humanity left; Nie Mingjue had left that all behind along with his righteousness, disregarded as useless and unimportant because it couldn’t even keep his brother safe – and Wei Wuxian thought of Jiang Cheng, thought of Jiang Yanli, and couldn’t say that he’d do it any differently.

Some people even said Nie Mingjue wielded demonic cultivation in his anger.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know if that was true.

He didn’t know how he’d feel if it was.

He didn’t know what to feel, when Jiang Cheng came to him – they’d broken all ties, not so long before, and so it was a surprise to see him.

“Did anyone see you –” he began.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Jiang Cheng said. His clothing was disorderly, his face unclean; he did not seem to be well. “Nothing does – the Jin sect is gone.”

Wei Wuxian felt fear for the first time. “But – shijie?”

“She’s safe,” Jiang Cheng said. “Jiang Ling, too; they’re at the Lotus Pier.”

“Jiang Ling?” Wei Wuxian echoed, eyebrows arching.

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “A surname is a small price to pay for life,” he said shortly, and that really said it all, didn’t it? “I don’t know what happened to the peacock, but I’m not holding my breath; rescuing shijie was already more than I expected…I’ve agreed not to interfere, in the future.”

“The future?” Wei Wuxian echoed. “What – what more is there? I thought the scheme was Jin Guangshan’s –”

“It was, but he wasn’t the only one who would benefit from it,” Jiang Cheng said. He ran his hands over his face. “The Jin were second only to the Wen when it came to the number of allied clans – anyone who had anything to do with it, even under suspicion, is considered guilty…I’ve all but given up our Jiang sect’s independence. If Nie Mingjue wants to wipe out one of the sects that answers to us, I won’t be able to stop him. My ancestors will be ashamed of me.”

“You did it for shijie.”

“I did it for all of us,” Jiang Cheng said. “I heard during the Sunshot Campaign that Wen Ruohan once sought an alliance with Nie Mingjue to dominate the rest of the world, which was rejected on account of what happened to the former Sect Leader – I believe it. I never thought it was true back then, but I believe it now. The masterless sabers –”

He shook his head, sealing his lips, and no matter what Wei Wuxian did, he couldn’t get another word out of him, just that ominous final phrase – the masterless sabers – how could a saber not have a master? A sword was only a spiritual weapon, guided by the cultivator that wielded it – even the Stygian Tiger Seal was only a tool.

“Why are you here, then?” Wei Wuxian finally asked.

Jiang Cheng looked at him as if he were stupid. “If I die, the Jiang Sect dies with me – where else would I be?” He saw that Wei Wuxian didn’t understand and snorted, shaking his head. “Didn’t Nie Mingjue promise you that those you protected would be kept safe? Well, here I am.”

Wei Wuxian licked suddenly dry lips. “Why would he kill you?”

“Because I would benefit,” Jiang Cheng said simply. “Whether or not I support what happened, I would benefit, a fellow sect leader…out of recognition for our former relationship, he told me that if I were here, I would live. The Lotus Pier won’t be touched. Besides, I’m here for another reason, on behalf of the cultivation world.”

“Oh? For what?”

“To get you to hurry up and bring Nie Huaisang back, of course. I don’t think anything short of that will make Nie Mingjue stop.”

I won’t be able to stop until I see him again.

“The process takes time,” Wei Wuxian protested. “Even though I have an idea of what to do, it’s not easy, it’s tricky –”

“I brought you help,” Jiang Cheng said shortly. He nodded down the mountain, where he’d left –

“That’s a small child,” Wei Wuxian said blankly.

“Somewhat undernourished,” Jiang Cheng conceded. “His name is Xue Yang; he’s a delinquent from Kuizhou, rather famous – well, infamous – for being pretty handy with demonic cultivation –”

“Jiang Cheng. That is a small child.”

“The Jin Sect took him in as a guest disciple –”

“Small! Child! How old is he, eight?”

“Twelve.”

“Jiang Cheng!”

“He’s pretty annoying, but he’ll shut up if you give him candy,” Jiang Cheng said. “I brought a bag. Now get back to fucking work before more people die.”

At first meeting, Xue Yang was a nasty little gremlin, full of spite and not a little bit of brilliance; it was extremely annoying how much it felt like looking into a slightly off-kilter mirror. He’d lost a finger, somewhere along the way, and while there was a sword buckled onto his belt he never used it – it took a while before Wei Wuxian noticed it, given that he himself didn’t use a sword and he’d assumed Xue Yang was following his example, but in fact the boy was terrified of swords.

More specifically, of sabers.

Even Nie Huaisang’s, which was – to be frank – the daintiest, frilliest saber Wei Wuxian had ever seen.

“You were a guest disciple of the Jin sect before,” Wei Wuxian said. “You saw what happened? The masterless sabers?”

Xue Yang averted his eyes and didn’t answer, which meant yes; he would otherwise have had a snappy answer of some sort.

“Was it that bad?”

“It was worse,” Xue Yang said, uncharacteristically solemn. “The masterless sabers - they hate evil. Who told them that people were evil?”

“I did,” a low voice said from behind him, and Xue Yang froze, the whites of his eyes showing; he resembled a small rabbit that had tried to demonstrate its toughness being suddenly faced with the teeth of a tiger.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Wuxian said, much more respectfully than he might have otherwise, before the rumors. Nie Mingjue looked much the same as he had the first time: back straight, wearing his clan’s colors, his eyes dead inside. Even Baxia looked the same.

But he felt – wrong.

Maybe he really was using demonic cultivation, but if he was, it wasn’t anything like what Wei Wuxian had invented.

“How is my brother?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“The process is going very well so far,” Wei Wuxian hedged. “I should have a result for you within a week.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and turned to go.

“What are you going to do when he wakes?” Wei Wuxian asked, and Nie Mingjue stopped. “You said you couldn’t stop until he was back – what does it mean, that you’ll stop? Stop the killing? What will happen next?”

“Bring my brother back,” Nie Mingjue said. He didn’t turn back. “And we’ll see.”

That wasn’t reassuring. “Where are you going next?”

“The Cloud Recesses.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. “You can’t possibly believe that the Gusu Lan sect had anything to do with it – that’s your sworn brother’s home!”

“We made an oath together,” Nie Mingjue said. “I will uphold my end of it.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t understand; he simply stood there, helpless, watching the other man leave.

There was a tug on his sleeve.

He looked down at Xue Yang.

“The one who killed his brother, on behalf of the Jin sect,” Xue Yang whispered. “It was Jin Guangyao.”

Wei Wuxian thought about what he’d heard about the contents of the oath that the three war heroes had sworn and cursed, torn between chasing Nie Mingjue and stopping him and realizing that that would be futile. Even if he could raise an army of corpses to stop him, a man with an army that could defeat the Jin sect wouldn’t be afraid of him – and he didn’t dare use the Tiger Seal now.

“Let’s do what we can,” he told Xue Yang, who nodded furiously, all reluctance and moodiness gone. “If we can get Nie Huaisang back before Nie Mingjue reaches the Cloud Recesses, that’ll – that’d be good.”

“I don’t know if it’ll help.”

Neither did Wei Wuxian.

part 2

[thelostguardianau]

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Patton | Logan | Roman | Virgil | Remy | Deceit | ??? | ???

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

.

.

.

Chapter Nine

[katsukisbeatingheart]

and far away

Where two points meet in the wrong place, and second chances are inevitable.

word count: 3,090

warnings: angst, mentions of death, but it ends fluffy (and dramatic), i promise

ao3

a/n: aright this was the first soulmate au i wrote and look at it not being the first i post, comin atcha live from the wake of deadline after deadline.

Anyway. i don’t even know what kinda soulmate au this is i just sorta threw it up bc i had a dream abt this and i couldn’t get it out of my head and i had to rework it until i got it right.

thank u.

shinso

dabi

sero

You know that weird feeling you get, hearing about a piece of your little big world disappearing—how maybe you took it for granted, because it was inconsequential to your immediate life, yet it was still always just there?

Things you never thought about, but they’re gone and they’ve left behind an incalculable, gaping hollow.

You take notice, and your life changes forever.

That one flower shop you would pass by on your way to work in the morning burned down last week. You’d never considered stepping foot in to it once and yet the lingering aroma of hydrangea, bishop’s lace, and caspia melded with smoke reminds you harrowingly of the crisped possibility of something beautiful growing.

The statue sitting obscurely just at the edges of town—the one you’d see very briefly through the train car windows as it blurred into distance and hapless memory—the lightrail broke down in front of it one time, you could see it had garish red spray paint at the base—toppled over a few nights ago. You must have seen and missed it a hundred times and now it would never stand tall again.

Or, a person.

The hero surging up the ranks, commanding noise and shaking the earth with a violently righteous heart and power of will—had died last night.

He won to save.

For the first and last time, he lost to save.

You'd have expected sadness, of course—after all, he was a hero—and a person.

That empathetic sense of loss was inevitable, no matter who it could be.

But a piece of you had been broken in that moment.

You woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering in your ribcage, cheeks soaked under silent tears a thunderstorm couldn’t feel coming. The grief outweighed the confusion.

Recollections of a smoky scene billowed in and out of your consciousness, the rumbling and rubble in fresh vibrations on your skin. Though when you tried to remember—when you tried vehemently to clutch at the broken pieces—your head throbbed with an unknown ache.

It was like trying to recall memories from a life that wasn’t yours.

You were listless in your haze to the kitchen, pulling down a glass to fill with water. The coolness slipped down your throat to satiate flames you didn’t ignite.

By some spell only the universe and the promise mark branded across your heart of hearts knew, you clicked the television on through cold fingers. You can’t say that you remember fishing around the couch cushions for the remote, and you clutched to it like it was the only physical thing available. A flimsy, breakable anchor and a key to your undoing. The buttons stilled and your expression grew stony upon the red headline glaring through the room at 2:14 a.m.

The glass slipped from your fingers and you fell to your knees in the fractures.

The explosion you knew ended it all echoed in your ears, its knell a salient cackle without a voice, and existence a weightless pressure on your chest and head—places he’d have to wait to kiss for another lifetime.

You’d never focused on soulmates, the mere idea of one a luxury you could not afford.

And now a cruel, implacable taunt you could not bear.

Yours was miles away, apparently, and even before this moment you were more than a little skeptical about the idea of them. You’d heard the stories—promises from and to the universe conquering distance and time.

And love.

Love so overwhelmingly pure it stretches across ages your world just didn’t have.

To you, it seemed merciless—doomed to tie with souls you could miss in more than a few incarnations. Maybe some had multiple soulmates, you’d thought. You couldn’t be sure you were one of those people—if that was at all possible—but then again you weren’t sure how to tell.

All you knew, was right then and there, you at least had one.

It killed you knowing it took losing something you never even knew you had, to want it so, so desperately bad.

The truth curled at your throat venomously, asphyxiating a slow and decadent anguish incomparable to anything you’d ever felt before. Rip a limb, a lung, all limbs, both lungs—pull your heart right through the skin of your chest in a spiked, poisonous vice; nothing could destroy you more than this.

He was gone, and you were certain it was the kind of gone you would feel the next life over.

You barely had any strength in you to curse the stars swimming in your vision; barely any will to pray for a tear in existence—a loophole to bring him back.

Another chance.

Dilapidated and barren, you had spread out over the broken glass, impervious to what can only dream of harming you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.

The crowd swirled around you, passing faces and brushing shoulders with hardly an 'excuse me', or ‘coming through'.

One particularly harsh shoulder check sent you back a step, and you whirled to get a better view at who had crashed into you.

A man in a red turtleneck, donning a tan trench coat and a frustrated growl checked his wristwatch, before looking back up to you with kindling in his eyes. They were sharp, even as he glanced down at you rather indifferently, eyebrows pulled into a harsher expression than expected for someone who had been so kind as to gratingly remind you of your place in the crowd. Just another bit of space to skirt around into the next person, most likely.

Suddenly he relaxes, eyebrows raising up the slightest.

“Hello there, stranger.”

Your heart leaps to your throat and the tears flow—an unknown relief flooding through and you feel grief from another lifetime dissipate. You launch as best as you can into his arms, and he gathers you into palms that smell like caramel and sugar and ink and brass—in a hold that makes you feel safe.

And very warm.

You feel his hands at the top of your head and pressed into your back. They're big and steady, something you hadn’t realized you needed until they were on you.

It was as if all your life you had woven insipidly day to day on a tumultuous mundanity cracking at your feet.

And now with the hand that guided you into every curve and fold of the blazing man at your fingertips were you unshakable.

You blink and the fire flickers behind his eyes. He’s staring at you intensely—as though he’d silently asked you a question only you knew the answer to. Like it would disappear from existence if he were to look away now.

That much was probably true, as his skin paled to cumbersome bewilderment and an uncertainty to make a willow tree quiver. He had frozen, as if he could see the universe unwinding on your face.

Your voice echoed a hollow “I’m sorry”, and the crowd separated you like the tide pulling from the shoreline.

•.•.•.

You didn’t know what the sea did with the waves once they took them from the coast, but you did know that aching familiar feeling of impermanence. How an undercurrent can feel like a lifetime, and yet no amount of splashing can save a riptide. Not from brevity or grief in the same short breath.

It was still that recognizable body of water. The jolt of a new ripple in a single spot designing the whole thing entirely different, even if just for that one spot. That one moment.

A lot of it was in chance, you figured; chance that was so somberly beautiful in it’s immanence and what ifs.

Work swept you by with a complicated ease. You recall people communicating to you—you just don’t remember what they had said. Or needed. Or asked. Or pleaded. Behind calls of a name that sounded nothing like yours, yet you for some reason still answered to. Your attention fixated on the improbable, and you lived your day in a vacuum. You’d been shaken up so bad and filled by so much longing that by the end of it, you couldn’t tell your own headache from the strain of the city around you.

Your step from the platform onto the train car was cement, but you willed yourself forward for the certainty of routine and familiarity in the wake of tomorrow. The presence of other people around you was vague, and you thought to yourself how you would rather be anywhere else in the world than right there.

When the doors sliding closed behind you sounded a little too final—like the angry clank of a set of iron bars—you jerked your chin up, and leapt forward to press your fingertips to the glass.

