#but it will help my sanity in the end while attempting to keep this busted ass game functioning

[m0n0lithical]

We have reached the point of 'obsessive game cleaning' where I am sick of sorting through my multiple backups for the savefile I want and have started to organize my save slot #s by categories 🫠

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 7

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.4k

Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m so sorry for the delayed update. Things are happening in my personal life that my writing has incredibly slowed down. 

To that anon who was asking for updates, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were rushing me (in case you weren’t). Sometimes, I just tend to feel so pressured that I easily project that to others. 

Y’all been excited for this. Here you go, a drunk Tsukishima to make up for the slow update. 

AO3 link is on the masterlist in case Tumblr crashes on you from how long this update is. 

Your eyes widen at the current state of Tsukishima. You look around warily, checking if there’s any mutual classmate you know who is around. But with how dim the club is, the attempt to do so is futile.

“Tsukishima…” you protest while prying his hands away from your waist. 

“We’re in public!” You hiss at his behavior, but he’s completely unfazed. His hands keep creeping back at the spot they were rooted at. 

His facial expression doesn’t falter either. He’s still wearing that silly grin that looks nothing like his usual ones. “So? Didn’t you hug me publicly, right in the middle of the Sendai Gym?” he counters with a cocked brow as his elated grin turns to a clever smirk.

Oh God. What has Tsukishima turned into? He’s like one of those guys who hit on you, but the difference is you’re actually flustered by it. 

Even with his hands and gaze glued to you, you turn to the bartender. “How long has he been here?” you shout. “A while now,” the bartender shouts back. 

You glance at Tsukki’s consumed glasses again. It’s only one glass and two shot glasses. How can he be this drunk already? 

You don’t wonder too long before figuring it out. Tsukishima’s definitely a lightweight, shown by his level of intoxication at the moment even though in reality, he hasn’t had much to drink.

Why did he even drink in the first place? He said he doesn’t see the point of parties. Why is he here getting himself hammered? You grimace when you realize that there’s training tomorrow. You’ve scolded members before for such behavior and now they know better than to get wasted when there’s practice the next day.

You did not expect such irresponsibility from Tsukishima, who’s always exhibited exemplary behavior.

“You should go home.” You mean to sound strict, but with his body being a bit too close, your voice falters. 

He cups the back of your head and pulls you so that his lips are ghosting against your ear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he says haughtily.

It’s a very familiar scenario with a very different Tsukishima holding you in place. If he’s his usual self (sober and pissed off at you), you’d be teasing him for coming to this club. Instead, you’re the flustered one as his fingers brush your nape while his breath fans your ear. 

“G-go home, Tsukki,” you stutter as you feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“But why?” His hand on your nape travels down on your spine. “Didn’t you say I was welcome to go here?” The ends of your hair prickle up as he presses the warmth of his lips on your cheek when he pulls away slightly.  

It was almost the same scenario when you first saw him in this very same club - the whispering, the closeness, the incredible urge to feel his mouth on yours. The difference is Tsukishima himself. Unlike before when you two were fighting the pull of the temptation, this time, it’s worse because of his suggestive demeanor. 

“Stop it,” you chastise him with a little bit more conviction.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He withdraws until his lips are only an inch away from yours. 

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before pushing yourself away from him. “Go home, Tsukishima. You have training tomorrow!” you shout to make sure he hears you without leaning close to him. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t understand shit. His tipsy grin is now wiped off, replaced with an  empty, clueless Tsukishima staring at you. You don’t falter though. You continue glaring at him. Luckily, it seems to  sink in his head after a few seconds as he finally stands up.

At the first step he takes, he staggers like a high school student who got drunk for the first time. You start to feel bad for him because he looks like he really is struggling with it while continuing to fiddle with his glass as if that’s the cause of his apparent dizziness.

You position yourself underneath his arm and help him balance himself. 

You groan as you wobble when he rests some of his weight to you. How can you momentarily forget that he’s a professional athlete weighing more than 160 lbs? You’re always surrounded by tall men, and this has made you think that that height is normal, when in reality they can crush you in a snap. 

You realize that Tsukishima is a lot more busted than you thought. You can see he’s actually trying to walk normally but is failing miserably. 

You’ve already talked to most of your friends so you don’t mind helping him get back home. Not that it matters. You’d still be helping him get back home even if you hadn’t. Aside from being one of your players, he’s also your study partner. You can’t just leave him be. 

With a very drunk Tsukishima on one shoulder, you hail a taxi and carefully make him sit inside. Your initial plan is just getting him a ride home, but looking at him now, you’re not sure if that’s the best idea. He might suddenly pass out. Who knows what will happen to him then?

You sigh as you get yourself inside the cab as well. 

You give the driver the address of the Tsukishima’s while he rests his head on top of yours. “This car is moving too much,” he complains with discomfort crisp in his voice. The vehicle is rather stable. It’s the alcohol in his head that’s making things shaky for him. 

Instead of letting him lean on you, you carefully settle his head against the headrest of the car seat so he’s leaning back instead of sideways. You kneel instead of sitting so you can use your hands to keep his head steady because he’s too darn tall. 

After a short while, he lets out a sigh of relief from the stability your hands provided. His features are more relaxed now that his brows are no longer scrunched up and his lips no longer pressed in a strained manner.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit to look at you. He grasps one of your wrists as he gives you a faint smile that doesn’t resemble anything he’s given you, not even the dumb one he did at the club.

It’s a tender and genuine smile that softens up his usually stern face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yes, you’re well aware. You hear it all the time that the word lost any shred of novelty it once had. 

But when Tsukishima says it, your heart skips a beat.  He isn’t flirting with you. He’s looking at you like he’s stating an observation he finds pleasing to him, like you’re a sight he’s truly enjoying to see.

You almost let go of his face from the uncanny feeling on your chest that’s making you uneasy, but you halt yourself when you remember that this guy’s world will spin faster than Jupiter’s rotation if you let him be.

You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down.

“I know,” you respond firmly to hide the fuzzy mess that you are on the inside. 

“If I’m not so fucking plastered, I’d kiss you.”

You suck in a sharp breath upon hearing it, the yearning to do so creeping up fast behind you. 

You can do it yourself. You’re not dizzy. It’d be so easy. His face is already in your grasp anyways. You just have to lean forward a bit and you can easily grant him what both of you want. 

Should you?

It’d just be one of your harmless kisses, right? You’ve done it countless times before. One more shouldn’t hurt. 

“We’re here.”

You’re harshly brought back to sanity by the driver’s cue that you’ve reached his home. You’re thankful for it because you were really about to kiss him even though you’re the one who said that the deal is no more. You would have slapped yourself if your hands aren’t full.

You pay the driver and help Tsukishima get out of the car. 

You get under his one arm again and assist his steps so he doesn’t stumble. Once you reach their doorstep, he gets his keys from his pockets but scuffles trying to insert it in the keyhole. Instead of getting pissed, he laughs sardonically and faces you. 

“Look, y/n. The key is fucking stupid,” he says, completely believing that it’s the key’s fault and is actually snickering at the inanimate piece of metal’s ‘incapability’ to shoot itself where it needs to be. 

You can’t help but laugh. Even at his drunken state, he still roasts things he deems doltish. It’s funnier cause he talks a bit dopey while insulting the innocent key. He’s still failing after a while so you volunteer to do it. 

“I can do it,” he says seriously and on his next attempt, he does get it in. Then he looks at you and smirks proudly. “See?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at how absurd he’s acting, but the grin on your face remains. He is still very much himself. It’s just that his rudeness is comically misplaced. Yet as entertaining as it is to watch, you can feel the strain in your shoulders and upper back already. 

You open the door and hope that a relative is somehow still awake to take Tsukki off your hands. Still no luck for you as you’re greeted with nothing but silence. 

“Where’s your room?” “Upstairs, left.”

Great. Can this get even worse? Your original plan is just getting him a cab. Now you have to personally walk him to his room since he’s hopeless treading on a flat surface. What more on a flight of stairs?

You ask him to close the door and lock it before you head up. “Alright, Tsukki. Let’s get you in bed,” you tell yourself as a motivational push to get the task done. 

You huff every step you take because he really is too heavy for you and you’ve had a long night already. You’ll be sure to reprimand him tomorrow for this.

“Y/n?” 

You lift your head up from wooden steps and see Akiteru at the top end of the stairs.

“Aki-san!” You can’t be more thankful upon his arrival.

He urgently goes to you, stopping a few steps up from you and Tsukki.

“What happened to him?” Akiteru asks concernedly. 

“He’s…” you try to think of a more decent word but you can’t think of any at the moment so you tell it as it is. “He’s drunk,” you admit. 

Akiteru’s expression is even more incredulous than yours was back in the bar. He’s looking at you and Tsukki interchangeably. 

“You... you got him to drink?” 

You don’t know if you’re offended or amused because Akiteru looks like he’s extremely grateful that you caused this to his brother.

“I-uh... no. I found him like this in the club. I think you should take him already,” you suggest. You’re about to lift Tsukki’s arm off of you when you feel him resist. When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you with displeasure. “You said you would get me in bed,” he states.

Is he fucking serious? Hell no. You have no reason to do so when Akiteru is here already. “Aki-san, please,” you implore while glaring at Tsukki. 

“Umm... you heard him, y/n.”

You harshly turn your head at Akiteru from disbelief. When your gaze lands on him, he’s sporting an innocent smile, a stark contrast to knowing that the intention behind it is not so innocent.

“Aki-san?” your voice rises a bit from bewilderment at what he’s insinuating. 

“Why do you call Nii-chan by his name?” Tsukki slurs as he asks. 

“Huh?” You eye Tsukki exasperatedly. You have yet to absorb what Akiteru is implying and Tsukki is already adding up to the initial question mark hanging on your head.

“You just met him and you already call him Aki-san. We’ve been working together for three years, yet you don’t call me Kei. Not even when we ki-”

You cover his mouth and laugh awkwardly and loudly. “Tsukki! What are you talking about?” You make yourself sound clueless as you give him a very subtle glare while smiling, hoping that he gets your warning.

“When you what?” Akiteru prods, his eyes still friendly, but with amusement lurking beneath them.

You form a smile but with Tsukki’s weight and his intoxicatedness that’s causing him to babble nonsense, it comes out distressed.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you persist. “I should really go now. It’s really late, Aki-san. Please,” you press on.

“You can stay,” Tsukki suggests with a faint smirk.

“I agree with Kei. It really is late. We’d be responsible if something happens to you,” he explains kindly, but you know his concern is only second place to what he’s actually thinking. You can tell he’s rooting for you and his younger brother.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Tsukki announces with his voice a bit garbled.

Akiteru laughs at Tsukki’s remark but thwarts it immediately as he eyes you apologetically. “Sorry about my brother,” he whispers with one hand covering his mouth. 

“Just sleep with me in my room.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it does. Your mouth gapes at Tsukki from how he just uttered that inappropriate statement right in front of his older brother. 

You turn to Akiteru defensively. “It’s not what you think.”

Akiteru’s courteous smile doesn’t faze as he says, “I’m not thinking anything, y.n.”

The whole situation makes you want to let go of Tsukki’s arm and jump off the railings of stairs. Then, you’ll wake up in the morning and find that you’ve escaped this entire scenario altogether.

You sigh and wave an imaginary white flag in your head. “I’ll make sure he’s fine,” you say to Akiteru.

You see his eyes light up. Since you and Tsukki are already occupying the narrowness of the stairs, Akiteru can’t go to Tsukki’s other arm to help you. Instead, he goes back up and opens a door on the left.

He keeps it open until you reach what you surmise is Tsukki’s room.

Once you get inside, you hear Akiteru speak, “Thanks for taking care of my brother, y.n.” He closes the door before you can say anything.

Rather than minding Akiteru, you pour your attention on Tsukki, getting him to sit down with his head leaning against a wall.

You feel the instant relief on your shoulders with Tsukki’s weight off them. However, you can’t ease up yet. You have to go to their kitchen and get this guy some water.

You’ll complain later or tomorrow, but for now, you’re going to focus on getting shit done.

You’re about to head out of his room when the door opens itself, causing you to yelp from shock. 

“Sorry,” Akiteru apologizes with a hushed voice. In his hand is a huge bottle of water which he extends to you with congenial fondness. 

“Goodnight,” he says prior to closing the door.

Akiteru is pleasant, but he can’t be more obvious on how he eminently pairs you up with his brother.

You don’t delve into it further as you need to get Tsukki all fixed up. You walk over to where you seated him and make him drink the water Akiteru gave.

You need to make sure he’s not totally hammered when he sleeps. You don’t want him with a hangover tomorrow and skip training when the next match is just a week away. 

He seems in need of the liquid too since he quickly finishes the bottle as soon as he takes it. He clumsily slams the empty bottle on his desk and stands up precariously.

“Woah there. Where are you going?” you ask imperiously.

“Bathroom,” he answers. He tips his head towards you as a corner of his lip shoots up. “Why? Care to join me?”

You want to fight back with a sarcastic ‘No, thank you,’ but he still walks a bit funny so you can’t exactly let him be. You sigh as you take his arm again and aid him as he walks.

“Only until the door,” you patiently answer. 

As much as you want to be a smartass like him, you need the Frog’s starting middle blocker to never miss a training. You can’t have him tripping, falling flat on his face, or accidentally bumping on a wall. 

You let him inside the restroom. Luckily, they have one on this floor so bless your shoulders and upper back. When he comes out, he looks a little less disoriented and his sense of balance is somehow stable with how he’s standing. 

You follow him as he goes back to his room. To your shock, he immediately crawls to bed without changing. ‘Disgusting,’ you comment mentally. He came from outside, a club specifically. How could he not bother changing?

“Aren’t you going to change clothes?” you ask, your grossed out tone clearly heard.

“I’m tired and I’m still slightly dizzy,” he says nonchalantly.

He begins settling down while you’re standing there, tired and dumbfounded. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He glances around his room, probably trying to recall where he put an extra mattress. Only two seconds later, he gives his bed one firm tap as if to tell you that you’re sleeping beside him. 

You close your eyes from exhaustion and exasperation combined. You don’t want to sleep next to Tsukishima but it has been one hell of an evening already that you’ll take what you can get. He’s already sobered up a bit anyway. You’re at ease that he’ll keep his hands to himself.

You walk to his drawers and find a pair of loose clothing he can comfortably sleep in. Then you stride to his bed and give it to him. He looks at the clothes you’re holding then at you.

On a regular day, he wouldn’t dare sit on his bed without changing after spending time outside.. Tonight is the only exception because he truly isn’t up to the task anymore. He’ll just change his sheets tomorrow. 

He only wants to lie in bed and shut his eyes already. But with you handing him a change of clothes, he has no reason to not to do so anymore.

No reason but to get back at you for giving him hell when you got yourself sick and passed out with only him present to take care of you. 

“I told you I’m dizzy,” he says without accepting the clothes you’re offering him. 

“Don’t tell me I have to change your clothes myself.” He can hear you’re about to lose it and it’s spurring him on even more. He hides his smirk and shrugs indifferently, leaving it to you to decide that for yourself.

You palm your face furiously and it’s almost breaking his resolve to keep a steady face. You prove to have a sensible amount of control on your temper as you recover after one excruciating deep breath. He’s not exactly surprised though. You’ve been a manager for three years now and handling male athletes is not exactly a walk in the park if one has temper problems.

You put one knee on his bed as you start tugging his shirt up. “Why did you even drink?” 

 “Why do you care?” He answers the same way you did when he asked why you bother going to parties.

“Because I’m the one taking care of you!” you almost yell as you dress him in a new shirt. When you successfully change his shirt, you glance at his pants then to his eyes. You didn’t have to utter a word to let him know that you don’t plan to change that particular piece of clothing.

He doesn’t falter though. If he tasted hell because he had to undress your top while you were passed out, he couldn’t miss the chance to return the favor.

“So? You didn’t hear shit from me when I had to take care of your sick ass,” he says, pouring salt to the right burn so he can push you to go along with his scheme.

You clench your jaw as you avert your eyes from his.

“You were a real handful, you know that?” he continues on. “Come to think of it. You’ve heard not a single complaint from me about that night. Should I lecture you now?” His lips betray his apathetic facade when a smirk forms on his face. 

You smile at him with utter displeasure but don’t say anything as you start unzipping his pants, your spiteful eyes never leaving his amused ones.

“I’d love it if you help by lifting your sarcastic butt,” you sound distressed as you try to pull down his pants. 

He grips both your hands that are tugging on his waistband. He props himself up a bit, leaning down and closing in on your stunned yet still delightful face.

“Why do you look so surprised? You asked me to help you, right?” he asks with a subdued voice as he tugs his pants down. 

You turn your face away from his and don't answer his question as you continue what he started. His eyes never trail off your features until you successfully take his pants off

With your face still turned away from his, you grab the shorts you took earlier and toss it to his face. “Seems like you’re not dizzy anymore,” you say as you head to his closet. 

For no fucking reason, he’s laughing elatedly. He might not be dizzy anymore but he can still feel the aftermath of the drinks he rushed drinking at the club. Is this why people get drunk? Because even the most trivial things are funny?

No. It’s because he’s drunk. It’s because of how entertaining you look when you’re a flustered mess. Before you looked away, he caught the wild blush on your cheeks, the stir in your eyes, and the way your hands trembled as you undressed him.

Initially, he wanted you to put on the shorts you got for him as well. But he figures he can show you mercy and do this one on his own since he already had his fun seeing you in a flustered state.

You open his closet and pick your own set of fresh clothes to borrow. Without saying anything, you step out of his room and head towards their restroom.

The first thing you do inside is check your reflection and goddamn it--you’re blushing like a teenager about to lose her virginity.

You groan frustratedly as you softly slap your cheek with your free hand. Tsukishima is tipsy and is just messing with you. Why do you have to be so affected? 

You turn the faucet on and hurriedly wash the heat off your face. When you feel like you’ve cooled off, you look up at the mirror to check if you’re no longer a bursting tomato.

You sigh with relief when you see that your face is back to normal. You turn off the faucet and begin changing to Tsukki’s clothes.

As expected, everything is loose. His shirt is almost a dress. Actually, it already is with how it’s draping just above your knees. You had to use your hair tie to knot a portion of his shorts’ waistband for it to not to drop on your ankles. 

It’ll be uncomfortable sleeping with lumped fabric on your hips but you’d prefer that than not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

You neatly fold your clothes and go back to his room. Another wave of relief hits you when you see him lying down with his eyes closed already. His glasses are already off too. Despite the strenuous and outrageous turn of events earlier tonight, you’re actually glad that he’s safe and sleeping soundly. 

Hopefully tomorrow, he’s going to be fine and forget the shit he pulled on you tonight. 

You take a deep breath as you sit on his bed. Fortunately, his bed is wide enough for you to have some decent amount of space away from him. He also has another pillow so you can sleep comfortably with one of your own. You just pray that it won’t be so cold because there is only one blanket.

Oh well. You’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You get his extra pillow and lie down. Once your back hits the soft mattress, your eyes shut close on their own. You feel the weight in your legs and back settle as your body starts to relax. You know that any moment now, you’ll fall asleep so you turn to your side with your back facing Tsukishima. 

You were right. You already feel your consciousness drifting off not long after, only to be disrupted by an arm sliding over your waist.

“What the-”

“My head hurts.” 

Even if Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, you already know how close he is with warm breath fanning your nape. You’d scoot away but you’re already at the edge of his bed.

You harshly remove his arm and face him to give him a not so peaceful piece of your mind. You toss around to face him and when you do, you forget your annoyance as you’re met with a very distressed Tsukishima. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed together in almost a straight line. 

“How bad is it?” You ask as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead. 

“Like someone’s driving a fucking nail on my head,” he spats out with the crease on his brows getting deeper. 

You gently slide one hand under his head and so you can massage his temples with both thumbs, hopefully it’ll soothe him even just a bit. 

Thankfully, the crease on his brows and the tension around his nose and mouth eases up. “Where are your painkillers?” I ask softly. “I’ll go get one for you.”

He opens his eyes, a certain tenderness dancing in his orbs while he stares right onto yours. “Just stay here,” he utters delicately as he gradually slides his arm back to your waist. With a firm but still gentle grip on the small of your back, he draws you closer to him until there’s almost no space between your bodies. 

This is different, way too different than he was earlier. And to be honest, you’d prefer that over this. This… it’s something even you cannot name. 

Your thumbs stop moving on their own accord as he inches his face closer. You almost gasp for air with how heavy and thick it suddenly feels. 

“Uh..,” you trail off without even saying anything. You just thought if you said something, it would break the tension. However, it only made it worse.

“Hmm?”

You seem to be the only one uncomfortable as he’s still gazing intently at you like it’s nothing. 

“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” What the hell did you stutter for? This is just Tsukishima, goddamnit.

“It hurts less when I do.” You’d think he’s joking but there’s no trace of derision anywhere on his face. He removes his hand from your waist only to rest it on your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he says, “I don’t like that I can’t see you clearly right now.” 

It’s too much. 

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode from how fast your heart is pounding. You want to retract your hands away from him, but you can’t move them because having them there makes him feel better. 

Then he looks down on your lips, a knowing look that you’re very much familiar with.

“Tsukki, we can’t do this,” you whisper, causing his eyes to go back on yours. 

“What are we doing anyway?” he asks as if he’s not aware of what he’s stirring in you. 

“You know what,” you insist. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“I don’t. Maybe if we actually do something, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”

You squint at him with disbelief, not buying the innocent act of him not grasping the situation when he’s the one causing it. “We already broke that deal, Tsukki.”

“Then let’s bring it back,” he counters right off the bat. 

You sigh while shaking your head disagreeably. “You’re drunk,” you state plainly, reminding yourself of this fact to rationalize the way he’s behaving, to calm the havoc that he’s inciting in you. 

You put your thumbs back to work and knead his temples again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees as he closes his eyes again. He lets out a reposed sigh, then removes his hand from your neck.

You can now rest easy as the temptation backs away himself. You keep at it, observing his stern features which are getting more lax while you continue massaging him. 

Finally, he does as you want him to do: sleep and keep his hands to himself. 

So why is there a nagging emptiness brimming inside you? You’re not actually disappointed, are you? 

“Tsukki,” you utter his name in hushed tones, hoping that he won’t respond. 

With his eyes still shut, you thought he wouldn’t. Yet, he answers just as softly as you called him. “What?”

You sigh. Why is he still awake? He could’ve been asleep already or just stayed quiet and ignored you. Then you’d be able to sleep soundly knowing that you didn’t do anything that you could possibly regret in the morning. 

You stop encircling your thumbs on his head and rest your palms on his cheeks instead. You lean closer to his face. 

“If you change your mind in the morning, forget this happened,” you whisper before you succumb to the snares of attraction you’ve been running away from since you saw Tsukishima in the bar. 

You capture his lips, gradually easing into it, giving yourself time to retreat before he responds. Apart from you not wanting to, he doesn’t give you much time at all as he puts his hand back on your neck and returns the kiss with a guttural sigh.

He eagerly nips on your lips, ardently moving against them as if he’s been wanting to do this for a while already. You respond with the same passion, pressing yourself closer to feel his body firm against yours. 

He moves his hand from your neck to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as he coaxes your mouth open with the flick of his tongue on your lower lip. 

You immediately yield to him, parting your lips so you can have more of what he’ll give. When he slips his tongue in and grazes yours, you taste the slight tang of alcohol. It’s very subtle, barely there, but it’s causing a buzz in your senses that no other liquor has provided. 

It’s only a kiss, but you know that this is unlike the previous harmless ones you’ve shared with him. 

Your soft moans on his mouth and his lips growing greedier with each nip tells you that this is one very dangerous kiss. 

You drag your hand from his cheek to his chest to push him away, but he suddenly tugs your hair down, giving himself access to the column of your neck. This time, rather than nudging him away, you clutch his shirt tightly, feeling his mouth trail along the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“T-Tsukishima,” you whine as his hand travels down your ass, his huge palm and long fingers tugging on the fabric as he gives one cheek a firm squeeze.

“Hmmm?” he hums on your skin before you feel his tongue swipe down on your collarbone.

Your skin is on fire but you feel like you’re drowning. Everything he’s doing is compelling you to want to go further than this, to let him touch you beneath the clothes you’re wearing, to let him kiss you wherever he pleases.

Tsukishima wants nothing but precisely that. He’d blame the alcohol, but nothing’s more intoxicating than the sound of your whimpers and your body deliciously pressed against his. His clothes hanging loosely on you only adds to his delirium. 

He knows this is going to lead to something incredibly stupid and totally reckless, but stupid and reckless has never felt this delectable. How can he not indulge himself when the promise of your rapture is just within his grasp? 

He just needs to know if you’re willing to cross the obscure boundary of the deal you once had. 

He puts his free hand to use, sliding it underneath the baggy shirt you’re wearing. He carefully skims his hand up, grazing his fingers just below your bra. Meanwhile, his other hand on your bottom goes a bit further down, only for him to slip his hand inside the oversized shorts and feel your almost bare ass.

With his other hand feeling empty, he moves his palm up and kneads one supple bosom. 

“Ah,” you clench his shirt tighter as you mewl from his touch. Even though he can’t see you clearly, your voice and the way your arch your body even closer to him is enough to cause a tent to form in his shorts. 

He withdraws away from your neck and gets back to your lips. With his hand on your behind, he lugs you closer and grinds his erection on your thigh, letting you know how much you affect him, how much he wants you right now. 

Then your body stills along with the quivering of your lips. 

He pulls back to look at you and even with his blurred vision, he can sense that you’re frightened. “What’s wrong?” Just a while ago, you were melting within his embrace. Now, you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I-” Your breath hitches when you speak. “I can’t do this,” you whisper weakly even though you’re the one who instigated the kiss that led to this. 

Although he’s confused about the sudden change of heart, he doesn’t push it. He immediately removes his hands off your delicate parts and puts considerable space between you. 

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to seem so scared,” he tells you with an insipid, yet reassuring tone. 

You are scared, but not of Tsukishima. You’re afraid of yourself, of your own desire that’s starting to get out of control. You know that one more kiss and you’ll totally cave in. 

It shouldn’t be a problem since you know that he wants you just as you want him. The hard thing poking at your thigh is enough proof. 

But what happens if morning comes and he wakes up regretting his inebriated urges? He might not be batshit drunk anymore but alcohol is still running through him. If not, he wouldn’t be openly flirting with you. 

What about you? What will be your excuse if the sun rises and he asks why you went along with his intoxicated whims?

None.

You’ll be held responsible for leading him to dance the devil’s tango when he’s not capable of consenting to it with a straight head. You don’t want that. You don’t want to see disgust and regret splashed on his face in the morning, not when you terribly enjoy his kisses and touch.

So you softly push him away. “I’ll sleep beside you, Tsukishima. That’s all I’ll do,” you say with your head down and palms flat on his chest.

“Okay,” he obliges right after you said it. “Do you want me to turn away from you?”

Your eyes shoot up and meet his somber golden ones. “N-no. It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you stammer as you shift your position so your back is facing him. You take a while before you feel your heartbeat getting steady again as the temptation dwindles down. 

You’re about to close your eyes when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you like this?” he asks, his voice a bit farther than it was a while ago. You can tell that he’s maintaining his distance this time. 

“Just like this,” he reiterates with his hand squeezing your shoulder to let you know that his hand won’t drift anywhere else. 

You shut your eyes with a faint smile on your lips. You place a hand over his and give it a light squeeze as you murmur, “Yeah.” 

Your hand starts to slip down when tonight’s events offer you a last surprise. As your hand glides down while you’re starting to drift off to sleep, he laces his fingers with yours to keep it in place. 

You hum peacefully with a gratified smile fully forming on your lips. 

You allow yourself to have this. 

What harm can come from holding hands with your tipsy blonde middle blocker?

--

You wake up a bit refreshed. However, you can still feel the aftermath of Tsukki’s heavy figure slouched on your shoulder last night, or was it morning already? You try to massage your shoulder but as you move your hand, you feel someone else’s intertwined with it.

You press your lips together to prevent a smile when you realize that you two slept together. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be smiling because of it. It’s just a tiny gesture of reassurance that things are okay between you two despite what almost happened.

You carefully untangle your fingers from him before you sit up. You glance sideways to see if you woke him up. He shuffles a bit but doesn’t seem to have been disturbed. 

You look out the window and see that the sun has barely risen, meaning you haven’t gotten enough sleep. You know it’s no use getting back to sleep since your mind is already fully awake. You wouldn’t dare get out his room but you’re parched and you need to use the restroom. 