On the other side, was the man with red eyes. His blonde hair bristled, almost as if he’d felt what you were feeling. Electric. Scared.

The cement in your step earlier felt like a ball and chain now.

You pressed further desperately against the completely solid and completely flat surface, as though you could singlehandedly figure a way to defy all known laws of earthen physics and somehow permeate through the doors. It was like watching a tsunami form, feeling the flood come and go and the wind push against your face. The motions were slow—his gaze using an eternity to find you again for the second time in this life—and you could feel yourself beginning to drown.

His eyes meeting yours became the catalyst to your fifty-second undoing. The undertow touched your face, laced your ankles, and pulled you under with the abruptly unwelcome motion of the train.

You watched each other through the window.

There was a spark of motion—he had dropped whatever was in his hands in a hastened mess—and you both took off in different directions to the same apex.

You skipped and hurdled around people cramped like bricks, strewn about like greenbriers, and stretched about like tripwire. You weren’t sure if you were actually saying anything, but your mouth moved like it was trying to apologise as you zipped down the opposite end of the train, eyes never leaving the man quickly slipping through your fingers ag—

Again.

The word rang in your ear like the piercing peal after an eruption.

Dread filled your chest as you watched the end of the train come into view, and the man in red ran out of platform to chase after you to. He stopped and stared in absolute dismay, as the light catching on your face from behind the window faded into the darkness of the tunnel.

You, in turn, leaned against the back window, throwing your shoulders around to slide to the floor. People stared and murmured, their curious gazes and exchanges doing nothing to penetrate the frenzy lurching you back and forth.

Your breath stung—but not anymore than your eyes.

He might be back. Tomorrow. You never know what'll happen tomorrow, your heart reasoned. Lucky for it, it hadn’t realized the both of you had already broken to pieces. Your skin stung and prickled with a vengeance, as though barrages of glass were sprouting where your nerves would be.

Never seen him there before. This was probably just a one-time thing, the hollow muttered. It was a bitter thing absolutely none of you needed to hear, but you figured it was the truth. After all, what are the chances of finding one man you’d never run into before in your life, among the thousands you see every day?

Way easier to give in than to hope for this ephemeral nonsense.

You hardly recognized the echoed, tin voice bleeding through the intercom, announcing that you had arrived at your destination. You briefly wondered how a trip that had felt so achingly long had gone by so fast—especially now that you realized you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

Collecting yourself as best you could, you rolled up slowly, pulling your coat around you tighter. You cleared the platform and stepped glacially up the steps, taking a moment to fix your eyes on the sunset tearing a beautiful orange, red, and yellow across the usually blue sky. It was an inferno against the usual insipidness.

You fixated on the rolling greens surrounding the scar the city made with it’s cracked sidewalks and taunting buildings and yelling cars and angry people and empty promises and—

“Hey.”

Broken hearts weren’t supposed to beat so loudly but yours did. You spun on your heal to face him.

You choked and felt unbearably like you should leap into his arms, as though something was imploring you to.

“Hey there, stranger,” you whispered, with a meek crack on the end of your breath. You were facing the beginning of the rest of your life and all you could say was hey back.

The man in front of you seemed to get the same idea, because he moved closer, sauntering up the slope to close the small distance like he had all the time in the world. Though, part of that might have been exhaustion, and part fear that the wind would catch you and steal you away. His legs trembled and you wondered what reason dominated the better bit of that.

He stopped in front of you, his hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched in a resolved curve, the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. You were certain you didn’t know him, and yet you were perfectly ready to believe that little bend in his face wasn’t a usually welcome guest. It looked so foreign on a face you weren’t supposed to have any recollection of.

His voice is like crackling and smoking tinder, deep and rich and roaring. It was getting to you in ways you never expected a sound to find.

“Don’t tell me I ran the better part of an entire city just for some shitty 'hey there'.”

You don’t think you’ll ever get over your shock and awe, but you collect your wits to square yourself against him. Your movements are sinuous as you slide forward, damn near chest to chest when you raise your face again.

“Well,” you sigh, letting a not-unkind smirk slip into your features, “looks like you’ll have to stick around longer if you want more than that.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a matter of want, but more a matter of deserve,” he grumbles. You snort at that, mindlessly catching a loose strand of his hair between deft fingers.

“Is that so? What makes you so entitled?” you tease.

His expression falls and some kind of grief pulls his brows down.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I just feel like I’ve been missing something.”

For the first time in a while, you breathe evenly. It’s an odd feeling, but not unlike that moment of clarity you imagine tides have just before becoming a whole ocean again. Like the one you’d been dreaming of for so long.

Your raindrop fingertips find the smoothness of his skin, brushing along his cheekbones to roll down and splay across the sturdy planes of his chest. The quiet is cacophonous but you inhale gently and smile the most genuine you feel you could possibly muster.

“Hi,” you begin again, eyes sweeping the fabric of his sweater, to try and find confidence in the material. You raise your gaze to his—burning through your eyelashes—and he’s glaring at you with a quirked brow that doesn’t feel at all the threat you imagine it would be in different circumstances.

“I don’t know how to describe this, but I think… there’s this something that’s telling me I’m supposed to be with you— someway.” You glide your fingers down the curve of his arms, linking very lightly around his wrist.

“I feel like you’re someone I’ve lost a long time ago—” your fingers tangle into the cracking skin along his hands,

“—and I’m being offered this one chance to find you again.”

You measure up your hands, placing them palm to palm and he stares like they’re all he can see.

“If I don’t take it you’ll be gone for good,” you whisper in a voice so frangible.

A cheekier smirk cracks his mask from ear to ear.

“In that case, I’m definitely entitled to something, then.”

“Like what?”

Tender wouldn’t have been the first choice of words the moment you crashed into the scowling man on the street—but here he was now, cantankerousness replaced with a compassion you shouldn’t be surprised he could hold—considering you’d never met, after all.

“Your name.”

You tell him with a resounding crest in his chest and when the lightning strikes, his smile actually shows teeth that aren’t grit into a grimace. The first drop of rain spills down your face, and the man in front of you catches it with his thumb.

“Katsuki.”

It was loud, hearing that name in your ears. Like being trapped inside a clock tower—the reverb of each cog shifting and clicking into place with a harsh clang, succeeding rolling tones in succinct phrases you’d been hearing all your life.

Or rather—lives.

Your places in existence swirling in and out of mosaic focus of one another, to finally comix as clandestine breaths and fluttering of skin on skin.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Katsuki,” you smile.

[shawn-mendes-post]

I Love You

Request:   What if reader is Shawn's PA and he's blatantly hitting on her all the time but she just thinks that he's like that with everyone bc he's friendly and after a night out wher Shawn is extremely drunk she takes him back to his hotel room and he asks her if she likes him and then proceeds to confess his love to her a bit dramatically bc he's drunk and then the morning after he's a bit awkward bc he kind of remembers what he said and she tells him that she likes him too before she leaves for a task

@irespostthingsiwanttoseelater

A/n: I hope you like how it came out. It is longer then I intended, but seems okay. Comment, Heart and Re-blogs would be appreciative. I would love for others to know about my blog.  I finished watching the TV show, Psych again, My favorite character is Carlton Lassiter. I was thinking about writhing some Psych fanfic. Tell me what you think.  Do not own anything.

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 4,000

It was a busy day for Shawn's assistant, that is in charge of various things. (Y/N) was currently on an errand to grab food for Shawn and the others, not knowing why she is the one they sent.  Countless things need her attention before she could go home and do her school work. She was walking into the building with bags of food, sighing as she strides to the men currently working. Her eyes glanced at her boss, loving to watch him sing. 

Shawn's singing would always make her swoon over and felt special when he would sing to her. Shawn would always flirt with her, but she never thought much of it. He does flirt with other women in her opinion whether he knew it or not. 

(Y/N) hands out the food and drinks until the only one left was Shawn and hers. Nervously, she bites her lower lip, heading towards him, despite him being in his zone. "Here is your food—a burger with no tomatoes, and fries with seasoning. Also, the milkshake you requested," she spoke softly, not wanting to disturb him. 

Shawn looks up, smiling as he grabs the food. "Thanks. Will you be joining me today, lovely?" He asked, winking as he pats the spot next to him." I can't eat without your beautiful face in the room. "

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, shaking her head at his ridiculousness before rejecting his offer, "sorry, have a lot of errands to do," she explained before walking off, not noticing his frown and disappoint in his eyes. 

She stops to inform Andrew of the process of what still needs to be taken care of before rushing to grab the things for the party. 

(Y/N) had told Andrew about the good news, and insisted on throwing a party for Shawn. She was in charge of everything, and still had things to get. The party will in a club, where the boys like to go sometimes after a hard day of work. His family was informed, and they would come to the party. (y/n) would eat in between the task before she was able to relax, heading back to Shawn's place.

Everyone was waiting for her to come because they were to head out. She did not see Shawn, which made her nervous to think he was not ready. The party was supposed to start soon, but it can't if the significant person is not there. 

"You are coming with us" The familiar sound of her boss broke her train of thoughts, snapping her head to meet the Hazel eyes that made her feel week in the knees. "I don't think so, you know? I have a lot of school work I need to complete. I was busy because I have a very strict boss, no having fun," she teased, glancing in his eyes, knowing she could just get lost. 

(Y/N) tears her eyes away, not wanting him to think she was creepy, despite knowing he would never believe she was. "Oh, I should talk with your boss," he mushed, his hand on her shoulder gliding up to her cheek. "He sounds like a horrible boss; I would quit if I had a gorgeous face like yours," he mumbled, playing along with her teasing. 

(Y/N) laughs, "he is okay. You know, always so busy flirting with other girls. Drives me completely crazy, having to get his attention for work," she banters, smiling playfully. 

Shawn frowns, not understanding why she would think he flirts with other females. Shawn wanted her. He would always flirt with her, but she acted indifferent to his advances, which made him believe she did not like him. "I think he is trying to get one girl's attention, but she is not noticing. Wonder if she is the one that is driving the boss crazy," Shawn states, glancing at her lips, wanting to kiss them. A taste of those luscious lips that droved him crazy whenever he sees them. 

Things seem to freeze, the two in their little world, and not paying attention to the others. (y/n) felt butterflies in her stomach, seeing Shawn, her boss staring at her lips. She wanted to lean and kiss him, to feel his lips on hers but knew it was unprofessional. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, smashing their lips together, feeling wanted from the sexy man. Clearing her throat, she steps back, straightens out her pencil skirt and blouse to occupy her mind from the dirty thoughts. 

"I have things to do," she mumbled, cheeks flushed, hoping no one could see how hot she felt. (y/n) shakes her head, moving to walk away, thinking about how to surprise Shawn would be to see her there. She had to go pick up his present before going to the club. The present currently sat in her bedroom, perfectly wrapped with Harry Potter wrapping, and a big bow on top. 

Shawn stares at her with puppy dog eyes, lips pouting,  “come to the club with us," he stops, reaching to grab her hands before continuing, "I will not go if you are not going to be there." Shawn reached a new low with guilt-tripping her, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Shawn should feel embarrassed he was trying to guilt-trip her, but he wanted her to come. He never acted like this before with any girl, but (Y/N) was not any girl. She was the one that made him want to do good in the world with her by his side. 

It was the night he would layout his feeling for her. He is not wishing to flirt with her and her not thinking he was serious. 

The two individuals knew he was not serious, but expected for the boys to drag him there. (Y/N) could not believe he would say that to her, especially when she told him she had a test coming up. She stood her ground, not liking when someone tries to make her feel guilty. It did hurt her, and she would not look at him, not wanting him to see how she is hurt. This was not the Shawn she knew, and wanted to be with. 

"I will try, okay? I make no promises," she flatly said, running her fingers through her locks, already tired from this conversation. "I will not save you when you get drunk if I do show up," she mumbled, walking away without hearing his response. 

Shawn smiled, knowing this was the night he will confess. He wanted to confess his feelings to her. Shawn is in love with her and needed to know if she felt the same way. He knew the two had a more unprofessional relationship because he did consider her as a friend. He slowly realized how much he cared for her, despite thinking they could not be more. He hoped that he would be able to have the courage to say what he needs to say, and not be an incompetent drunk. 

---

(Y/N) reaches the club, wondering if she should go in with the present or wait for when the two are alone. Shrugging off the nervous, she makes her way into the club, seeing Shawn, who seems down in the dumps. (Y/N) unconsciously flips her hair, striding towards him as if she was on a critical mission. She hoped she was not under dressed for the club, especially when she only had twenty minutes to get there. 

"Shawn," she called, smiling brightly as she watches him perk up, making a motion to hug her. "Here you go," she said, stopping him from hugging her, which made him frown. Shawn smiles, trying to hide how hurt he was, grabbing the present, not knowing she would bring anything. "You did not have to," he mumbled, cheeks pink at the thought of her being thoughtful.

---

Hours it was passed by until it was past midnight, to the surprise of (Y/N). She did not intend to stay long since she was not lying about having things to do, such as homework. Brian was near, still having fun, leading to (y/n) to tell him she was leaving because she could not see Shawn. 

"Brian, I am going to go," she yelled, waving goodbye, needing the fresh air after being in the stuffy club. She was not paying attention leading her to collied into something substantial, which surprised her. "Sorry," she mumbled, before gasping when she felt the man's arms around her waist. 

"Hey," she shouted, about to hit him on the head, but she saw the familiar chocolate brown curls of her boss, Shawn. She was furrowing her eyebrows, noticing the familiar scent of alcohol reeking from the man hugging her. "Mhm, you are an amazing assistant," he slurred, glancing down, a bright blush on his cheeks, making him look adorable, as he smiles goofy. 

She laughs, nodding her head, knowing he is drunk, "do not scare me like that, Shawn. Come on; I will take you to Brian before I leave," she told him, trying to walk back into the club. Tried being the key word because she could not move. His grip tightens on her waist, preventing her from moving." I don't wanna," he whines, reminding her like a 5-year-old. 

"Fine, but let me take you home, okay?" She asked, giving him a look that she will not deal with his childish behavior. Shawn nods, letting her go as he follows her, marching behind her. (Y/N), strolled to her car, close to Shawn in case he needed her support, deciding on what she was going to do.  After many failed attempts, she was able to get Shawn in the car, after promising to go on a 'date' with him. 

---

The car ride consisted of the babbling from drunk Shawn, which (Y/N) ignored, other than the occasional nods and "mhm," since she focused on the road. There was a struggle to getting Shawn in his home because she had to hide him from the paparazzi. 'Damn, Andrew or Shawn better give me a raise. I did not sign up for taking care of a drunk Shawn,' she thought, struggling to open the door. 

After opening the door with no help from Shawn, she makes her way to the bedroom, Shawn next to her, practically dragging her down. The simple task to get him in the bed seemed impossible since he was much heavier then she was. "Few more steps, Bubs, you can do this," she encouraged him, which seemed to help as he flops on top of the bed. 

(Y/N) sighs, seeing Shawn is in a nice pair of clothing, which Andrew would freak out if they were to get ruined—debating with herself if she should undress him or get chewed out by Andrew. Deciding the latter option would lead to her terminations, she hesitantly fiddles with the buttons, an attempt to unbutton his shirt. 

"If you wanted me naked, all you had to do is ask," Shawn drawled, lifting himself to see her, propped on his elbows, smirking. (Y/N) rolls her eyes, muttering curses under her breath, knowing her face as red as a tomato. "You can change yourself then," she shot back, getting off the bed, about to head to his kitchen. 

Shawn grips her wrist, stopping her from leaving, knowing he had to express his feelings. The deep secret kept weighing on him since he meets her and could not repress any longer. "I like you," he said, drunkenly, fighting to stay awake, not wanting to sleep just yet.  

"I like you too, sometimes," she said, laughing at how cute he looks and the desire to take a photo-filled her. She ruffles his curls, not knowing why he is confessing this to her. She felt like he was only confessing to like her as a friend, which did sting a bit. 

"No, like like," he mumbled, knowing he did not get the message across. (y/n) She starts to get confused, not believing that this man, her boss, could have any feelings for her. Her heart stopped dead, the idea in her head. He could have any woman he wanted, and it did seem he was crushing on his best friend, Camila. 

"Shawn, stop." She stated, not wanting to hear any more. Not wanting to get her hopes up that the man she likes... no loves could possibly love her back. Shawn frowns, blinking furiously as he tries to understand what she said. 

"Do you like me?" Shawn asked, in a small voice, hoping she would not reject him after telling her the truth. 

"Of course I do, Shawn. I just told you. You are a good boss and friend to me, and that means a lot. I would not be going to college if it was not for you. Shawn, you inspire me to follow my dreams," she confesses, not telling him her real feeling about how she loves him. 

Shawn sits up after many failed attempts, he felt a headache forming, but he could not stop himself. "I love you," he slurred, reaching out to grab her hands, pulling her to the bed. She falls on top of him, with a squeal, and he lets out an "oomph." One of his hands rests on her hip, the other cupping her cheek. 

"I Shawn Peter Raul Mendes is in love with you, (Y/N). I love your cute laugh, which makes me happy by just hearing it. I love it when you get me my favorite food or drink. I love you and how you comfort me when I am stress because of the concert or if I am having a bad day. You are a perfect goddess, and I am lucky you are in my life. I love how brilliant you are, especially when you are doing those puzzles on your phone when you think I am not watching you. I love how kind you are and never mean to anyone, despite the possibility that they deserve it.  You have the biggest heart that I have seen in the world. I notice when you are not working that you volunteer at the homeless shelters or visit the orphanage to spend time with the kids. I love your height and vision us taking turns spooning each other as we cuddle in bed. I love how you will drop everything for anyone to come over to help no matter the time, which gets you in trouble with Andrew at times. I want to marry you someday and have a family with you. You are the one that I want to see every morning and every night. I want to spend every day treating you like the queen you are and hope that I will be your king one day. I want to love you for eternity, and am willing to give up everything for you. I don't need money or fame. Not even the fans and I do love each of them and how they supported me. I need you (Y/N)." Shawn ranted, slurring now and then, before leaning to kiss her. 

(Y/N) 's heart was beating against her chest, rapidly throughout his confession. It brought many mixed feelings for her because she never thought he would feel like this in a million years. Tears slide down her face, which surprised herself since she never cried in front of Shawn. 

When he pressed his lips against hers, she kissed back, wanting to enjoy this kiss, thinking he will not remember what happened last night. She figured, enjoy the moment before it is away in the morning. Reality would set in soon, and Shawn would have no recollection of what transpired between the two. 

The two pull apart, needing air as they breathe slowly, looking at each other. Shawn wore a dopey smile, unbelievably happy that he told the woman he loves his feelings. On the other hand, she was frowning, realizing what would prevent the two of them from dating. 

"Shawn, you are drunk. You need to rest, and in the morning, forget everything that happened. "She told him, a hint of sadness in her voice, as she gets out of his grip. 

"I am not," he said hurt, that she would not believe him. He might have had too much to drink because he was scared in confessing his feeling to her, despite the numerous talks he had with himself. The headache was getting worse, and he could not fight it anymore. He lets out a yawn, tired for all the events that happened but did not want to sleep. 

"You are drunk and sleepy," she states, moving to get him some clothes to sleep in, returning with shorts and a t-shirt. She starts to undress him, as he pouts, losing focus on what he was saying because of her touching him. He felt his body lite up in flames, wanting her to stay with him, and not leave. He desired her more than anything, and he would not let her slip out of his grasp just because she did not think he was telling the truth. 

"I am not tired," he mumbled, fighting back another yawn, wanting to prove her wrong. "Shawn, the two of us will not work anyways," she tried to get him to understand and change. 

Shawn tries to raise an eyebrow, but can't and makes a funny face. "Why not," he asked, feeling the buzz fading. "Shawn, I work for you. I am your assistant, and it would be unprofessional. I do not want people to think I got this position because I opened my legs. You already know how the press will make me look like a harlot. I like my privacy, and do not need any of your fans coming after me. I value my life and my family's life.  I worked hard for this job, and I do not want to get fired. You already know why I needed the money, which will stop me from pursuing my dreams and finishing college. The two of us in a relationship is bad news and will not work out," she explained, gently trying to ease him into understanding why the relationship would be doomed. A happy sigh escaped her lips when she finished helping Shawn change into something he could sleep. She walks off to set his clothes neatly on the drawer, leaving a note to remind her to pick it up for a wash with the rest of his clothes. 

In Shawn's mind, it was hard for him to follow her reasoning, as he was still drunk. He opened his mouth to protest what she said but stopped. He realized she did make some valid points, and there would be problems. He thought that they could handle each problem together as the issue arises. He did not know about her feeling scared about his fans since he knew his fans loves him.  He figured his supporters would be happy to see him in a relationship with a breathtaking woman and not just because of who she is.  His thoughts followed to her fired, and that was something he did not want. She is a fantastic assistant who goes above and beyond things she is told to do, despite juggling all her other activities and schooling. There would be no one like her, and that saddens him to think of losing her. 

Shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts, watching her take such care for him warms his heart. In the end, he knew he wanted to be with her and would not let the press, fans, or anyone get in the way of his happiness. "(Y/N)Come talk to me," he whines, wanting to tell her that he will always love her. He watches her make her way towards the bed, very tense with what is going to happen. "What Shawn?" She asked, keeping her distance from him.

"I know there are things we would need to figure out if we do become a couple. I know you are scared, but I want you to know I will not give up. I meant what I said to you, and I hope one day you will realize it. I do love you (Y/N). I will tell you every day if I have to until you believe it. I will scream it on the rooftop for everyone to hear me if needed. I will spend the rest of my life proving I have serious feelings for you, no matter how annoyed you might get with me. I will fight for this relationship, and will not fire you for being with me. I want you by my side, through everything, no matter what. I do not want you to worry about my fans because they will understand that I love you. I am happy with you. Your smile brightens my day just when I see it. I do not need your answer right now. I know you will need to take a while to comprehend everything I told you, and if you believe me. I will wait for you," he explained, very serious, as he fights off the sleepiness.

(Y/N) nods, knowing she would need to sort out her feelings and whether or not if she wanted to be in a relationship with Shawn. She does not deny that she wants to be with Shawn, but the negative thoughts kept popping into her mind. "Okay, Shawn," she said, glancing at him to talk more, but stops. She smiles softly when she realizes he fell asleep and was snoring quietly. Walking over, she tucks him in, making sure he is covering up with his blanket. She then makes her way to the kitchen for a glass of water and pills for his hangover tomorrow. She sets the things on the nightstand next to the bed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Night Shawn," she says, exiting the room on her way out. 

---

Shawn woke up to warm morning sun, shining through the bedroom window. Shivering from the cold sheets as he pulls the blanket over his head. The alarm rings earning a small groan from Shawn, knowing (Y/N) would be waiting in the living room for him. He rubs the sleepiness from his eyes as he gets up, knowing he can't go back to sleep, despite wanting to. He moans in pain at the horrible headache he felt, looking at the nightstand to see two pain relievers. A pleased sigh escaped his lips as he drinks the cold water that brings relief to his dry, scaly throat for him to swallow the pills. 

He makes his way to the living room, dreadful as he remembers the confession he made to (Y/N). He felt mortified of how he spilled his guts to her the one woman he never wanted to leave him. He hoped that she would be in the living room waiting for him and that he did not scare her off. Spotting her, Shawn breaths in relief; she was there, but then gulps, not knowing what she will say. 

"How are you this morning?" She asked, looking up from her phone, worried about him not remembering anything from last night. She could not sleep and spent the time thinking about if she will take the step to solidify their relationship. "O-okay. I had this headache," he mumbled, eyes wandering, not wanting to look at her because he was embarrassed. 

"Do you remember last night," she asked, waiting for his answer. Apart of her wanted him to tell her he did not forget, and another hope he forgets. Shawn gulps, not knowing what to say, and stays silent. 

(Y/N) sighs, walking over to Shawn, placing her index finger on his lips. " Stay quiet. Shawn, I love you too. I was afraid of the things that could go wrong, but I do not want that to hold me back. I do not want to live with regret and what-ifs. I am willing to be in a relationship with you, and I will fight for it. I love so many things about you, but I do not have the time to tell you. My schedule is filling up, so I can't stay long. However, if you join me on a date Sunday, I will spend the evening listing all the reasons I love you. I know the risk I am taking by being with you, but your speech last night filled me with the courage to be with you. I never thought I would find a man to love me like you do. I want to be with you," she states, kissing his lips and quickly leaving before responding to her. 

[freyaeu]

HALSTON SAGE. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, FREYA ANDERSON-SMITH is actually a descendent of K H I O N E. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-FOUR year old KINESIOLOGY MAJOR from COPENHAGEN, DENMARK has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite GRACEFUL & SHELTERED.

hello, hello, beautiful friends ! i still need to figure out more things for freya but here’s her bio which i should have really just really written out bc i said it’d be short and sweet and my brain said, i think not ! anyway, i’m super excited to plot with everyone ♡

she  knows that there was an entirely different life that she led before she  was taken in by her adoptive father, she just doesn’t remember much of  it.

memories come back in snippets — like the little cottage nestled in the mountains with the beautiful lake up the hill. or man with the warm smile who she called papa. she  remembers the tea parties during the summer and snowball fights in the  winters. but most of all, she can still hear the sound of ice crackling  beneath her feet as she tried to run across the lake before falling in.  how cold she felt as her body hit the water before she felt embraced by  the icy temperature and everything turned black.

that  aside, her ‘earliest’ memory is being cradling by khione. her icy skin  providing comfort as she mused about a brand new life in a place far from the one she had known so far with a new father and a brother who would love her very much. ( the latter is to be debated ).

‘a  gift’ was what she called freya when she introduced her to her new family. the hold khione still had over alexander anderson-smith being one  so powerful that he didn’t even question who the small child hiding behind  khione’s leg was or where she came from. he welcomed her with open arms, believing that the goddess still loved him because why else would he have entrusted her with  another demigod?

while she had an extremely affluent upbringing, she didn’t rot from how spoiled she was. she  always remained levelheaded, never letting such a luxurious life get to  her head. perhaps because of this, she was always seen as the ‘white  sheep’ — she was soft like snow, not cold as ice. while her entire  family ( goddess mother included ) used whatever mean was necessary to  stay on top, freya was always perfectly fine just being freya.

along with her brother, she grew up in one of copenhagen’s most  elite hotels — the penthouse, to be exact, and one rarely spent any time  in. while to others, the most luxurious suite in the hotel would have  been anyone’s dream getaway, to her it resembled a very fancy prison  cell.

instead, she’d often sneak out as a kid,  watching from afar at the  different gala’s that would take place in the ballroom or sneaking into  the hotel kitchen for a snack. as the daughter of the hotel’s owner,  there was nothing anyone could to stop her. especially considering how  much of a daddy’s girl she was. freya may not have done or said anything  had anyone complained but it didn’t mean alexander wouldn’t have had reacted badly.

as she grew older, her adventures in the hotel became more specific. spending hours  on end learning how to cook from the best chef’s around to  spending her time working on homework next to the concierge’s desk as she  waited for guests to walk up for suggestions of the best places around  town.

the older she got, the more people whispered about her in disapproval. she was the ‘weird’  girl who stayed after social events to help the staff out, the one who  at parties sat in the corner of the room with a book stuck in her nose,  the one who didn’t care about status or reputation.  

while  she participated in things like the debutante ball and summer camp, she  only did so to please her father. as much as he wanted her to be as  cutthroat as nicolai, there was an unspoken understanding that freya was interested in marching at the beat of her own drum and doing things her way.

this  became evident when he pushed them to start properly developing and  advancing their powers. freya, being a child, didn’t take things  seriously. it was the first time and last time he ever made her cry and  the only time he took the treasure chest full of books she cherished  away.

by the time khione came back once  again demanding they get proper training, freya was curious to say the  least. camp with other demigod kids? it sounded cool enough. which it  definitely was though her interests aligned more with learning as much  as she could about the camp and other gods rather than training.