You step out of his room and gently closes the door. After you finish using the restroom, you carefully go down their stairs. You take a peek if any of his relatives is up and are relieved when you see that their kitchen is empty. 

You saunter your way to their kitchen, remaining as quiet as you can be while you fix yourself a glass of water. 

“Morning.”

You flinch and almost drop the glass you just finished when you hear the unexpected greeting. You look at the source and see Akiteru, leaning sideways against the fridge with an amicable smile. 

“Oh!” You exhale a huge breath of relief as you put down your glass on the counter. You turn to him to greet him but when you face him, he eyes what you’re wearing. You follow his gaze and realize that you’re wearing Tsukki’s clothes. 

‘It’s not what you think,’ is what you want to say, but you already said that at the stairs. If you repeat it again, you’d seem more defensive than you already were. But how else would you explain yourself?

You look at him with pleading eyes and a weary smile. “I swear, it’s really not what it looks like,” you insist weakly. “I just had nothing to wear,” you add to your defense. Akiteru laughs and waves his hand considerately.

“Don’t worry! I believe you, y/n,” he says with his honest, kind smile. “It’s a bit early for you to be up though,” he remarks. 

“Yeah. My mind is all...” You hover your hands on both sides of your head and shake them while you roll your eyes inanely. 

He chuckles from the antic you didn’t even realize you did. “Wanna chat for a bit? Since you’re all,” he imitates what you did with your head but quelled and contained. 

You smile from how pleasant he is despite teasing you so much for taking care of his brother. “Sure,” you answer kindly. 

He walks towards their dining table and offers you a seat. You follow curtly and sit across him. He regards you decorously, making you feel at ease even though he’s practically a stranger.

“I have to ask, y/n. There’s really nothing between you and Kei?” he asks genuinely. You can tell that he’s looking out for his younger brother, hence the straightforward question. 

You shake your head with a courteous smile. “Nothing. I don’t know if you know, Aki-san, but I’m also his manager.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re the Sendai Frogs’ manager?”

He’s seen Kei’s games but didn’t really have the chance to meet those who stayed on the bench. In one game he has watched, he heard some people beside him saying how blessed the Frogs are for having a ‘hot’ pair of coach and manager. Although he glanced very briefly because of his curiosity, he didn’t really see much of said pair for he was too far away in the stands. You beam proudly at him as you nod, confirming that the other half of the duo is indeed as lovely as the rumors he heard. “For three years now.”

Akiteru scans your face and can’t help but feel like he’s misjudged you a bit. He thought you’re a university student who likes going out and enjoys the most out of college life. He didn’t think you’d be working as a manager for a team. “I was just making sure he got home okay because we need him for practice. The next game is already next week.”

“Isn’t it tough to be his manager?” he asks, curious about what you think of Kei as an athlete. 

“Not really. I like everyone in the team. To be honest though, he was a real pain in the a-” you cut yourself off and clear your throat. You must have realized that you’re talking to him, Kei’s older brother. Although, he wouldn’t really mind if you continue what you were about to say. It amuses him actually. 

“What I mean to say was he was a bit difficult at first. But over time, I got used to him and actually found him nice to have in the team. He’s very smart and very disciplined. Even if he’s apathetic and sarcastic at times, I know he loves being part of the Frogs,” you explain.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says truthfully as he sees that you’re fond of Kei when your eyes shimmer a bit brighter when you talk about his brother. 

“Sometimes people misunderstand him because he acts detached. The truth is when he starts caring about something, he cares deeply. That’s why he has that cool, uncaring facade,” he adds as he stares at the surface of the table. 

When he raises his gaze to you, you look a bit mystified. 

“I’m sorry! I rambled a bit there, didn’t I?” he laughs tensely. 

You smile graciously and wave your palms. “No! It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure why you’re telling me this,” you admit with an apprehensive simper. 

He grins warmheartedly. “I just felt like sharing,” he answers even though the real reason is because he’s convinced his brother likes you too and you might need to know that aspect of him.

Kei wouldn’t have allowed you to take him home no matter how drunk he is if he isn’t comfortable with you. The entertaining exchange you three had on the stairs was another clue. Lastly, Kei let you sleep in his room and you’re even wearing his clothes.

“Has he always been like that?” you ask. 

“Not really,” his smile fades, for he knows that he’s a big factor why Kei is extremely apprehensive of getting too passionate about something. He brushes it off and continues, “But he’s always had that sarcasm ever since he was little.”

You giggle at his answer. “Why am I not surprised?” you say amusedly before your eyes wander to the window. 

“The sun’s up,” you announce softly. “I should go back to Tsukki’s room. I need to change and leave soon so I can attend my earliest class.”

“Of course! Thanks for the small chat, y/n,” he says dearly.

“Any time, Aki-san,” you respond buoyantly then stand up. Instead of going back to Kei’s room, you head to the fridge and get a bottle of water. 

“He’ll probably be thirsty as f… hell when he wakes up,” you explain, receptive of Kei’s condition even though his drunk brother must have given you a hard time last night. You bow thoughtfully then head up. 

He watches you get back upstairs, careful not to make so much sound from your steps since it’s still early. Then he walks to the kitchen to get him some coffee while thinking how well you suit his younger brother. Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn @venomouscreatures @lucyrocks86 @shawtiie @honestlysora​

[moomingitz]

It’s... interesting looking back at the Jak and Daxter series, because when the second and third games first came out during my edgy teen years my mindset for them was mostly, “OMG Jak is now a buff and rugged edgy boi, he’s saying curse words, and has a literal edgy dark side to him. And Daxter is a big playboi who doesn’t hide his love for bewbs. Jak and Daxter is no longer for babies but for mature big kids like me!”

But looking at the series now; Holy shit, Jak has had it rough. Where do I even begin? This is going to be long, so get comfortable:

First, Jak was ripped away from his father at a very young age due to an insurrection. Then he was kidnapped by one of the people who was responsible for it, with the intention of being used to awaken some ancient Precursor technology, but luckily he somehow escaped and then was taken in by a rebellion group.

Then he was sent back into the past to be raised by Samos, the Sage of Green Eco. While that was a good thing for Jak, since he was able to grow up in a loving and supportive environment, what happened to him before that is something that would still be traumatic to a little kid especially in the form of something like Separation Anxiety. While this goes into headcanon territory, I can’t help but wonder if that had a lot to do with why Jak was the mostly silent type before the events of the second game. But thankfully he was lucky to grow up with two best friends like Daxter and Keira.

Surely you think that would be the end of misfortune Jak would have to go through. Wrong!

Fast forward to where he’s now 15 years old and everything seems all good and exciting after he and Daxter saved the world from Dee Snider and his twisted sister. Sure they didn’t accomplish what they set out for by turning Daxter back into his old humanoid self, by Daxter is content staying as a furry anyway. At least they saved the world and found some ancient Precursor technology. But hold up! Turns out it was some kind of rift gate and the moment they activated it some giant bug monster pops out and they’re all separated and thrown into some new place they’ve never seen.

Literal seconds later, before Jak or Daxter have any time to react or process what exactly just happened and where they ended up, Jak is immediately arrested and knocked unconscious, despite doing nothing wrong. He’s then tortured and experimented on for the next two years, in hopes of turning him into a living weapon by pumping Dark Eco into him. Keep in mind Jak was only 15-16 years old during those nightmarish two years of his life. But his BFF Daxter never gave up looking for him and eventually rescued Jak.

Upon busting out Jak has no damn idea where exactly he is, and when he does it turns out him and Daxter are now in a totalitarian, police state of a hellhole where never ending propaganda is blared everywhere you go, and where Jak’s only crime is just existing. Oh, and there’s currently an ongoing war between this police state regime ruling the city and some species called Metal Heads, so the territory outside the city is near inhospitable. So just simply leaving Haven City isn’t really an option. It’s either deal with the Krimson Gaurd who will get on you for just sneezing in the wrong direction, or claw your way for survival outside the city walls.

Until finding Samos and Kiera much later, Daxter is the only familiar and welcoming face Jak still had until then(the only exception being Sig in the “welcoming face” department).

Oh, and it turns out those Dark Eco experiments gave JAk some dark Hulk like form that he has trouble controlling(at least that’s what the game tells us). Oh, and they eventually learn that this shithole place they found themselves in is actually their home 500 years into the future. Oh, and it turns that this little kid they’ve been having to protect from both the Krimson Guard and the Metal Head army is actually Jak’s younger self.

Despite all that, the rebellion group and many of the criminals they had to work with eventually warm up and even become their friends, the authoritarian regime eventually crumbles, and they kill the Metal Head leader. Even though Jak doesn’t go back to his childhood home in the past, Keira, Samos, and Daxter choose to stay with him in the future, so he’s definitely not alone in the end. Happy ending earned, and that should be the end of all the bad stuff to happen in Jak’s life, right?...

Of course that wouldn’t be the end of bad traumatic shit to happen to Jak!

Right after the events of the second game, Jak is not only blamed for the fallout of the Praxis regime falling and the Metal Head army’s demise, but he’s outright banished to the Wasteland, no thanks to some weasely council member, Veger.

But ya boi Daxter snuck out to join Jak in his exile, so at least Jak still has his best friend with him. Jak now has to survive in a Mad Max esque land after proving himself worthy to Damas, the leader of some refuge village. But it’s kind of good because he slowly gets on this guy’s good graces.

Oh, but later on it turns out this Damas guy is actually the very father Jak was forcibly separated from during his very early childhood. But, Jak only figured that out just as Damas was dying, and he didn’t have a chance to tell Damas that he was his son that’s he’s been wanting to find for years.

It also turns out this Veger douchebag was one of the people aside from Baron Praxis who was responsible for Jak being separated from Dadmas, and was the guy who kidnapped him in an attempt use him to obtain that ancient Precursor technology.

Of course everything works out in the end. But yeah... You see what I mean? Jak was put through the wringer during the events of this whole trilogy! He's done nothing wrong! Yet starting from a very young age he’s either been targeted or dragged into other’s messes for just existing, or for something he had no choice to do in order to survive. The only real thing he did wrong was dragging Daxter over to Misty Island, which led to him being accidentally transformed into an ottsel in the first place. But the events of the first games was all a lighthearted adventure anyway. Aside from that it’s been one unfortunate or traumatic event after another for Jak.

When letting everything Jak went through really sink in, there’s guaranteed trauma and the resulting PTSD this poor guy is going to have to address or else it will inevitably manifest itself in some way later on. Acting gruff and blase' will only work for so long. I know some people get tired with pieces of fiction being compared to Steven Universe, but Steven’s eventual mental breakdown seriously came to mind. And some people will say, “It’s just a vidya game, stop thinking too much into it.”, but there was a conscious decision to take this series into a more dark and mature direction after the first game. So, it’s a bit hard not to think about more possible unpleasant implications based on what happened in the sequels, especially when looking at the events of the games through the lenses of today.

Taking all of this into consideration is also why I think Daxter is seriously the “MVP” of the series.

Daxter grew up being Jak’s best friend, which I’m sure helped Jak a lot after being separated from his father and taken to a literal place in time completely different and unfamiliar to him. I’m very sure his time growing up in Sandover Village and hanging out with Daxter was the best period of Jak’s life. Even after Jak dragged him to Misty Island, accidentally causing him to be transformed into an ottsel, and sacrificing his chance to be turned back to normal in order to save the world, Daxter showed no hard feelings towards Jak and he even learns to like being an ottsel.

He spent two years trying to find out where Jak was being held prisoner in Haven City, and infiltrated the place once he did and helped Jak escape.

And despite not having any fingers pointed towards him for the fallout after the events of the second game, Daxter still chooses to join Jak in exile in the Wasteland.

Daxter has never shown any ill will towards Jak despite him being the one responsible for being turned into an ottsel, and he’s never really abandoned him even when he is given many chances to or a way to get himself out of really bad situations. Despite everything, Daxter is still the same quippy, upbeat dork of a friend Jak has grown up with.

I really believe Daxter helped a lot with keeping Jak’s sanity intact during all of the hell he was put through and beyond. If there was a guaranteed way for someone to sign their own death warrant with Jak, I think harming or outright killing Daxter would be it.

[kali-fullofwordsnthoughts]

I’m obsessed with Edward Nygma’s psyche

So here's a short essay about him!

So season 1 Ed is just his 'normal' self. It isn't until after the death of Officer Dougherty that his psychosis starts to show. At the end of the season, you can see him beginning to splinter when he's speaking and answering himself (basically breaking down) over being confronted with Kristen's suspicion and the idea he'll be discovered. 

Season 2: The Riddler persona begins to take shape in the form of Ed's auditory and visual hallucinations. Riddler is initially focused on obtaining Kristen and enjoys prodding and teasing Ed about his unrequited feelings. When he finally gives in and follows Riddler's suggestion, he wins the date and eventually the girl. Kristen's subsequent death only serves to unravel his precarious mental state. The murder of Dougherty started the splintering and the murder of Kristen facilitated his break with sanity. In order to deal with the trauma of what he'd accidentally done, his mind sunk deeper into insanity.

Here is where the Riddler appears in a 'realer' context. It's the first time he's physically taken control of their body. It's also the first time his appearance differs from Ed's (other than his not wearing glasses, maybe Ed's ideal version of himself has perfect vision). Before Kristen's death, when he was just a 'hallucination', Riddler's imagined outfit was always the same as Ed's. Now though, Ed is sweaty and disheveled and Riddler is stylish and put together. They both wear a blue and green checkered blazer but Ed's dress shirt underneath is white with blue lines and Riddler's is green and black. (Symbolizing their opposite natures.) Riddler stays hovering over Ed, provoking him into further madness with the hunt to recover Kristen's body, until Ed gives in and accepts his new altered mind. You see Ed and Riddler 'fuse' (in a way) and it's this acceptance, this coming together, that creates the version of Riddler most famous in Gotham. For the second half of season 2, Nygma is enjoying his new 'clarity' by engaging in some casual murder and a frame up until he's tripped up and sent to Arkham.

In season 3, there is zero mention of Nygma's dual personality. He is still singular and with the time break between season 2 and 3, I think he's become more comfortable in his united self. He is not marked with the paranoia and self destructive tendencies of the prior season. In fact, I'd argue Nygma is at his most powerful and competent this season just in terms of all that he accomplishes (stealing back the election, the Butch/Red Hood frame up, the collaboration with Barbara, Oswald's attempted murder, the hunt for the Court of Owls). Nygma's deadly this whole season but he's undone by Oswald in the end. 

Season 4: Nygma emerges after six months on ice and his brain is essentially 'factory reset' so he's back to being Ed. He's without the confidence and competence of the Riddler so he protects himself with Grundy and allies himself with Lee. Eventually, with his feelings for her growing, Riddler reappears for his usual round of malevolent teasing with a new touch of homicidal rage. It's never stated why exactly Riddler wants to kill Lee but here's my theory.

Riddler was focused on getting Kristen because she was essentially 'easy' in his eyes. A quiet, polite woman with a history of abusive relationships would be fairly easy to control. Lee is a cat of a different color. She's outspoken, confident, opinionated and not easily scared. This is pretty clear to Riddler in S3 when Lee decks him in the face upon his return to the GCPD. Unlike Kristen, she is not a woman who can be pushed around and I think he sees this and hates her for it. Especially when she starts getting close to Ed, trying to instill in him his own confidence and self esteem. Riddler initially sees her as a threat.

But back to the events of S4: Riddler's torment continues to fray Ed's brain, pushing him further and further towards the edge of the abyss. It's Riddler who convinces Ed to commit himself to Arkham under the guise of protecting Lee from Riddler but we know his true intentions are to get near to Oswald and bust him out.

When Oswald speaks his name, Riddler's back in the driver's seat. There's no fusing this time, no Nygma, just Riddler fully in control for the first time. Now grateful to Oswald for 'freeing' him, his homicidal urges have diminished and he's only interested in using his genius to help Oswald best Sophia. As we all know, it's Lee who dispatches the would be Queenpin. We don't get to see Riddler's reaction to this news but I imagine he would be irritated by Lee proving him wrong since in their first conversation, he derides her, saying she's 'all talk' and no action. I could go on about their relationship because I'm Nygmakins trash but I'll keep to the focus of this post.

Riddler stays in control for the latter half of S4. As his feelings for Lee begin to morph, we see Ed in the opposing role while Riddler hallucinates him. It appears whoever's driving is inevitably going to be annoyed by their passenger because this is the first and only time the audience sees Ed and Riddler's typical roles reversed. 

S5: So Riddler is still the driver - Or Is He? He attributes his blackouts to Ed hijacking the body while Riddler sleeps but it's eventually learned that the blackouts are due to Nyssa/Strange's implanted mind control devices. We think we're following Riddler this season but what if he's Nygma, like in S3? It seems likely due to his competence (building the submarine, discovering the truth about Haven, killing Mr. Scarface) and his bravery (joining the GCPD against the military) that the splintered parts of his mind are actually whole. Though he maintains that he is not Ed, I'm not so sure since 'Ed' doesn't appear a single time all season. No, I think the final form of Ed Nygma is a singular man whose brain has deteriorated in some parts to continually imagining this secondary self but as usual, it's just Ed talking to himself.

[fishmongeringstudies]

eight: if time can't heal it and love can't save it and hope won't keep you alive anymore

it turns out the ceiling light in my room was kind of busted. for three months i thought light fixtures in america were just Like That but looking at this one, right now, i realize light fixtures are supposed to be Like This, by which i mean bright enough to see your hands under, by which i mean bright enough to illuminate someone's eyes and fifteen gold earrings and teeth. the teeth are important. though if they aren't laughing very much i guess it won't matter.

lately i've been telling myself the same narrative over and over again in a grim attempt to retain my sanity. it goes like this: dear me, i say while punching a wall like a well-muscled thirty-something year old white male starring in a hollywood film in which his wife runs away with another man and he's heartbroken and super hung up over it but mainly disappointed to find that instant noodles don't taste as good without soft-boiled eggs in them. dear me, i repeat for dramatic effect. then i say it thirty more times, really fast, like bloody mary in your bathroom mirror on steroids.

dear bloody, bloody me. are you listening? so i know things aren't going so great right now and i know you struggle to walk down this hallway without thinking about someone's shadow on the wall and i know the last two months have been so awful you sleep in two hour bursts now like batman on a three week stakeout, like someone who can't afford to take their eyes off the door, but one day you're going to have the best fucking story to tell at dinner parties, and everyone's going to be mesmerized because 1) you're really good at telling stories that are so fucked up they're funny and 2) you're really hot and this story is so fucked up it's funny and you're always going to be hot so they're all going to fall in love with you and you're going to break all their hearts in alphabetical order and it's going to be great.

dear me: i know you're miserable.

i know how i've set this up. you're leaning forward in your seat now. we're at the dinner party i talked about in march, april, may. you're in a tux or a dress with a ruffled collar and i'm talking about how my first semester of college in america was a joke, and you look super hot and i look super hot and everyone looks super hot because all my friends are hot and funny and good at telling stories, but right before you can ask me what i mean by a joke (was it a good joke? a bad joke? did anyone get hurt?), i put my glass on the table and wander off into the crowd.

that is to say: it is not the time yet to tell The Story. but we can talk about the aftermath.

this room looks out over the other side of the building. it has a view of the greenhouse, partially obscured by a large tree with green, heart-shaped leaves. the bedframe is situated at such a ridiculous height that i can sit underneath it without hitting my head, and there's blu tack stuck to the walls, the shadow of spring, old signs of life. one of the drawers in the dresser is crooked. there's a table light that doesn't work. there are water rings on the table.

during the last leg of finals week i dragged myself out of my room for dinner because i refused to sit at my desk and be sad on a friday evening, even though the alternative was to sit in one of those white lawn chairs on the grass and be sad under a slate-gray sky, and halfway through the bit where the protagonist accidentally gets locked inside the room where he's being served a three-course meal and the staff tell him to punch a hole in the wall to get out and he's like i can't do that, i can't break this nice-looking wall and then he breaks the nice-looking wall, when the day was getting late enough that the sky was starting to look less slate-gray and more like a black eye, someone came up to me with a rolled-up yoga mat slung over one shoulder and a camera in her hands. 'i need to shoot something for a final project due tomorrow,' she said. 'can i borrow your hands?'

even the cornered mouse has broken someone's nose before. paintings on cave walls were made by people with skin just like ours. when you feel like you've been backed into a corner and you have nothing and will never have anything ever again, remember this: you are part of someone's spring 2021 final project. you with your super fucked up fingers and your book about the guy who, after punching himself out of that wall, went home with half a rewritten manuscript and met his old lover who, instead of getting married, realized he had followed the wrong person home and had thus taken the necessary steps to rectify his mistake. i am describing the final beats of andrew greer's less. but no conclusion is worth much without a beginning.

where does this story begin? was it that snowed-in morning in washington dc when i stepped off the plane feeling like i'd left half of my heart in the seat pocket? was it the long car ride to school, leaving muffin-crumbs all over the upholstery, the cold wind in my face and the radio blaring through the soft, serrated static? was it that first evening in the half-lit hallway?

it's hard to identify the start of a nightmare. fear has a tendency to reach backwards in time with painted nails and skin, and strangle your past selves so as to prevent the re-introduction of light. this part i won't tell at the dinner party, so i can tell you. in my first semester of college in america i made the wrong friend a few times. one of them was really, really wrong.

but it's never too late to call quits. walk off the set. get in your car. go home. and if you need to, if home becomes homicide, ask for help. the world isn't all mouse-traps and misery. some people want you to flourish. i know it's a hard idea to wrap your head around. you're sitting across from me in a mcdonald's with your metal straw sticking out of your mouth and you're frowning at me. you think i'm full of shit.

it's true though. one day i'll drive you to a dinner party and i'll tell you about my personal sleep paralysis demon, circa 2021, and you'll be mesmerized because i'm good at telling fucked up stories in a way that makes people laugh and my voice will be really hot so everyone will be super bothered by 1) how fucked up this guy is and 2) my really hot voice and then the story will end and i'll smile in the half-light and end with my signature line about how first impressions are all wrong and you should never trust a stranger who says they want the best for you and also people who talk to you in bathrooms are not doing okay and you should stay away from them. and then i'll say but this lady was really nice, and my friends stayed mad when i got too tired to be anything but miserable, and i nicknamed him richard the slut after richard from the secret history by donna tartt, which i was rereading at the time, and one time someone said 'i'll never be able to look at him without thinking of 'richard the slut' again' and i laughed so hard i punctured a lung, and have i mentioned i have really funny friends? you'll say no. i'll say it again. i have really funny friends. you're a really funny friend.

today i pour strawberry-lime kool aid into two teacups and we reminisce about the good old days, when we thought everyone had a sense of basic human decency.

maybe i'll sleep with the light on tonight. i mean look at it. it's such a nice light.

05.28.21

[sxypigeon]

Chapter 20 - Bolin tries to write a screen play and everyone has a bad day

Book 5 Absolution (a mostly canon korrasami story)

Things in the refugee camps have gone downhill, Korra checks on Kuvira, and Asami tries not to murder Varrik.

Chapters  1,  19

---

The scene: A dusty Earth Kingdom village on the edge of the Si Wong Desert - a sleepy tourist town in its off season at dusk.

Enter: Ting-Ting in disguise wearing sandbender wraps and clothes, looking for his informant.  He walks down a side street and into the shadiest tavern, through the torn sheet acting as a door.  The interior is crowded and smokey, just the way Ting-Ting likes it.  He approaches the bar and says to the bartender -

“Bolin!”

Said earth bender turned from the window of the airship he’d been vacantly staring out of to his brother.  “What, I’m here - yes! . . . Um, could you repeat that in case I missed everything you just said?”

Mako sighed and rolled his eyes from his seat opposite him, next to Jeong.  “I asked you if you enjoyed your time with Opal, but judging by the look you just had, I guess I don’t need an answer.”

Bolin frowned at the pair of them as they shared a smug smile.  “Of course I did, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about.  I have this idea for a mover I’m working on-”

“Still?” Mako asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah.  What with working on uniting the Earth Kingdom and then saving Republic City, I haven’t had a whole lot of time to work on it.”

“What’s it about?” Jeong asked with interest.

“Oh, here we go,” Mako muttered with a small exasperated grin.

A huge grin lit up Bolin’s face.  “It’s about an ex-United Forces operative named Ting-Ting who’s on the trail of his kidnapped love Ivy.  His arch-nemesis Dr. Razor took her as revenge for Ting-Ting’s last mission with the United Forces to shut down his illegal laboratory where he forced spirits and thugs to merge and become his minions.  Ting-Ting’s research leads him to the edge of the Si Wong Desert where his former partner, Lee, is undercover trying to bust a smuggling ring among the sandbenders.  All clues point to Dr. Razor using the lost city of Sobata in the middle of the desert as his base and the center of the sandbender’s smuggling operation.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information.  Do you think people will be able to follow along with the plot?”

“Sure, I mean, maybe there’ll have to be a voiceover explaining some of the finer details, but I think-”

“We’re here,” Mako interrupted.  

Jeong smiled and shrugged, “Next time.”

“Yeah,” Bolin muttered, “maybe by then I’ll have a bit more of the plot worked out and not just the backstory.”

---

“What do you mean you took over an Earth Empire reeducation camp?  Where are you?!”

Kuvira sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes.  The avatar, as usual, had chosen an inopportune time to appear.  “Reeducation Camp 11, just east of the mountains and Fort Senlin.”  She paused to yawn.  “I helped the prisoners overthrow their guards and we currently control the camp and it seems like the Empire forces are unaware.  Was that all - can I go back to sleep?  It’s been a long two days.”

The spectral form of the avatar glared at her for a moment before worry won out over anger.  “What’s your plan for the camp?  Are you going to keep control of it or shut it down?  I don’t think the prisoners will want to stay long if they have the option of leaving.”

She is the wettest blanket.  No appreciation for taking over a camp singlehandedly, I see.  “We’re working on a way to send some of the prisoners by boat to Republic City, others want to stay in the area and fight the Empire locally and reunite with their families,” Kuvira muttered through a yawn.  “Seriously, I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep in the last two days.  Let’s hurry this up.”

“Do you need back up or me to help in any way?”

“Other than going away and letting me sleep?”  Kuvira ignored another glare.  “Send a ship to meet the boat in three days.”

“What about the guards?”

“What about them?”

“Are they dead or your prisoners?  Do they need to be moved?”

“No one has died per your orders,” she sighed.  “I was going to destroy all of the camp except the cells and leave a few days of food.  Someone will investigate if radio-silence goes more than forty-eight hours.”

“Okay, what’s after this?”

I’m working on that, but your pestering isn’t helping.  Kuvira was quickly losing what little patience she had left.  “If all of this works?  Who knows, maybe I’ll open a tea shop in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se and retire.”

Korra looked ready to explode.  “I’m trying to help you!  We both want the same thing!  I can’t do anything for you if you don’t let me in on what you’re thinking.”

“And I’m telling you, right now, what I’m thinking about is sleep.  Now kindly disappear since that seems to be something you’re good at.”

---

This was a mistake.  Why did I ever agree to this?  This was one of the most important buildings in Asami’s entire company . . . and she was letting a known swindler and thief in through the front door.

“You know, I came up with something like this in a dream eighteen months ago,” Varrik said thoughtfully while passing an airplane large enough to hold two dozen people.

There is no plausible way this will end any way, but in disaster.  “As a reminder, Varrik, everything in this building and in or around the surrounding complex is off limits to you and Zhu Li.  These are trade secr-”

“Yeah, yeah.  Zhu Li, did you remember to pack the pumice scrub?  You know how bad my calluses get.” 

Asami gritted her teeth, but maintained a smile for her employee leading the tour.  He will steal at least one of my R&D designs.  He’ll steal it, copyright it, and then counter sue me when I try to take him to court over it.

Varrik wildly flung his arm in the direction of his wife’s head and pointed, “Hey, is that the break room?  Does it have a full kitchen?  Top quality genius requires expertly prepared, well-balanced meals.

He’s going to drive me insane and I’m going to kill him . . . then I’ll go to prison and never see Korra again . . . or I could go on the run and maybe Korra could come with me . . . as long as I don’t have to live in the sewers again.

The group came to a stop just inside the break room while Varrik tested the water pressure and temperature coming out of the taps in the kitchenette.  The tour guide, the head of the research building, approached her with a calm smile born from years of dealing with eccentric researchers. “Will there be anything else, Miss Sato?” 