shortly  after freya’s arrival, the two demigod’s gained a step-mom and their  mutual dislike for the woman is perhaps one of the very few things they  have in common til this day. freya can’t stand her. while she chooses to look the other way in regards to her father and nicolai’s behavior, the  same can’t be said for her. she may not approve of how they act but love and blood connects her to them. the step-mom? no connection there.

while  she excelled academically, the same couldn’t be said about her social life. despite the influence her father had, not even he could save her from falling to the bottom of the social food chain. her indifference toward the status she had due to her last name caused many to be both envious and dumbfounded at how she didn’t take advantage of it. she was  pretty and rich, why didn’t she care?

the answer  to that was simple, she had better things to do — when alexander came  up with the idea to create a training center for his kiddos, he included  a rink because children of the goddess of ice and snow~~ well, to no  one’s surprise, that caught freya’s interest. despite the traumatic ( and mainly repressed ) event  that happened on the ice, freya absolutely loved being on the ice. at first, it became her incentive to train, being able to spends hours afterward skating around the rink. then, alexander noticed her talent, bringing in the best coaches money could ensure she’d become the absolute best.

what  started out as a fun pastime turned competitive soon after with freya  spending hours in the rink, diving her time between figure skating and  school. when she wasn’t training or competing, she was studying.

it wasn’t long before she became one of the  most promising individual junior skaters, always placing within the top five and very easily  a fan favorite. by the time she hit senior-level, it was evident that she was on her way to the olympics.

she made it as far as placing silver two years in a row in the world championships before it all came crashing down. after performing the best she’d ever done, she ( and everyone else ) were sure she’d take gold in the ladies individual’s section. to her absolute shock, she didn’t and highkey had a mini freakout moment with her ire directed at the gold medalist who she believed stole her spot. it was the one time she used her powers intentionally to hurt a mortal. the girl was fine in the end but freya still feels absolutely bad about it. she retired that same year and decided to focus on academics instead.

which is how she ended up at eonia. it was definitely a huge adjustment at first. not only did she let go of something she’d done for a little over ten years but she also said goodbye to the home she’d known since she was four. it took a second for her to settle but in the end, she found herself straying away from the sheltered routine she’d grown so accustomed from.  

at least that’s what she tells herself. honestly, while she did spread her wings a little more in terms of discovering new things, she’s stuck to the same routine upon finding her rhythm. she’s extremely predictable like that.

she’s currently a graduate student in the medicine program and completed her undergrad in chemistry.

[offspring-of-calliope]

Peculiar (Newsies Fanfiction) - Chapter 1

Description: Jack Kelly is having a strange encounter on the street.

words: 1696

A/N: This AU was kinda inspired by Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, so it's basically that some of the Newsies, the Peculiars, have powers and all the Manhattan Newsies live with Medda in the Theatre. Then, there are also those who chase after Peculiars, the Collectors. I'm not quite sure where I want to go with this story bc initially, I only wanted to practice my 'English skills' (she said, sitting in front of her computer like: 'How to English?') and suddenly I had a whole AU in my head. So if you wish for certain scenes or something, you can put your wishes in the comments and I might comply. One thing I'm certain of, however, is my choice of main pairings: Javid and Sprace. But I might include other pairings as well.

I hope you enjoy.

Sincerely, me

Lélodie

-----

The sky was still being shadowed by dark clouds, even though the rain had stopped approximately three hours ago. Puddles decorated the streets which were filled with busy people, running back and forth while being indifferent to the world around them. And right among these apathetic businessmen, there was a vivid, excited boy, no older than seventeen – Jack Kelly.

The newspapers in his hand felt kind of damp to him but that didn't keep him from advertising news after news, praising the papers as if they were the most precious things on earth.

“Extra! Extra!” Jack cried, followed by made-up headlines nobody bothered to check when buying the paper. It was already late in the evening and most of the papers were sold by now. A little more time passed and eventually, there was only one paper left.

Jack, who did not seem to be quite satisfied with his day's pay, looked around the street until he suddenly caught sight of a well-dressed man who was heading towards his carriage. 'Well, that looks promising,' Jack thought, straightening his collar and making his way over to the man.

“Extra! Extra, good man! A whole factory going up in flames and -”, he began but the man interrupted him with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

“Move, boy. I do not have time for this nonsense.”

“Surely, you're a very important fella, dear sir, but if ya'd just buy a pape -”

The man looked at him in disgust. “I have no intention on doing business with a dirty little boy from the street.” With these words, he entered his carriage, leaving Jack standing like a fool on the street.

“Whatever ya say, good fella, but I's by no means little, nor dirty! And I'd never do business with such an arrogant sucker either!” Jack didn't know why the words of the man had bothered him this much but it was probably because he was tired, exhausted and just wanted to return to the theatre to get a good night's sleep. He was going to continue his quest to sell the last paper when suddenly the carriage was set in motion, purposefully driving through a puddle on the ground so that a bunch of muddy water was being splashed all over him.

“Alright, you sucker, ya totally owe me a new shirt, this one's brand new!” He called after the disappearing carriage. “There goes a four month's pay,” he eventually mumbled, eyeing his body. The dirt felt familiar yet unpleasant on his skin. He hesitated. Next thing he knew, he was making his way towards the nearest dark alley he could find.

A considering look down the alley. Then, he let his powers do the work. A stream of clear water crawled along his arms, his neck, his face and was softly cleaning his body. Jack smiled as he navigated the cool stream, letting it embrace him like a safe blanket or the arms of a person that felt like home. For a short moment, he closed his eyes. Forgetting the world around him that only wanted to harm him and pushed him from one danger towards the next. Forgetting that he had to work under inhuman conditions, day after day. Forgetting everything. And for a short moment, he imagined being in Santa Fe, where everything would be okay.

Then, there came the self-satisfied laughter.

Startled, Jack opened his eyes and found himself faced with a big, bulky guy with crooked teeth and large ears. “Well, well, look what we have here. A Peculiar and a very precious one at that.” The guy held a club in his hands that he'd probably stolen from one of the policemen at some point. The self-satisfied laughter turned into a sinister smirk.

Abruptly, Jack stopped the flowing water and looked around him, searching for an escape route. But he was stuck in a cul-de-sac and the way back to the main street was blocked by Bulky Guy. “Yeah, well, what's it to you, man? You's gonna mind ya own business?” Trying to hide the nervousness that was burning him up from within, Jack settled for a daring grin.

“Oh, so you're a bigmouth, too, huh? This is gonna be so much fun.”

Jack saw the first blow coming. He lifted his arm to block it and stretched out his leg to kick Bulky Guy in the knee. The rest of the fight was kind of a blur to him. Every time it occurred to him that the opportunity to flee had come – Bulky Guy definitely had the upper hand -, his opponent seemed to be reading his mind and was once again blocking his path. Jack wasn't a fool. He knew that he was too tired to keep on for much longer and a little voice in his head was constantly persuading him into using his powers. But he did not dare.

Too clear was the memory of the last time he has used his powers against an actual person. The feeling of flooding another's lungs, more and more and more and more until they were drowning from within. Jack groaned. What in the world did he have to do to just be able to forget the Incident?

“Ready to give up yet, boy?” Bulky Guy asked, clearly enjoying himself.

“You wish,” Jack replied, ducking under yet another blow. His hands were sweaty, his ribs felt broken and the poor boy's head was spinning.

Then, a different voice pierced though the alley. “You there! Leave the boy in peace and get away from here as fast as you can.” Jack was aware of the fact that the newcomer was talking to Bulky Guy but his voice, this delicate, melodic voice was so inviting that his urge to escape from this alley was getting stronger as well.

Jack looked up, wanting to know how Bulky Guy would react, partly expecting him to just turn around and knock out the news guy. To his surprise, Bulky Guy nearly bowed down before the owner of the mystical voice, as if he wanted to apologize for being such a dick, and retreated without another word. Completely bewildered, Jack squinted at his saviour for the first time.

He was only an ordinary boy, as far as he could see. Black hair, worry in his eyes and overall a quite cute appearance. He seemed to be a bit perplexed as well because he solely stood there, at the entrance of the alley, his hands balled into fists, his gaze fixed on Jack.

Jack, who now had found his own voice again. “I guess a 'Thank You' might be appropriate in this situation. Free paper?” He nearly had forgotten the now not only damp but also slightly crumpled newspaper he had stuffed safely into his pocket at the beginning of the fight. He also didn't really care any more. He was too relieved. So he held the paper out to the guy who spared it not even a single glance. Jack was slightly offended.

“Oh my God,” the guy said, his voice softer and more down-to-earth than before. A friendly tone, yet no less beautiful. “I'm going to be in so much trouble now. What if he comes back and what if somebody tells Mama and Papa and why would I even – Oh no, and he is a stranger as well, why did I have to help a complete -”

“In my defence, I am quite a catch and I don't mind playin' damsel in distress, as long as a guy like you's gonna be my knight in shining armour,” Jack interrupted him, slowly getting bored because the guy was talking non-stop to himself instead of reacting to Jack's presence.

Cute Guy looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about? I barely even did anything, to be honest, I was just passing by and saw how this guy attacked you and couldn't keep on walking as if nothing was going on. But it's not exactly my fault the guy went away, he was probably afraid I'd call the cops on him,” and there he was, rambling again.

“Sorry ta interrupt ya, pal, but we both know that he'd have knocked ya out in seconds. And for the record, we also both knows that what ya did there wasn't quite normal.” At least, that was Jack's assumption. It might have been a really big coincidence but his intuition told him that the boy in front of him might be a Peculiar as well. With a grand gesture, he took the guy's hand and put his last paper in it. “Like I said, thank ya. It's nice that our kind looks out for each other. Ya know that there's also others with powers, don't ya? You's not alone in this -”

“Again, I have no idea what you're talking about!” The voice of the boy was getting more tempting this time. He withdrew the hand that Jack still had clasped in his own, stuffed the paper in his bag and looked Jack straight in the eyes.

“Of course,” Jack mumbled, his mind suddenly clouded by something he could not comprehend. “I's sorry I's made such an accusation.”

“Thanks for the apology,” Cute Guy said, looking still a little panicked but in a strange way also satisfied. “It was nice to meet you.” He smiled a bit, then hurried off into what seemed to be a randomly picked direction.

“Wait!” Jack called out. The other guy stopped and glanced back at him in confusion. “The name's Jack Kelly. An' who are you?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”, was the only answer he got before his saviour disappeared into the crowd.

Jack just stood there, dumbfounded. Then, after what seemed like half an eternity, he came back to himself. “Of course he has powers, that sucker,” he mumbled and swore to himself that he'd never fall for that persuading voice again. But to see if he could keep his promise, he had to find the mystery boy once more.

[ladywhitetower]

Damien is a monster and I will NOT be convinced otherwise

But I WILL convince you

I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE I’M CRAZY BUT I SWEAR I AM NOT

You call all thank @chadarum for indulging my nonsense which I now set upon you

@podcastlimbo this is my main theory, @jakkubrat, @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile, @a-green-bean and @onesmoothassendoplasmicretilum, you all showed interest in this post, so now y’all get tagged. @cryptidie, this is the theory in full!

Long post because this is a hell of a ride.

Alright so basically:

Part 1- Damien has a sensitivity to the Other (divine/monstrous)

Part 2- The saints are all monsters, actually

Part 3- Damien himself is part monster

Part 4- Damien is connected/descended from SD himself

(Could I make several posts instead of the one? Yes. Will I? No. @chadarum, you have given me Too Much power.)

Now, let’s begin:

PART 1:

ABSOLUTELY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT HOW DAMIEN TALKED TO A LITERAL SAINT

AND PERFORMED A GODDAMN MIRACLE

BUT HE DID

AND THIS IS! IMPORTANT

Battle at World’s End Part 4 is The pinnacle of Damien’s conflicted dilemma, but the thing is. He talked to Saint Damien. Actually talked!!! SD was answering him!!!

We hear Rilla admitting to Sir Caroline that he thinks all the saints talk is nonsense, but it’s important to Damien so she doesn’t mind it in The Spiral Sage, Part 2, after being told by the Judge that there’s no rules in his court.

Sir Caroline thinks it’s all stupid bullshit in the same conversation

And no one else seems to really believe in them? The Queen makes a few “saints help us” comments but, for a city built on the principle of three saints building their citadel, why is Damien the only one who really seems to believe in them? He is the only one who actually prays

Battle at World’s End Part 4, from Damien’s monologue: In days when you spoke to me, in days when you didn’t leave me to linger, lonely at your heel.

He says “days”. Plural. P L U R A L. And we KNOW SD spoke to him that day at the river (SD ACTUALLY HELPED HIM) plus we Just heard them talking!!!

Damien also makes a big deal about SD forsaking him, and about losing his tranquility. Why, in Lady of the Lake he thinks SD just might drown him in the poisoned water.

Actually, let’s count the times Damien asks his saint for help and is delivered:

Knight of the Crown, Lord of the Swamp, part 2: In part 1 we hear Damien saying the tranquility bit before striking Arum, but in part 2… while being chased by the rat monster, he asks SD for help, and the rat’s growls shift into the sound of waves!!!!!

Lady of the Lake: While drunk, Damien says he asked SD for guidance once he was about to drown, and the waves around him Stilled, lulling him to sleep

Battle at World’s End, part 4: THE PRAYER! HE PRAYS AND SD, IN HIS FIRST INTERFERENCE IN A WHILE, OPENS A WHOLE PORTAL TO THE KEEP, PRETTY FAR AWAY PLACE, INSIDE FORT TERMINUS. WHICH WAS SUPPOSEDLY IMPOSSIBLE

AND the conversation. SD helping him regain his tranquility at last.

May I bring up, “But isn’t that your way? No true wisdom can be told, only learned.�� Damien has had several talks with SD, we all know and agree right? He knows well enough to know he won’t receive an answer. But the fact that he did not show ANY shock at hearing SD‘s voice, rather about hearing it in monster territory, means it has happened before

I am ALSO going to bring up “there’s something Human in his eyes” because while it is a very nice turn of phrase and all, isn’t it curious how he is the only one to say anything of the sort? Damien immediately notices this from bantering with Arum ONCE, and like. Arum hot. But Damien saw this and was Right. He is Perceptive!

So, Damien talks to SD several times and receives help, plus sees things in monsters that no one else does and is strangely sensitive to them (only one to hear the howling in LOTL, anyone? Only one to see it at first?)

PART 2:

THE SAINTS ARE ALL MONSTERS

LET US DISCUSS THIS

Let’s talk about how Damien’s explanation about monsters vs saints is shaky at best

Taken from his exchange with Talfryn in The Spiral Sage, part 2

Talfryn: But don’t monsters have that kind of power?

Damien: Monsters And Saints, my friend! It’s actually quite simple. Monsters break the divine rules that govern all things. Saints ask for permission from the powers above to bend those rules. And with that permission granted, they know their acts are good!

Talfryn: But… how are you supposed to tell the difference?

Damien: Faith, my friend.

But… there’s a few problems with this theory

The monsters have a court. They have their “anyone can do anything they want rule” and apparently things like censorship are taboo. And we Know “Judge Helicoid” was absolute bullshit but we Also know everyone took his word and genuinely thought he Was asking the universe for verdicts, and everyone followed and respected them.

This communication and dealings with the universe lead us to believe that…. actually, the monsters are more connected to the universe than the humans are

In their explanations, Quanyii and Arum BOTH say that magic is unpredictable and depends entirely on the universe. Rilla even calls Arum out on Not Knowing how the universe works exactly, and he disdains her desire to understand things completely.

Exchange from The Moonlit Hermit, part 2, after attempting to use it to heal Arum’s Keep:

Arum: ... that is how magic operates. When you reach for the cosmos, there are no guarantees. What didn’t work then may work now. We will not know unless we try.

Rilla: So magic is inconsistent.

Arum: Exactly.

The Hallowed Halls of Helicoid, part 1, after Quanyii saves Sir Caroline:

Quanyii: And that, sweets, is how you make magic work for you. Magical spells, commands, etceteras and so-ons only feels like answering them.

Therefore, if monsters could Just break the rules of the universe… wouldn’t their magic be more reliable?

By Damien’s explanation, Arum and quite possibly Quanyii could be saints. The only difference is that they don’t care about their acts being good. Arum reaches for the impossible. Quanyii just… likes the power.

Because of this, we can dismiss his explanation being 100% accurate.

His tale of the Three, the one the whole citadel apparently tells, has them display abilities that make them either witches or monsters

But I’m gonna say monsters because of a few things:

The Spiral Sage debacle. Is he human? Is he monster? Is he… both?

Quanyii saying “No. No matter how hard I try” when asked by Rilla whether she is a monster after revealing she can change forma, implying there Could be a way for a human to become a monster, and possibly viceversa. (More on this later)

These two quotes:

Head of the Janus Beast, Talfryn to Marc: “SIR CAROLINE IS A JANUS BEAST?”

Lady of the Lake, Sir Damien to Sir Angelo: “Sir Angelo! She could be a monster herself!”

Those lines, plus the fact that BOTH the nymphs and the fungi monster could take human forms, both So accurate that everyone thought they were real at first (NO ONE realized the nymphs WEREN’T human until THEY said so!), outright make it evident that some monsters, at least, are capable of taking human forms. The Nymphs are the most relevant, obviously, because they didn’t take the forms as illusions or separate entities, they Wore those shapes and were comfortable with them.

Finally, the tapestries Damien sees in The Hallowed Halls of Helicoid, part 2, of monsters and humans “living together… lying together!” (Pix and David, anyone?)

(Actually Pix, David and the tapestries, including Spiral Sage’s, make it clear there was a time before the first citadel being destroyed where monsters and humans not only mingled, but lived peacefully… at least in some places) (On that note… I don’t think Fort Terminus really belonged to these monsters… I think they broke in, too.)

Also, from LOTL, “Knights… slay monsters, don’t they? Seems convenient. And there’s a witch right in front of you.” PLUS Rilla’s backstory, The Moonlit Hermit, part 1, with her parents being exiled and Quanyii’s presence in the court means that witches and monsters often associate or are lumped together.

SD PERFORMED A MIRACLE IN OLD MONSTER TERRITORY. HE IS A POWERFUL MONSTER. MAY HAVE KNOWN THE KEEP, BECAUSE HEY THAT WAS THE KEEP’S DIRT

I know I sound like a crazy person, but the saints are CLEARLY either monsters who took human form or monster/human descendants

But pray tell, Ria, why would they fight for the humans?

WELL MY DEAR, CAPTIVE READER: while we have Heard that the destruction of the first citadel was the only time the monsters unified, it isn’t difficult to believe that some, like Arum, were rather indifferent/on the outskirts of the conflict. I suspect some, also like Arum, may have forged connections with humans. Or perhaps they were horrified by how much destruction and death they caused. If they were monster descendants, the root might have been love.

PART 3:

(We’re almost near the end I promise)

Damien is a monster

Because I say so

Okay actual evidence:

SD’s constant interference

May I direct you to this exchange in The Caves of Discord, when Damien is late to the meeting (thank you, Sir Caroline)

Sir Angelo: Sir Damien? You’ve called Both of your greatest knights for one little monster?

Queen Mira: I never said there was a monster. Now, sit.

Sir Angelo: A monster that is not a monster? Intriguing.

FORESHADOWING, ANYONE?

Knight of the Crown, Lord of the Swamp, part 1, Arum, upon being told by Damien there’s something human in his eyes: You’d never considered they might be something… monstrous in yours?

He isn’t saying it because he Sees anything, he’s saying it bc he’s cornered, but… Damien takes it pretty seriously.

Also from Knight of the Crown, Lord of the Swamp part 2, Damien to Angelo upon giving him his last poem for Rilla: After all, it’s easier, is it not? To mourn a man who was a monster all along.

If Damien is sensitive to the divine, and the divine is monstrous, then Damien is sensitive to the monstrous. I’m gonna say he is a monster, too. His arc is Way too full of that theme for there to be any other choice.

Damien was also the most sensitive to the Monster from the cocoon, and yes, we can attribute that solely to his anxiety and already rippling fear but… after Part 4, he stops being that sensitive. Rilla Screams and nearly dies from its impact, but Damien is…. strangely fine? He is sensitive but overcomes it anyway, and was at never point physically affected. Could just be tranquility… could also be… monster.

PART 4:

But Ria, you ask, How are SD and Damien connected? Well.

Did you notice NO ONE knew about the Spiral Sage?

Absolutely no one.

NO ONE

NOR DID THEY KNOW ABOUT THE WORLDS’ ENDS.

Literally the only reason Rilla knew was Because of Damien.

Everyone else was completely unfamiliar with these myths, br Sir Caroline who mentioned the South World’s End but had never seen the North, including the existence of Fort Terminus, and while we know Damien comes from a scholar family, at least from his father’s side…. couldn’t it be possible that his family is made of scholars Precisely because of that link to SD?

I mean Damien knew the Whole BAWE poem which was… so long.

They could have very well have kept these three thousand year old myths if they were SD descendants. Because it Has been about a long time? At least “centuries passed” (KotC, part 1) between the First Citadel and the Second Citadel as we know it. And in THHOH Part 1, Rilla confirms three thousand years have passed. How do they have access to such well preserved myths??

Even Sage Helicoid could be explained away as the family protecting themselves but still wanting to keep those myths.

Maybe Damien’s mother was a monster? I lean more on far descendants tho.

Plus, Quanyii, in the same episode, says the one time the monster attack was completely unified, it was “so bad it wiped out most of recorded history before that.” So… how does Damien know?

Plus, why Else would SD interfere so many times in Damien’s behalf? There’s no other instance of any character receiving saintly help, but several where Damien does.

Remember Damien’s prayer?

Damien: Saint Damien, we beg that you lend us your spear to pierce the veil that keeps this beast from home. If it be your will, if it be your will… as it is mine.

And that last line? THAT is when the portal stabilizes!!!

They are connected FIGHT ME.

Damien says SD had forsaken him and was looking for a reason, but SD kept interfering for him in minor ways when he was in serious peril, however stops talking to him entirely UNTIL Damien is questioning his purpose after opening the portal.

Damien also says, in LOTL, “It is our sworn duty to kill monsters. To cleanse the monsters’ blight upon this land.”

Could it be that SD, a monster, stopped outright talking to SD once his focus shifter from helping people into just. assuming he had changed enough and mindlessly killing monsters to the point where he saw it as a competition with Angelo? Then, he performed a miracle once Damien not only wanted to help someone else, but wanted to help a monster (that he loved, for his beloved Rilla). And finally, once he saw Damien could still be saved because he was doubting, talked to him and guided him back to tranquility?

AND ONE FINAL PIECE OF WHAT I AM CALLING EVIDENCE, from The Spiral Sage part 2

The Spiral Sage, Part 2, Quanyii introducing herself: [My name] is always Quanyii, no matter how much of my physical form I change, so pease don’t get confused. Oh, I know that sounds boring, sweets, but even when you’re trying to keep things fresh something has to stay the same or you might lose yourself entirely.

Notice how Damien is the only character to have a Saint as a namesake?

I’m not saying Damien is a reincarnation of Saint Damien or anything, but I Am writing fic about it and this tidbit is a Blessing to have.

But as to my is Damien a monster question?

I say Yes. Damien is a monster and connected to Saint Damien.

[y-not-loki]

Chilling | Loki L.

A/N: This was a lot fluffier and shorter than I thought it would be, but here ya go. This is for @loki-the-fox​‘s Winter Writing challenge. I got the prompt ‘watching movies under a pile of blankets’ and I think I interpreted it differently. (also, I actually haven’t watched The Nightmare Before Christmas or literally any Christmas movie before, so this may be a bit inaccurate)

Warnings: Pretty sure there’s a few ‘innuendos’ (bc my friends say it’s dirty to say ‘entertain me’ and I honestly don’t know why or how). Unedited bad writing. If there need to be any warnings added, let me know.

Word Count: 1 750

Blurb: Winter finally came (not Winter Soldier, he’s cool, but he’s not freezing enough to force (Y/N) into hiding) and all (Y/N) wants to do is hide in a pile of blankets with her boyfriend, Loki and watch movies. Somehow, it ends up being filled with distracting commentary, no movies and a tickle fight.

Prompt: Watching movies under a pile of blankets.

*DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS BUT THE PLOT*

(Y/N) groaned and rolled over, somehow unable to get comfortable in the most comfortable pile of blankets she had ever made. It was snowing outside, and the Christmas tree was glowing in the corner of her room.

Yeah, she lived with the Avengers and had her own room in the Compound, but that was only because she was Tony’s apprentice alongside Peter, and her ability was… quick thinking? And a fit body? She could fight and hack, but that was about it, so she never really went on missions and instead helped Pepper out with Stark Industries and she would eventually inherit Stark Industries from Pepper if it ever came to that, or if both Tony and Pepper eventually retire with their own family (she swore that they would get there eventually… eventually).

There was a polite knock on the door, and (Y/N) called out, “Come in!” And she heard the door slide open, almost silently, but she could still hear it through the layers upon layers of blankets she was curled up in.

Sticking her head out, she glimpsed black and green leather, as well as gold highlights, before ducking back down as she felt something heavy land on top of the pile of blankets.

“So what is my esteemed consort doing?” Loki asked in that smooth tone of his and (Y/N) nearly swooned right then and there. Honestly, sometimes she barely believed that she was with this amazing man.

And oh, the mischief they caused as a team, because whilst Loki had his head in his books and magic in his veins, (Y/N) could hack almost any software.

Together they were a formidable force, which is why most of the team and some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were constantly on their toes.

“Watching movies underneath a pile of blankets whilst getting squashed by her amazing boyfriend.” She retorted, and shifted underneath him, and Loki’s face appeared at the hole she was watching The Nightmare Before Christmas through.

“Hm? Only amazing?” Loki smirked, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Turn into a snake, slither in here and keep me company, will you?” She asked him, and he grinned, turning into a snake promptly and curling up around her, then turning back into Asgardian form, arms around her waist as he pulled her into his chest.

She giggled as the blanket fell over his face and he huffed in annoyance.

Loki looked down at her, indignant. “Did you just laugh at me?”

(Y/N) smirked, and replied cheekily, “Maybe?”

Loki frowned, then looked back at the screen that was only just visible to the two of them under the fort of softness.

(Y/N) had barricaded the front with pillows, and then an army of stuffed animals. Around the edges were rolled up blankets, and the ends of around five blankets were tucked underneath them. She liked her blanket piles to be at least somewhat organised and at least somewhat spacious so she wasn’t trapped with her arms by her sides and her legs together, because then she wouldn’t be able to get back out. There was only just enough space for Loki and her to wriggle around and get comfortable. It didn’t help that Loki was in his Asgardian garments, but she guessed they were the only thing that kept him the slightest bit warm, if he even needed to stay warm.

She grinned at him and lay her head on the front pillows, which peaked out of the blanket fort only slightly, and Loki followed her movement, but whilst (Y/N) was watching the movie, Loki focused on her face.

Midgardian entertainment was below him.

Unless (Y/N) was the entertainment.

He could work with it if (Y/N), the only human to stand up for him on this gods-forsaken world, was the entertainment.

He buried his face in her neck, his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest with a smirk.

“What now?” She asked, exasperated that her boyfriend needed constant attention (not that she minded).

“Can we do something more exciting?” Loki asked, his lips centimetres away from her own, and her lips pulled up into a smirk, she rolled so that he hovered above her.

“Such as?” She quirked an eyebrow, drinking in his long frame from her view below him.

Loki’s expression went from teasing to borderline malicious. His fingers itched to get up to mischief and his muscles felt taut with unused energy.

“This.” He whispered, and at the same time he went down for a kiss, he reached for her sides, holding himself up with purely core strength and straddling a pliant (Y/N).

Almost the second his fingertips made contact, her eyes flew wide open to see the glint of amusement in his eyes, and she squirmed and laughed against his soft, albeit cold, lips.

His hands were everywhere he knew she was ticklish. At her sides, sometimes flicking up to her armpits and along her shoulders and neck.

In the end, (Y/N) was stuck, gasping for breath as Loki spaced his attacks out further until her hope that the onslaught of laughter and giggles was over, only for the hope to be squashed in a rage of giggles.