“No, thank you, Mr. Taka.  That will be all,” she replied.  She waited for him to leave before waving her guests over and addressing them.  “I cannot emphasize this enough: everything you see here falls under the heading Trade Secret and cannot be copied or reproduced in any form-”

Varrik rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Asami’s shoulders.  “What are you, a broken record?.  I remember the forms your lawyer made us sign.  She read them all out loud - it nearly put me to sleep.”

“You can never be too careful,” Asami said with a forced smile.  Remember to breathe.  Maiming him won’t make this easier . . . or will it?  “Would you like some time to settle in or-”

“Heck no!  Let’s get straight to business!”  He stepped away, with a hand behind his back and a hand in the air, counting off what he needed on his fingers.  We’re going to need three heavy-duty electro-magnets, five industrial spools of thirty gauge copper wire, multiple sheets of pure platinum ranging from 0.25mm thickness to 5mm, and a pot of black tea every fifty-two minutes.”

Asami attempted to unclench her jaw before answering.  “Zhu Li warned - informed me of what we’d need.  It’s all set up in the lab.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?!  Zhu Li, do the thing!”

Asami watched the newlyweds practically run toward the ballistic R&D laboratory hopelessly.  Maybe everything will go fine . . . and maybe the Earth Empire will spontaneously surrender and give up their super weapons . . . and just maybe I’ll come out of this with my sanity intact.

---

“Is it just me or do these people not seem happy to see us?”  Bolin asked

Mako kept his head on a swivel.  Everyone on their path hurried away as they approached.  “They do not.”

“I don’t like this,” Jeong whispered.  “Something must have happened while we were away.”  She led the group down the dirt path between the rows of tents at a brisk pace.  “Dad!  What’s going on?  What-”

Jeong was stopped in front of her family's tent when the boys caught up to her.  The stricken look on the man’s face told them nearly all of the story.

Mako stepped beside the silent young woman and addressed her father gently, “What happened, sir?”

He breathed deeply and squared his shoulder, trying to hold his emotions in check.  “My son . . . and at least two other members of the neighborhood watch have been abducted.”

“No,” Bolin muttered hopelessly behind Mako.

“Did someone see any of this take place?  Are you sure they’re being held against their will?” Mako asked as he took out his notepad.

“Letters were sent to the families . . . delivered by young orphans we’ve seen with Triple Threat members.”

“This is my fault,” Jeong muttered in shock to herself.  “I stole that weapon.  I set up the watch.  I tried to drive the Triple Threats out of the area-”

“No!  You helped your neighbors!” Bolin insisted.  “Everything you did was to make everyone safer.  We’re going to get everyone back and bring the Triple Threats to justice!”

“Assigning blame isn’t going to help the situation,” Mako cut in, mostly to prevent Bolin from making more promises he wasn’t sure they could keep.  “May I see the letter you received?  Jeong, I need you to stay with your family while Bolin and I look into this.”

Perhaps as a sign of how distraught she was, Jeong simply nodded and headed into the tent.  Her father sighed sadly once she was inside.  “She’s tried so hard to help.  Here, find the bastards and bring my son home . . . please.”

Mako met his eyes and nodded as he took the letter.  “We’ll do everything in our power, sir.  I’ll let you know when I’ve learned anything.”  He grabbed Bolin by the arm and marched them back toward the airship they arrived on.

“Wait, aren’t we going to collect evidence and question the neighbors or stake out a . . .a tent or something?” Bolin asked.

Mako kept his face neutral.  “The two of us can’t take on an entire gang by ourselves.  We’re going to need back up.  There’s a radio in the airship.”

“Oh, right.  We can call for backup?”

“I hope so,” Mako muttered to himself.  If there is any . . .

---

Thanks for reading!

[secret-engima]

ARCHER. A WARPTASTIC LC ARCHER. WITH A TWIN SKILLED IN SHORT STABBY THINGS. THEY CAN BOTH USE THE ARROWS- ALL OF THEM- AS WARP POINTS. So you think they missed you? Think again! You've just got knifed in the ribs from behind. Pinned the archer? Syke! Now on the other end of the battlefield. Up a tree. Laughing at you. Who needs a gun? On unrelated note, are my last asks still there? Or did tumblr sneak back in and have a snack?

...

........!!!!

NEW AU NEW AU NEW AU NEW AU. RAMBLE FICLET INBOUND.

...

-It starts with reports of a very strange daemon in the area, one that kept attacking Hunters only to retreat the moment they started to retaliate, almost like it was trying to lure them in a specific direction, or to guard something. Some Hunters had attempted to give pursuit, only to pull back the longer the chase went on, wary of walking right into a daemon nest. The daemon would then double back and harass them all the way out of the area, as if trying to incite the chase again. While at first Hunters just avoided the area, as the need for supplies and fast travel routes increased, more and more had to deal with the strange daemon, some nearly dying when the thing’s harassment hit a vulnerable area or its screaming attracted other daemons down on the Hunter’s head.

-There is no time to dedicate an entire party of Hunters to deal with the daemon, but something has to be done.

-Gladiolus takes the Hunt. Eager for any excuse to get out of Lestallum and its grim atmosphere, the ever increasing depression that comes from not having seen the sun in three long years. That comes from their only hope, the Chosen King (Noctis, his brother, his king, the king he FAILED) being missing with no sign of return.

-He does not expect this to be anything other than a Hunt for a particularly wacky daemon. It’s a three day trek on foot from Lestallum, out near one of the old, now thoroughly abandoned tiny burgs that had dotted the landscape. They don’t have any gas to waste for his trip, so he hoofs it there, sleeping on Havens and fighting his way through the ever increasing number of daemons that have figured out the day-night cycle is well and truly busted. He finds the area marked on his map and starts stomping through, making no real effort to be stealthy, but not enough to be noisy either.

-Sure enough. The daemon finds him. It springs down from a cluster of rocks, screaming and striking with long legs and sticky webs and Astrals does Gladiolus hate Arachne. Even if this one doesn’t have an entire brood of tiny minions to help it, it’s fast and it definitely wants his attention. He lashes out and scores a minor hit, nothing nearly serious enough to bring it down, and it turns and flees, just like the reports said.

-Gladiolus gives chase, and the longer he chases, the more convinced he is that he’s being led somewhere. It stays just far enough ahead to make attacking pointless, but always close enough he has a chance of catching up. He can SEE IT looking over its shoulder, making sure he’s following, sometimes throwing webbing at him like he’s an aggressive beast to antagonize into maintaining the chase.

-If this turns out to be a giant daemon nest trap, some kind of new tactic from the monsters, and he dies from it, Ignis and Prompto are going to be SO ticked at him.

-Gladiolus starts to slow down as caution wins over the desire to just get the Hunt over with, and the Arachne starts harassing him with increased vigor until it.

-Stops.

-It twists around to look in the direction it’s been going this whole time as if listening for something-.

-It screams in a tone of fury and desperation Gladiolus has never heard from a daemon before, a note that is so shrill as to be almost human again, and then it’s gone, crashing through the undergrowth at easily three times the speed it had been using to lead him on.

-It’s curiosity, even more than his task, that makes Gladiolus break into a flat run in pursuit.

-He breaks through the snarled, browned undergrowth and is surprised to find himself on a demolished property. A farm by the looks of it, ruined fields and a half broken house that must have been one of the first things to fall when the Long Night fell. There’s an Iron Giant there, and from the damage to the house, it looked like the thing had been trying to crack open what remained of the building for some reason.

-Survivors? Refugees that had tried to take shelter in the house since the nearest Haven was still a decent hike away?

-Gladiolus steps into the cleared out area, ready to fight the Iron Giant and the Arachne both before they could get to the refugees (assuming there was anyone still alive in the house), only to falter and gape.

-Because he won’t have to fight the Iron Giant and the Arachne.

-The Arachne is fighting the Iron Giant for him.

-He can’t help but stare, because while he’s seen daemons squabble sometimes, especially over a meal, he’s never seen something like this. The Arachne is screaming, an endless, shrill, desperate note as it crawls all over the Iron Giant, stabbing and striking and sparking, heedless that one of its own legs has already been crushed in the grip of its opponent when the Iron Giant flung it off the first time.

-The Iron Giant grabs the Arachne again with a bellow, flinging it into the ground with a crunch that makes Gladiolus flinch on instinct. The screaming hitches, almost like a sob. It’s the kind of damage that daemons do to people, not to each other, and it’s definitely the kind to make even the most territorial daemon back off. The Arachne crawls upright again as best it can and starts fighting again.

-The Iron Giant picks up the sword the Arachne had managed to shock out of its hand, and that’s about the moment Gladiolus thinks “screw it” and jumps in. He can take an Iron Giant and a half-dead Arachne, and if there are refugees in that house that the daemons are fighting over, sitting around gawking won’t help them.

-He isn’t sure how long it takes him to realize that the Arachne is leaving him alone. It’s sole focus is on the Iron Giant, and even when Gladiolus dodges in a way that puts him right next to the smaller, limping daemon, it ignores him in favor of screaming and fighting the bigger daemon. He doesn’t get it.

-The Iron Giant goes down with a gurgling groan of abused metal and he turns to face the Arachne, blade raised and ready.

-The Arachne keeps ignoring him. It’s dying. He can see it in the dark smoke leaking out of its wounds like blood, too fast even for the daemonic healing factor. Two of its legs are crushed beyond use and a third is dangling by a proverbial thread, part of its abdomen is caved in from being flung around. It staggers and drags itself away from the area the Iron Giant had been destroying, claws it’s way around the side of the house as Gladiolus follows with an increasingly bad feeling.

-Half-buried under a piece of rubble, there’s a cellar door.

-The Arachne shoves at the rubble, struggling to haul it away, panting a low noise with each move. Gladiolus raises his blade again. If there are survivors trapped in the cellar, he can’t let … it …

-He isn’t sure what makes him focus on the noise the daemon is making as it shoves aside the rocks and paws uselessly at the door, too weak to lift it open. But he does.

-It’s not a noise.

-It’s a word. A word and a bit of a word, like its part of a greater thought that daemonic vocal cords cannot convey.

-“Babies. M’babies.”

-Gladiolus stares. And thinks of a naga looking for its baby. Of the revelation of what the Starscourge was. What daemons used to be.

-Oh no.

-Please no.

-He takes the flat of his blade and pushes the daemon aside, trying to move it as gently as he can as far as he can. It finally notices him again, hissing and swatting the flat of his blade until it … stops. Watches him grab one of the cellar handles with his free hand and crack open the door all while keeping a close eye on the daemon, ready to finish it off in an instant. It still doesn’t move, even as he forces open the door and risks a glance down-.

-Light. Flickering light and the rusty noise of an old generator. Enough light to keep daemons from spawning directly inside the cellar, if not enough to keep them from entering through the door if …

-If the rubble hadn’t been hiding the door. Holding it down.

-No-no-no-no-.

-There’s another rasp from the daemon, a coo of sound from a rattling throat and within the cellar, there is movement.

-“Mama?”

-Astrals.

-Gladiolus is going to be sick, he just knows it. He is going to be sick and its that feeling that keeps him from moving, from doing the smart thing, the safe thing, and stopping the two children (CHILDREN) from crawling out of the cellar and catching sight of the Arachne.

-He isn’t surprised when they start crying. Start screaming as they rush and tumble to the daemon’s side, chanting the word “Mama” over and over.

-He isn’t surprised somehow, when the daemon- the MOTHER, coos at them, cradling their faces in her hands, trying to offer comfort even as she bleeds and bleeds and bleeds.

-Gladiolus slowly sets down his sword, wary of any OTHER daemons coming to the sound of crying and the smell of human children, but right now he … he has to help. With gentle hands, he pulls them away from the Arachne, doesn’t flinch when they turn on him, biting and scratching and screaming. He is startled, somewhere beneath the ache in his heart that is numbing his emotions, when the Arachne does not lash out and try to get her children back. She just- watches him. Coos at her children as her hands quaver and go limp.

-He wonders how long she’s been daemonified. How long she’s clung to … not sanity. But love. The love of her children that kept her from turning on them, that made her try over and over to lead uninfected humans to her children to save them.

-At least three weeks. That’s about when the first report came in.

-He hugs the children, not trying to move them more than a few feet away from their mother (he wants to prevent infection, if that’s even possible at this stage, but … he can’t just leave with them. Not yet.) They cry and fight his hold, but they are tiny and he is a soldier.

-Astrals they’re only three years old at best. Their mother is their whole world. Their only anchor that stayed even after the infection turned her into a daemon.

-And now they’re losing her.

-“P-Pan…” Gladiolus looks up sharply and finds himself locking gazes with the mother, there is an eerie sort of clarity in her eyes, a human clarity in an inhuman face that chills him. “Pan … do … ra…” The gaze flicks to the child pinned by his right arm, “Pan … do … ra…” Her gaze slides to the left child, “O … or .. i…on.”

-Pandora. Orion.

-She’s telling him their names.

-Her gaze locks with his. Her legs are gone now, dissolved into daemon smoke that is slowly climbing toward her spider abdomen, “Ta-ke … care … o-of…”

-The light snuffs out. So fast he almost doesn’t process the loss before she goes entirely limp and the smoke consumes her form. Damage done by the Iron Giant too great even for daemon healing. He gets the message anyway.

-Take care of my babies.

-Gladiolus stands up slowly, tucking his sword into his armiger with a thought as he picks up the sobbing children and slowly tromps down the stairs of the cellar, checking for supplies, clues, anything useful on autopilot. He finds a few toys that he tucks into armiger as well as some food (not much, hardly any, they must have been running out right before he took the Hunt), and a set of blankets that he fashions into a front and back child sling to carry the inconsolable toddlers. He’s got a long way to walk and he’s going to need his hands free.

-They stop crying audibly once he steps off the farmland’s grounds. Silence already drilled into their small heads by danger and … their mother. He can feel them crying though, confused and angry and heartbroken, wanting the mother who disappeared before their eyes to come back, not understanding why he was leaving. Or even who he was really.

-It’s a long walk back to the nearest Haven and from there back to the nearest outpost that might have someone willing to give him a ride to Lestallum.

-The entire trip back he watches them for signs of infection, gives thanks when the Haven gives no reaction to their presence, which was a quick way to see if someone was infected. Havens would flare if the Scourge touched them and infected people tended to get sick immediately after stepping onto a Haven. With the two toddlers there is no such reaction, so the likelihood that they’re clean (somehow) is high.

-He skips customs and checkpoints by using his Shield title and books it straight to a doctor to get them checked out anyway. A preliminary blood test comes up clean, but the doctor does note an anomaly in their blood that he intends to look into when he has time (so approximately never, Gladiolus knows, the doctors in Lestallum are always swamped and lab materials for testing is at a premium). After that Gladiolus carries the very quiet toddlers to the crummy apartment he shares with Ignis and proceeds to finally freak out. Quietly. So as not to wake up the two kids that passed out in the bed the moment he put them on the pillows.

-He texts Prompto and Ignis and thanks whatever is good in the world when it turns out that both of them are in town and willing to drop everything to answer his panic text.

-One very quiet powwow, story, and a lot of agitation later, Prompto offers to fill out the papers to put them in the Lestallum orphanage and Gladiolus nearly strangles his friend on instinct. Even though he knows it’s the right choice, he’s busy, the world is ending, he has no TIME for kids…

-Take care of my babies.

-He couldn’t. He couldn’t pass them off to just anyone and everyone he knows is as busy as he is.

-Ignis translates his agitation without issue and sighs. “You’re going to have to stay in Lestallum more often. And fill out paperwork for a new ration card.”

-He knows.

-“We all will I guess,” Prompto says lightly and Gladiolus stares. Prompto grins, a shadow of the smile he used to have, but bright nonetheless, “well, we’re all in this together right? We can take turns keeping them, that way we can still get most of our work done. I’ll bet Iris and Cindy will help too. Maybe even Cid!”

-Gladiolus could cry. Even though the hole Noctis had left was deep and weeping, a wound that had tried to pull them apart despite their best efforts, they’re still here. Still ready to stand with him in this … utter insanity.

-Ignis reaches out with gentle fingers and traces the dirty hair of Orion, the boy of the pair, “At least tell us their names before we collectively adopt them.”

-“Pandora and Orion,” Gladiolus murmurs, “no last name.”

-“We’ll sort that out tomorrow,” Ignis hums, free hand adjusting the glasses he no longer needs but wears anyway.

-And just like that, Gladiolus, Prompto, and Ignis are back together. A group again. A bumbling trio of brothers, united in their goal to care for another. But instead of the king-brother they still ache and search for, it is the two three year old twins the Arachne Mother gave Gladiolus. The grieving stage is painful to get through with them, but after it fades and they acclimate to their new guardians … the twins are sweet. Orion is the quiet one. Not very social to outsiders, someone who appreciated his distance (“Quite in character for an archer”, Ignis jokes and they all laugh, but somehow Orion gets a little toy bow for his next birthday and an obsession is born in the four year old). Pandora is … well.

-Aptly named.

-Trouble seems magnetically attracted to her. Thankfully harmless trouble, but even so. If it’s something that can be climbed, she will climb it, if its something that can be snatched, she will snatch it, if it’s a question her little 3 to 4 year old vocabulary can say she will speak it all while Orion trundles behind his sister, looking at everyone with big, thoughtful blue eyes that sometimes make Gladiolus’s heart stop and his brain think of another little boy (little prince, little brother) he once knew. But that is just coincidence and he pushes it away.

-Until it isn’t coincidence anymore.

-Until Orion and Pandora are five years old, bright lights and anchors in Gladiolus’s, Prompto’s, and Ignis’s ever darkening lives, and they get into a fight over who owns what toy.

-Gladiolus is not there for the fight, it was Ignis’s turn to raise them (with some additional help from Iris and Cid that he needed less and less as his blindness became less and less of a handicap) while Gladiolus helped with Hunts and with training the Kingsglaive alongside Cor, always pushing forward into the dark to find more supplies and more light and more room for refugees if they could.

-He gets back and isn’t even allowed to fall into his bed before Ignis is cornering him with shaking hands, “We should have kept a much closer eye on Noctis.”

-One, what. And two, ouch. Gladiolus growls, exhausted and testy and NOT in the mood for some kind of unexpected guilt trip only for Ignis to hiss, “I am not talking about That Day. I am talking about the road trip. We messed up somewhere, took our eyes off him for too long and now-.” Ignis stops and gives a watery laugh that alarms Gladiolus, “Now, impossibly, we have been blessed for it.”

-“Iggy, you aren’t making any sense.”

-“The twins have magic, Gladio.”

-Gladiolus freezes.

-He must have heard that wrong.

-Ignis senses his disbelief, his confusion, and repeats with a faint hysterical edge to his voice, “The twins. Pandora and Orion. They have magic, Gladio. They got into a fight over one of their toys and Orion set the curtains on fire. I tried to run over and nearly broke my glasses because Pandora had panicked and thrown up a shield around herself and her brother.”

-“That’s impossible,” he whispers back hoarsely even as his sleep-deprived brain flings up picture after picture of Noctis as a child, blue eyed and black, flyaway hair and sweet smile, bright giggle that filled the room with an oddly musical tone-.

-The twin’s eyes. Orion’s sweet little smile as he looks up from beneath his flyaway coppery brown hair. Pandora’s laugh that lights up a room as she scampers away from her latest mischief, a musical quality that comes out ever more strongly as she learns to sing along to the battered audio tracks Prompto keeps finding for her.

-Gladiolus is on the floor suddenly. He isn’t sure how. A blink and Ignis is crouched next to him and the twins are peering in the doorway, looking scared and concerned.

-The twins.

-His twins. The twins he loves with all his heart and soul, the twins who’s mother clung to humanity through sheer force of will long enough to save them.

-The twins with magic. Ignis wouldn’t lie. Not about something like this. And for all he was blind, Ignis had known Noctis the longest, known Noctis from the youngest age. He would know what magic felt like, what it sounded like, how little royals just coming into their power would use it-.

-The twins had magic.

-Noctis’s magic.

-Noctis’s kids.

-He blacked out to the distressed sounds of the children that were both his and now apparently his missing king-brother’s and Ignis’s exasperated calls for Iris to come help him.

(NEW AU. Calling it Last Stardust because I’m addicted to the song and it fits the space theme of Noctis’s and Orion’s name. Also Orion is going to become the archer LC and his sister is gonna wow the glaive and get her very own set of stabby kukri so there. Also also the last ask I have from you is the Obi-Wan Ulric one from the SW/FFXC crossover I played in forever ago.)

[userarchive]

Unexpected Circumstances Ch 2

Warnings: Language, talk of the job, PG13 rating? Sonny Carisi x Reader, but I’ve given her a name for the sake of my sanity lolol

**

9 hours later, you’d managed to get back to two different apartments, had a quick shower, and gathered all the information you needed from both, you were behind schedule as you walked into the SVU squad room with a box of files and evidence. The crew was already gathered around the white board, trying to figure out the bust before you burst the bubble. You softly dropped the box onto an empty desk,

“Sorry I’m late, took longer to take care of things that I thought.” You addressed Captain Benson, most of the squad’s attention was turned towards you, your chest tightened. 7 years of undercover work and you were still stressed every time you transferred units, more worried about the fact that this was Sonny’s old crew.

“Detective Sophie Montgomery.” Olivia gestured toward you, “Please treat her with respect, she may be our newest recruit from Staten Island Vice, but she’s highly recommended, she’s not new to this. You may recognize her as one of our arrests from last night, she’s been working this ring undercover for the past 7 years and she’s going to be the biggest help we have with this case.” She gave you a tight smile, stepping back from the white board. You took a breath in, surveying over what they had up on the white board.

“Okay,” You started to move pictures around on the board, “Y’all made the bust too early, which means..”Your hand shot up to the three blacked out silhouettes at the top of the board,”That you don’t have any of these three in your custody, and those three are the ones you need.” You moved a few more things around on the board, “Alejandro Martinez is the King of Manhattan, and has been for years,” Your fingers tapped the top photo, “He works with a Queen and a Prince, and he only works on the Upper East Side. These parties aren’t like you’d normally expect, the clients are high profile, actors, producers, judges, lawyers, cops, wall street guys, politicians, everything you’d hate to have to prosecute.The drugs are clean, mainly coke and ecstasy, bottles of Prosecco, Patron, high end shit, they rarely deal with underage girls, unless there’s a new pimp who they want to try out, or someone high up makes a specific request.”

You glanced around the bull pen, noticing that Dominick had joined in, your breath hitched every so slightly.  He however found himself somewhat entranced, he always enjoyed watching you work like this, your brain managed to wrap its way around things that everyone else missed, and you always seemed to know all the secrets people wanted to keep to themselves. Amanda interrupted your thoughts.

“So Martinez is the King, we know his brother is the prince, who’s the Queen?” You cocked an eyebrow at her.

“How do you think I have this much information?” You slouched against the desk next to you, “Listen, there is no way you can take down this ring with what you have from the bust. Every time there’s been a party busted the main 3 haven’t been present, or it’s just one of them and they get been slapped with a misdemeanour.  They disappear to some remote corner of the globe, but like clockwork 6 months later, manage to find each other again, give me until then and I promise you a bust, with the top three all there.” You eyes scanned over the room, “While I can work here, I cannot break my cover, I can’t have anything to do with this case, I’ll help you gain any information but I can’t testify.” You could feel Olivia sigh heavily across the room, 

“Okay, we’ll talk to the suspects, you and Carisi watch, anything that doesn’t match, you tell us immediately.”  Olivia gestured towards interrogation 1, Sonny and you following behind her before she closed the door, being alone with him skyrocketed your emotions, you shoved your hands into your pockets so he wouldn’t notice them shaking.

At first you listened in silence, then Sonny felt like he couldn’t hold it in anymore, the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could even try to stop himself,

“Did, did you have ta do …anything ya didn’t…want to..while you were under?” His voice was so gentle you barely felt it, you could nearly feel the tears but you knew what he was thinking. 7 years under in a sex ring, it was only logical, and this was the first moment you’d had truly alone since your reappearance. Both of your faces stayed strictly facing forward into the interrogation room, attempting to pretend that you were listening to what happened in front of you. Carisi felt just as drawn to you in that moment as he did the first time he asked you to coffee, the warm smell of your perfume brought back memories of holding you close, burying your head into the crook of his neck, the briefest of grins flashed across his face before you replied.

“No. Of course not,” You risked a lightning fast glance over to him, “I worked mainly on the books, took care of the girls, nothing ever happened.” You couldn’t help yourself, admiration burning at your cheeks knowing that he was worried about you, you pulled your hand out of your pocket, giving his elbow a reassuring squeeze before dropping your hand.

The two of you watched the confrontation in front of you, not registering that you were slowly inching closer to each other with each shuffle of your feet. Sonny felt his hand taking control as it brushed against yours and immediately felt like a middle schooler on his first date again, blush creeping up his neck, but when you didn’t shy away, he found his finger looping around your left ring finger. Your heart jumped into your throat at the gesture, finally turning away from the glass to properly look at the man beside you.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass yester-“ Dominick started before you cut him off,

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing,” A shaky breath to try and keep you calm, “I am unbelievably sorry…for everything.” Looking directly into those steely blue eyes was nearly intimidating, they softened at your statement, the faintest of a smile creasing his face.

“You were just doin’ your job.” In that moment, properly seeing each other, silently forgiving previous actions, the air in the room shifted. Carisi reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair off your face, his thumb briefly stroking your jawline before running down your arm and you were completely lost in the moment gravitating towards each other. A loud bang from the other side of the glass made both of you jump, pulling apart as you were reminded where you were, shifting back into work mode. 

Sonny chuckled softly to himself, you cocked at eyebrow in his direction,

“Bella’s gonna freak.” You laughed lightly at that, 

“Your Ma’s gonna actually kill me.” 

“I’ll be sure to remind her assaulting a police officer is a punishable crime.” The playfulness slightly returned to the room, soft smiles and small laughs filling the awkwardness of the previous night.

***

As the day came to a close, you were sitting at your desk finishing up a pile of paperwork leftover from the various cases SVU had managed to arrest over the course of the day. The squad room had emptied out, and Olivia took advantage of that as she stopped at the side of your desk on her way out. You paused your writing, looking up at her,

“What can I help ya with Captain?” She faltered slightly, piecing together the words before she spoke,

“We’re…not going to have any..problems with the DA’s office are we?” It was a reasonable concern considering the only interaction she had witnessed with you and the A.D.A. was a heated screaming match followed by a physical altercation. You leaned back in your chair as you answered,

“No. That was a one time thing, I promise.” She quirked an eyebrow, not sure if she should believe you, so you continued, “You ever had someone come back from the dead?” Confusion took over Benson’s face,

“Yeah actually…one of our A.D.A.’s was shot in front of me, 12 hours later she turned up inside a car on the way to witness protection.” You watched as the emotions moved across her face, “It was a lot to process.”

“Now take all those feelings and add on about 7 years.”

“Jesus.” She muttered, shaking her head, 

“Carisi and I will be fine, it was just a lot to go through so suddenly. And…I do apologize about the whole thing, it was wildly unprofessional, not exactly how I wanted to have my first day at SVU.” Olivia gave a stark laugh to that, 

“It’s okay, just don’t make it a habit.” She shouldered her bag, “And don’t stay too late, just finish up what you can.”

“I will, night Cap.” You turned back to the last few pages as Liv exited the squad room, leaving you to quietly finish your work.

[yesloverboy]

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 2

SUMMARY:  After helping you move into your new apartment right above the Crüe boys, Tommy stumbles drunkenly to your doorstep that night with an injured hand. With a tipsy confession, Tommy undoubtedly brings more chaos into your life than you ever thought possible in such a short amount of time. The problem is, you find that you don’t exactly mind as much as you should. As Tommy seemingly finds every excuse under the sun just to see you, you wonder if maybe you two are starting to act a little more than neighborly...

word count: 3,917

[Warnings: swearing, mention of injury, vomit, body image, drug and alcohol mention.]

NOTE: It’s finally here! Thank you all for supporting Part 1 so fiercely that I just had to keep it going. I can’t tell if this chapter is as action-packed as the last, but it’s definitely setting up for Part 3, so I hope you enjoy! If you have any suggestions as to what direction to take this fic in don’t hesitate to let me know. I can definitely see some smut/angst in the future if y’all fancy that. 

tags: @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier

 “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?”

 Tommy’s words ring in your ears as you stare at him blankly, your mind reeling. Just when you thought the past twenty-four hours couldn’t get any more bizarre, your cute and helpful neighbor was not only bleeding in front of you, but calling you beautiful all in the same breath.  “Tommy, that’s really sweet, but I don’t think you know what you’re saying right now,” you comment, trying to laugh the whole situation off. You turn to exit the cramped bathroom, mostly as a half-hearted attempt at getting Tommy to hopefully follow you to the door. About halfway through the door frame, a large hand gently grasps the top of you arm, effectively stopping you in your tracks. 

 Instinctively, you twist around to see Tommy, who is now standing in painfully close proximity to you. You want to speak, but your breath hitches in your throat. There is nothing but a long beat of silence standing in the inches between the two of you. Tommy’s eyes are wide and glistening, as if he were looking right through you.

 “Come on, Y/N, I’m not drunk! I’m right!” Tommy breaks the silence, dropping your arm. “Okay, well...maybe I’m a little both. But I mean it, I swear!”

 You roll your eyes. Whatever trance Tommy has you in instantly brakes when you remember who exactly it is that you’re talking to. Just as you are about to turn back around and retreat to the living room, Tommy’s tall figure lurches violently forward.

 “Tommy, are you–?” You don’t even have time to get the words out before Tommy is retching at your feet.

 Luckily, you had barely been standing outside of the splash zone, but it still doesn’t make the situation any less gross. You hold your breath, not wanting the risk of you gagging to make matters worse. 

 “Oh fuck. I can’t believe I just did that.” Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking disoriented.

 You pinch the space between your eyes and will yourself not to completely snap on the boy in front of you. In your experience, getting frustrated with drunk people never solved anything until the next day and, last you checked, there is still plenty of time left before the sun comes up.

 “Look, it’s fine. Just–please. Sit by the toilet until you’re absolutely sure you’re not going to be sick again.”

 To your relief, Tommy complies by taking a seat at the edge of the bathtub and lifting the toilet seat.

 “Look, Y/N, I–”.    “No,” you abruptly cut him off, “I’m going to go find a towel to sacrifice to the god of bad choices, and you’re going to stay put.” 

 Tommy chuckles softly at your comment, trying his very best to hide the amusement in his face with a bandaged hand. You have to turn your back to him to keep from smiling in return. Even though this whole situation was annoying, and–quite frankly–disgusting, Tommy somehow still makes you crack a smile. 

 What the fuck is wrong with me? You wonder as you go to fetch a spare towel from your bedroom closet. If this were any other guy, you would’ve kicked him out ages ago. So, why him?

 It ends up taking you a good thirty minutes to mop the vomit up off your bathroom floor. It probably should have taken less time, but both your comfort level and morale were low at this time of night. Tommy didn’t really say much for the duration of the cleaning process, apart from the occasional muttered apology followed by an immediate retch into the toilet bowl.   

 Finally finished, you toss the contaminated towel into black garbage bag to be dealt with in the morning. In the kitchen, you scrub your hands raw under the tap and end up getting Tommy a glass of water while you’re there. If you were being honest, he definitely deserves to be hungover in the morning after such a fucking mess. However, you didn’t have the heart to let him dehydrate after all the puking he just did in front of you. You consider the possibility that his humiliation could be enough retribution for his crimes against your sanity.

 You give the door frame a gentle knock before stepping into the small bathroom. The mustard yellow wallpaper gives the room a sickly feeling, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to envision it as a place of cleanliness ever again. Tommy is still resting on the edge of the bathtub, head placed firmly in his hands.

 “Hey there, drummer boy. How ya feeling?” Tommy perks up at the sound of your voice, suddenly sitting up much straighter. His hair is sticking up in all the places where his hands were laced through it, and dark circles were starting to form under his eyes. Despite all odds, he still looks more than happy to see you.

 “There’s my favorite neighbor!” Tommy slowly wobbles to his feet and approaches you, seeming to a little more sober but a lot less energetic.

 “You’re only saying that because I’ve been cleaning up your bodily fluids all night,” rolling your eyes playfully, you hold the glass of water out to him.

 Tommy quickly obliges, downing the water like a castaway in the desert. You start to laugh, unsure if you’re punch-drunk from the lack of sleep or slowly losing your mind. Regardless, something in your mind has decided that the sight of Tommy’s adam’s apple bobbing up and down at a rapid speed is utterly hilarious.

 Setting the glass down on the counter, Tommy quirks an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny, huh?”

 “Nothing,” you reply, still stifling giggles, “it’s just that today has to have been the weirdest fucking first day in L.A. that I could have ever imagined.”

 Tommy only grins back. “Would you believe me if I told you it could only get weirder from here?”

 “Actually, coming from you? Yeah I think I could believe it.”

 Absentmindedly, you glance back into the living room, the clock on the wall catching your eye. Your eyes widen at the realization that it’s already three in the morning. Time certainly flies by when you decide to assume the role of babysitter for your drunken neighbor.

 “Jesus, Tommy. It sure is getting late. Shouldn’t you be heading back?”

 As if on cue, you can hear the piercing sound of police sirens wailing just outside your apartment window. You and Tommy share a brief look before racing over to the bedroom window to see what in the hell is going on. Outside your apartment, the both of you can see two squad cars parked out front while four officers start racing up the steps. You were just about to ask Tommy if he had any idea what could be happening, went you felt a deep thud vibrate beneath your feet. Either the party downstairs had kicked up a notch, or something was wrong.

 “Aw shit,” Tommy immediately starts heading towards the front door at an extremely uncoordinated pace. With the amount of puking and bleeding he had done in one night, it was a wonder he even felt like walking at all. It’s obvious to you that maybe nights like this aren’t all the uncommon for Tommy. 

 “Wait, what the fuck is going on down there?” You gesture to Tommy’s apartment beneath your feet, waiting expectantly for him to elaborate. 

 “The party must’ve got busted again. I can’t leave my band alone down there with the cops, man.”

 “No offense, Tommy, but don’t be stupid,” you scoff, “they’re going to take one look at you and arrest you immediately. The least we can hope for is that your bandmates haven’t given them any reason to come inside.”

 Tommy steps away from the door and flops onto your scruffy old couch, looking conflicted. You never thought your couch was that small, but watching Tommy’s feet dangle over the opposite end makes you feel otherwise. “Well what should I do, then?”

 You could stay here, you think and mentally kick yourself. You stare up at the ceiling, hoping for some reason that you might be able to find the answer to your–no, Tommy’s–predicament there but...no such luck.

 “Well…” you sign, the weariness in your voice is evident despite your efforts to mask it with a smile. “I guess you could crash on my couch, if you really want to.”

 Tommy sits back up, swinging his long legs around to the floor. “Y/N, you’ve done more than enough. It’s cool, man. I’ll just wait outside until the cops get bored. They usually do when they realize the door is nailed shut.”  At Tommy’s mention of the door to his band’s apartment being nailed shut, you recall the smaller man with the scowling face crawling out of the window to clean up the balcony. You remember the image being jarring at the time, but now everything was beginning to make a weird amount of sense.

 “Nailed shut–wait, is that why that little guy was going through the broken window to get to the balcony? You know, the one with the...stare.”

 Tommy bursts out laughing, “Oh yeah! That’s Mick. He’s a weird little man, but he can shred on the guitar. It’s probably on the account that he’s an alien from outer space, or somethin’.” 

 Tommy stands again, this time more confident in his movements. “Everyone goes through the window on account of the cops always busting the door down. And it looks like I’ve got a while before I’m going to crawl through it again tonight.” He gestures to the blue lights flashing from the bedroom window. Although the commotion outside seems to have quieted down significantly, it appears that the police are still camping outside for good measure.

 “Tommy it’s totally fine if you wanna stay. It’s not like I’m getting that much sleep tonight anyways.” To your surprise, you really mean what you’re saying. Sure, you were absolutely knackered from a full day of moving and a night of playing both nurse and babysitter, but the damage had already been done.

 “Sorry again for all that,” he cringes sheepishly. Surprisingly, Tommy isn’t immediately refusing your offer this time. “Don’t be silly, Y/N, there’s no chance in hell I’m going to fit on that couch anyways.”

 “Since when is a cramped couch better than curling up on the bench in a holding cell?” You both know that the chance of Tommy getting bagged by the cops outweighs the possibility of him having a peaceful night waiting outside.

 Tommy runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Alright, you got me there.”

 “Sleep wherever you want, drummer boy, but the bed is still mine.” You turn away with a wry smile, exiting the living room to grab some pajamas from your closet. Deciding on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a cropped t-shirt, you head to the bathroom to change and wash the day’s events from your face and hands.

 As you brush your teeth, you continue to wonder what it is about Tommy that makes you so willing to put up with his antics. You try to consider what your friends, or even your family, back home would say about the whole situation. In your head, you can almost hear the voice of your best friend berating you for letting someone you just met stay in your apartment for the night–no matter the circumstances.

 But then you think back to Tommy approaching you with his bleeding hand, asking you to handle his injury because he couldn’t stomach the sight of it. Most guys you had known in your life weren’t like that; so willing to give help, yet also willing to admit when they need it most. There’s something about that quality in Tommy that makes you trust him a little more than you probably should. Shrugging, you spit foamy toothpaste into the sink and rub your face. Sure, you may have decided you trust Tommy’s motives thus far, but you definitely couldn’t trust his judgment after he decorated your evening with blood and puke.

 Stepping out of the bathroom, you look out into the living room to find the lights switched off and Tommy nowhere in sight. On a whim, you decide to tiptoe to your bedroom where the light was still on. Pushing open the door, you’re shocked to find Tommy lying on the floor next to your mattress, eyes fixed upward at a spot on the ceiling.

 You clear your throat poignantly, causing Tommy’s head to jerk upwards. “Um, what the fuck are you doing on my floor?”

 To your frustration, Tommy is all smiles as always. “Well, you said I could sleep anywhere as long as you kept your bed.”  

 You massage your temples, realizing that you did, in fact, say exactly that. “Okay, fair enough. But, I’ve gotta ask...why my bedroom floor exactly?”

 Tommy props himself up on his elbows, smirking like the two of you are sharing an inside joke. “Well, I figured the guys have noticed I’m not at the party anymore, so at least I can tell them I spent the night sleeping next to a girl.”

 You grab one of the pillows off of your bed and pelt it at Tommy, unable to hide your amusement at the mental gymnastics he went through to justify his behavior. “You are absolutely unbelievable.”  

 You switch off the light, deciding you are too tired to protest any longer. A weird mix of moonlight and flashing blue spills through the curtainless window, illuminating Tommy’s figure resting beneath it. You notice that he’s tightly clutching the pillow you’d tossed at him rather than placing it under his head, giving you the sneaking suspicion that he’s probably a cuddler in his sleep.

 Trying to relax, you turn to face the wall, curling tightly in your quilted duvet. You are unable to tell if you’re exhausted or if the place is growing on you, but you’re surprised to find your apartment is actually becoming rather cozy. You are just about to drift off to sleep when your restfulness is interrupted by Tommy’s voice.

 “Hey,” his voice is barely a gravely whisper in the darkness, it’s so low that you almost don’t hear him at first. “Psst, Y/N.” Tommy tries again, a little louder this time. 

 “What is it, Tommy?” You roll over to face your body in his direction. The police lights had disappeared since you had last closed your eyes, and you’re having a difficult time making him out with in the darkness with just the moonlight.

 There’s a long beat of silence before he answers again, almost making you believe he had fallen asleep. “I meant what I said earlier,” he finally says, his voice still soft. “You really are beautiful.”

 Amazed that he remembered what he had said when he was wasted earlier, you are unable to contain the smile on your lips. Luckily, it’s most likely too dark for Tommy to notice. 

 “Oh yeah?” you reply, “Well I meant what I said too.”

 “What was that?” Tommy asks.

 “That you’re unbelievable.”

 Tommy’s faint laughter is the last thing you hear before drifting off once more, your mind falling away into fuzziness.

 You wake up with the California sunshine in your eyes, the entire bedroom bathed with golden light. Considering how hard you had slept, you assume it must be late in the afternoon, but the digital clock on your dresser claims it’s only 10:37am. Feeling groggy and a little out of place, you glance over to the floor at your bedside. You’re a little disheartened to find that Tommy has already gone, but figure he was probably anxious to see what had happened to his bandmates last night.

 Rather than over analyzing the events from yesterday, you opt to put on a pot of coffee and jump in the shower instead. You turn on your old radio, the sound reminding you that it was really about time to thrift around for a new stereo. As The Doors crackle brokenly over the radio static, you let your shower rinse away the events of the past day (and early morning). Memories of saying goodbye to your family, packing, the overnight drive, unpacking–everything seems to fade away among the steam.

 Well, everything except meeting Tommy.

 Getting out of the shower, you’re feeling far too lazy to bother with drying and fixing your hair. It was pushed back out of your face for so long yesterday that you reckon you can get away with it being a little unruly. Grabbing a cup of coffee along the way, you end up rummaging through your dresser, sifting your way through garments of mesh, leather, lace, and the occasional polyester.

 While you are definitely no stranger to the sunshine, this Los Angeles heat seems like something else entirely. Everything you own feels like way too much fabric. With a nostalgic sigh, you pluck a shredded, leopard print tank top out of the back of your drawer. You laugh softly to yourself as you trace your fingers over all the safety pins you had stuck through the collar to pull together all the rips and tears. Despite the top being an artifact of your high school punk days, you determine you could find some way to make it modern.

 Taking a look in the bathroom mirror, you trace the purple circles under your eyes that reflect your sleepless night. With another sip of coffee, you conclude that a bit of makeup couldn’t hurt. You would never be willing to admit it, but putting on makeup was the best part of your morning routine. It’s not necessarily because you feel like you need it all of the time, but something about the ritual of it all seems special.

 When you did your makeup, you always felt inspired by your mom’s old photos from the 60s. There was something about the bright colors and geometric shapes that really made you feel closer to home whenever you were far away. Now, feeling further away than ever, you set to work on your face.

 As you’re using all of your concentration to paint on a small cat eye, a loud knock on the door causes you to leap in surprise. To your relief, your hand hadn’t jerked hard enough at your sudden movement to mess up any of your efforts. Tossing the pencil on your bathroom counter, you reluctantly go to see who it is.  

 Pulling the door open, you are amused to discover that Tommy has returned yet again, this time looking far more put together than when you last saw each other. Out of curiosity, you look for his bandaged hand to see that it’s clutching a flat, white box.

 “Hey neighbor! It looks like you finally got some beauty sleep after all,” he walks past you, entering your apartment as if he lives there. It would seem that causing harm to himself, showing up unannounced, and walking into places uninvited are just a few minor things on a long list of Tommy’s bad habits.

 “Yeah, and no thanks to you,” you tease, as you shut the door behind him.

 Taking a seat at the dining table, Tommy sets the box down in front of him. “You can be real mean, sometimes, you know that? Besides, I felt bad so I brought a gift.” He then opens the box to reveal a dozen assorted donuts, each of which glistening with some kind of glaze or frosting.

 “Aw, Tommy. You didn’t have to get me those.” Honestly, you hadn’t expected to come by and try to apologize again, let alone attempt to make up for it.

 Tommy kicks his feet up onto the table, leaning back in his chair like an unruly schoolboy. “Actually yeah I did, Mick said so and he’s usually right about most things–but I also really wanted to. I just didn’t know how, so I asked Mick.”

 God he is such a fucking mess, you think, unable to suppress how entertaining you find the idea of Tommy asking his grumpy guitar-player for help.

 “I’m starting to think Mick might be onto something, you should listen to him more often.” You moved to get your coffee cup from your bedroom, knowing that you were going to need a whole lot more if you were going to put up with Tommy today.

 “While you’re here, do you at least want some coffee?” you inquire as you make your way back towards the kitchen.

 Tommy scrunches his face up in disgust, “Thanks, dude, but I really can’t stand the stuff. Had it once and it didn’t really do much for me.”

 You’re utterly amazed that Tommy has the amount of energy he does without drinking caffeine. “Suit yourself then.”

 With a hot mug in hand, you seat yourself across from Tommy. As you start to reach for one of the glazed donuts, you realize that Tommy has stopped reclining backward in his chair. Looking up to see what the matter is, you find his brow furrowed in concentration, looking at you as if you were a riddle he couldn’t quite figure out. “Tommy, what are you–?”

 “Y/N, are you wearing makeup? Because it looks fucking rad, dude!”

 Perplexed by such an enthusiastic outburst, it takes you a moment to answer. “Well yeah, I am. Thanks for noticing.”

 “Wait, would you ever, like, maybe consider doing other people’s makeup? Like as a job?” Tommy’s now leaning in toward you, chin resting thoughtfully in his hands.

 You take a bite of your donut and consider his question. Sure, makeup is something you enjoyed but you’d never consider doing it seriously. You think back to a few Halloweens and theatre productions back home where your friends asked for your help, but that certainly didn’t qualify you to do makeup professionally.

 “Honestly, Tommy, not really. It’s mostly just for fun,” you shrug, setting the other half of your donut back in the box.  

 “My band Mötley Crüe has kind of made makeup part of their thing, but I’m still not really that great at it yet,” Tommy admits as he picks absentmindedly at the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Would you ever be willing to, like, teach me sometime?”

 “Trust me,” you say, pointing to your face, “this is not how you want to look if you’re in a rock band.”

 “Oh come on, Y/N, who wouldn’t want to look like that.” Tommy flashes you a cheeky smile, causing the a blush to creep up to the apples of your cheeks.

 You toy with the idea of teaching Tommy the little bit of cosmetic knowledge you have, finding that you don’t hate the concept as much as you originally thought. “Well, when’s your next gig?”

 “This coming Friday,” Tommy answers eagerly, “I was thinking that you could do my makeup for the Friday show, and then for Saturday’s I could try to recreate it or something.”

 Considering that it’s already Monday, you decide that the idea of having four Tommy-free days is rather appealing. Even though you find him to be a cute mess of a person, you know you could really use the alone time to adjust. Who knows? Maybe agreeing to see him on Friday could do exactly that.

 “Alright, fine,” you relent, “Friday it is, then.”

Part 3

Masterlist

[dangerously-self-indulgent]

Don’t Think Twice (Zion/You)

Summary: You get caught singing the lyrics to Don’t Think Twice by Zion, and he decides to tease you by taking the song very, very seriously. You don’t know if you can handle it. 

---------

You had the song stuck in your head practically all day.

You hummed it under your breath as you went around on patrol and did other daily things around the high school. You got eyed a few times throughout the day for it, but thankfully no one commented on it, so you continued to quietly hum the tune.  

You were in the storage room, presumably alone, as you checked the windows and started to sort food. All alone, you felt safe to softly sing the lyrics to the song.

Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me three times, cross the line…

Don’t think twice, don’t think twice,

Don’t think twice, baby, don’t think twice.

Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me three times, be mine…

“Awfully forward of you,” a sudden voice interrupts your singing and you jolt in surprise as you look over your shoulder.

“Don’t get any ideas, Zion,” you roll your eyes and continue to look at expiration dates on various food packages. “Don’t you have anything better to do than tease me?”

You can hear him come closer from behind you. “Well, I thought I had to kiss you. Once? Twice? Three times? That’s an awful lot of kisses,” He teases lightly, squatting next to you on the floor as he silently begins to help.

“I also said not to think twice, but I’d be lucky if you even thought once.”

“Are you saying I don’t ever think?”

“Your words, not mine,” you grin and fall forward from Zion pushing you. Just enough to annoy you, not enough to make you fall over.  

“What’s that song even from? Or did you make it up because you’re lonely?”

You ignore his attempt to insult you as you answer honestly, “it’s from a game I used to play. I honestly didn’t really care for the song, but it’s just been stuck in my head today.” He hums in acknowledgment before the two of you continue to silently work together. It’s a comfortable silence which doesn’t surprise you. As hot-headed as he could be, Zion was always a comfortable person to hang around. It helped that you felt a touch safer with him around, too. Even though you knew the likability of getting attacked right now was slim, it was still relaxing to know you had someone watching your back.

“I think we’re all done,” you softly break the silence and stand up, Zion shortly following after. You head for the door before he stops you, calling out your name.

He grins at you cheekily, leaning into you and whispering, “You forgot something.” And to your surprise, he tilts his head and gives you a rather sweet peck on your cheek.

You stutter, face flushing red. “W-what?”

“That’s one,” Zion winks before opening the class door from behind you and walking away. “Two more to go.”

“Oh, eat it, Zion!” You yell at him as he disappears down the hall, his laugh fading away with him. Once you shake off the flustered feeling crawling in your belly, you quickly run to the rest of your responsibilities for the day.

Don’t think about it too hard, you tell yourself. He’s just trying to get a reaction out of you.

Because face it, this was Zion. Why else would he kiss you?

---------

That evening during the dinner meeting, Zion hummed your song as he ate, and you’d honestly punch him if it wasn’t for the public setting. What a cheeky bastard.

---------

You’d mostly forgotten about the whole thing a few days later since Zion never did kiss you again. Today you’re with him and Ethan, scouting outside of the school in search for any clean food or supplies. You had luckily only run into a few zombies so far, of which Ethan was able to quickly swing at before it became a problem.

The three of you ended up in a small antique shop. Usually, you didn’t bother with such places but Zion had made a fair point that they could have things like blankets or rope, so you all headed inside. You were browsing one of the aisles filled with broken ceramics when you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“What’s up, Zion?” He has a stuffed animal in his hands.

It’s a valentine bear, of all things?

It’s brown and fluffy with beady black eyes, the small stuffed arms holding onto a red heart that spells out “kiss me” in cursive. You give him a strange look. “What the hell is this?”

“Can you just hold it for a second?” He rolls his eyes and you don’t know why you decide to take it from him, but you do. And you don’t know why you’re surprised when he leans in again, kissing the opposite cheek from last time. “That’s two,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away. You blame the cold weather for the way you shudder.

“This was a stupid idea,” you place the bear down on the shelf. “Did you just look for the best thing that insinuated a kiss and then come running?”

“Maybe,” Zion shrugs before looking at the opposite end of the store where Ethan was. “You ready to bust this joint?”

Ethan nods. Within a minute, you all leave the store with pretty much nothing in hand. Except for a small teddy bear that you may have snuck into your bag.

---------

“What is that?” Lawrence asks you one morning when he had come into your room for a quick talk. He’s looking at the bear you have propped on one of the student tables along with other various non-important items. You shrug, turning your back to it.

“Just something I found in a shop. I thought it was cute so I brought it back with me.”

“Oh,” Lawrence seems satisfied with your response. “Okay.”

---------

He’s getting more ballsy.

You haven’t let your guard down again since the second kiss. Zion has tried on multiple occasions to kiss you for the ‘third time’, but you’re quick on your feet and manage to block him, either with ease or great effort when he was annoyingly persistent about it sometimes. Though, thank the stars, he hasn’t tried to do it in front of the guys yet.

Yet.

You’re all together for breakfast this morning, just as you do every day. You sit between Zion and Harry, propped up on a miniature bookshelf to give you more height as Lawrence leads the meeting, talking about patrols and the usual runabout. It’s boring but you pay attention since it’s crucial to your survival at this point.

You have a pack of chips (you had to fight Eugene pretty hard in order to snag them) for your meal, and you were at the crumb end of the bag. You lean your head back and lift it to your face, pouring the chips like a chute into your mouth.

Though there were quite a few more crumbs than you thought and you ended up getting an explosion of chips all over you.

“Shit!” You curse and start shaking your head, Zion laughing beside you as Harry asks if you’re alright. “I’m fine, sorry. Just made a mess.” With a frown, you place the empty bag beside you and lick the crumbs off your lips.

“Hey, you missed some,” Zion giggles and you groan.  

“Ugh, where?”

“I got you,” and he doesn’t give you any warning, just like all the other times, as he kisses the tip of your nose. You can just barely feel his tongue on your skin and you jolt back with a loud cry, pushing him back.

“Oh my god!!! You’re so gross!” You wipe his saliva off your nose. “That was the worst one!”

“But also the last one! The song goes ‘kiss me three times’—“

“Excuse me, what?” Eugene cuts in and you’re getting seriously annoyed. You can’t believe he did that in front of everybody!

“Zion caught me singing this stupid song and has been relentless with his teasing.” You hope the questions end there.

They don’t.

“What’s the song?” Harry asks, and you give him an exasperated look. He seems to realize how embarrassed you are and he gives you a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“It’s not important-“

“Kiss me once, kiss me twice-“ Zion gladly sings and you shove him again. He lets himself sway as he chuckles madly, clearly joyed by your reaction.

“Shut up, Zion!”

“You’ve been kissing her as a joke?” Lawrence has an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Only on the cheek and stuff.” He acts like it’s no big deal.

“You shouldn’t be kissing me at all!”

“Is that actually why you have the bear?” Lawrence ponders out loud and Zion turns to you with his mouth wide open.

“You kept it?!”

“Lawrence!” You cry out, betrayed, but he doesn’t look sorry. Your face is practically on fire. “Can we talk about something else, please?! It’s over! He kissed me three times and that’s how the song goes so can we get over it?”

For the grace of your sanity, everyone thankfully moves on and the meeting continues. You can feel Zion staring at you, but you don’t look back.

---------

That night while you’re tucked into your blankets, you hear your class door open. Your body tenses.

“It’s me,” Zion announces himself and you naturally relax, even though your still pissed off at him, because at least Zion was better than a zombie creeping in your room. But only by a little bit.

Your back is turned towards the door and you don’t bother to turn around. “What do you want?”

The small bed of blankets you’ve made for yourself shifts as Zion sits beside you. It’s quiet.

Zion sighs, his hand resting on your shoulder as he nudges you to lie on your back. He looks down at you with those beautiful golden eyes of his and you can’t help but feel anxious and vulnerable. “Sorry if I took it too far,” he whispers into the quiet of your room. You look away from his eyes. Once he realizes you aren’t going to say anything, he sighs again. “Why’d you keep it?” It’s painfully obvious what he’s referring to.

“It was a stupid idea, but… it’s a nice memory.” You try and hide under your covers. “And I don’t have a lot of those anymore.”

Zion nods once. He seems deep in thought. “What are you thinking about?” You whisper and he only shrugs. You want to hit yourself for what you say next. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘don’t think twice’?”

Golden eyes meet yours again in the darkness. Swallowing nervously, you reach out to him, not daring to think twice as you cup his cheek.

You don’t try and stop him when he crawls on top of you, or when he leans down and finally kisses you properly on the lips. Your arms wrap around him as you kiss him back. He whispers, hot breath on your lips, “Isn’t it ‘cross the line’?”

“Yes,”

You kiss him again, letting his body press against yours and envelop you in his warmth. You kiss him once, twice, three times.

Maybe even more than that.

[cgmayra]

Recalling when Sonic called off his race with Tails just to get eggs for Amy, I can't help but think that maybe their relationship developed into something of slowly going romantic where they'd act couple-y without even realizing such as when Sonic fetched eggs for Amy like the "good boyfriend" would or a hypothetical scenario: Sonic wants to taste something Amy is eating, so Amy hands it to him and Sonic just bites it down casually. How's that for a headcanon? Or is it too far-fetched? XD

Please remember that Prompts are on Shutdown! Do not send me any! Sorry! I still have a lot to do!

Prompt:

“W-woah!” Amy was attempting to shimmy across the thin, tree-plank that led to where her and her friends were adventuring to retrieve a valuable artifact disturbed by Knuckles’s antics. While trying to move across, she saw a bug and lost her usually perfect balance.

“Amy! Take my hand!” Sonic, just ahead of her, stopped and reached back. She immediately, while moving left and right on one leg, grabbed it and sighed, seeing him lift it up to the rope above their heads.

“Thanks, Sonic. B-but now-!” the rescue caused a shift in the rope as well, shaking as Amy placed both hands on the rope.

“Grrr…” Sonic judged the situation quickly, biting his teeth down as he looked around him. “Okay.” He nodded, then lowered Amy’s hand that he was holding so they were down in the middle of them. “Just use one hand to cross, I’ve got you.”

“Alright.” Amy nodded seriously, and the two continued to scoot across the branch.

Sticks narrowed her eyes behind her, “Hmmmrrmmm…” she seemed to be sizing up their activity…

-Later~-

Sonic was in the market place, looking over things before seeing something shiny and pink. “Hey! It’s a bracelet!” he looked it over before a goofy smile skimmed his cheeks. “I bet Amy would like this.” He placed it in his chart, and on the other side of the market place, Amy was eyeing a blue watch that made racing car noises. “Haha!” she giggled into her hand, “Oh, Sonic would love this!” she placed it in her basket and walked on.