“St-Stop!” (Y/N) gasped between laughs, tears leaking out her eyes and the heat of being underneath so many blankets finally getting to her, and Loki paused, fingers digging into her sides. “Are you seriously bored enough to tickle me?” (Y/N) asked. They had the basic rules in their monogamous relationship; no dating others, no one-night stands with others, no dates with others etc., but one rule that (Y/N) had been very adamant about, was no tickling unless they were desperate for attention or amusement.

She just didn’t like the feeling of suffocating on oxygen, and being completely at the mercy of someone else.

Loki leaned down and grinned. “Yes.” His lips were centimetres from hers, and (Y/N)’s breath hitched as Loki’s hold on her sides tightened.

The movie played in the background, completely forgotten as Loki gazed almost longingly at (Y/N)’s lips, and (Y/N) stared him in the eyes. He truly did have beautiful eyes… they were a lovely blue that occasionally brightened when he had an extremely dark thought, or lightened whenever he was feeling lonely, sometimes they even turned an aqua or turquoise, slightly green, when he was feeling mischievous, more like himself. Right now they were a dark blue, with flecks of bright green making his eye seem to glow. She had long since figured that meant that he felt… well, there was no way to put it, other than loving or adoring. And she was pretty sure his eyes only looked like that when he held her this close, or looked at her lips with such hunger.

“May I?” He whispered, warm breath caressing her lips, and she smirked.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask the lips themselves.”

Loki chuckled darkly. “And there’s only one way to do that.” He captured her lips in his, and she melted.

Everything felt so soft… the blankets underneath her, the blankets on top of Loki, Loki’s silky hair between her fingers… well everything would feel soft if Loki’s leather gear wasn’t digging into her skin. You can’t have everything anyway.

“Hm… I love you, Loki.” (Y/N) hummed happily into his ear, and she felt him grin against her neck, where his mouth had relocated to after realising that (Y/N) was still human, and still needed oxygen to breathe.

“A horrible decision, really.” Loki nose-booped her and she giggled, still rather giddy and high on the idea that she had such a wonderful boyfriend. They had only been dating for… two weeks was it? And they had had their third date the previous night. It had been ice-skating, and Loki was (unsurprisingly) elegant and ethereal, floating along the ice as if he were flying. “But I love you too, little snow angel.”

“It’s not a horrible decision to love an incredibly handsome, powerful, smart, charismatic and charming Prince of Asgard.”

“And rightful King of Jotunheim.” Loki smirked, but his eyes softened. “But truly, how could a beauty such as yourself, love a monster like me?”

“Every Beast has his Beauty. I can’t believe you don’t know Beauty and the Beast!” (Y/N) exclaimed, looking at him wide-eyed, squirming to get out. Loki watched on, mildly amused.

“And I am assuming this is some sort of Midgardian entertainment?”

“Yes! It’s an old story about a rich, snobbish prince who threw parties all the time, and judged people only on their appearance, then got cursed by a beautiful fairy who appeared as an ugly old hag. He was turned into a beast and had to live in a castle far, far away, alone until the day that someone loves him for not what he looks like, but who he is inside. Then comes along an old merchant, his youngest daughter wanting him to bring home a rose, and the Beast captures the old merchant, then demands he send his youngest daughter to him in exchange for the merchant’s freedom-” (Y/N) noticed that Loki wasn’t wearing his usual indifferent facial expression, but one that said ‘I understand’ and ‘I want to see this’. “I’ll play it tomorrow, and we can hide in another pile of blankets as we watch it!” (Y/N) proposed the idea, and Loki’s eyes lit up, then (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Promise me you won’t tickle me all of tomorrow if I do this for you?”

“Hmm… that’s a high price to pay, princess, but I guess I’ll have to say yes.” Loki purred, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes, although she was jumping around in joy on the inside, practically vibrating with love and warmth.

Loki wondered what he did to end up with such a radiant angel to love.

(Y/N) wondered what she did to end up with such a perfect Prince Charming to love.

Although (Y/N) was still rather annoyed that Loki hadn’t seen any Disney films, and made an oath to herself that she would introduce him to every single one of them.

Not that Loki had to know, of course, and she’d have to plan with Peter, as Peter had come to her when he found out that Tony hadn’t seen any of the Disney films (‘Sorry Pete, I’m too busy’ ‘Come on, Mr Stark, this one’s a good one!’ ‘That’s what you said last time….’) so it only made sense that Peter should help her with this.

And so the planning began.

[spectrumscribe]

Alright, aus upon aus, and i want more. Give us your thoughts on their classpects.

Hello friend who is enabling my age old Homestuck obsession,sorry it so long to get back to you. Trust me, I have been thinking about thisask near constantly since I got it. Ijust took my time figuring it out, bc I really wanted to get it right. (For those without HS knowledge, a Classpect is the Class and Aspect of each game player, their Class being their game role, and Aspect being their powers.)

This is a shit tonof character analysis, and by god, I enjoyed every second I put into it. I gotto break down each of their characters, character flaws, and their truestpotentials. I should do this more often. It’s a lot of fun.

I made a bit of an essay out of this ask. I’m sorry. I rambleda shit ton. Buckle down if you chose to read this, it’s a long one.

So without further due, my headcanons for the 2012 six main kids(plus Karai) and their Classpects:

Leonardo I wouldplace as a Mage of Void. Mages will uniquely experience their Aspect, bothgood and bad. As a result, they gain a unique understanding of what theirAspect is or does. Their challenge is to become open to new insight ordifferent perspectives than their own.

A Mage of Void would seemingly be suffering from ‘Nothing’,(Void pun lmao), and thus no one would suspect something would be botheringLeo. But, and this is my own personal headcanon territory, I’d say Leo has beenrepressing and avoiding hisexperiences with the Shredder for the last three seasons, ever since he endedup in that coma of his. Something that traumatic drastically changed his characterfrom someone who might’ve been a bit controlling and overbearing at times, intosomeone who needs to be in charge of nearly everything and pushes his teammatesto lengths they don’t want to be. (And Splinter passing on the mantle of leaderand sensei to Leo has not helped that complex in the least.)

To avoid feeling useless, or unneeded, or like he’s failingexpectations, Leo overcompensates and does his best to make his own personaldoubts disappear (into the void). Underneath that though, I believe hestruggles, even without realizing it, with being unnecessary or ignored. (whilehe’s made firm effort to be heard and listened to by his siblings, it hasn’tbeen a healthy coping mechanism for anyone since Leo is still just avoiding hisrepressed issues, and making life a lot harder for everyone around him. see myfiction These Days for more about this, when I get around to publishing the Leochapter.)

As a Mage, Leo would probably be able to let go of all thesenegativities if he’d just open himself up to other options, other views andideas. He needs a stern talking to about how a leader is actually meant to act,(Leading, not ordering around. Keydifference here.), and a good long self-reflection period. If he faced histrauma, and his repressed issues, he’d be able to truly lead the team as heoriginally wanted to, and just be a much happier individual all around.

Donatello I wouldput down as a Knight of Blood. Knights hide a fear of a perceived fundamentalfailure with their Aspect behind a shield of confidence and obsessive effort.Their challenge is to learn to take it down a notch and to understand that theyare skilled enough.

Blood can mean a lot of things; blood bonds, blood brothers,blood relations. Donnie’s whole role in the family is centered around hisability to provide support and stability to his brothers, through hiscontinuous and never ending work to protect and build for them all. His empathyis the strongest out of all of them, reaching out to people easily andsympathizing with their struggles. Of course, this doubles back as a negativeon occasion, since Donnie is attempting to give more than he should, and thusexhausting himself as he fights against his imagined failings.

Knights of Blood tend to feel deeply insecure or inadequaterelating to something Flesh or Blood about them. In this case, that would beDonnie’s mutantness compared to the rest of the world, and his struggles inninjutsu. While his brothers take to martial arts with vigor and enthusiasm,Donnie prefers to spend time in his head or lab, and while he is skilled asthey are, he would likely still see himself as a lesser member of his family.He’s the odd man out, both in family, and to the rest of the world. The reasonsthat set him apart are never going to change, and those are heavy things toweigh on a kid, especially one as socially isolated as Donnie.

Of course, if Donnie was given mutual effort and supportfrom his family, he’d be able to become as stable as the work he does for themall. Reassuring a Knight that they’re good enough, that their skill and workand Aspect are things that they’re able to excel at, that you do in fact lovethem for who they are, would probably be all Donnie needs. To move past theperceived failings he has (of not being enough, or not being accepted for whohe is) he needs some good old TLC and genuine appreciation from his brothersand friends. (And his dad, who never once praised him for being himself through the whole series.)

Honestly, just give the genius the credit and attention andcare he deserves, and his emotional/mental state would improve 300%. Seriously.It’s that simple.

Michelangelo I’dplace as an Heir of Breath. Heirs naturally gravitate towards their Aspector unconsciously seek it out. All Heirs so far have huge amounts of Aspectrelated strength. Their challenge is to not get stuck on one thing and to knowwhen to move on and adapt.

Mikey is air and wind and other related words in a lot ofsenses. He’s finicky and whimsical, and tends to just do whatever the hell hefeels like. When he does listen toyou, it’s because he feels like it,not because someone else wants him to. This has caused a lot of trouble incanon, Mikey going off on an adventure of his own making because he caughtsomething interesting and won’t let it go until he feels like it. His charactersums up to be either hyper focused on oneparticular thing, or be completely distracted by ten plus ideas or eventswithout really getting involved with any of them.

He coasts through happenings and fights without ever reallyletting them touch him; off in his own world rather than deal with theharshness of reality. Heirs of Breath are notorious for seeming indifferent oruncaring because of this tendency. Mikey’s go to reaction to lighten asituation, or full stop ignore it, is a fine example of how Breath players copewith traumatic events. Didn’t happen if they don’t admit it did!

It makes Mikey out to be this very callous person, since henever gives time or effort to the things other people need him to, and keeps tohis own wants instead. But he is a very caring person, being the mostemotionally open and connected person in his family. He simply never chooses touse that openness in the right situation, or actually come back down to earthto be a stable member of the team. Currently, the best way of getting him tofocus on anything is to just throwhim at the problem and let him take it apart from there. I nearly put him in aDestroyer class because of that trait in Mikey; his ability to enter any sortof situation, and tear it to pieces if he feels like it. But, in the end, histrait to avoid a situation entirely by leaving reality entirely places him better as an Heir.

To overcome this part of himself, the whimsical destructionand deliberate ignorance, Mikey would need to buckle down and actually dealwith his issues, rather than pretend they’re not there for the rest ofeternity. He needs to learn to keep his promises, fulfill his obligations, andbe there emotionally for his family. (He is sometimes, but only when it suitshim.)

Raphael is innearly every canon, a destroyer of sorts; which is why I’ve placed him as a Princeof Doom. Princes ghost theiropposite Aspects as they destroy theirs. They are violently stubbornpessimistic people that stop at nothing to reach their goals. Their challengeis to not destroy themselves along their destructive path.

Princes of Doom are reckless, full of energy, and nearunstoppable when they hit their stride. Raph is a battering ram against thingsthat get in his way, and his temper is no help in curbing his destructivetendencies. His solution to a problem is 9/10 times to just destroy itcompletely. Someone or something gets between him and his family’s goals, he’lltake them out. No ifs ands or buts about it.

This is both a bane and a boon, since destroying barriers orblocks can mean destroying enemies or metaphorical restrictions. Raph is arebel, and a loud one at that, and has never been the type to let rules orthreats stop him from doing something. Sometimes this works in everyone’sfavor, sometimes it causes a painful fallout for everyone except Raph; theresult of Raph charging ahead without hindrance or regard for others aroundhim, or pushing and shoving until he gets his way. His go to reaction is alwaysto force people into his view ofthings, even if it’s through physical violence and someone gets hurt.

Using his destructive impulses correctly, including hisanger issues, would give Raph the strength and momentum to bowl down anythingthat attempted to hurt his family. Princes are horrifically powerful at theirpeaks, and at the top of that peak a Prince of Doom would be able to doomanyone who got in their path.  Raph could be the warrior he’s hinted athaving the potential to be, dependable and fierce and strong as bedrock, and ifhe got his head out of his own emotions he’d be able to realize that potential.

But as it is, Raph still stands a chance of being swallowedby his own Doom, since in canon he has yet to really grab hold of that temperof his (we’ve had what, like five episodes or something of him trying over andover to do that? bs, I tell you) and continues to physically push his siblingsaround whenever he doesn’t like what they’re saying/doing. (Looking at you,elevator scene, all the ones like it.)

April is acharacter that has grown and changed drastically over the season, and to methis screams Page of Hope. Pagesstart with a deficit in their Aspect that they confidently overcome through obviousovercompensation. Their challenge is to keep at it, even if they fail and thejourney is slow, for they become the strongest players

April started out as the team’s weakest link; new toninjutsu, new to espionage, new to everything. And then she hit her stride (andalso got traumatized a bunch of times) and became the most powerful above all. Seriously,she’s got enough power to warp the face of the earth; she was literally designedto be the genocidal weapon that would wipe out the human race. And, her powersdepend pretty much completely on her own emotions, confidence, and mentalwillpower. (Also, she gets glowy and floaty when she uses them, especially ather peak power, which resembles super closely Hope magic.)

In the beginning of the series, April was well-meaning andsomething pretty close to naïve. She depended nearly entirely on the boys fortheir help in things, tended to hang back when things went south. Then, becauseApril O’Neil is no one’s damsel in distress for long, she started to takecontrol of her life best she could and became this furious martial artist thatdidn’t let anyone get in her way. She tended to let people’s views influence herown at first, sometimes even believing boldfaced lies, but now no one can hide shit from her. She’s thehuman lie detector, and her own opinions are the ones she follows.

While the rest of the kids here have a quest or two tocomplete, April has already finished hers. She’s her own person, in control ofher own life and beliefs, and ten times as powerful as her season 1 self. At thispoint, the only things holding her back is her A) restraints on her powers,which could be even stronger if she’d let go of the (already flimsy) morals shehas, and B) her deference to Leo as the leader. (Leo is making one bad callafter another these days; April should really just defect to the Foot clan(read as ‘Karai and Shinigami’s Murder Ladies Only Club’) and embrace the sheerdeadliness of herself.)