Sticks, popping her head out of the ‘expired/no good’ waste bin dumpster growled once more, narrowing her eyes at the two…

-Another time~-

“Oh! These cookies just don’t look right.” Amy frowned, wearing the pink bracelet as Sonic was fiddling with the blue watch, making it create car engine noises.

“Hehehe…” he giddily fixated on it’s endless fun, but Amy’s sigh suddenly drew him away and he looked at her cookie tray she had placed out of the oven. “What’s wrong with it? It smells great!” Sonic sat more upright, lowering his knee that was up a moment ago and turning more directly to Amy.

His eyes stayed glued to hers as she spoke, “Oh, it’s just that… well, the picture made them look so good… I hope they’re okay… I was going to give them to those poor, sweater-less orphan penguins but…” she put her hands to her hips, “I can’t give them these!”

“What about these?” he picked one up, “Ow! Hot, hot, hot!” he shook his hand, burning his glove a little bit on some melted chocolate on the side of the cookie.

“Oh no! Here…” Amy reached over, about to bite on the gloved-finger to get the chocolate off.

“Hey! This chocolate’s mine!” Sonic immediately withdrew the hand and sucked on it himself. “I went through all the hard work of getting it!”

“Oh, but it would have burnt your finger!” Amy protested, but he just shook his other pointer finger at her, as though telling it ‘nuh-uh, this one’s all mine!’.

Then, his eyes widened. “Emmm~ These are good!” he went in for another, taking a bite. “Amy! You can’t give these to the children!”

“H-huh? Why not! I thought you said they were good!?” Amy quickly took the tray away, holding it back from him and examining them. She placed it by the window as he continued-

“Because they’ve got to be all mine!”

He laughed, thinking himself funny but Amy just rolled her eyes, “You really like them? I mean, I guess I could add some ‘flare’ to them, that way, their presentation is a little more decent…”

“I say let the kids have them the way they are!” he relaxed back, smiling brightly to her in comforting optimism. He placed his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, “They’ll be shoving them in their mouths before ever having the time to look at them!”

His cheeriness brightened up her insecurity, “Ohhh… You!” she jumped over the table to hug him, disorientating him a moment as his arms flailed out from her sudden affection.

“H-hey! I was only stating my opinion here! Ames!”

“Hehehe~ And I encourage you to state it as much as you want!”

“Well, that’s a first.”

Amy laughed. The two were distracted so much, they didn’t see Sticks’s camouflage into a plant’s top-level foliage as she growled and reached in, grabbing a cookie and ducking back down into position.

-Tails’s place, again, at a later date-

“I don’t get it, Tails. It’s like a conspiracy… but it isn’t.” Sticks gripped the table, looking angry for some reason.

“Is this about aliens and the government again?” Tails didn’t even bother looking up from his inventions, but Sticks just snarled on the side of her mouth.

“Grraawwwhhhh… It’s not about the government, Tails!” she flung her arms up, “This is of a whole new caliber of lies and deceit. It’s been right under our noses… no… this has to do with a company… a friendly sort of company of friends… friends who can’t even noticing how deceptive they’re being towards each other and their other friends!” she gripped her head, showing her own confusion as Tails’s ears finally perked up.

“Sounds like corruption in the market, if you ask me.” He thought she meant a literal company…

“Ugh.” She shook her head, seeing he wasn’t getting it. “Whatever, I’ll keep eyeing the two before I make any further assumptions. But I’m tellin’ ya!” she rose a finger up. “Something fishy is going on with Sonic and Amy! They’re all giggly lately, talking about each other from across the way, trying out cookies recipes and the like!” She threw out some words that made Tails finally lean up, away from his gear.

“Wait… you mean… they’re not fighting or anything, right?” Tails seemed concerned on her second comment.

“What? No! I said giggly! Weren’t you listening to me!?”

“D-don’t get offended! You said they were talking about each other behind their backs… I got worried.” He put his hands up, covered in black gear-gunk to try and calm her down.

“Oh. I said across the way! Not behind their backs!” she defended, “Just come see for yourself.” She started to waddle to the door, looking more ticked off than ever before…

Tails finally followed her, giving her to her ‘spying’ ways and saw the two walking down the street.

“They just look like they’re talking.” Tails seemed a bit skeptical, hiding with Sticks in a bush. “Doesn’t this invade their private friend-life?”

“Ohhhh, it’s far from being started yet, Tails.” She passed him the binoculars. “Destruction of trust between friends in 5….4….3…2….” she pointed as suddenly a puddle came out in Amy’s way.

“Oh no!” she flinched her foot up, but Sonic bowed graciously and suddenly dived backwards, turning at the last moment with Amy’s gasp to push himself up and create a bridge over the puddle.

It was so extra, it made Amy giggle girlishly, covering her face a bit from her blush and walk over him.

It was a terrible idea though because even though Sonic was showing off his strength and chivalry, it also caused discomfort walking over his quills that poked or scratched up against Amy’s ankles.

“Ow, oh, ee!” she passed and then smiled down to him as he got up and looked over at being separated from her by the other side of the puddle.

He could have easily spin-dashed over it, but to be dramatic, he pretended to reach for her, throw more rocks in the water to create a bridge, and then hopelessly despair as Amy continued to laugh at his jokes.

Tails’s mouth hung down as Sticks’s anger peaked, tapping her finger on her folded arms. “They’re so adorable… it’s like they lied to our faces and then each others!” she was about to jump out of the bush. “YOU TWO ARE LIARS-!” she was thrown back into it by Tails.

“No, Sticks!” He held her down as she tried to struggle back up from his grasp.

“Let me at those lying, good for nothing-!”

“Calm down, Sticks! They probably don’t even know what they look like!”

“How can they not know how it looks like!? If they’re together, they should at least have the decency to tell their most trusted friend ever—that is to say me. But instead, they lie to our faces and continued to call each other ‘a good friend’. If THAT’S a good friend, I want to know what they think a dating dance looks like!” Sticks gestured furiously over to them, showing she didn’t buy that crap for jack!

Tails sighed, shrugging with his shoulders slightly. “Honestly… I’m glad they’re getting along so well. It wasn’t always like this… They probably just don’t want to ‘rock the boat’, so to speak.” He nervously twiddled his fingers a moment, blushing. “I-I kinda get that, you know? When the friendship’s going so well… you don’t really want to disrupt it by asking something kinda embarrassing like that.” He smiled over to Zooey, working daintily at her stall.

“I-I-It might ruin the great, wonderful… charming interactions you already have with each other…” he melted as the red on his face grew brighter. “Y-you know what I mean?” he looked around, seeing Sticks had disappeared suddenly. “S-Sticks?”

“Move, loser. I have some so-called ‘friends’ to bust.” She tried to move around a dude holding flowers out in front of her.

“B-b-but-!” the poor boy was ignored completely as she side-swiped around him and dashed to Sonic and Amy, his arm held out to her as she took it and they walked towards a movie theatre, just chatting excitedly to each other.

Sticks shook her fist, “GET BACK HERE-! YOU TWO ARE MESSIN’ WITH MY SANITY AND THIS MUST END!”

“No! Sticks!” Tails took off after her, “Oh, pardon me!” he maneuvered around the boy, before seeing how disappointed the stranger looked and realized…

Sonic and Amy weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice blossoming romances that were right in front of their noses…

The stranger nervously ran behind a wall, “Phew, that was close! If Sticks knew who I was then…” The boy took off his covering, revealing his intern-self. “Then I’d have to introduce her to my mother. And after all the times she’s come to Meh Burger and asked for extra fries… I don’t know, man. My mom might think it’s serious!” He clutched his head in fright.

Ever since that plane ride, her asking to ‘get closer’, he’s never looked at her the same way as all the other customers…

But that’s a misconstrued story for another day.

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 4

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.6k

[a/n]

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

AO3

Part 3 || Part 5 || masterlist

Tsukishima might not like you, but at least you unspokenly agreed on how to treat the strange tension from last time’s meeting: ignore it. 

No one dared mention it. Since he arrived a while ago, no one talked unless needed. It’s not like the air is awkward, it’s just silent, devoid of last time’s weird shenanigan as you continued on with the unfinished assignment from his previous visit.

“I assume you’re done from how you’re spacing out at nothing,” he reprimands.

You flinch and realize that you’ve been staring at the wall behind Tsukishima. 

“Oh, uhhh.” You check your laptop to see your progress and surprisingly, you really are done. Your brain must have shut down on it’s own when it registered that you’re finished with your work for the day.

“Yep!” You snicker proudly at him. “Are we going to watch crocodiles doing the nasty now?” you ask him with eager interest.

You really have a way with words that always throws him off-guard, yet instead of scowling at you, he just gives out a resigned sigh. He knows you aren’t trying to irk him. That’s just how you really are.

It’ll be better for his sanity to just tolerate your and leave you be than drive himself to the brink of madness.

“Yeah,” he responds thriftly.

You giddily scurry over at his side of the table and comfortably seat yourself beside him. You hug your knees as he prepares several videos from BBC Earth and Nat Geo Wild that shows and explains crocodile mating behavior. He turns up the volume of his laptop to its loudest so you can both hear the audio clearly.

In the second video, the voice-over explains the kinds of display reptiles make to attract their potential mate. His eyes glance at you briefly. Not that he’s complaining about it, but you’re acting unusually docile today . You’ve been mostly quiet ever since he arrived.

It’s all good until he hears a wheezing noise that sounds all too real and all too weird for it to come from the video.

He looks to you and immediately finds the culprit.

Your lips are parted with your neck extended forward and your chin tilted up a bit while you produce guttural sounds, making it seem like you’re choking.

“What are you doing?”

You face him, still looking like an idiot as you continue making a sound he’s never heard of with the same absurd upper body posture. He looks at you with abhorrence when he starts to realize what you’re doing. 

Are you actually trying to imitate a crocodile bellowing for a mate?

You sit up straight and beam at him with pride. “How’s that for a mating call?”

If he were a male crocodile, he’d find another estuary to escape away from that horrible sound you were producing. “You sound like you’re dying,” he says as he remembers how it seemed like you were hoarsely scratching your vocal cords together.

“Wait, wait. Lemme try again,” you announce with determination, which he finds pointless and  totally unnecessary. He doesn’t care if you successfully do it. He even prefers you stop trying at all.

Yet, you still pressed on. You resume your earlier actions, looking even more ridiculous as you start to sound and look like a seagull squawking repeatedly. 

He should be irritated since you’re wasting time. Instead, he puts a fist over his mouth, attempting to hold back a snort. You don’t seem to notice because your eyes are on the laptop as you keep trying to replicate what you’re seeing on screen. 

When you actually start choking, he lets out the laugh that he’s been holding in which makes you look at him. You try to speak but it comes out distorted as you’re still coughing from your mating call attempt.

“You look like an idiot.” He laughs harder when regret surfaces on your eyes while clearing your throat.

He recovers from his outburst of laughter at the same time you manage to soothe your voice back to normal. He’s expecting you to be embarrassed from the stunt you tried to pull, which you appear to be seeing as you’re  covering your face with your palms. You don’t seem to be upset though because he can hear your muffled giggles.

You quickly remove your hands and face him. “I was sure I could do it, okay? You didn’t have to laugh that hard!” Despite the pout you show him, your eyes twinkle with levity as you hold his stare.

How the fuck you can you be so weird but still so pretty at the same time? 

No wonder you have the rest of them wrapped around your pretty little finger. You just flash them that delightful smile of yours and you completely have them under your spell.

But not him, of course. Definitely not him.

Also, he tries to convince himself, he didn’t think you were pretty at all.

He’s just looking from the perspective of his teammates on why they adore you so much. Nothing more, nothing else. 

To him, you’re still the irksome manager he knows you are. This set-up is just temporary. He’ll never forget how you really are - overbearing, cunning, and infuriating. This strangely charming  attitude you’re showing him is just because of the temporary ceasefire between the both of you, and this easy, comfortable atmosphere is just born out of necessity. When this project is finished, you’ll be back to the real you. So he shouldn’t be wasting his time reading into whatever’s happening between you two.

“Should we continue watching?” you ask him lightheartedly as you hug your knees again, softly leaning your head against them.

The nerve of you to ask that. You’re the one who disrupted the videos, not him. He should be the one berating you to get back to the project instead of you pleasantly asking him to continue where you left off. 

“You’re the one who interrupted the whole thing in the first place,” he spats rather than answering your question, wishing you’d retort with something stupid so he can go back loathing you silently.

Instead, you simper apologetically and mutter a timid, “My bad.”

Then you extend your arm to his laptop and rewind to where the video was before you distracted him with your audacious growling.

During the remainder of the videos, he glances every once in a while to check if you’re going to do something distracting again. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell anymore which is worse) you stay well-behaved and entirely focused on the documentary with your arms wrapped around your tucked legs tucked and your chin resting to your knee.

When the documentaries end, he pulls up the video he took with your phone from your crocodile farm trip. Compared to the produced output you’d just gone through, the amateur video he captured at the farm is evidently not as exciting to watch. The quality is not that great because his hand had been shaky while filming it. He remembered not looking at the screen of your phone while filming it because he had been looking at you. 

Rather than noticing that aspect of the video, you comment about the audio.  “I can’t hear anything from the breeding pen. I only hear my voice and Sara’s.”

He’s about to reason out that you’re talking non-stop but he immediately realizes that it’s not necessarily a bad thing because you were asking Sara questions related to the project at that time.

“I want to hear them growling,” you declare. 

“I’m not sure they even were. This is an artificial environment for crocodiles. Also, we’re a bit far from them,” he explains. 

You face scrunches up with disapproval. “Why didn’t you just zoom the camera in?”

His jaw drops from how appallingly dim-witted your question is. He’d think you were kidding but you look genuinely upset because you can’t hear the sounds you heard from the videos earlier. 

First of all, just like he said, they might not even be making sounds at all. Secondly, your phone, despite being a good model, wouldn’t be able to miraculously capture sounds even if he zoomed it outrageously close to the reptiles. Lastly and most importantly, are you actually that dumb?

He doesn’t even know how to condense all his thoughts properly and convey how revolted he is from the amount of brainlessness you can put in one simple question that’s less than ten words. 

Your eyes go wide when it finally hits you too.

“Oh God,” you mutter weakly as you put two palms to cover the lower half of your face. 

You two share the same expression of disgust as you realize how stupid you sounded while you hold his gaze. 

You press your lips together in a thin line then bust your gut out with an uproar laugh that fills your room. You tug the sleeve of his shirt as you look at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m a dunce,” you admit with trails of laughter still seeping from your voice.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks so,” he says with half-hearted insult as he’s still figuring out if he did something or is it your own stupidity that’s causing your outburst.

You bite your trembling lips in an attempt to fend off another laugh, but fails to do so when you clutch his arm tighter and another round of jovial laugh escapes from your mouth.

You try to form a phrase but it’s drowned out by your own cackles. Still, he catches on with what words you manage to utter. 

You are laughing at yourself. 

He always thought you liked making fun of others because you’re always simpering every time someone’s at your mercy -- those boys who relentlessly try to hit on you; any member of the team who gets flustered when you praise them; and him, especially him, who seems to be your personal favorite person to pick on. 

Yet, he’s never seen you this elated before, with your face scrunched up as you go hysterical from your own silliness. 

He can’t help but think that maybe he misunderstood you a little bit. You’re not actually a pompous bitch. You’re just a crackhead who finds joy in the littlest, most foolish things.

“I swear to God, Tsukishima. Our university is in ruin for making me a goddamn scholar.” You let go of his arm and sniffle while wiping your tears of joy.

When you look up to him, your face is glowing. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are gleaming at him effervescently, and your smile is not as annoying as it used to be. 

Objectively speaking, it’s similar to your usual ones, except it’s also totally different. He can’t really fully grasp why but there’s something about it that distinguishes it from all the others he’s seen from you.

He must have been peering at you more than necessary because your smile dissolves gradually while your mirthful expression turns into a puzzled one. 

You’ve been trying to ignore the thought, but Tsukishima is definitely acting weird today; weird because he’s not as mean as he usually is. 

Well, duh. You do have some sort of agreement for him to tone it down. Still, you didn’t expect he’d do it this well. Even when he was laughing at you earlier, it wasn’t as demeaning as it should have been.

And to make you even more puzzled, right now, he’s just staring blankly at you. 

Generally, Tsukishima’s empty glares at you are not really empty. They contain inhibited disdain which he has not failed to show you over the years you’ve been their manager. Even when he’s actually trying not to let it show, you still easily see through him. 

But at this moment, you have no idea what’s going on in his head. His eyes are studying you quietly and you return his stare, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thinking. 

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong but as soon as you open your mouth, a familiar glint surfaces on his face as his gaze drops on your lips.

If the latter parts of the previous meeting were awkward, this one goes beyond awkward.

There is an abrupt drop of weight that looms across the whole room, a weight so heavy that you find it difficult to breathe. The room is spacious enough for two, but you feel like it’s too cramped up all of a sudden. 

It’s an all too familiar feeling that you did not anticipate would ever come back. In fact, it should not be back at all. 

It is as exciting as it is terrifying when you realize: you want to kiss him. 

You previously justified your actions as something sort of a ‘one time madness’ and. until now, you were sure it was just that. It was a whim brought by his sudden closeness fueled by the atmosphere of the club at the time. 

You were wrong.

Even at this dull, academic setting with him barely even touching you, you itch to feel him close. You want to relive the feeling of his body pressed against yours and his lips latched fervidly onto yours. 

Damn it. He should stop staring at you like he wants the same thing. It’s tempting you even more to give in to the urge even though you know you’ll regret it later.

But no, you really can’t. Once was enough. Twice will be a different story. 

You had assured him and yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. If you cross that line now, you’re going to have to admit the irrevocable fact that you’re attracted to him. 

You let out a shaky breath as you avert your gaze from his. 

You’re about to replay the video when you hear a sudden thud on the floor. You look back at him with worry only to see his hand slammed against the floor as he swiftly lunges forward to close the gap between you and him. 

His free hand goes to your chin and tilts it up as he crashes his lips on yours.

It’s just as you remember - calm yet impassioned, successfully sweeping away any incertitude you had about kissing him. Your mind is only filled with how good he feels as he impatiently drags his hand to your waist and tugs you closer. 

You wrap an arm around his neck to completely eliminate whatever space is left between your bodies. You grasp the back of his head as you return his kiss with the same ardor, your mouths naturally cascading against one another with a rhythm you two can perfectly understand and follow without any words needed.

When he sneaks his tongue in, you begin to forget what he is to you outside the confines of this room as you helplessly moan into his mouth.

You can tell he’s not doing so well either with how tight he’s grasping the small of your back as the intensity of the kiss grows with each ticking second. 

“Tsukishima,” you puff heavily as you withdraw away from him with half-lidded eyes, the feel of his lips still lingering on yours. 

You hope that the soft call of his name will be the voice of reason for him to stop kissing you. He needs to stop for you’re totally powerless to do it yourself. He needs to stop before it escalates into something else, something more.

Thankfully, he does stop. 

He takes a deep breath as his eyes travel from your lips up to your eyes, meeting your gaze to study the entirety of your features. 

He thought you were going to ask him to stop, hence the conflicted tone of your voice when you said his name. But the look on your face tells him otherwise. 

You like this as much as he does. He didn’t want to admit it last time, but fucking hell. You really do make a complete mess of his rational thinking with how good you taste, how your determined eyes mellow down within his embrace, and how you yield right on the first touch of his lips. 

He knows he should stop. It’s the perfect chance to do so. It shouldn’t matter how soft and pliant you are when pressed against him. It shouldn’t matter that you look like you want him to continue wherever this leads to.

But it does. He doesn’t want to stop, and he knows neither do you.

He grits his teeth in annoyance as he hisses at you, “Shut up.” 

Just like he did a while ago, he easily covers the tiny distance between your lips. He gets a little more greedy this time and slides his hand underneath your shirt, experimenting with what he can do to earn him another whimper from you. He’d like to revel on the sound of your meekness once again. 

It didn’t really take much. At the first contact of his palm on the bare skin of your waist, you instantly give him what he wants. 

Your soft moan fills his ears that he doesn’t hear the sudden clack of the door. 

“Y/n, did you do our - oh!”

You violently tug his head past the curve of your shoulder, making him take out his hand from your shirt and ram it against the floor to support himself. 

“Couldn’t you knock?” you ask breathlessly to whoever’s on the door.

He tries to free himself from you but judging from  how firm your grip is on his head, it doesn’t look like you want him to move from his current position. It doesn’t help that you’re almost choking him from how hard you’re pressing his neck against your collar bone. 

“I can’t breathe!” he whispers infuriatingly, but you don’t answer. You only clutch on his hair tighter.

“My bad, dude. I didn’t know you got yourself a boyfriend,” your friend says defensively. 

Out of all the possible times she could choose to come over, it had to be when you and Tsukishima were making out. You’re a tiny bit grateful for being stopped when neither of you wanted to, but more embarrassed that it was because your friend walked in on the scene. 

“Can you come back later?” you ask almost nervously, concerned that she might recognize that it’s Tsukishima leaning against you. She knows him because they used to have classes together last semester.

Your friend just shrugs it off and is about to close the door when her eyes catch Tsukishima’s jacket. Her eyes widen in shock when she sees the logo of the Sendai Frogs. 

“Holy shit! Are you dating one of your players?” She looks back at you incredulously. 

“Get out!” you yell out from agitation. 

She flinches from the sudden raise of your voice but is quick to understand that you need the privacy right now. “Okay, okay. I got it,” she mutters apologetically and whispers, “Sorry,” before she finally shuts the door.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves without figuring out that it was Tsukishima. As for him, he tears your hand away and faces you with fury seeping from his orbs. 

“Were you trying to kill me?!”

You dismiss his anger and regard him impassively. “Then would you have preferred your face being seen?”

“So what? It’s not like she knows me,” he leans forward towards you a bit to emphasize his point with the same angry tone.

With his face too close for comfort, you suddenly become aware of the fact that you’re still trapped between the arms planted on both sides of you. 

“Um, can you back off for a bit?” You turn away tensely, worried that you might want an encore of what your friend interrupted if you continue staring at him from this distance.

“Huh?” He sounds like he has no idea what you’re talking about so you place both hands on his chest to softly push him away.

He must have realized it then because he lifts himself off of you and sits back to upright. 

You try to settle down but to no avail. Your heart is still beating abnormally, despite being now  rid of your nosy friend and his dangerous proximity. The deafening silence rings in your ears and the air feels heavy again, your mind drifting dangerously back to the earlier events.

“This is your fault,” Tsukishima mumbles with a frown. 

You gasp at his audacity. “Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me!” 

“Because you ...” he trails off before he could say what was going on in his head: because you looked so damn fascinating that he caved to his want for a repeat of that night. So it really is your fault. If you hadn’t kissed him back then, he wouldn’t have found out how exquisite it feels to have you succumb to him. Then, he wouldn’t have been tempted to kiss you at all. 

Shit. He sounds stupid, justifying his own reckless behavior. 

He looks down at your waist which he was just touching. If your friend hadn’t barged in, how far will you two have gone? 

He shudders at the thought. No. There was absolutely no fucking way you two would’ve done that. He won’t be able to stomach it if that happens. You might have been tolerable today, but that doesn’t mean he can stand the idea of going beyond making out with you. 

Did he just admit to himself that he doesn’t mind kissing you? 

“Because I what?” you ask him with an addled look. 

“Nothing,” he answers as he starts fixing his stuff. 

“Hey, what’re you doing? We still need to do a comparison write-up for the videos,” you say,  watching him pack up. 

“Let’s just pick up where we left off when we meet again.” He can’t be around you any longer today. You’re causing too much havoc to his usually sensible mindspace. 

“Aren’t we going to talk about what just happened?”

Not bothering to heed your question, he continues what he’s doing. After he puts the only remaining binder he has out back in his bag, he faces you. 

“No,” is his answer before he slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves your room. 

--

Damn that Tsukishima. 

As if you don’t have enough on your plate already, he adds another massive one on the pile. You wish you can just disregard it, push it at the back of your head like you did the first time. But you can’t. 

You were supposed to study the Lion’s new line, but you just end up zoning out every five minutes as the scene replays in your head. You even transferred to the lobby even though you hated working there just for a change of pace.

It turned out useless as people you know kept on stopping by for small chats. You couldn’t focus on the game footages which needs your full concentration to analyze.

So there you are, restless and distraught,  as you enter the gym with no printed output because you hadn’t accomplished anything at all.

Not that they need it today but you just generally like to have them ready in advance. You know your team. Almost everyone has their day jobs or are students like you. You don’t want to spring a hell load of reading material on them days away from the game. 

On top of that, you’re lagging behind the schedule you set for your project with the Tsukishima. No thanks to him for walking out the past two meetings.

“Do you have the profile of the Lions ready?” Coach Mira asks first thing when you get to her side. 

Great. Just great. You were hoping no one brings it up, but of course Coach has to. You did tell her you’d have it prepared by today.

“Sorry, Coach. I’ll have them ready by next training,” you quickly compromise for your setback. 

She swiftly turns to you with concern. “Are you sick?”

“Oh, no. I’m totally fine, Coach. Just had something to do last night,” you lie despite the guilt in your gut. The last time you were late with the team reports was when you became extremely sick. This time it’s because of some blonde guy that’s somewhere across the gym.

She breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I don’t really mind them being not as early as usual. I just don’t want our trusted manager getting sick.”

Her small compliment makes you feel a bit better. “Thanks, Coach.” You give her a faint smile.

“Alright, can you toss to the spikers?”

You nod and quickly turn around, only to see the cause of your delayed work blocking your path. Typically, you’d say something but you’re too bothered with what happened that you just move sideways to avoid him. However, he moves in the same direction you do. So you go the opposite way again, only for him to follow. 

At this point, you couldn’t suppress the dry laugh that comes from how spectacularly ironic the scene is. 

You look up to him. “Tsukishima,” you call out as you give him that too sweet of a grin he hates so much. “I’d appreciate it if you use those blocking skills on the court instead of me, hmm?”

This is the you Tsukishima is very much aware of - detestable to the core. Yet, on top of his annoyance is relief. It’s reassuring to see that you’re still very much the manager he knows you are, not the somehow tolerable person he made out with last time.

So instead of answering, he does the usual and turns deaf ears at you. While you’re sneering at him, he moves further to the side and successfully gets past you. 

He’d tell you about his fix for the current dilemma you two are having, but with Coach within earshot, he’d rather not. He doesn’t want anyone, especially the team, knowing that you’re spending some time alone with him, let alone getting physical with him. He’ll never hear the end of it from them, so he’ll just text you later. 

--

You can’t believe Tsukishima actually suggested doing the project at their home. You don’t think he’s the kind of person who invites classmates to their house just because of school work. It is hard to imagine him introducing people to whoever he’s living with, let alone you.

Maybe they’re gone for the day. That’s why he invited you over. 

You ring the doorbell of the address he gave you. Quite soon enough, another tall blonde person opens the door. He must be another Tsukishima - a nice Tsukishima with a pleasant face that looks nothing like the permanent nonchalance plastered on the face of your middle blocker. 

“Yes?” the pleasant Tsukishima asks. 

You greet him with a warm smile. When you ask for the other Tsukishima you’re going to work with, his face noticeably lights up. “You’re looking for Kei?” he asks softly but with audible excitement. 

“Um, yeah. He asked me to come.” You’re very curious as to why he looks so pleased, but it’d be rude to ask him upfront when you just met him.

Before the guy in front of you can even answer, you already hear the voice of the one you’re looking for. 

“Let her in, Nii-chan.”

Nii-chan? Oh my God. That’s the cutest thing ever! You didn’t think Tsukki’s the kind of guy to address his older sibling like that. 

“I’m Akiteru by the way,” the older Tsukishima introduces himself as he opens the door for you.

“Y/n. here,” you respond delightfully then give him a gracious bow before entering. 

As you remove your shoes upon stepping inside, you already see Tsukki seated in the living room with his stuff set up. You don’t know if he’s started working on the project but he’s already focused on his laptop.  

You would've made yourself feel at home, but this is not solely his place. You don’t want to be impolite. 

“You can go join him, Y/n. I’ll go to my room now,” Akiteru kindly tells you and turns around. 

“Wait,” you blurt out.

He faces your way again. “Yeah?”

“Can I call you Aki-san? I don’t want to confuse you when I say ‘Tsukishima.’” 

He gently holds both your hands and pulls them up as he clasps them together with his.

“You can call me Aki-nii-chan if you want,” he says with a hopeful look on his face. You can tell he’s got the completely wrong idea about you and Tsukishima, which confirms your earlier assumption.