Pages go from the weakest player on the team to the mostpowerful, and we heard Kravaxas say it himself. April is far more powerful than her mutant friends at this point, and willonly keep getting more powerful, so long as she works for it and believes inher abilities.

Casey, because he’sa problematic little shit, ended up with the same Class as Mikey, being an Heirof Life. Once again, Heirs naturally gravitate towards their Aspect orunconsciously seek it out, etc etc etc, and their challenge is to not get stuckon one thing and to know when to move on and adapt.

An Heir of Life fits Casey perfectly, much to my annoyance aboutrepeating Classes. They’re completely unrestricted in almost every way, havingno rules, no limits and no boundaries of any kind. They’re openly dominating,reckless, and full of optimism in everything they do. They are also extremelyeffective at what they do and have no problem rejecting anything that theythink isn’t valid or not useful to them. They have no problems sacrificingothers and breaking rules in order to open up more options for themselves andmake themselves even less restricted by everything. Sounds like Casey to a T,right?

Rather than how an Heir of Breath copes with their problems,ignoring them completely, Heirs of Life charge right into things and make their problems go away. Let itnever be said that Casey jones backed down from any sort of fight; he’ll just keep going until he can’t, and thenpush through anyways. Any problem, any obstacle, any sort of block or adversaryCasey has ever faced have all been dealt with the same way: bullheadedenthusiasm and utter confidence in himself to come out the victor.

Of course, this still tends to get him into trouble, and he’syet to learn temperance to his unfaltering attitude. Casey resilience to anysituation he encounters is admirable to say the least, buuuuuut he is alsousually the one to have gotten himself into said situation. He needs to learnto not tunnel focus on an obstacle, and look before he leaps. Only then will hestop getting himself into easily avoidable situations.

(And because I have a rough plot for a fic I want to write inthe future, I’m throwing in Karai’s too.)

Karai I see as a Witchof Time. Witches are enthusiastic, confident and optimistic rebels.They break and change the physical and metaphysical “Rules” of their Aspect.Their challenge is to use their rule breaking powers in a morally consciousway.

Karai is a not so morally conscious individual, and is inmany ways a rebel. She originally followed her (shitty fake adopted) father’sword without questions, and was fiercely loyal, but once she found out thetruth… well, she’s done nothing since then but try to tear the Shredder topieces, and I don’t blame her in the least.

She manipulates and schemes and does so with utterconfidence in herself. She’s put a lot of Time and effort into seeing her falsefather’s downfall, and she did in a clever and brilliant manner. (And I fuckinghate canon for robbing her of her own arc’s conclusion, and instead shunted thewhole thing over to Leo, while Karai was written into being ‘okay’ with notgetting her very well deserved vengeance.Fuck this fucking show, god.)

While Karai’s future position as a criminal empire warlordis one I fully agree with, I do think she needs to learn to mind the fallout ofher actions a bit better. Yes she should continue to forge her path ahead withall the fighting and gore that comes with being a ninja, but she should watchout that she doesn’t hurt people she shouldn’t in the process. (See: the BrokenFoot episode, where she brought Leo on and not the other boys, encouraged thesecrecy of things from the family, and resulted in Donnie being injured badlyenough he needed magical healing.)

Also: Karai  would be fucking terrifying as a Timeplayer. She could do anything she wanted to the fabric of someone’s Time (theirpast, present, future) and no one would be able to stop her once she’d put hermind to it. I would pay good money to see this come to be, because I do love awoman with a goal and not a lot of care how she reaches it.

Aaaaaaaaaand that’s about it! If anyone wants moreClasspects by me, feel free to pop into my inbox and ask for the characterspecifically! If I take a while, its bc this does take some serious thinking, but if the ask really catches myattention rest assured I’ll answer it eventually.

I miss the years when everyone was doing these. I miss beingallowed to turn everything into a Homestuck AU. *le sigh*

[hobistagram]

She’s a baby

A/N: I wanted to do a drabble to explore the world I created for my witch!au and I can’t stop listening to the new zico song so this is what happened. i’m not spelling everything out in the story bc I just think it reads better that way, but in this au, all the boys have regular day jobs and each of them are witches. they all have a specific set of powers (see if you can figure them out!) but i’ll be going into way more detail w that and a whole lot more in the full length jimin fic coming up so if you’re left w questions now, they may be answered soon! hope yall enjoy!

wc: ~1.8K

witch!yoongi |  witch!jimin | witch!tae | witch!jin

Hoseok watched her fumble her way through a conversation with a medical intern. The boy was overbearing, talking too much without really saying anything, and she was eating it up, because he was handsome and he would one day be a doctor.

Not that it bothered him. Being a nurse was just as, if not more, important, and God knows he did most of the healing anyway. Last week alone he’d cured a five-year-old’s broken leg, lessened the pain of a dying grandparent, and helped a healing cancer survivor grow her hair back. It had sapped all his strength, left him bedridden for nearly thirteen hours, Namjoon fretting at his bedside and Yoongi yelling at him to stop worrying because he would awaken at exactly 8:35 PM.

He’d sworn to Seokjin that he would take it easy this week, after the older boy had given him one of his lingering looks. It was unfair of him to use his power on Hoseok, but he supposed Seokjin thought he wouldn’t listen to him otherwise.

The girl waved goodbye to the intern, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and turned in Hoseok’s direction. He busied himself at the computer, updating a patient’s chart.

“Do you know where I can find a bathroom on this floor?” She came up to the counter barring off the nurses’ station and placed her head in her hands, her elbows resting against the counter. Hoseok wondered how she could manage to look so precious so casually. “I came up to visit my mom in her office, but I got a little distracted.” She blushed at her own words and Hoseok remembered the way she looked at the intern.

He pointed behind him, to the hall to his right. “This way.”

She straightened, her face already brightening to a smile. He saw on her shirt, a frilly thing that looked like it belonged on a doll, a name tag from the gift shop downstairs. “Thank you,” she lilted, her voice sweet and small. She beamed, looking like she’d just had the conversation of her life with him.

Hoseok watched her walk off, her gait light and dreamy like a child’s. She looked fragile, like she needed to be taken care of.

But he was a healer. It was why he’d never been sick growing up, why Jimin had always screamed his name growing up whenever he got a bruise, why he’d gone into nursing in the first place.

That was why he wanted to care for her, he told himself, even over the pounding of his heart.

You floated down the hall, enchanted. If you’d known your mother worked near him, you would’ve visited her sooner.

Still, the interaction had been enough to paste a smile on your face.

She’d gotten you the job at the gift shop. After seeing how little your interest was in figuring out your future, she thought at least you should make some money. So you’d started manning the small shop singlehandedly. Hardly anyone came in and your free hours were spent daydreaming, staring out the glass windows of the shop at the passersby and inventing stories for them.

He was The Prince. That was what you’d named him after seeing him walk by, his stride hurried as he rushed to the elevators. He had a soft beauty despite all the hard angles of his face. His lips held tension you couldn’t quite figure out and the set of his brow was in a state of constant worry. You imagined the stress of a kingdom was what weighed on him. The happiness of his people in peril, the future of his land, all on his shoulders.

You hadn’t expected to see him there, seated at the computer, looking somehow smaller and less certain. You’d run through a million things to say to him, trying to determine what would be wittier, sweeter.

“You must be Dr. ______’s daughter,” the intern had said, stopping you in your tracks. “You look just like her.”

You’d indulged him, listening to blather on about how he knew your mom and how much he appreciated her as his attending. Glancing over to make sure he hadn’t left, you practiced out your smiles on the intern, hoping The Prince would see.

When the intern had finally finally let you go, your mind had blanked. What would you say to him? What would look natural now? All your conversation starters had meant to be casual but there was no way to be casual after you’d been eyeing him for five minutes.

By the time you reached him all you could think to do was to say something—anything—to hold you in place long enough to read his name tag.

Jung Hoseok.

It was a princely name.

He should’ve gone straight home. He’d promised Seokjin he would help him make dinner, Namjoon would be home late because of parent teacher conferences, and he was the only one that could get Yoongi to look away from his computer long enough to take a bath and join them to eat.

But the girl had lodged herself in his brain. When he leafed through charts, he thought of her. When he handed a lollipop to a boy with a sprained wrist, he thought of her. When Nurse Kim from the NICU came over to flirt with him during her break, he thought of her.

So after he’d clocked out, waved goodbye to the incoming nightshift nurses, and gathered his things from the lounge, he stopped by the gift shop.

Only it was closed.

The lights were off and the sign had been turned and his heart sunk no matter how firmly he told himself that he did not like this girl.

He spun on his heel to head out, already chastising himself for fantasizing, when the door opened.

She noticed him immediately, her face turning like a dimmer, brightening by increments as she realized that he’d come to see her. She must smile at everyone that way, he thought. It was the only way he could explain her sweetness to a complete stranger.

“Hi,” she said, and he realized her voice somehow always sounded like a song. Even earlier when all she’d done was ask him where the bathroom was. He wondered idly if she was a venus like Seokjin. It would explain why he felt drawn to her, why she had awakened that odd protectiveness in him.

“Hi,” he replied. He smiled and looked at her expectant face, realizing too late he didn’t have a reason for coming to see her. He scrambled. “I’d been hoping to buy flowers for a patient.”

“Oh.” Her brows raised and she blinked in surprise. She was doll-like, everything exaggerated and dulcet. “I can open up for a minute longer.” She turned to unlock the door again, digging in her purse for the keys she’d already stashed. Her finger caught on something and she yanked it out, putting it to her mouth. She grimaced, looking real and more human for a moment. “Papercut.”

He shook his head. “That’s okay. I can come by tomorrow.”

She grinned, dropping her finger, then spotted his bag. “Are you heading home?”

“Yeah, I’ll walk you out.” He eyed her cut and reached out a hand. “I’m Hoseok, by the way.”

“Y/N,” she offered. He brushed his thumb over the cut as he pulled his hand back, watching the knit in her brow relax as the stinging subsided. “It’s nice to meet you, Hoseok.”

So he was a healer, then.

It made sense, the way he devoted himself to his job, the burden he made himself carry. Healers were always like that, always trying to heal everyone and everything and feeling guilty if they didn’t.

You were mad at yourself for not picking up on it earlier, but it was hard to sense others if they weren’t your kind. You could spot a charmer from a mile away, feel the energy vibrating off them before you could even see them, but others were harder, trickier.

You weren’t certain how to bring it up without seeming weird, so you opted to show him instead. Grabbing the protein bar wrapper from breakfast out of your purse, you held it in your palm for him to see as the two of you walked. It unfolded, turning matte, and bleaching itself out to a pure white. You reached for a pen from the bottom of your bag and scribbled your number on the fresh paper, holding it out for him to take.

He stared, stopping mid-step as he saw the paper start to shift and his expression stayed unreadable as he took the sheet from you. “You’re a charmer?”

You nodded, feeling the charm you’d placed on your shirt wear off. It was the one that made you dreamy and fuzzy, the one that made people trip over themselves to care for you, to baby you.

His brow furrowed, finally seeing you as you were. “Who’s your coven?”

“Haven’t joined one yet.”

His eyes widened and you tried not to be injured by his shock. It was true someone your age should’ve joined a coven by now, but it was hard when you didn’t have a job or a life plan and still lived at home. “It’s late out,” he said, his voice notably softer. “I should walk you home.”

You stared at him, wondering how he could still be so nurturing to you after the spell had worn off. There was nothing shielding you now, it was just you, fully imperfect. “You don’t have to.”

He smiled, one that rivaled your own under the charm, and your breath caught. “I’d like to.”

Even with the charm worn off, Hoseok couldn’t help feeling protective. Except that wasn’t quite the right word for it. The pang in his chest that told him to draw nearer to her, that made him want to keep looking at her, that caused his body to hum with the urge to touch her. All of it was…possessive. He was possessive.

He wanted her, despite his best efforts to keep himself indifferent, and there was something freeing about knowing that for certain.

But what was he supposed to do now? What if she was just using another charm? A love spell, like the ones Jimin used, but stronger. Or what if she didn’t have a coven because she was a hunter and she was just using him to draw out his coven?

He could ask her out. He had a day off coming up soon and he could take her out to lunch and get to know her. Or he could never talk to her again. Crumple up the paper she’d given him and forget she exists.

She looked over at him, her eyes trusting and her smile small and self-conscious now with the loss of her spell, and he knew what he would do now.

He would walk her home.

[raywritesthings]

Arrow and Harry Potter

Arrow

my all-time ultimate fave character: Laurel Lance

a character I didn’t used to like but now do: I hated Quentin at first, and I lot of stuff he did/does I still don’t like but I’ve grown to appreciate his complexity and his dynamics with Laurel and Oliver. Of course now that Laurel’s dead he has like nothing to do so it’s just stupid.

a character I used to like but now don’t: Felicity was cute s1...she got on my nerves pretty quickly after that, though. I hate what Diggle has become. Like just look at him s1 compared to now and it’s just sad. I miss when Diggle was his own character.

a character I’m indifferent about: Can I just say any of the new recruits? Like, I just don’t care about any of them. At all. I didn’t start the show for them, I started for GA and BC, why is this so hard for the showrunners to grasp? I’m also pretty indifferent towards Sara, no lie. She’s just kind of there and then not and then there again. She drifts into the story and out and doesn’t really seem to have all that lasting of an impact. I mean she can literally be plucked from the timeline because she’s apparently of little enough importance history won’t miss her. And it totally undermined the whole “journey” aspect of characters when we met her and she was just insta-badass straight out of her new s2 packaging, now with 100% more blonde, some reshooting required. Maybe if they’d bothered to show her training--but that would have required them to actually show a wlw relationship and not just the angsty post-breakup stage so that wasn’t gonna happen. Like I don’t necessarily hate her but I don’t like her much either. She’s just kind of meh to me.

a character who deserved better: DINAH. LAUREL. LANCE.

a ship I’ve never been able to get into: O/F, Oliver/Sara, and lowkey Nyssa/Sara - Nyssa was always so much more invested than Sara from her first appearance to her last. Like you got her going on and on about her “beloved” and then Sara’s flirting it up and kissing people throughout time and space, the heck am I supposed to do with that? Also I haven’t liked Thea/Roy ever since Roy ditched her after sleeping together and left no forwarding address. Dick move, dude.

a ship I’ve never been able to get over: Lauriver, dear god, the beauty and the tragedy will haunt me forever

a cute, low-key ship: I liked Oliver and McKenna, I won’t lie. Moira and Walter were tragic but precious. Also if Tommy had lived I could’ve seen him and Helena having an interesting thing don’t judge me.

an unpopular ship but I still enjoyed it: Non-canon but I’m gonna go Lauryssa. Also Constantine/Oliver.

a ship that was totally wrong and never should have happened: O/F, when will these writers learn that ship destroyed both those characters

my favourite storyline/moment: I’m in that rare minority that loved s1 so much more than s2. S2′s where it started going wrong, the fridging women left and right, Slade’s shitty motivation for being bad--he’s a mercenary, for fuck’s sake, it does not need to be about a woman he loved and lost, it’s not complicated--retconning the flashbacks left and right, but s1 was so good. Also loved Laurel becoming BC though I never got why the writers needed to start her off at square one when they showed she could fight the previous two seasons.

a storyline that never should have been written: Basically the entire s4 plot. Magic and nukes are not GA’s thing. Also killing BC on a GA show is such bs. Real GA would have rather seen himself killed first.

my first thoughts on the show: Ok, this is interesting! The fight scenes are good, I want to see how these characters become more like their comic book counterparts.

my thoughts now: Well that sucked.

HP

my all-time ultimate fave character: Oh man, how can you do this to me? TOO MANY, OKAY? I HAVE TOO MANY.

a character I didn’t used to like but now do: Dudley is so much more interesting after book 7. I like the idea that he finally started to realize that his parents and their abuse towards Harry was shit. I know JKR decided to not give Dudley a magic child in the epilogue, but I wish she had. It would have been so nice to see Dudley break the cycle of abuse in the Dursley family once and for all by loving and supporting his kid no matter what.

a character I used to like but now don’t: I don’t know if I dislike him necessarily but I definitely don’t like him the way I used to as a kid - okay, yeah, it’s Dumbledore. I mean he is soooo complex, and that’s a good thing. But a lot of the stuff he did? Not cool.

a character I’m indifferent about: Basically a lot of the OCs that masquerade in fics as barely-mentioned students. It’s fine if you wanna use them, but it’s weird to me when people start purporting their characterizations of them as fact if that makes sense? To that end, I’m also mostly indifferent about all the next gen kids with the exception of Teddy (there’s just a lot there to his character that would be so interesting to unpack - why was Cursed Child not about Teddy Lupin with a better plot gdi).

a character who deserved better: So many characters tbh. Ginny Weasley deserved better from both JKR and all y’all. JKR promised an awesome moment having to do with her being the seventh child of a seventh child (Arthur) and then never delivered. Fandom is shitty to her because she gets in the way of their ships (like especially H/HR and H/D shippers seem to love to demonize a teenage girl in their fics, just saying) and because they seem to think Hermione is enough female rep which is such bs. Ron also deserves soooooo much better from fandom. So, so much better. Hagrid deserved to have one of Harry’s kids named after him. Sirius Black just deserved a better life. Snape deserved not to be abused as a child. Harry deserved like basically everything better. The Weasleys deserved not to be poor - do you see where I’m coming from here???

a ship I’ve never been able to get into: A lot of the non-canon ones (H/HR - she’s like a SISTER to him, he LITERALLY SAYS; H/D - It’s implied in that bathroom fight scene Draco was about to use the CRUCIATUS CURSE like WTF also he’s just kinda shitty to Harry and his friends almost the entire series just saying). Obviously if you wanna write AUs where things are completely different, that’s up to you, but they’re just not for me.

a ship I’ve never been able to get over: Jily, Hinny, Romione

a cute, low-key ship: Deanmus is the gay/bi rep we deserved, not unhealthy and possibly one-sided Dumbledore/Grindelwald. I feel like in book 5 at least Luna might’ve had a thing for Ron which is kind of adorable. Although I also like Ginny/Luna. Also I lowkey think Harry might’ve had a crush on both Cho and Cedric at the same time. Teenage years suck.

an unpopular ship but I still enjoyed it: I mean Romione seems to be unpopular with a lot of fandom but I love it so sucks to suck

a ship that was totally wrong and never should have happened: I’m pretty much ok on all the canon ships. I mean I wish JKR hadn’t tried to push this whole “Snape loved Lily” thing. More like “Snape was obsessed with Lily and never got over her”.

my favourite storyline/moment: ahhhhh I don’t know, maybe Ron coming back to save Harry and destroy the Horcrux.his insecurities? Such a great moment for his character, and his and Harry’s friendship. I also just love how Harry’s whole outlook on life completely brightened up in HBP during the time he was dating Ginny. It was so lovely to see him happy for once. And I love all of book three, it is my favorite. Also the Moody-is-really-Barty Jr. twist remains one of the greatest of All Time and the movies ruined it but I digress.

a storyline that never should have been written: Like I’m not saying it shouldn’t have been written, I just don’t like how Snape’s backstory has given rise to this idea that he did Nothing Wrong, Ever and it was Lily’s fault for ending the friendship that he turned to the Dark Side. Like fuck off, he was already there and it was not her job to be his “savior” when he sure as hell didn’t want saved. Also all the movies. Damn you, Kloves.

my first thoughts on the show books: This is such a great story and world! I love the characters and I can’t wait to see what happens next! (or something along those lines - I was young, okay?)

my thoughts now: While there’s certainly plenty of issues (lack of rep for many marginalized groups, for example) it still holds up as a really strong series. Must resist temptation to begin yet another reread.

[izzyovercoffee]

RepComm for the fandom meme

send me a fandom and I’ll — meme

softly, with a lot of feeling: I’ve been waiting for this moment.

lmaoo not really but yes, yes really. I am here and I am ready for this. 

Thank you for sending this B’)

Republic Commando

the character i least understand

Karen “What Is Abuse I Don’t Know Her″ Traviss

Ko Sai. I think, for the most part, she was written with very alien motivations, and it was fairly successful, at least in conveying that it was difficult if not impossible to relate with her on any level. 

I’m sure if I spent more time thinking and writing about her I could maybe attempt to understand her character … but for the most part I don’t really “get” her, and I think that’s the point.

interactions i enjoyed the most

Mereel and Ordo are endlessly entertaining. 

Any of the Nulls together, individually or clusters or all six in one room.

Mereel and Etain have had some very, very touching, emotionally deep moments — the kinds of scenes KT generally doesn’t allow any of her characters to have between two characters that aren’t romantically involved.

tbh this list is gonna be very long so to sum up: everyone with everyone else, when they’re allowed to be individual characters with separate personalities and motivations recognized, instead of twisted into very specific moral representations that KT pushes towards the end.

the character who scares me the most

Walon Vau is reasonably frightening, though really he should be. He is about as cold blooded of a killer as you’re going to get, and he doesn’t make threats, he makes promises. B’) 

Plus he’s also very difficult to get into the mental space to write, because he’s a legitimate Bad Person, and trying to write characters like him can be difficult.

it’s also a good idea to maintain a healthy fear of the nulls, if only out of respect of their potential for sudden and extreme violence. They’re not as “unpredictable” as the text says, though.

the character who is mostly like me

mmm … actually, I’m gonna go with Kal. this is probably gonna garner some “whaaat? but you HATE him?” 

Yes, I do hate him. but let me list some similarities lmao:

perpetual limp due to a bad ankle and persistent injury that never healed right / properly (partially kept as a constant reminder for a mistake)

short and angry, like all the time

compartmentalize everything and everyone

obsessive about caring for and protecting family, literally does everything for family

extremely secretive, to the point of never telling anyone the full story or full truth, everyone just get bits and pieces that seem complete. no one ever seems to realize this.

self sacrificing to the point of martyrdom, especially for family

these are all pretty negative, but … unlike Kal, I am actually self aware lmao and am working on these things, and have for the most part listened when other people criticize me so that I can continue to work on being better. it’s a daily process, you know, so I don’t hurt the family I care so much about.

Kal starts off terrible, and the writing implies that he might learn from it … but then instead of him learning and growing like everyone needs him to, the narrative instead makes excuses for him, everyone suffers, and Etain dies.

it’s unfortunate bc people like him exist, and you can’t coddle them if you want them to survive life. and yet everyone coddles Kal. Fandom, in general, coddles and makes excuses for abusive men. Full stop.

but like, here’s the thing:

He is a grown man. He is not a child. Don’t treat him like one.

I hate him partially bc the entire fandom excuses his behavior when it is, ultimately, inexcusable. He is not a child. He is a man, who has undertaken a huge group of extremely vulnerable people under his care, and he ultimately hurts them all. Severely. And TBH Kal deserves better than to be coddled and all his boo-boos kissed away by a fandom who says they care about the rest of the clan, but cannot see the sheer world-shattering damage Kal committed on them, regardless of intention. 

You can like a character, and still hold them accountable. Fandom, somehow, seems incapable of this level of nuance, especially if they’re a father and shown as sympathetic in any way.

hottest looks character

Mereel, obviously. lmao

No but like, consider: he dyes his hair (and his skin, and his eyes) and has a full wardrobe for all situations. 

He’s the (Daniel Craig) James Bond of the Grand Army of the Republic.

But I also headcanon Jilka and Besany to be incredibly fashion forward. Besany usually embodying the Career Professional woman, with very sharp, very perfectly tailored outfits that allow no room for nonsense.

Jilka also perfectly tailored, though her wardrobe is potentially more fun, visually, and incredibly flattering in all the right ways — but still very sharp, and very much professional when necessary.

one thing i dislike about my fave character

Mereel, light of my life, sun of my sky, salve of my wounded and broken heart, peace at the eye of my storm …

why are you like this?

lmao. On a more serious note, I can’t outright say I dislike anything about Mereel, but his inability to share what really goes on in his head with … well, anyone. The only time we see a truthful admittance to weakness is that single moment with Etain, when he admits that he’s still human. That he’s not perfect.

Every other time, and I know I say this a lot, but every other time … he deflects any serious conversation with a joke — and usually a joke that the speaker wants to hear (even if they don’t know they want to hear it). He doesn’t let anyone in, not even his brothers, and that’s … got to be a lonely sort of suffering. 

The kind of internalized suffering I’m sure he’s learned from Kal, both in the how to do it, and the reason he does it. bc Kal does internalize a lot of his suffering and doesn’t share it, burying weakness while in the same breath saying that he’s experiencing it and letting it go. He doesn’t, it’s just a different sort of self-delusion and deflection, and Mereel echoes it to a painful degree.

And then, of course, there’s Mereel learning that he needs to do it, bc Kal only accepts a certain kind of visual presence of mental illness and suffering, otherwise the person is “damaged” in some way and will never be “okay” for whatever understanding Kal has given okay. (view, for example, how he sees Ordo vs how he sees Mereel. He sees Mereel as stable, bc Mereel is extroverted, outgoing, and “always positive.” It’s not something intentional, but it’s still damaging, to all parties.)

one thing i like about my hated character

I might hate Kal Skirata, but I also love him. He’s a fantastic character. He is so so so flawed. His flaws make him interesting, and he tries. He tries so hard. He cares so much. He cares too much, even. His dedication and his love for his family are all encompassing, to the point that he can even be blinded to their faults because he loves so strongly.

But that love is a sword. One might even say it’s a triple-edged blade.

Love, as bright and fierce and consuming as it is, does not make someone right. It does not make their actions excusable when it leads to hurt, or even someone dying needlessly. It does not make one’s choices correct.

Love does not excuse abuse. And I really wish fandom would, at the very least, make the attempt to understand that.

a quote or scene that haunts me

Yes, I know how the Kaminoans did it. They used our genes against us, the ones that make us bond with our brothers, make us loyal, make us respect and obey our fathers—that’s what they manipulated to make us more likely to obey orders. They had to remove what made Jango a selfish loner, because that makes a bad infantry soldier, and you can tell from the Alpha ARCs that the Kaminoans weren’t wrong. But there’s one thing I don’t know yet—and that’s how they controlled the aging process. That’s the key. They robbed us of a full life span. But we will not be defeated by time, ner vod.

—ARC Trooper Lieutenant N-7—Mereel—in an encrypted transmission to Captain N-11, Ordo

a death that left me indifferent

mmm, Sev, actually. Like, in the game? I went through the whole grieving process after I finished Republic Commando. 

The way it was written? idk. It did nothing for me.

This probably is an unpopular opinion lmao but honestly, that scene? did not hit me anywhere. it just kinda left a bad taste in my mouth … much like Etain’s scene, except that I was actually pissed off about Etain lmao to the point that I still rant about it bc of how little sense it made.

a character i wish died but didn’t

I mean I could go the obvious route and say Kal, but I actually don’t wish Kal died. I just wish he’d learn from his mistakes and people would point out how he’s hurting his family lmao?

who do I actually wish died? any of the nulls, even if they don’t die die. They’re presented as these entirely Untouchable cast, to the point that no one really expect any of the Nulls to so much as get a paper cut — because how can they? they’re presented as close to perfect (obviously not in the mental illness department, but they do inhabit this space of being invincible).

and for any of them, even temporarily, to die would have had incredible emotional impact — moreso than Etain’s. It would’ve really brought home the threat on all their lives in a way that Etain’s death could never convey. 

but I’m asking nuance of a writer who clearly overwhelmed herself with a cast much larger than she could handle in writing, and who started all these incredible thematic arcs only to abandon them, forgotten, over the course of the series.

my ship that never sailed

I have a lot of ships, tbh, but it’s kinda like … weird? to talk about? as if I expected them to sail and then they just simply didn’t. 

I don’t have any ships that I expected to happen or be recognized and simply didn’t. I mean … Fi read as if closeted, so I was kind of hoping he would maybe realize he was attracted to men, but then of course he was paired off with his caretaker, and my god there are so many consent problems with that.