Yet instead of being uncomfortable, you find yourself amused. Tsukishima must have never brought a girl home before, thus the excitement and false assumption from Akiteru. 

“I think I like Aki-san better,” you respond respectfully, hoping that you don’t have to spell it out for him.

“Stop it. She’s just a classmate,” you hear Tsukishima say.

Akiteru lets go of your hand and laughs apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’ll leave you two alone now.” He smiles briefly at you and heads upstairs.

You walk towards Tsukishima and sit beside him. “What were you thinking inviting me over?” you instantly ask. You know he must already be aware of the possibility that his relatives would very likely  assume things, which was just proven true by Akiteru.

“As much I despise the idea of having you here, this is better than being in your place,” he says with his attention still on his laptop.

“How so?” You glance at his laptop and see that he’s working on a different subject than the one you have together. When notices it, he closes the tabs and faces you.

“We’re not completely alone here. We won’t get unwelcome urges.”

Oh dear Lord. So that’s what this is about. He thinks that being alone with you is the cause of it.

“I hate to remind you this, Tsukishima, but the first time we kissed was in the middle of a club packed with people. It’s not the place that’s the issue,” you emphasize the last sentence.

Before you went there, you decided to just accept the fact that you and Tsukishima have this uncanny attraction towards each other. The last meeting’s events were proof of that. Instead of getting all worked up trying to deny it or disregard it as something else, you just acknowledge it for what it really is. 

“Then what is?” Unlike you, he seems to entirely shut out the disturbing conclusion you came up with. That’s why he decided to meet here instead of your place despite whatever his family might think.

Too bad for him though, you’re about to break the news to him.

“We’re attracted to each other,” you declare without any reluctance.

“No,” he quickly rejects the notion. “I don’t care what you feel about me, but I am not in any way attracted to you,” he says every word with solid conviction that you’re not sure if it’s meant to convince you or himself.

“Right. Why did you kiss me last time then?” you counter.

“Whatever the reason is, that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you. I tolerate you when we’re not in the gym. That’s the extent of what I feel for you.”

You sigh as you rub your face with your palms. “Why do you have to be such a fucking tsundere, Tsukki? I’m doing this for the both of us.”

His face contorts to one that’s filled with utter displeasure. “How the hell is this beneficial for us?”

“Hear me out and think about it before you say ‘no’ again,” you begin. “I think we should just give in to this weird thing going on between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re starting to get annoyed at this point. His denial of the situation is making him stupid. Does he think this is easy for you? You don’t want this either. But what can you do? The thick, unmistakable attraction is there.

For fuck’s sake, do you really have to spoonfeed it to him?

“Tsukishima Kei,” you let out one heavy puff before you say it. “You’re allowed to kiss me when it’s just the two of us,” you announce.

You’ve never felt more offended than when he looks utterly disgusted at your proposal. 

“Your head’s way too big from all the moronic ideas you're stuffing in it. Just because I initiated it last time doesn’t mean I want to do it again,” he utters each word with unrepressed contempt that makes you feel humiliated for suggesting such a thing.

You’re not a sensitive person. You can easily laugh off whatever anyone throws your way. Especially with Tsukishima since you know much he dislikes you. But that one - that one hurt. 

You shake your head and start taking out your stuff. “You’re right. It was a moronic idea. So forget I even suggested it,” you say while setting up your laptop on the table. 

You can’t stand the repugnant look on his face so you keep your eyes in front of you even if your laptop is still booting up.

“Let’s just do what we should be doing. Sorry, I wasted our time with my stupidity.” You don’t want to, but now you’re starting to really feel sorry for yourself. 

It shouldn’t be new or surprising to you. This is Tsukishima. His personality is terrible as hell. Yet, you wouldn’t mind a few kisses from him every now and then. You bared yourself just now by admitting that. 

Tsukishima must be so pleased you finally shut up because you don’t hear anything from him. You’re thankful for it because you don’t want to talk either.

Instead of dwelling on self-loathing, you distract yourself by giving your all to the project at hand. You’re already behind schedule so all the more reason to be efficient. 

No one speaks while you completely lose yourself on your tasks for the day. You don't know how long you’ve been going at it but before you even know it, you’re almost done with your share of work for the day. 

You just need Tsukishima’s output to finish yours.

With your head occupied with the amount of work you need to get done, you easily got over the tiny pang you felt earlier. You turn to Tsukishima and ask him for his write up. 

He frowns at your request. “You’re done already?”

You nod. “Just need your thingy then I can go home.”

He checks your laptop to see for himself and scowls when he confirms that you really are almost done.

“Give me 30 minutes,” he says as he begins rushing his own work.

“Don’t rush it, Tsukishima. I can do other stuff while I wait for you. Also, if you don’t mind. Do you have coffee?” You can feel the exhaustion begin to set in your body. For the past four nights, you’ve been getting three to fours of sleep only. 

As the only manager of the Frogs, you constantly have to move around the gym to help them out. But unlike the players, your real work is outside the gym - sorting paperwork, gathering information about other teams, coordinating practice matches, and so on. On top of that, you have your academic subjects to deal with.

You’re honestly used to it. But being a graduating student this semester, things are tougher for you. Not to mention the shit with Tsukishima, which has been bothering you for the past few nights. 

Well, at least that one’s been dealt with already.

You must have spaced out because you did not notice Tsukishima leave, and are surprised when he’s suddenly beside you with a cup of coffee already at hand. 

“Did you put sugar?” You might have sounded a bit demanding, but you’re too tired to be polite.

“No. Did you want some?” he asks back.

You get the mug and take that first sip of coffee that wakes up your almost dead body. “No, this is perfect,” you comment with a weary smile as you replace the current doc file open with the draft of the Lions’ profile you’ve been working on. 

Tsukishima can’t help but look at you once in a while even though he needs to finish already so you can finalize yours as well.

You’re completely immersed in what you’re doing, taking the cup of coffee to your mouth every now and then without even taking your eyes off your screen. 

He thought you’re getting restless but the quickening clack of your keyboard is proving otherwise. In fact, it’s becoming distracting. He’s about to put his headphones on so he can concentrate on his own task when he hears the abrupt slowing down of your typing. What’s alarming is he starts hearing you take excruciatingly deep breaths that wavers when you let them out. 

One look at you and he knows that you’re not okay. You’re blinking way too fast and the corners of your mouth are almost drooping. Those and your uneven breathing is enough to cause him to worry. 

He grabs your shoulder and forces you to look at him. “Oy, what’s wrong with you?”

You look at him with no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Hmm?”

The lack of life in your orbs is very concerning. It’s nothing compared to how you looked like when you were dead beat on the way home from the crocodile farm. 

“Are you having hard time breathing?” 

“Oh, that,” you let out a laugh that seems to contain the last strand of energy you have. “I’m just palpitating. Sorry if it’s distracting. You should go put your headphones on,” you say with a dead tone as you start picking up the pace again on what you’re doing. 

Just palpitating? Jesus Christ. 

He quickly takes away your coffee and slides it to his side of the table. It immediately catches your attention, your eyes absent-mindedly following the cup. “Hey, that’s my coffee. I need that,” you weakly complain.

“You need to rest,” he contradicts you. 

“I don’t need rest. I need to finish this and for me to finish this, I need,” you involuntarily inhale sharply and release it heavily before you complete your sentence, “that coffee.”

He checks your laptop and finds a comprehensive report on the updated line up of the Hiashi Automotive Lions. For someone who looks like she’s about to faint, it’s consistent with the other reports you’ve given the team previously - organized and well done. 

“You’re almost done here. Go take a nap.”

“Why would I take a nap if I’m almost done?” Despite the exhaustion evident in your whole being, you’re still determined to continue working. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out and I don’t want to take care of you when you do. So take a fucking nap on the couch,” he snaps. He didn’t mean to sound that harsh but it’s really getting on his nerves how you’re almost killing yourself with overworking.

You stare at him vacantly for a short while but do what he said. You drag yourself towards the couch and lazily lie yourself on it.

You cross your arms and rest them on the cushioned surface. Then, you snuggle your head on top of your arms as you wiggle your legs to a comfortable position. 

“You can use the pillows” he informs you.

“I’m fine,” you mutter with your eyes already shut. 

As much as he wants to get things done as fast as he can, your uneven heaving is a cause of concern. He keeps glancing behind him to check if you’re okay.

If he knew you’d be like this, he wouldn’t have given you the damn coffee.

He’s only able to start focusing on the project when your breathing becomes steady. Still, it took him more than 30 minutes to finish. He looks over to where you are again and calls out your name. However, you don’t even move an inch.

He walks towards the couch and sits at the unoccupied space by your waist. From this distance, he can see that your features are a bit more relaxed now even with just less than an hour of sleep.

He’s certain that you’ve been overworking yourself. It’s only because of your stubbornness that you were able to pull off the things you accomplished tonight. 

He’d let you rest a bit more longer but it’s going to get too late for you to go home on your own if he does. So he places a hand on your arms and gently shakes it.

“Mmmmm,” you hum on the arm you’re leaning at before slowly opening your eyes. With heavy lids, you plant your hand on the cushion and forcefully prop yourself up. Yet when you manage to sit up, you rest your head on your shoulder and close your eyes again.

“2 minutes,” you mumble sleepily.

He watches you fight the drowsiness that’s completely settled in. Instead of complaining when you still haven’t snapped out of it, he moves to sit beside you. He puts a gentle hand on the side of your head and softly tugs you to lean on his shoulder.

The moment your temple touches his shoulder, you bolt right up. His unexpected action has sucked the sleepiness out of you for a moment as you begin to put your guard up.

“I’m up. I’m up,” you announce in an alert manner as you scoot away from him. You frantically rub your eyes to get them to open.

So he isn’t imagining it: what he said a while ago got to you. Else, you wouldn’t have moved away like you’re allergic to his touch. You had been unusually quiet after he lashed out at you, but can you blame him for doing so? You’re basically saying that it’s okay to make out when it’s just you two. It’s fucking ridiculous. You should be thinking about how to avoid the situation from happening again, not succumb to it.

So why does he feel like a dick for calling you a moron? And why is he upset now that you’re actually doing what he wants you to do? Also, how the fuck are you so charming even when you’re half asleep before him?

“Are you done with yer stuff?” you slur as you crack your neck side to side.

“Yeah. But you should go home already.”

You blink several times as you check the wall clock across the room for the time. “Okay. Just e-mail it to me so I can do it before our next meeting.”

“No. Focus on your other shit then continue it when we meet next time,” he sternly says.

“We’re already behind schedule, Tsukishima. Just send it to me,” you insist despite how faint your voice is.

“I said no.” He doesn’t dislike you enough to make you overwork yourself to death. 

You close your eyes again and shake your head in surrender. “Fine. I’m too tired to argue further.”

Just when you’re about to stand up, he grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes open up as you peer at him with confusion.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he utters with his best attempt to sound unbothered. 

Your brows crumple up from his statement that came out of nowhere. He just hopes that your fatigued self figures out what he’s referring to because he doesn’t want to elaborate on it. 

Sure enough, a palpable glint of understanding shows in your face when your mouth opens to form a silent “ah.”

“That, huh?” You respond just as vaguely as he had been. “Don’t worry about it,” you come up with a thrifty smile as you return your gaze to him.

“You were right anyways. It is a moronic idea. I just thought that maybe if we just let it ride out, it’ll pass. But meh. I just misread it and thought you enjoyed it as much as I do,” you explain in a nonchalant manner despite the confession that came along with it in the end.

Then, you giggle disorientedly. “You can rest easy now, Tsukishima. These disgusting lips of mine won’t come anywhere near you again, mkay?” 

He should be relieved, rejoicing even, that he’s pushed you away enough to keep your distance from him.

Yet what you said is gnawing at him for he didn’t say that. He never said your lips are disgusting.

Admittedly, he regrets kissing you on both occasions that it happened, but he’s never thought of it as disgusting.

Infuriating, yes, but not disgusting. 

“I’ll go fix my stuff now,” you say.

“They’re not disgusting,” he utters before you get off the couch. 

You look at him with vacant eyes that have begun to droop heavily again as a yawn comes out of you. You cover your mouth with your hands then lazily drop them to your lap afterwards.

You open your eyes and try to focus your sight again.

“Sorry, I conked out for like three seconds. Did you say something?” 

On a regular day, he’d think that you’re messing with him so he’ll repeat what he said. But the exhaustion still evident on your face convinces him that you really didn’t hear what he said. 

“Yeah,” he responds flatly before he leans closer to your face. He tilts his head a bit to the side and gently captures the warm softness of your lips.

The kiss lacks the heated intensity the previous two had. It is just one tender nip where he lingers just a tad bit longer to savor the taste of coffee mixed with your own.

He slowly withdraws from you but remains only an inch away that he still feels your breath mingling with his. 

“Your lips aren’t disgusting,” he repeats for you to hear this time.

Part 3 || Part 5 || masterlist

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[gibberingcultist]

Return to the Dunwich Legacy

There is only one h in Dunwhich. There is only one h in Dunwhich. There is only one h in Dunwhich. . .

Designers: Matthew Newman, Adam Sadler, Brady Sadler Artists: Lots and lots! I’ll do my best to credit the imagery utilized. Cover image by Tomasz Jedruszek. Playtime: 60-120 minutes per scenario. BGG Weight: 4 / 5 (based on 1 vote. Pshh!) Mechanisms: Action Point Allowance System, Cooperative Play, Deck / Pool Building, Hand Management, Role Playing, Variable Player Powers

Our Investigators

What’s a smelly drifter doing teaming up with a famed astronomer? I have…no idea. I chose “Ashcan” Pete primarily because he was an investigator from the Dunwich expansion that I have yet to play. But also Ashcan seems pretty flexible with his trusty dog Duke which starts immediately in play. Duke can assist Ashcan Pete in either investigating and or attacking monsters while not taking up his crucial ally slot. Lets just hope nothing bad ever happens to Duke. Ashcan seems pretty flimsy without him. My GF chose or rather settled for Norman Withers (replacement) because he is the last Seeker Investigator that she has yet to play. She loves the Seeker Class. He will be able to cast some spells which will help us with combat and encounter deck mitigation perhaps. It also helps that both our investigators have high willpower in preparation for some barn-busting bastards that may or may not be coming to a country side near you.

Ashcan Pete allows for up to 5 level 0 cards from any other class. I went for all Guardian cards. Trusted to help boost Duke’s health and sanity, and in-turn Ashcan’s overall success. I also grabbed a few trusty weapons from the Guardian deck and most importantly Dynamite. The Forgotten Age has scarred me. Besides that, I love my Lucky‘s and my Resourceful‘s from the Survivor class.

It does make sense for Norman Withers to have connections with Dr. Henry Armitage. I’m going to imagine Ashcan to be like Mack from Cannery Row. And Norman would be Doc. Ashcan is going to work real hard to get Norman some frogs. But first Norman will need to lend Ashcan some gas money. . . and a car.

The House Always Wins

I thought one of the two primary purposes of the Return To boxes was to fix any errors or problems with the original scenarios and yet the creators didn’t think to fix that lack of instruction about criminal enemies losing their aloof keyword after Agenda 1a. We should have realized sooner but because the scenario didn’t specifically state that they lost the aloof keyword, we didn’t even think of it until we already moved onto Agenda 3a. There was no turning back three rounds. It wouldn’t have even been an issue had they become hostile sooner either. I was prepared to fight anything and everything by Agenda 2a. It’s just frustrating to do something wrong and so soon in the campaign. I would like to see the necessary reprinting of specific cards included in these Return To boxes. I suppose FFG has plans to sell us errata packs later or a RE-Return to…

Beyond that one miscommunication, The House Always Wins is a very thematic and enjoyable scenario. We are tasked by our old mentor Dr. Henry Armitage to seek out two of his colleagues, Francis Morgan and Warren Rice. Armitage is in distress about Warren Rice potentially being in danger and Armitage is unable to contact either individual. Francis Morgan will know where to find Warren so we decide to find Francis first in hopes that he will give us some sort of benefit later on. So off to Francis’ favorite casino and lounge.

One doesn’t only get clues through the conventional method of taking an investigation action but rather he/she needs to press their luck gambling, grease some wheels by purchasing drinks for patrons at the bar, tip the performers for some inside information, and or just plain cheat your way through. The aloof hunter pit-boss will follow you around the establishment making sure you aren’t putting your nose anywhere it doesn’t belong. I only wish I could have killed him myself for his victory point before allowing the Conglomeration of Spheres to devour him. The conglomeration moved through, consuming everything and anyone in it’s path a la The Blob. Using any melee weapons against the blob also devours the weapons in the process. Fun! In the end we did manage to knock Francis Morgan out of his trance and run out into the back alley before any serious harm was done. Overall a very fun scenario.

Extracurricular Activity

Turns out Dr. Henry Armitage has separation anxiety issues. It’s been only 5 hours since he has last seen Professor Rice and already he’s digging in the trash, having accidents, barking at the door. I wonder what kind of extracurricular activities were going on between these two. Anyway, now that we have Francis Morgan in tow. . . never mind, Francis didn’t help one bit. Extracurricular Activity was another incredibly enjoyable scenario, this time taking place late at night, at the Miskatonic University. Being that we chose to find Professor Rice second, he was no longer in his office. Where could he have gone? Meanwhile a strange biological experiment breaks out of the Chem labs, and starts making it’s way towards student housing. Both Ashcan and Norman rush to warn the kids and successfully manage to wake them before the foul experiment conducts a few experiments of it’s own on the sleeping students. But instead, I suppose it just slinks off into the woods. Who knows!  

The need to locate and request the help of the night janitor to gain access to the offices was top notch. Immediately soon after finding and making friends with “Jazz” Mulligan, we are forced to make the decision between finding Professor Rice or saving the students while the clock quickly ticks down. Everything in this scenario worked at making you discard as many of your cards as possible. That in combination with the Beyond the Veil treachery card, a dire feeling of dread from running out of time is established. Beyond the Veil would almost certainly eliminate most investigators unless you have a ton of allies to help soak some of that damage. So between a quickly thinning deck and the ever creeping experiment, decisions need to be made. I hope we made the right one. In the end, Professor Rice is believed to be kidnapped. Armitage ends up joining our party as he can’t handle staying home alone any longer.

The Miskatonic Museum

Several months ago, Armitage and his colleagues stopped a rampaging horror from tearing through Dunwich, a backwater town several hours north and west of Arkham (read The Dunwich Horror for a better understanding of what all went down). Shortly after, a bestial citizen of Dunwich, named Wilbur Whateley recently made an attempt to steal the Latin translation of a book called The Necronomicon but died in the process. Armitage feels that this book, currently located at the Miskatonic Museum, will once again be the target for theft. So in order to protect it we are tasked with stealing it first. Makes total sense! Harold Walsted, curator of the museum, might also be able to help us. Upon breaking and entering into the museum, a monster called the Hunting Horror is also discovered to be perusing the exhibits long after visiting hours has ended. The Hunting Horror is a persistent winged snake creature that grows stronger the longer the scenario runs. We end up killing it three or four times over the course of the break-in, yet it manages to keep coming back from the void.

This scenario was just as fun as the other two played so far. We seem to be on a whirl-wind tour of some of Arkham’s notable locations. Gaining control of the night security guard was a god-send for my character as both Ashcan’s personal-weakness cards have double action resolutions. So having good old Adam Lynch with us helped save me many actions through-out the scenario.  He even made it easier for us to know which exhibit halls we should or shouldn’t enter. Adam Lynch should get a raise. Harold Walsted was unfortunately ripped to shreds at some point during the night. We eventually gained access to the restricted hall, where we once again decimated the hunting horror and retrieved the cursed Necronomicon. The Hunting Horror is like a backwoods version of the Harbinger of Valusia.

We choose to keep the Necronomicon because destroying books, even evil ones, are against our nature. If evil did exist, I would want there to be some sort of record or compilation of the knowledge of evil rather than to live in ignorance of it. Not knowing doesn’t keep the evil from happening. So in direct opposition to that of HP Lovecraft’s written stories. Afterwards, we decide it’s best to lay low for a while after all that we have seen and done. So we catch the next train to Dunwich to continue our investigation into what else is possibly going down. I only wish Adam Lynch could have submitted vacation time to come with.

The Essex County Express

Zebulon Whateley and a Earl Sawyer meet us at the station. We are so exhausted from the events on the train that we fall asleep upon the drive to Dunwich and wake up naked in a stranger’s bed. Actually I don’t know if we were naked. Probably though. This is a horror game after all. Upon our waking, we find a mostly abandoned Dunwich to explore and to judge with great disdain. You know Blood on the Altar is going to be fun when you are instructed to assemble a stack of potential sacrifices. Investigators are tasked with exploring the streets and back alleys of Dunwich in search of missing citizens. Something strange is going down and we aren’t getting any warm welcomes from those still too present to not be missing (?). In our thorough search we find a hidden chamber (and the key for admittance) that was housing a massive grotesque abomination. We find this hidden chamber very quickly strangely enough. Armitage must have had some prior knowledge of its where-abouts from his previous gallivant through the scenic Dunwich countryside. We somehow make the determination that this abomination, a mass of flesh, meat, and bones is that of Silas Bishop, one of the missing townsfolk. Or perhaps many of the missing townsfolk. Not sure. We quickly resort to the Necronomicon and cast a restoration spell as if this wasn’t our first abomination rodeo. Someone seems to be turning people into mini Yog-Sothoths. Somehow in the process, Zebulon Whateley gets himself scarified to Yog-Sothoth. I do hate when that happens. Sorry friend.

Kidnapped was especially terrifying for me as Ashcan because if Duke had been kidnapped and sacrificed to Yog-Sothoth. . . I’m pretty sure Ashcan would have just given up on life and drank himself into an early grave. Or at least that’s the story I would make up in my head as I file his investigator card away and build a new deck for my new investigator.

Blood on the Altar

Zebulon Whateley and a Earl Sawyer meet us at the station. We are so exhausted from the events on the train that we fall asleep upon the drive to Dunwich and wake up naked in a stranger’s bed. Actually I don’t know if we were naked. Probably though. This is a horror game after all. Upon our waking, we find a mostly abandoned Dunwich to explore and to judge with great disdain. You know Blood on the Altar is going to be fun when you are instructed to assemble a stack of potential sacrifices. Investigators are tasked with exploring the streets and back alleys of Dunwich in search of missing citizens. Something strange is going down and we aren’t getting any warm welcomes from those still too present to not be missing (?). In our thorough search we find a hidden chamber (and the key for admittance) that was housing a massive grotesque abomination. We find this hidden chamber very quickly strangely enough. Armitage must have had some prior knowledge of its where-abouts from his previous gallivant through the scenic Dunwich countryside. We somehow make the determination that this abomination, a mass of flesh, meat, and bones is that of Silas Bishop, one of the missing townsfolk. Or perhaps many of the missing townsfolk. Not sure. We quickly resort to the Necronomicon and cast a restoration spell as if this wasn’t our first abomination rodeo. Someone seems to be turning people into mini Yog-Sothoths. Somehow in the process, Zebulon Whateley gets himself scarified to Yog-Sothoth. I do hate when that happens. Sorry friend.

Kidnapped was especially terrifying for me as Ashcan because if Duke had been kidnapped and sacrificed to Yog-Sothoth. . . I’m pretty sure Ashcan would have just given up on life and drank himself into an early grave. Or at least that’s the story I would make up in my head as I file his investigator card away and build a new deck for my new investigator.

Undimensioned and Unseen

This is the most frustrating scenario in the history of scenarios. I refuse to believe anyone is able to kill all the Dunwich Horror’s that are running amok. Armitage and his buddies only had to deal with one within the story of The Dunwich Horror. Why do we have to deal with five of them! Seems a bit excessive don’t you think? I do appreciate the variety of them within the Return To campaign. Each horror has unique stats, conditions, and artwork. I did not realize the first time playing this campaign that these horrors are supposedly invisible and are only detectable through Armitage’s special dust concoction. Or the transferring of clues from specific map locations. I suppose that makes sense why we can’t damage them through normal means although I feel like dynamite would still do damage to anything, invisible or not. The title makes me think they are undimensioned as well. But diminsioned enough to destroy everything in their path

These massive horrors wander randomly from place to place, completely without purpose. Half the time you hope they don’t move into your location because it’s a terrible place to try to combat them. The other half of the time, you are finally ready to sink some damage into them, but now they moving away from you! It’s like herding cats. Giant hideous cats with lots of tentacles and mouths. So much of your time is spent either taking location-specific actions to draw them a particular way or you are taking the move action, one to three times in round, just to chase them down. Still a very thematic scenario. It’s just a scenario that you are meant to lose. We did what we could until eventually we just ran out of time.

Where Doom Awaits

Armitage & Friends™ speak of Sentinel Hill as a known site for dark rituals. Someone is making or calling these creatures into being, so we head there looking for anything out of the ordinary. The Dunwich townsfolk all seal their doors for the night, aware of something sinister is just on the horizon. The path up to the peak of sentinel Hill is long and winding. We get turned around quite a bit but eventually make our way to the peak where a Seth Bishop is conducting some sort of foul sorcery. Seth has managed to open up a rift in time and space, allowing for unknown horrors to escape through. We manage to appeal to Seth’s humanity by showing him what was left of Silas Bishop. Or perhaps it was the constellation pendant (elder sign?) that brought him back to reality. Anyway, his ritual was interrupted and we… enter the rift?! Yeah sure why not.

I enjoyed the struggle of getting up to the peak by exploring all the ascending and winding paths. Each path holding unknown dangers of losing time, resources or cards. My Ashcan was defeated by the infamous Beyond the Veil treachery card. But at least I died at the peak. Exactly how I imagine a real hike would be like, for me. Doom awaits at the peak it seems. I don’t quite follow all the different characters’ backgrounds and story lines but I do enjoy the thematic aspects of the Dunwich Legacy. I suppose the next step is to enter the gate and fight Yog-Sothoth itself.

Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.

Lost in Time and Space

We entered, we stumbled around different times and spaces, we got stumped on what to do with the small rift just beyond our reach at the Edge of the Universe. Fortunately the Necronomicon seemed to understand our desires and worked through us to recite the proper verbiage to close the rift. Or something like that happened. Not sure how we suddenly knew what to do to close it. Then we high-tailed it out of there all the while avoiding Yog-Sothoth’s unwanted gaze. Some Yithian creatures make their appearance. Less scholarly then those from the Forgotten Age campaign.

The Return To made the scenario slightly more challenging in that when forced to move via a treachery card’s effect, you are instead returned to the terrifying presence of Yog-Sothoth. Yog-Sothoth can not be dealt damage and every so often, it’ll strike out at you from Realms Beyond. So Yog-Sothoth seems to be very much like an Azathoth in that it seems to be a destroyer of worlds.  So big and so beyond one’s comprehension that he’s not killable per say. Luckily it has been banished and locked outside the universe and now will remain so for the duration of this campaign.

In Summary

This has been a very enjoyable campaign. Having as many additional cards in your investigator deck would be key to surviving and doing well in this campaign. Most of the treacheries or scenario specific effects will force you to discard cards from your deck. This can be great if you have some weaknesses get discarded this way. Terrible if you have a Beyond the Veil hiding down there waiting for you to exhaust your deck. So you play knowing full well you only have a few rounds left before you are straight up killed. Building a good deck can feel somewhat less worthwhile considering half the time you will end up just discarding your nice upgraded cards from these treachery effects anyway. So there’s a higher chance you won’t even see the cards you put into your deck.

I felt like the story was a little lacking, or perhaps you have to understand what just took place in the Dunwich Horror (story) to best enjoy this narrative in this campaign. I would say the story doesn’t matter as much because the scenarios were fun to play. There’s the Miskatonic University, The Clover Club Casino, and the Miskatonic Museum. Then we take a treacherous journey on a midnight train to Dunwich where we explore the sodden streets and decrepit shanty town and uncover a series of sinister rituals to help Yog-Sothoth escape into our realm. Why anyone would ever want that is beyond me. Time for “Ashcan” Pete, Duke, and Norman Withers to retire.

Final Score (AVG): 4.375

[kingminie]

blazing arrows | pt. 3

❝The majority calls me Cupid, but, you can call me Jimin—I believe I owe you some debts for a mistake now long overdue.❞

⌲ genre: fluff, angst, future smut, & supernatural, au.

⌲ member: jimin feat. jungkookie

⌲ word count: 7.1 k

⌲ warnings: future mature content & shit tons of swearing.

↠ description: Stuck in what seemed to be unrequited relationship with Jeon Jungkook who just so happens to be in committed relationship with someone else as well, your heart was fragmented beyond any repair. So what exactly happens when you enter your room at 3 in the morning to find the culprit of your hellish misery, counting his gold-tipped arrows on the foot of your bed—wings outstretched and all?

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | ongoing

It had been exactly two weeks and six days since Jimin had made his very first appearance, two weeks and six days since you had last seen Jungkook in the middle of the supermarket aisle with nothing but a hasty exchange of introduction between him and Jimin, two weeks and six days since you've last talked to each other (which was a pretty clean record since the longest you've been without talking to each other was twelve minutes—yes you've reached that pathetic low bottom where you actually counted the minutes). It has also been precisely two weeks and six days since Jimin had been occupying the bedroom across yours, a full twenty days of actually living with him—which really wasn't half as bad as you thought it was, because quite frankly, it was the other way around.

In the course of having no any type of communication with your best friend, Jimin pretty much took your mind off of any pessimistic thoughts with his presence alone, which was reasonably impressive considering the fact that you really had been down the past days. In such a short span of living together—jeez, you'll never get used to saying that—you had already done so much things together and veritably acknowledging it, you haven't even done these things with anyone else. Not even Jungkook nor Taehyung.

"Y/N," Jimin's voice echoed around the living room and you rolled your eyes, "Y/N."

"What?" you yelled back, "I'm in the middle of something here."

"Y/N," you sighed, putting down the spatula in defeat as you dragged your feet out the kitchen and towards the living room where Jimin was keyword trying to clean up—not a single thing was in their respective places despite the numerous repetitions of what was supposed to be done, as a matter of fact, you realized that the room was way messier after Jimin took over.

"What do you need this time?" you stood in front of him, both eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," he shook his head, grinning triumphantly to himself, "Just wanted to see you."

Is this kid serious? You thought to yourself as your jaw dropped in disbelief, eyes closing in irritation. You took an extremely long time inhaling a deep breath before peeking one eye open, a glare directed at Jimin who had both his palms open underneath his chin, cupping his face as he smiled innocently, "I'll give you a five-second head start. Five, four—one. "

One thing that had changed in Jimin under the course of living together, it was that he had become way too comfortable around you that every ounce of shyness and reservation he once had ceased to exist—some days, you can't help but wish for the timid Jimin to resurface once again at some certain times, but you also couldn't deny the fact that this Jimin had been the one that helped you hold your sanity unscathed in the past few days. If it weren't for the fact that Jimin came out of his own shell and had initiated for you to become friends, you probably would've done nothing but sulk in our room, pathetically and hopelessly staring at your phone, waiting for that one specific call you knew would never come.

Add in the fact that he had also been getting way too comfortable with his new wardrobe—turning away from his dress shirts and khakis—that you both went out to shop for (after going back to his realm for quiet a while, he had returned with a filthy amount of money you didn't know where he got), if he had been hot before the first time you saw him then he's absolutely smoking every single day now. Parading around the house in nothing but a black shirt and tight sweatpants that clearly left nothing to the imagination, your eyes don't have much choice now, do they?

"You didn't even count to five," he whined, curled up on the floor as he cradled his toe that he had stubbed on the table leg as he attempted to run away from your wrath.

"Do I look like I care?" you jeered, mercilessly sitting down on the side of his hip before poking his sides, cries of both laughter and apologies escaping his mouth as he writhed on the ground, nearly kicking your face in doing so, "Boy, you better keep it in your shirt, your wings are showi—holy shit, my eggs."

The smell of burnt food invaded your senses and you vividly remembered that you had been cooking before Jimin had oh-so importantly called your name. Hastily standing up, you run towards the kitchen in high hopes that your eggs could still be salvaged, Jimin's own footsteps thundering behind you as you both raced to where the awful burning smell came from. A frown spread on your lips as you helplessly stared at the useless mess in the middle of the frying pan, what once was a bright yellow omelette had now become a bunch of smoking charcoals, an unrecognizable pile of black scrap waiting to be thrown away.

"My eggs," you whispered in horror, "Oh my god, my masterpiece."

"I'm sorry?" Jimin rocked on his heels, an apologetic look on his face as he nibbled on his finger.

Impotent, it seemed like your energy left you as you leaned your back on the edge of the counter, quietly staring at the still-burning pan, Jimin cautiously waiting for you to speak as his wide eyes followed every twist of expression you make. Your eyes found his, seeing him pursing his lips as he looked down on the ground and you sighed, a small smile twitching on the corners of your lips as you couldn't even find it within your self to get angry with him.

You reached up, pinching his cheeks as you chuckled to your self, "It's not your fault, you dork. It wasn't that good anyway, now that I think of it."

"I'm sure it would've been the best."

"Oh stop it, Jimin, you're making me blush," you joked, pushing yourself off the counter to clean up the mess when your phone chimed, so you dust your hand off Jimin's shirt, which he opened his mouth to protest to before changing his mind and flashing you a fraudulent smile in return.

[8:11] Tae: i'm calling!!! hehe oh and we're getting breakfast fyi.

Not even a second passing by after you had received and read the text, his contact appeared on the screen, along with the candid picture of him that you had previously set as his contact photo. Seeing as you had to clean up the mess you had left in the kitchen, you rest your phone between your ear and your shoulders as you turned off the stove.

"Is your life that tedious that you have to go out of your way and bother mine?" With no remorse whatsoever, you mutter immediately as the line connected.

"Well, it's not exactly out of the way, I'm like ten minutes away from your house—"

"Kim Taehyung, my house is exactly an hour and a half drive from yours," you deadpanned, "and clearly, if you're ten minutes away, considering the drive itself and the amount of time you had to spend in dressing yourself—which we know is a very long time—you had been up since five in the morning—ah, fuck."

"Be a little more careful, don't you?" Jimin spoke quietly, his hands taking over yours as he grabbed the pan himself, taking out its content as he neatly dumped them in the trash bin, "You go ahead, I'll clean this up."

"If I didn't know better, I would've thought you were actually in the middle of getting laid," Taehyung's laughter echoed on the other end of the line, "Who was that?"

"A friend you don't have to know about."

"Is Jungkook there?" he asked before a loud honk nearly busted you ears, "What the fuck, man? Stay in your lane, asshole. Anyway, the jerk's not answering my calls and texts the past few days."

"No, he's not," you lift yourself from the ground, sitting cross-legged on top of the counter as you smiled in amusement as you stare at Jimin's back while he cleaned the sink, "And what makes you think I'm any different? I gave up trying to reach him since last week. He's probably floating off dead in some ditch somewhere."

Jimin turned around, an eyebrow raised in curiosity and you shook your head, brushing him off.

"I just thought he was with you since that's what he's been doing literally every time he's over your house."

"Well, I don't know about his whereabouts either. Try calling his girlfriend, you might actually find some answers if you do," you trace the pattern on the counter near your legs, not even surprised in the slightest when Jimin's fingers lifted your chin, brownie waiting to be eaten in his hand as he stood in front of you, a rag held in another, "It's been shitty talking to you, Tae, but if you don't want to wait another half hour when you arrive here, you'd let me go and change."

"Fine," he grumbled as yet another honk sounded on the other end of the line, followed by his explicit cursing that would make a pirate bow to his knees, "I'll see you soon, loser, oh, and feel free to bring whoever you friend is. It would be a bonus if your friend's a she."

"I never intended to leave him here, anyway."

"Oh," you could hear the sheer disappointment coating his voice as soon as you said the third-person pronoun, laughing to yourself before hanging up.

"You have somewhere to be?" Jimin didn't waste another second to ask as you shoved your phone down your back pocket.

Your hand found his nose to pinch momentarily before he swatted your hands away, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pinning them to your side, "We have somewhere to be," your hand came down on his with a loud slapping sound, "So run along and change into something decent, you dork. Go, go, go."

Not even halfway through your sentence ad he was already making a beeline for the kitchen door, his voice echoing as he trudge towards the stairs, "Would a shirt and a jacket suffice?"

"You might as well be naked, I wouldn't really complain," you muttered underneath your breath before picking another brownie Jimin had left in the middle of the counter, yelling through the mouthful of chocolate goodness, "More than enough!"

Turns out, a simple shirt and jacket in Park Jimin's dictionary was an outfit straight out of an elite fashion magazine with himself being the flawless model. Frankly, it wasn't that much of a complex nor extravagant ensemble—he just made it seem like it was one. Layered underneath the thin red cardigan was a simple black shirt with a minimal text out front, a sleek leather jacket finishing off the layers on his upper body, and to be quite honest, you really didn't want to start on how his jeans fitted him because really, you wouldn't have much time nor enough words to describe how fucking fine it suited him and his thighs.

Lord, spare me and give me the will to refrain from committing a sin, you prayed in your thoughts as soon as you went out your bedroom door when you finished getting dressed yourself, only to be greeted with Jimin's door opening at the same time, and fuck were your eyes ready to fall out of your head and your jaw bracing itself to detach from your face as soon as your gaze landed on him.

"You sure you two aren't walking the runway? Because holy shit, you look badass," were Taehyung's first exact words when you and Jimin emerged from the front door. He had been leaning on the hood of his car, scrolling through his phone and sipping his unhealthy drink when you suddenly showed up in his vision, your unintentional similar outfits catching his attention under one full second.

"He's a copy cat," you point to Jimin who rolled his eyes, before flashing a smile towards Taehyung.

"Jimin," he grinned, "I'm a friend of hers. It's nice to meet you."

"Kim Taehyung at your service," Taehyung did a curtsy before directing his gaze towards you, "Congratulations, you actually made a friend besides Jungkook, Yoongi, and I."

"Excuse you," you raised an eyebrow, "I'm perfectly capable of making friends, thank you. And for the record, I actually have friends besides you."

Right after that, you opened the passenger door, keeping the seat all to yourself as you left the two boys outside, not caring to eavesdrop on whatever they were saying.

The ride to wherever breakfast establishment Taehyung was taking you to was quite fun, not counting the times—which was more than half the totality of it—where you had to basically pull back both the boys' shirts for them not to roll over the highway at the rate their bodies were hanging out of their rolled-down windows, taking to mind that your alien of a best friend who was the one maneuvering the wheel was the one who started the insanity of hanging out the window while driving. So, imagine how much relief flooded through your veins when you had miraculously and finally parked on some parking lot, the car stopping in a perfect parallel park. How Taehyung did it, you had no clue.

"Why did I even agree to this shit in the first place?" you sighed to yourself as you unsteadily rounded the car, Jimin's laughter resounding through your ears as his arm casually draped around your waist in hopes to help you regain your balance.

"Are you okay?" I won't be if you keep surprising me with these rude touches of yours, you thought to yourself as you smoothly slid away from his hold, only to be pulled back once again by the wrist. You stood face-to-face with Jimin who grinned as he snatched the glasses which were idly perched on your head before putting them on you, "There."

"You look really good together," your head moved towards Taehyung who had his phone up before snapping a picture—leave it to him to let his shutter be as loud as it could get.

"Let's just go, I'm hungry," you rolled your eyes, trudging forward ahead of the guys, "Someone made me burn the eggs I was supposed to eat."

"Oi, you said it was okay," Hearing Jimin protest in his defense, you turned around to poke your tongue, "I was perfectly fine making you another one."

"And get food poisoning? No thank you."

[9:02 A.M.] Kookie: you got breakfast with taeshit and some other dOod without me?? :(((

[9:02 A.M.] Kookie: you traitor. i don't love u anymore smh

"You're alive?" you muttered under your breath, but not quiet enough for the boys not to hear since they both moved their heads in your direction as you took a seat, Jimin beside you and Taehyung across you. Tae had an eyebrow raised, knowing fully well that it had been Jungkook that texted you, while Jimin barely sent you a glance before focusing back on the abundance of food being shown on the menu, muttering praises of awe and wonder as he read every single time from the front page to the back, "How did he even know? Did you text him?"

[9:04 A.M.] Y/N: who are you? i'm sorry but i don't know you :)

"I may or may not have posted your picture with Jimin on SnapChat..." Taehyung flashed you his box smile, a chuckled leaving his mouth and you copied him, only this time around it was forced, "Why? He finally texted you?"

"Hm..." you nodded, locking your phone as you let it slid on the surface of the table before facing Jimin, "What are you getting?"

He turned his head to face you, eyes widened in panic, "I really don't know what to get."

"Just get the plate, you don't have to order individually," you chuckled before smiling towards the pretty server that stood shocked on the end of the table, her eyes jumping from the Kim Taehyung and Jimin, her hands blatantly shaking as she took your orders, "We'll have two Classics and a vanilla milkshake for me. You?"

"Chocolate milkshake, please, thank you," Jimin smiled politely before handing her the menu which she gladly received.

"Make that two," Taehyung spoke, flashing a smile, "and the cheese pancake and bacon medley."

"Would that be all, sir?" she asked, earning hums and nods of affirmation before a blush dusted her cheeks as she stuttered over her words, her lower lip being nibbled on by her upper teeth, her eyes set nervously on Taehyung as she flipped the paper to a new, untainted page, "Would it be okay if I take your autograph, sir? I'm really sorry for—"

"Hey, it's totally cool, don't worry." Tae gave her a genuine smile as he got the paper, putting it flat on the table before scribbling whatever message he had on his mind.

"Is he famous or something?"

Curiosity was written all over Jimin's face as he stared at the two's interaction. You nodded once he turned his attention to you, "Yeah, he kinda is," before a thought occurred to you that had you nearly rolling over in laughter as you remembered.

"He's a writer," you wheezed as soon as you got your breathing balanced, weird looks sent to you by Taehyung so you tugged Jimin's jacket to you that his body was nearly toppling over yours, "You know what title his book has? The Art of Cupid's Arrows."

Jokes about this particular topic was thrown back and forth as you wait for your food to come. So left with really nothing to do besides wait—both for the food and yet another one of Jungkook's text—you stood up, dragging Jimin with you while doing so, your eyes set on the claw crane in the corner of the diner, a giddy smile on your face.

Jimin laughed as he trailed behind, "You're such a child."

His eyes fastened on you as you got in a position, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched you. In the short span of living with you, he had already knew certain little things you unintentionally do; like how your left eye would slightly twitch when your mind concentrated and focused on something you had really wanted, how you twisted your the ends of your hair when you were bored, how you would scrunch your nose whenever find things going the opposite direction of how you wanted it to be—it was little things like those that unintentionally brings a smile on his face, surprising even himself when he feels himself grinning from ear to ear.

He let out another laugh as he watched a frown adorn your lips as the claw seemed to slip past the fabric of the stuff toy, gently pushing you to the side as he took over the clawing machine, getting the stuff toy you had wanted without exerting much effort on his part, "See? Easy."

You narrowed your eyes, "I'll try again."

"No need, I got this for you," he grinned, holding out the stuffed tiger.

Surprising both yourself and him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down in a tight hug. His eyes widened, a soft oof spilling out his lips from the impact of your pull, his cheeks flushing crimson when he felt your breath tickling his neck, his arms slowly raising to wrap around your waist, a smile pulling his lips until his cheeks started to hurt. You momentarily sway the both of you before pulling away, hugging the stuffed toy to yourself, "Thank you."

A vibration on your pocket pulled you out of your peaceful reverie.

[9:32 A.M.] Kookie: i know your mad at me. and i'm really sorry. let me explain myself?

[9:36 A.M.] Kookie: please.

Not wasting another second in pushing your phone back into your pocket with not so much as a reply to him, you let a grin graze your lips, you both returned to your tables, spending the rest of your day with Taehyung, your mind not even dwelling on a certain someone named Jeon Jungkook.

And for that, you were beyond grateful that Cupid showed up at your bedroom door, wings and all.

"Can I see you?"

You hated it; you absolutely and utterly hated it, how your heart seemed to cave in underneath your chest, unwanted feelings you tried so hard repressing blossoming out from the deepest abyss of your heart and mind with such a simple sentence coming out his mouth; despising how easy the words spilled out his mouth with such nonchalance and inattention that it broke you, because you knew he meant those words in such a harmless way that was in such a huge contrast to how it exactly meant to you.

"Please, I—" you hear him take a deep breath, "I really need to see you."

One known fact about Jeon Jungkook is that he had his way with his words, words laced with that wondrous tinge of magic simply in whatever sentence he speaks to people that entices them to oblige to his words, and quite frankly, you were not an exception to those people, yet hearing his voice on the phone as someone who had been his best friend for years that you had already distinguished what his voice is trying push across before he could even finish his sentence, your hear the honest desperation and plead entwined in his voice.

"Jungkook, it's already late," you sighed, hands running through your hair, "and it's freezing cold outside. Believe me, I want to see you too, you disappearing dork, but we can talk tomorrow, you go to sleep."

You suddenly stared at Jimin's body, huddled in a fetal position as he nestled the top of the blankets to his chest, his shoulders steadily falling and rising with a small smile on his face. You run a hand through his hair, surprised at how soft it actually was, before his eyes slowly fluttered open before confusion coated his face as he looked around your bedroom, raspy voice speaking in a broken soft whispers, "Oh, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay, go ahead and continue—" A grin found it way into your face as you stared at his tilted head that had already landed back on your pillows, his eyes closing as soft snores escaped his lips, "—sleeping. Goodnight, Jimin."

It had been an unexpected movie night with Jimin filled with an endless supply of junk foods and laughter as you sat alongside each other on your dark bedroom, his presence filling in the cold void Jungkook had left with his own warmth as he sat there smiling along as you laughed your heart out at some scenes in the countless movies you had watched the night prior, something Jungkook used to do with you before switching your movie nights to sleepovers in his girlfriend's house.

You had been on the fifth consecutive movie when you noticed Jimin's head slightly bobbing back and forth, his head snapping in attention as he fought his sleepiness while you continued watching, and it wasn't a while after when you pulled out your phone to snap an adorable photo of him—his heading turned towards the ceiling as his lips slightly parted as snores started to make its way towards his mouth, slightly laughing to yourself before stuffing a pillow underneath his neck to support his head, placing the blanket over his figure as you tried to silently pick up the litter you left around the bedroom, cautious enough not to disturb him.

It was exactly times like those that you really appreciated having Jimin around—not only did he make you forget whatever sadness you had within you because of Jungkook suddenly disappearing off the face of the Earth, but because he actually made you happy in a way that was so simple yet so sufficient; not only because he felt the need to reimburse whatever he owed you when he wrongly shot you with his arrow, but because he actually wanted to spend time you, becoming someone who you can call as a friend that you actually had become thankful he had shot that arrow.

"—Y/N?" Eyes widening, you pick up the phone that idly sat in your hand.

"Oh, my God, Jungkook, I'm so sorry. I got distracted—where exactly are you?" your voice raised unintentionally in panic as you hear his teeth chattering, surely blowing some air in front of him, "Are you drunk?"

"No, no, I swear I'm not," he protested, "Please don't get mad but I'm right outside your front door."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door—"

"I heard what you said, Jungkook, it's just—are you serious?" you muttered in disbelief as you hurriedly pulled Jimin's hoodie from the edge of the bed, putting in on in haste as you tried to find some post-it note to leave behind in case Jimin wakes up, "Hold on, I'm coming out. Jesus, Jungkook."

"Can you hurry? My ass is turning ice." Leave it to him to turn his mood a complete three-sixty in two minutes.

"You're in no position to complain, you asshole. You brought this one upon yourself, I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?" you rolled your eyes as you pasted the note on the wall in a visible position if the arrow-shooter wakes up, adrenaline and worry running through your veins in harsh rapids that you didn't even notice your house key on the bedside table.

As you rushed down the stairs of your house, you really couldn't comprehend how big of an idiot Jeon Jungkook was. Winter has long started so inevitably, the weather outside would be way colder than it already was, temperature dropping to something lesser than zero degrees seeing as it was already close to one in the freaking morning.

Shoving your other hand in your—Jimin's, rather—hoodie pockets out front, you struggle to pull the locks of your front before you came face to face with none other than your best friend who was rocking on both his heel back and forth as he blew unto his frozen fingers, rolling your eyes as you pulled him inside by the ear, complaints and curses escaping his mouth.

"Are you stupid?" was the first you said to him when you both stood inside, safe from the harsh blowing winds.

"I do stupid things when it comes to you," he muttered as he rolled his eyes before glaring at you, "You didn't answer my last texts this morning."

"Well, you didn't answer my texts the past weeks, did you?" you scoffed, "You're so dramatic, Jungkook. What if I hadn't answered that phone call? You could've died of hypothermia."

"Well, I'm lucky you answered, then."

"You're fucking impossible," you jabbed a finger on his chest, his stance not even wavering a bit from the assault—which you know wasn't that soft, "and I still hate you, for your information."

"And that," Jungkook smirked, "is exactly why you don't have to wonder why I'm here."

You stared at him, disbelief coursing your veins the more you continued to stare at him. He really is stupid, you sighed in defeat as you plopped down on the couch, too spent and sleepy from the simple activity you had not long ago did, and at the same time, too tired and frustrated to deal with the pile of shit that came with Jungkook at this time on night. Out of all the people on this planet, why did you have to go and fall for someone like this oblivious bunny?

"And it couldn't really wait until tomorrow?"

He seemed to think to himself, plopping down right into you, before grinning up at you, hands encircling your waist tightly before he bared his teeth in a huge smile, two enormous ront teeth digging on his lower lips. He really did look like a bunny. "No."

Swallowing both your frustration and dignity that screamed right then and there to pull him closer to you, you did the complete opposite and wriggled your way out of his tight hold, "Get off, you loser."

It was silent for a few minutes, just you lying on the couch and him sprawled out on the floor underneath you. You really would've fallen asleep if it weren't for him suddenly standing up from his position on the floor, fingers fastening their tight hold on you as he pulled you up from the peaceful reverie you were quite enjoying on the couch.

"Let's go for a walk."

"Excuse me?" you looked up at him as if he had suddenly grew two legs, not absorbing his absurd words, "You're insane if you think I'm actually going with y—what the fuck are you doing, put me down!"

And before you even knew it, your front door was slammed shut behind your flipped figure as you mercilessly pummel on Jungkook's ass with as much power as you could muster, shivering at the instant the cold, crisp air managed it's way through the thin material of your grey sweatpants before you gave up on Jungkook's tight grip on your thighs as he carried you across the road, leaving you to stare longingly at your front door.

"You're really getting it, Jeon Jungkook."

A frown found its way into your face once you heard his laugh echo through the isolated neighborhood. Now that you actually see it, the dark streets with the addition of the flickering lights didn't do much comfort when you suddenly realized that it looked like a scene straight out of a movie—not the usual romance movie you usually dreamt of starring in with Jungkook but a straight up horror gore movie where you where most like to get abducted and be murdered.

"Kookie," your tough resolve completely vanished as you pressed your palms against his back, small voice that resembled that of a child replacing what used to be your strong voice laced with dominance and certainty, "you're not taking me somewhere grassy and killing me, right?"

Stiffening, Jungkook halted his tracks, "Oh my, you've got me all figured out."

"Idiot." You rolled your eyes, slapping the back of his thighs.

Bless Jeon Jungkook for putting up with your violent tendencies that more or less made up more than half the summary of your friendship.

"Seriously, I don't even want to know what you're thinking about half of the time." Mostly you, you thought to yourself before you caught yourself, chuckling at your idiocy, "See? Your even laughing all to yourself with no reason."

"Shut up."

You continued sulking even after he had fastened your own seat belt, despite how fast your heart raced when he casually leaned over, breath softly hitting the surface of your skin as he reached for the belt, flashing you a smile when he flipping stopped right in front of you, merely two inches between your faces before he pulled away and rounded the car.

It was no denying that despite the harsh blow of crisp and cold air that nearly froze your lungs, it was an incredibly beautiful night. The stars astonishingly scattered in such a mesmerizing mess that captured your eyes, feeling your breath got stuck in your throat as you pressed your face against the cold window of Jungkook's car, simply gazing at the vast stretch of masterpiece that painted the skies above.

After quite a while of driving, you feel the car come to a slow stop, your eyes widening when the Jungkook raised the roof of the car, completely exposing yourselves to the unforgiving blow of icy winds that breezed past. Opening your mouth to protest, you were forced to close it back when Jungkook leaned his body forward, your soul nearly riding along with the winds as he did so. Your breathing stopped, you were well-aware it did, as he got extremely closer that once you turn your head even slightly to the side, then, your lips would be undoubtedly touching.

You were rendered speechless once he pulled out a thick blanket from the backseat and two take-out coffee cups which still had steam rising from the holes in front.

"You came prepared, didn't you?" you scoffed as you accepted the steaming coffee from his grasp, encircling the warm cup in hopes to give some warmth to your freezing hands.

Jungkook remained silent as he reclined his seat the way you did to your own, his eyes trained on the skies above, millions of twinkling stars staring back at him. A sad smile pulled at your lips as you stared at him.

To you, Jeon Jungkook was a star in the infinite count of galaxies. He was that star that you couldn't help but search for every night. The star you long for wherever you go, the very star your eyes couldn't help but become glued to whenever you stare at the night sky. He was that star that stood out in the vast sea of stars that flooded the heavens, twinkling so brightly that it caught your heart until it became the only star you seem to know of and come back to each time you had the chance to.

But you knew to yourself that to you, Jeon Jungkook was far more than just a mere ordinary star. He was the sun while you were the Earth—he seemed to be the one giving you life, sustaining you the strength you needed whenever he was around, cheering you up on gloomy days that clouded your weather—but you also knew, so long as he remained the sun and you as the Earth, colliding was impossible; he would remain as that unreachable star that only dusted your own heavens, beautiful to see but dangerous and impossible to hold.

His eyes glanced at you for a second before he shuffled closer, both your bodies underneath the think blanket, the stick shift the only object between your body. Your grip tightened on the coffee cup, the liquid burning in your throat the same time his hand found yours underneath the fabric, intertwining tightly at the same rate your heart clenched, his head leaning on your shoulders as he continued gazing at the sky.

Why is he doing this? You thought to yourself as you stared at him as he closed his eyes in content, softly breathing in before exhaling a puff of air that moisturized as it flowed out.

There had been times where affections like this were considered nothing—he was your best friend, after all— and it hadn't been that much of huge deal when skinship surfaced in your friendship since Jungkook had always been the touchy-feely kind of guy. You remember that there had been times where affection like this had been considered nothing but then again, feelings happened. Your feelings happened that what once was innocent affection meat way more than what it was supposed to mean for you; and it hurt. It absolutely killed you how unfair it was that you were the only one feeling these things, but you really had no one to blame but yourself. Who told you to fall for him anyway

"Do you remember?" His voice sliced through the thick air like a sharpened sword.

"I have many things to remember, Kook," you reminded him, "Which one?"

"Back in junior year, when we first found this place," his thumb traced pattern on your skin, "you were crying back then when I found you here and ironically that was the day I got into a relationship with Ji Eun."

Exactly the reason why you found me here, heaving my lungs out as I cried because I found out you asked freaking Ji Eun out, you though to yourself as you rolled your eyes, pinching his hand which was holding yours, "Can we not talk about that?"

"Now that I think about it, I never really knew the reason why you were crying."

"Frankly, I was heartbroken..."

"Of Ji Eun and I?" he looked absolutely surprised and worried that you changed your mind.

Yes, you idiot. "Hell, no, you conceited ass." I'm lying. "You think you're the only one who got a girlfriend that day? Yoongi had one too."

His head turned upwards, eyes burning into your face as you gazed ahead, "You liked Yoongi? Min Yoongi?"

No, I liked you. "It's all in the past." I still like you.

"Wow," he breathe, "what a surprise."

"What do you mean by that?" you slightly pushed your shoulder upward to move his head, "And honestly, why did you even drag me out here? I'm sure it's not just because you wanted to know about my past liking towards Min Yoongi. So, what is it?"

"I just missed you." His answer surprised you that you nearly burst into flames as you sat stoically beside him, "I'm sorry I haven't been with you the past few weeks. It's just that I—"

"It's okay, you don't have to explain yourself. You're your own person and you're really not entitled to spend every day of your life hanging out with me." And because if you tell what I already know, it's going to break me even further, "I already know you're sorry, stop apologizing."

"You're really the best." He sighed, "Y/N?"

"Hm."

"I love you," your heart nearly beat out your chest as he looked up, engulfing you in a hug, your head in his chest this time as his arms encircled you. At this point, tears were unintentionally welling up in your eyes that you had to squeeze them shut to bring them back, "I know that I seldom say this but I really mean it. You're the best best friend anyone could ever ask for and I'm thankful I have you."

"I hate you, asshole." I wish I did. "Now, get off, this getting really emotional. I hate this shit."

Laughing, he let go of your hand before turning on the engine once again, "Where'd you wanna go?"

"Home," you answered in a heartbeat.

"Hey," Jungkook whined, pouting as he rounded the car back to the roads, "Tired of my face already?"

If you want me breaking into rounds of tears in your car the by any means, take me anywhere, "I'm just really tired."

Without much protest, he continued driving with the car roof open and you appreciated it. Closing your eyes, you let the frigid winter air penetrate through your skin as the car soared through the deserted streets, serene and tranquility surrounding you until the car slowed to a smooth stop across your house once again. Opening your eyes, you came to notice that Jungkook was already staring at you, sporting a small smile on his own face. You were about to spew a sarcastic comment when something hit the tip of your nose—something cold and white.

Eyes widening in recognition, you gaped as you tilt your head backwards, "Oh, my God." It was the first snowfall. With Jungkook. It wasn't exactly that you were an extreme romantic but you had known and believed about the first snowfall—hope burst in your chest as you gazed towards Jungkook but then it was too late. His phone was glued to his ear, a huge grin on his face as he talked to Ji Eun.

Right then and there, no matter how strong you had been holding yourself, all the walls broke down and you didn't know how much you could handle yourself. You pushed the car door open, in a sudden rush as more snowfall pelted down from the sky. No matter how beautiful it was, you were far too hurt to process this. You just had to get away from Jungkook as fast as possible before he could witness you break down in tears.

Not even a second later as you walked across the road to get to your house, a traitor tear escaped from your eye and before you knew it, you were crying.

Just then, you felt a hand tugging your sweater close to them, cold hands wiping off the tears that had already messily mixed with the heavy snow that fell around you—so much white that you didn't get to see who was in front of you. Their hand pushed your hair back away from your wet face and just then, you could see him.

His grey hair was dusted with snowflakes, along with the ones that got caught in his eyelashes and the tip of his nose that would've made you smile if it were't for the fact that you had become a sobbing mess right in front of him. Park Jimin is beautiful, that was a no-brainer.

He gave you a hesitant smile, "I'm not exactly a pro at these things but I can give you a hug."

You wasted no time wrapping your arms around his waist, so tight that it made him catch his breath but he made no protest whatsoever because he knew this was what you needed. His arms wrapped themselves around your shaking figure and it seemed to pierce his chest as he knew if he just hadn't stupidly and recklessly shoot that arrow, you wouldn't be standing here just outside your house, crying your heart out for someone who couldn't find it in himself to love you back the way you loved him, but what made him hate himself even more was when not an ounce of regret seeped through his veins when he did, because truthfully, he was thankful he did shoot that arrow, because if it weren't for it, he wouldn't have been holding the best thing that ever happened to him in the isolated years he had spent alone.

It was then it that moment that his eyes met with Jeon Jungkook's own, his feet frozen mid-step in the snow-filled pathway towards you, phone gripped tightly in his hands as he stared at you.

It was also in that moment that Jimin swore to himself that he had to throw all his selfishness away and do whatever he could to fix you and the mess he made—all before he could make sense of the stirring sleeping feelings deep within his own heart as he held you tight against him, vulnerable and all.

[rhosinthorn]

For the second half of an anon request, I present to you a superhero!AU CoLu. Strong T.

Careful hands removed the blindfold, and Lucy found herself looking at a single purple eye, set into tanned skin, maroon half mask matching the shock of hair above it.

“Cobra?” she said, or tried to say before she remembered the gag in her mouth.

His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear him. Feeling the panic rising up, she looked at him, only to find the city’s most morally dubious hero reaching for her ears. Pulling something out, he frowned as sound rushed back into her ears and he showed her the pink earplug he had removed.

“Anything hurt?” he asked gruffly.

She shook her head, flinching as a knife seemed to fall out of his sleeve and into his hand, opening with a sharp shnick. “I’m going to cut off the gag, so hold still.”

Lucy went motionless as the blade neared her face, holding perfectly still until he moved, taking the gag with him.

“There you go,” he murmured, chucking the gag on the floor. “Let’s get you out of these ropes.”

“How did you know I was here?” she asked as he started cutting through the rope binding her right ankle to the corresponding chair leg. “And where are we?”

“Oracion Laboratory,” he grunted, and she heard the knife being set down on the floor as warm hands wrapped around her ankle, calloused but gentle. “And this is going to hurt, but bear with me.”

As his hands massaged the circulation back into her ankle, Lucy looked around, taking in the room she was held in instead of focusing on the pain of the blood returning to normal in her feet. It looked like an abandoned mental hospital, with a rickety bed, complete with warped metal frame, the only furniture other than the chair she was sitting in. There were sturdy bars on the tiny window, which was frosted over to keep from seeing out. But most noticeable were the craters that marred the walls and much of the floor, edges rippled and twisted in ways that made her think of extreme heat or acid.

Without a word, Cobra’s hands left her ankle and moved to the next one, releasing the bonds and then massaging gently to restore circulation. Feeling the need to break the silence, Lucy joked. “You seem pretty good at this. Get tied up often?”

“It’s interesting that your legs were not only bound, but separated and bound to the chair,” Cobra said in response, fingers still working on her ankle. “And earplugs and a blindfold are not standard in abductions.”

“Again, you seem oddly knowledgeable.” Lucy winced as her attempt at humor failed again. “I might have taken a kick at them a few times,” she admitted. “So they blindfolded me, but I could still locate my kicks pretty accurately, so that’s when they put the earplugs in. After that, they must have decided to cut their losses because they tied my feet together, but I’m guessing that just made things worse because they separated them and left me as you found me.”

“That explains why they went to all this trouble instead of just using the restraints on the bed,” her rescuer muttered, eye focused on her ankle, but there was an undercurrent in his voice that made her certain he’d have been looking at the bed without anything else to focus on.”

“What is this place?”

“Oracion Laboratories.”

“You said that earlier,” Lucy retorted. “I’ve never heard of it. Is it some type of hospital?”

Cobra let out a low laugh that seemed more mocking than anything. “Thank your lucky stars princess. This ain’t the type of place you ever want to see.”

“What did they do that was so terrible?” Lucy felt her ego smarting from the unexpected harshness to his voice.

“The head here was anxious to follow in Dragneel’s footsteps,” Cobra hissed, fingers stilling on her ankle. “This was a lab where children went to die. The lucky ones, anyway.”

Lucy swallowed hard. Laboratories had sprung up after the first superhumans were revealed, trying to figure out what made them different, and how to replicate it in other people. Zeref Dragneel was easily the least ethical of the researchers, his experiments killing or maiming thousands of men, women, and children before he disappeared. But despite the public outcry, there were others who followed in his footsteps. Copies of his research still circulated; despite its unethical origins it was some of the most comprehensive profiling of superhumans in the world.

“Was that why they took me?” Lucy whispered. She wasn’t a superhuman, but some of the labs reportedly tried to induce some type of a superpower, usually in ways that ended up killing the test subjects. “To use me in their research?”

“Zero’s been out of the game for years,” Cobra said shortly, rising from the crouch he had been in while he freed her ankles and shifting to stand behind her. Moments later, the pressure on her wrists disappeared and she bit her lip as the pins and needles sensation started there too. Gentle hands shifted her arms back around and rested them in her lap before he moved to crouch in front of her again, reaching for one of her hands. “Ever since he got busted the first time.”

“So what did he want from me?” Lucy was confused, and the pins and needles in her hands weren’t doing anything to help her think. “If he wasn’t going to use me to experiment on, why did he kidnap me?”

“Because of me,” Cobra said bluntly, eye boring into her own as he massaged her hand. “He wanted to get my attention.”

“So that’s why you told me to stay away?” Lucy hazarded, nodding as she saw the truth of it in his face. “He took me because I didn’t.”

“You’re too damn smart for your own good,” the man grunted, switching hands. “Couldn’t you just take the hint when I told you to find someone else to pester?”

“But I already had you, Erik,” she said, watching him flinch at the name. “And honestly, if I get tied up every so often, what’s the big deal? Our...friendship,” she said, trying to hide the pause where there was another word she wanted to use, “is worth more to me than any false security.”

“I have a lot of enemies,” he said quietly, hands stilling on hers. “More than just Zero. I was...not always a hero. Zero didn’t make heroes. He made tools.”

He made tools. Another piece of the puzzle that was Erik. “Was this your cell?” she asked quietly.

“Until the day I broke down the door,” Erik said, rising to stare uselessly out the window. “Then he had me whipped within an inch of my life and moved me into his barracks.” He spat the word like it had a bad taste. “There were...five of us who survived. Five, and one girl who he must have triggered some dormant ability, managing to get her stuck in a snake’s body. We were his own personal army, taking on heroes, villains, and cops. Whoever he wanted out of the way, we made it happen.”

“How did you get away?”

“Cops finally got enough evidence on him that he couldn’t make disappear. He was part of that big organization they busted when we were ten, but they never found his connection, and he took a bunch of the children and falsified the records so they thought we didn’t exist. Most of them…” he took a ragged breath. “They’re dead. All but the five of us. If the experiments didn’t kill them, we did. A test, he called it. A test of our abilities.”

Lucy swallowed hard. When she had guessed that he was one of the children experimented on, she had never expected this.

“Don’t worry,” he growled, turning around to face her. “I’ll be out of your life as soon as I get you back home. You won’t have to worry about if I’m going to snap and kill you too one of these days. Come on, let’s go. After this long, you shouldn’t have any issues walking.”

“What do you mean, out of your life?” Lucy snapped, balling her fists as she got up and stalked over to him. “You think I’m going to just let you walked away because a lunatic screwed up your childhood?”

“Sane people would,” Erik muttered.

“Well, my sanity’s always been up for debate,” Lucy said shortly. “Now, are you going to take off that mask and kiss me, or are we going to enact some fantasy where I’m dating both Erik and the notorious hero Cobra and gossip rags everywhere will call me a slut because of it?” The last time she had seen him, they had been so close to kissing, something they had been dancing around for ages, which had served to ratchet up her frustration levels to new heights when he ran out.

In two quick steps he had her pinned against the wall, mask fluttering to rest on the ground next to the sliced remains of her bonds. “If we’re going to do this,” he murmured, hot breath caressing her ear and making her shiver. “You’re going to have to agree to a few things.”

“Like what?” she retorted, rolling her hips into his and relishing in the choked off groan she managed to provoke. So he’s just as anxious for this as I am.

“Like self-defense classes,” he grunted, bending slightly so he could get a grip on her legs before hoisting her up, causing her to instinctively lock them around her waist, grinding into him again in retribution. “And a lock on your goddamn door that actually works.”

“I think I can agree to that,” she breathed, nipping at his ear, which produced an even better groan from him, one that he wasn’t able to cut off. “Only if I can add a few of my own?”

“You can try,” he smirked against her neck as he nibbled at the skin there, teasing her into a full body shudder that had both of them struggling to breathe normally.

“No more of this abandon ship, protect yourself bullshit,” Lucy dug her hands into his hair as his lips peppered her collarbone with kisses before dipping lower, following the (admittedly low) cut of her shirt. “You have a problem with us, you bring it to me before you go making decisions.”

“Reasonable,” he said before sliding his hands under her shirt, creeping up to much more interesting areas that she was very interested in having him explore, preferably without clothes. “Any others?”

“That’s the big one-” She moaned into his kiss as his lips, those perfectly kissable- slightly dry from the winter but really, who cares?- lips darted up to engage hers. All talk of conditions flew out of her head as he rolled his hips into hers, a contact that made both of them groan in unison and caused her to pull gently on his hair.

“Before you start screwing,” someone said in a flat voice from the direction of the doorway, the words like a bucket of water being dumped over their heads. “I thought I’d warn you that Angel’s on her way up, and she’s pissed.”

“Damn it Midnight,” Erik grunted, gently lowering Lucy to the floor and stepping away. “Couldn’t you head her off?”

“I did,” the other man said flatly, leaning against the doorway. “That’s why she searched the first floor and I took the second.”

Trying to smooth out her breathing, Lucy discreetly adjusted her shirt, watching their interaction from under her eyelashes. Midnight was another of the morally dubious heroes that roamed Fiore, although he rarely made an appearance. He had never been seen with Cobra, but based on their interactions, she was willing to bet that he was one of the five who survived Zero.

“And the others?” Erik was asking, sliding his mask back into place.

“Hoteye’s bullshitting the authorities so we could find you ahead of them,” Midnight said. “Your work was rather obvious, so Racer’s making sure it’s not directly traced back to you. Not that you would go to jail, probably, given who he was, but they do frown on slipping back into old habits.”

“Thanks,” Erik said quietly, before turning to Lucy. “Lucy Heartfilia, Midnight. Midnight, Lucy Heartfilia.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Lucy said politely, holding out her hand.

Midnight just looked at it before turning to leave the room. “We had better get out of here before the cops decide to start nosing around.”

Slightly hurt by the rejection, Lucy looked to Erik for cues. He shrugged, adjusting how his coat fell, and said: “He’s like that. It took us years to warm up to each other, and he’s still not used to life outside who Zero made us into. Don’t take it personally.”

From the hallway, Midnight’s voice floated down to them. “You have a minute before Angel’s up here, so if you can refrain from screwing against the wall in that time, I’ll contrive to find enough errands out of the apartment that you’ll have several hours of privacy to do with what you will.”

Perhaps, Lucy thought as a sudden warmth blazed in her as she saw the lust in Erik’s lone eye return as he looked at her, he’s not so bad after all.

[auburnfamilynews]

Julie Bennett-USA TODAY Sports

Road underdogs, time to kick this season off.

So, we’re 3-0. Cool. Couple of wins over Kent State and Tulane followed the big victory over Oregon, but now it’s time for SEC play.

Candidly, the College and Mag group chat has been nervous this week. There were times when we didn’t have a ton of confidence in the Tigers as they head out to College Station. However, if you think we’re not collectively Barning Hard, you’re sadly, sadly mistaken.

#8 Auburn @ #16 Texas A&M (-4) (O/U 48)

Here we go, folks. Auburn’s first real test. Yes, the opening week battle in Arlington mattered, and Oregon is certainly a great team that tested Auburn to its limits. However, nothing matters more than SEC wins, and nothing prepares a true freshman quarterback for his first game in a hostile environment. Bo Nix will be behind an offensive line that may not have great chemistry. He’ll have to overcome communication issues. I would expect a few false starts and delay of game penalties.

Auburn has one of the best defenses in the country, including (probably) the best defensive line. Kellen Mond had a QBR of 73 and 87.3 against Lamar and Texas State, respectively. However, against Clemson, that number dropped all the way to 59.8. I don’t think he’ll ever get comfortable enough to throw with ease against our line. However, this take depends on the health of Derrick Brown. Auburn’s superstar, future first rounder needs to have an impact tomorrow night. Auburn will need him at 100%. Auburn 30, Texas A&M 28.

-Josh Dub

It’s a huge weekend for both Auburn and Texas A&M. Auburn looks to silence the many critics from the fanbase while A&M looks to avoid it’s 2nd loss after 4 weeks. This is the first road environment that Bo Nix will face as a collegiate. We saw signs of the running back being more efficient last week but can they do that against an SEC defense? Will the Offensive Line be able to block for Boobee Whitlow, Bo Nix and others? On defense, I would expect Derrick Brown to play but if not, Tyrone Truesdell has stepped up big time along with Marlon Davidson and others on the D-Line. There’s no Trayveon Williams at Running Back but there is Kendrick Rogers at Wide Receiver. How will Iggy and Roger McCreary matchup on him and the other Aggie receivers? Clemson held them to 10 points and I think Auburn can do just enough to come out of College Station with a huge win! Auburn 27 Texas A&M 21.

-Will McLaughlin

In my pretend expert opinion, there are 3 swing games that will determine whether this is a good, average or bad year for the Tigers

@ A&M

@ UF

vs UGA

As of today, it’s hard to feel great about Auburn’s chances winning on the road in Baton Rouge or beating Bama. That’s not to say they can’t or won’t do either. It’s just recognizing that AU hasn’t won in Death Valley in 20 years and Alabama’s offense having the pieces to exploit some vulnerabilities in Auburn’s defense. The rest of the games SHOULD be wins even if they end up closer than we like. That leaves those 3 contests as vitally important.

Go 3-0 and all of a sudden those other two look very winnable or at least you got a 10 win regular season. 2-1 is what I am expecting which would likely lead to a 9+ win regular season giving AU chance at a 10th win in a bowl. 1-2 is danger zone and puts Auburn in the worst place. A coach sitting on possibly another 8-4/7-5 season with a buyout that isn’t necessarily reasonable to make a move on. 0-3 and it’s time to fire up the coaching hot boards.

As for A&M, this game holds similar importance. Only the Aggies and Gamecocks can challenge Auburn’s claim for toughest schedule in America. A&M has already gone on the road and lost to Clemson. They still have to host Alabama and finish the season with road games in Athens and Baton Rouge. Lose this game and Jimbo is staring down the barrel of a 7-5 year at best. They didn’t pay him that ungodly contract for more Sumlin success.

All that to say, I expect both teams to empty every round they have in their chamber to ensure they come away with a victory. Gus has undoubtedly put some things on film to setup big plays down the road. Pull em out now if you got em. Starting the SEC gauntlet with this type of a win can be the energy shot you need to go onto have a special season. Lose and you have to wonder if you got what it takes to compete against the best this season.

Matchup wise, I expect this game to be dominated by defense. A&M and Auburn both have outstanding front 7s who excel at smothering the opposing rushing attack. The Aggies are down their starting RB, have an inconsistent QB, some questions still on the offensive line and a case of the dropsies at wideout. Auburn has an inconsistent OL, a true freshman QB starting on road for the first time, questions at running back and could be down their best wide receiver. If either team reaches 30 points I will be shocked.

Before the season I had this penciled in as a loss. First road game for Bo vs a defense that dominated most of last year’s matchup before Jarrett Stidham caught fire. Add in Gus’s general struggles to be ranked teams on the road and it’s easy to see why the Aggies would be the favorite.

BUT WE BARN HARD HERE DAMNIT

Until this team falls on their face I am going to keep believing. I actually trust Bo more than Mond in the big moments and I think Auburn’s defense will prove more elite than the Aggies’. Nix leads another remarkable 4th quarter drive to put AU up late and the defense stands tall to seal the victory. AU escapes College Station with a very important first SEC win. Auburn 23 A&M 20.

-AU Nerd

At first blush, I really don’t like this game. Yeah, yeah, true freshman, first road start, salty d-line vs French Army-esque Offensive line trying to protect said freshman, blah blah blah. The main thing I will be watching for is to see if Seth Williams and Derrick Brown are both in the game and can give meaningful minutes to both sides of the ball. I am going to go against my better judgement because I want to believe and get hurt again. Auburn straight up and take the under. Tigers 24-16.

-Drew Mac

There are so many unknowns for Auburn in this game. Do Derrick Brown, Seth Williams, and Tega play? Do none of them play? You could argue those three guys are the most irreplaceable players on the roster, and Auburn will need all three of them to win. Is Bo Nix ready to stand up to an SEC pass rush? Oregon gave him trouble a few weeks ago in his first career start, but A&M will probably do a better job of shutting down the run game than the Ducks, putting the offense in Bo’s hands. Ultimately, this is an early season elimination game for these two teams. The winner will cement themselves as a contender in the West with LSU and Alabama, and the loser will more than likely become the #4 team in the division. And trust me, either team that loses this game will have a restless fan base.

I’m a firm believer in Auburn’s defense right now. The few busts they’ve made in the last two games have been when the secondary is over-aggressive in chasing interceptions, something I think will begin to pay off soon. Mond has thrown a pick in every game so far this season, and if the defense can pull one in with good field position, that will be the difference in the game. Otherwise, Arryn Siposs will have his hands (legs?) full trying to win a punting battle with A&M punter Braden Mann, a battle I’m not sure we can win. Auburn’s not losing to Aggy, though. 24-14 Tigers.

-Ryan Sterritt

This feels like an impossible pick. My head is telling me one thing and my heart is pulling hard for another. I look at this game as a continuation of what I’ve said for the first three games of the year…what Auburn does will dictate victory or defeat.

Texas A&M is a quality opponent with a QB in his second year of a complex, successful system that is known for one thing above all others…getting that QB paid in the NFL, deserving or not. Kellen Mond is a far cry from some of Jimbo’s better QB’s at FSU, but he is absolutely capable of making enough throws to beat some of the better teams in the SEC. A&M’s rushing attack has taken a hit with the loss of Vernon Jackson, who is likely to never play football again. I expect A&M to still attempt to establish the run early, and build in the play-action game and 3-5 Mond runs to attempt to keep the Auburn defense honest. I have no idea what to expect from A&M’s defense aside from a strong inside presence at the line of scrimmage. GOOD THING RUNNING INSIDE HASN’T BEEN A PROBLEM FOR US OR ANYTHING!

Here’s where I’m at with my head…Auburn’s rushing attack is mindlessly frustrating to watch. The play-calling has been fine in my opinion, it’s simply that the execution has been lacking due to proper personnel to run even the Inside Zone, a staple of Gus’ offense. Bo Nix has been coached to not read the entire field by this point as we’re trying to bring him along at a pace that limits his ability to go full Favre and force throws that can cost us a game. And Auburn’s defense has struggled mightily early on in games against a scripted offense. This game is on the road in an environment that is far less daunting than people like to recognize because it’s not as loud as you’d think. Playing at A&M is like playing at Arkansas or Alabama. They get loud but they don’t stay loud. I’m never going to be accused of being totally objective, but if I was going with my head I would take A&M 24 Auburn 16, as I expect our offensive line to struggle and Bo Nix to have to put the team on his back yet again. He’s capable, but it’s starting to ask a lot of a true freshman if he doesn’t have any help on the ground.

Fortunately for you, dear reader, and for my sanity’s sake, I’m not picking with my head. Reason being is that there are so many keys to this game that can very easily push us over the top that my heart believes we will check off just enough of these boxes to get the W. That being said, here are Auburn’s keys to victory:

Rush for 150 yards or more – Just give us something of a push in the middle, OL, and we dictate this game.

The presence of a true alternate every down back in DJ Williams. Whitlow needs some help, and DJ is the best shot we have to add a spark in the ground game. I’d like to see him get 5-8 carries to spell Boobie and give us more than a change of pace back there.

Defense needs to impose their will up front early, play smarter on the screens, and get off the field on 3rd down…especially early in each half so that we force the Aggie sideline to get off the script and actually work to sustain drives. If we win battles with our defense early, it’s going to be a good day.

Give Roger McCreary some snaps in place of Javaris Davis on the outside. He’s earned it and has been the more consistent of the two these past 3 weeks.

GIVE US SOME HANG TIME…punt coverage is poor. Don’t give them a chance.

Involve Joey Gatewood in the game with the 1’s and LET HIM THROW 2-3 PASSES. Bo is our starter. That’s not going to change and I don’t think it should. But Joey provides us a spark and gives us something on the ground that can extend plays/drives. He needs to be more involved on Saturday.

Anthony Schwartz needs to be targeted in multiple routes this week to free up some double coverage on Seth and/or Eli. Also, if there was ever a time for a crossing pattern to rejoin the Auburn offense, this weekend would be a good time to start.

Don’t put out kicker into a position where he’s kicking outside of 45 yards. With this defense, a punt to pin Mond and Co. deep is not the worst option.

HANG ON TO THE DADGUM FOOTBALL FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE BOOBIE I CAN’T TAKE SEEING YOU PUT ANOTHER ONE ON THE GROUND OR ELSE I MAY LOSE MY MIND.

Honestly, if Auburn checks off boxes 1 & 3 from above they win this game. It’ll be close, but that’s what has to happen for us to get out of Aggieland with a W and set this season up for some real, legitimate hope. I’m not ready to give validity to tweets from a literal crazy person out in California about a member of the Board of Trustees. I’m not going to get into a mindset of thinking Auburn needs to make a change. I believe this program is doing the best it can on the field, and I’m going to believe that our personnel issues are fixable, both in this season and beyond. This football season is too dang young for all of that negative nonsense. Furthermore, the grass on this side of things is greener than some want to admit. We’ve never lose in College Station, and that enabling, lying, snake of a head coach over there may be getting rich off of A&M’s stupidity, but it sure doesn’t mean he should have another day of happiness at our expense. We’re going to win this game and it is going to give us some serious momentum to survive the next few weeks. Auburn 24 Texas A&M 20.

-Josh Black

This is the first(or second if you count Oregon) in a long line of real tests Auburn will face this season. If they come out of this one unscathed, it will say a lot about the TIgers’ prospects for the rest of the season. I say this not because I think Texas A&M is particularly good, but because they have a strength (defensive line) that is matched up against our biggest weakness (offensive line). This is also a huge test for Bo Nix. Kyle Field is loud. Not nearly as loud and wild as advertised (I was there in 2013, in field level, in their student section, so I feel pretty comfortable with my sample size) but still loud. This could be pretty daunting for a true freshman. However, Bo is not your average true freshman and I think he goes on the road and continues to show the unflappability he’s shown all year and the good guys get the win. Tigers 28 - Fake Military Bros 17.

-AU Chief

Gus’ record in “big games” is something his fiercest detractors (read:idiots) usually bring up. The problem is, the goalpost of “big game” is often moved after Gus wins the game. This is a big game. It’s a big game just like Oregon was a big game. Win this game and the probability that Auburn wins 9 or more games this season goes way up. I’m not josh dub, but I’m pretty sure that’s true. If Auburn loses this game, it will need to beat some teams a sight better than the aggies to get to 9 wins. Guys, 9-10 wins is the goal. An unbiased observer would look at this Auburn schedule and think a 9-10 win season would earn a parade through Toomer’s corner. If Gus goes 2-0 through the first two tests of this young season then buddy we have a chance for this to be a special year.

I think Aggy will score on us. Not like 40 points or anything, but I don’t see us shutting them down to two scoring drives or anything like that. Mond is real good. He’s gonna get his. Often times, you have to take away the weaker aspect of a team in order to limit the damage the stronger aspect can do to you. This is one of those times. If Auburn can’t completely shut down Aggy’s ability to run the ball at all, making them one-dimensional, then I think Auburn can score enough on offense to keep up.

On offense, I think this is the game Bo Nix is let loose. Or at least I hope it is. Auburn can’t afford to get one dimensional itself, and Bo Nix finding five or six different receivers this game might be what Auburn needs. I hope he can do it. I hope he’s allowed to do it.

I’m picking Auburn because I genuinely think the defense is great and because I hate the aggies. Auburn 30 Aggy 23.

-Son of Crow

I think Auburn has more talent and has the best “group” in the matchup (their defensive line). The reason’s for concern is whether or not Auburn’s running game is really coming around, and Auburn starting a true freshman quarterback. I think Gus keeps things close to the vest, leans on the running game and a (LORD I HOPE) improved punt game than the first two weeks. If this goes over, it’s because Auburn had to cut the offense loose and the defense didn’t get enough stops. Auburn 23, Texas A&M 17. (Auburn wins and covers, UNDER)

-James Jones

In much the same way that Oregon was kind of our first test of the year, it’s so hard to put a ton of stock into first games. Last year, we beat Washington and lost a couple weeks later to LSU. This A&M team isn’t as good as that LSU team, but we’re on the road this weekend. There are still a ton of questions about Auburn, and I don’t know if we’ve seen ample answers through the previous two games, wherein I’m positive that Gus Malzahn sharpie-d out like 95% of his playbook because he knew he wouldn’t need it.

We need to just flip to the back half of it for tomorrow, and let Bo run the dipsy-doodle and the kitchen sink and the razzmatazz zoomberry express. If he makes a mistake, it means he learns now instead of later. It’ll likely happen anyway, so let’s get it out of the way, and who knows... it could end up great. I’m hoping that we’ve been getting him used to the college game and now we’re going to let him show what he can really do with the full capability of this offense. Of course, the offensive line and skill position injuries could be a problem. Ugh.

Defensively, I don’t think Clemson’s defense is much better (if at all) than ours, so I’m confident that we can hold A&M to two touchdowns or less. I think the offense gets two or more touchdowns, and as much as Ryan Sterritt loves Aggie punter Braden Mann (weird idol, Ryan), I like Christian Tutt more. We get a special teams touchdown and a couple field goals, and it’s a more comfortable win than we expect. Auburn to 4-0 with a 27-14 win.

-Jack Condon

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