#he tried the solemn and serious route and that got him no where so now it’s just time to get silly

[driftingvoid-155]

I like the thought of Michael looking at his organs on the floor and just asking himself ‘what even was the fuckin point of it all’ and then just letting himself become totally unhinged bc fuck it, he died once and at this point, he has zero shame left. Kind of hard to after being paraded around half naked for a week through the neighborhood. Man doesn’t give a fuck anymore.

Night shift were if the animatronics catch you they shove you into a suit? Why not, he’s been in worse situations before.

Haunted attraction that contains the corpse of his father stuck inside a rabbit costume? What else is new at this point. Some arson outta do the trick.

Pizzeria location that’s going to be burned down in a week with him and everyone else inside?? Might as well send that little lawsuit bear leaping into the ball pit a couple dozen times before that.

It’s about the little things. Like not letting the fact your entire family is dead and you yourself got murdered in a horrific way get you down :)

[lovetorn]

so she goes - xavier thorpe [part 2]

Guitarist!Xavier x Fem!Reader

tonight you are mine [part 1]

Summary: After your date with Xavier, he doesn't call, leaving you to worry about where you stand.

Warnings: swearing, maybe some grammar mistakes (if you can find any, pls lmk) & i think that's all

A/N: i went down a different route for the second part because i didn't want to write the actual date. i hope you don't have high expectations lmao xo enjoy!

W/C: 3.2k

“I hate him.” You spat as you slammed the door of your and Enid’s apartment closed. Knowing she would be in her room, it was the first place you went. 

You stood in the doorway while Enid lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had a knowing smirk on her lips but went against guessing. 

“Who do we hate now?” She asked. 

“Xavier! Who else?” 

Enid kept her giddiness to herself and acted nonchalant. “I mean, there are a few others we could hate instead. But what did he do?” 

You shook your head. 

Nothing. He had done nothing. 

Enid knew from your expression that the date had gone well. “What did you do?” 

You sighed and pushed Enid over lightly so you could lay next to her. Covering your face, you groaned. 

“He’s just so irritating! He’s cocky, and he’s cheeky, and he’s so damn cute, and I wish he were boring so I didn’t get this annoying feeling in my stomach every time he spoke.” Your hands muffled your words, yet Enid heard every word. She grinned from ear to ear while you continued; however, your voice dropped to a whisper, tethering on the edge of cracking. “I’m scared, Enid.” 

The blonde girl’s eyes widened at your confession. She shook her head and tried to remove your hands from your face. Her tone was quiet and warm as she spoke. 

“Why are you scared? There’s no reason to be scared. He likes you, Y/n,” She whispered. “And I know you don’t believe he could, but you should’ve heard him backstage beforehand. It was almost sickening,” She made a face, and you laughed softly. “He thinks you’re the prettiest, and I think so too if that counts for anything.” 

You nodded, tears threatening to slip out of the corners of your eyes. “Really?” 

“Obviously,” Then she gasped. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? If he has upset you, I will kick his ass and throw him out of his own band.” 

Laughing, you turned your head towards her. “No, this is all me.” 

She gave you a solemn look and twisted her lips. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. 

Enid shook her head. “It’s the truth. So,” she clapped and smiled, changing the direction of the conversation. “How was the date?” 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

Meanwhile, Xavier paced in Ajax’s living room. The latter sat bored on the couch while he watched his best friend argue with himself. Xavier had gotten back from your date around the same time you had, but the warmth in his chest was something he hadn’t acknowledged until he got to Ajax’s apartment. 

“She’s so…” Xavier paused to find the word. 

“Cute, funny, so sarcastic it almost hurts—” 

“Frustrating!” 

“Not the word I would’ve gone for, but yeah, okay.” 

Xavier didn’t pay any mind to his best friend as he made a hole in the floor. “She’s like no one I've ever met, Jax. She’s, like, perfect for me!”

“Okay, perfect?” Ajax furrowed his brows. “You met her tonight.” 

“Exactly!” Xavier stopped in his tracks and pointed at Ajax. “We only met tonight, and I already feel like this.”

Ajax went to open his mouth to talk again but was cut off. 

“Is she a witch? Do they exist? Has she cast a spell on me?” Xavier’s long arms were thrown in the air in question as he continued to pace, his hair swishing in every direction. His expression was deadly serious, and Ajax had to hold in his laughter for fear he’d offend his friend. 

“I just think you like her, Thorpe.”

Xavier couldn’t keep his smile contained as he looked at Ajax. “Yeah. Looks like it doesn’t it.” 

“Bro, yes! I thought we would be here all week until you figured it out.” Ajax jumped from the couch and hugged his taller friend, the pair laughing together. 

“Shut up.” 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

It had been a week since your date. A week since Xavier took you for dinner and then drove you home. A week since you’d heard from him. It hurt that he didn’t text you, but you didn’t either, and a phone works both ways. 

You refused to tell Enid, afraid she would pity you. You went about your days jumping when your phone got a message and hoping Enid wouldn’t bring him up, which was going fine until she invited you to a band practice at Xavier’s. 

“It’ll only be for a few hours, I promise, and then you can go home.” She practically begged. You screwed your lips, unsure. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Enid by telling her the truth, so you agreed. 

“Great!” She squealed. “I’ll see you at 4.” 

At 4 pm, after parking your car in the street of Xavier’s house, you walked towards the address Enid had given you. Band practice was held at Xavier’s, as he was the only one with a garage to do so. He lived off-campus in a quaint house he shared with his other college friends. 

You didn’t need to double-check the address when you heard the familiar sound of an electric guitar and drums. Your nerves were almost unbearable—it was the first time you’d be seeing Xavier after your date. After he never followed up with you. 

“And here she is! The girl of the hour, my favourite person ever—”

“After Ajax.”

“After Ajax! Hey…” Enid’s voice echoed through the street as she spoke through the microphone when she spotted you on the sidewalk. “Y/n!” 

The electric guitar riffs stopped. You looked up and waved at Enid before your gaze drifted to the left. Xavier sat with his deep blue guitar, the afternoon sun reflecting off the paint. Heat rose to your cheeks as you shared an awkward smile with him. If the others saw, they didn’t say anything yet. 

“Hey, Y/n,” Ajax sang, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You shook your head, wishing they wouldn’t tease you. You didn’t want to make things awkward, considering you hadn’t told anyone you hadn’t spoken to Xavier in a week.

“Hi, Ajax. Where’s Rowan?” You wanted nothing more than to direct the conversation down a different route, but when Ajax looked at you like that, you knew he wasn’t giving up the topic f his best friend and you yet. 

“He had a study group,” Ajax brushed off your question. “There’s a seat next to Xav if you need one.” 

You gave him an unsure smile in response and saw Xavier drag a fold-out chair towards him and pat it in your peripheral. Sighing, you turned, avoided eye contact, and sat in the seat next to Xavier.

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He watched you sit down; his green eyes were bright in the setting sun. 

You didn’t speak for a moment, letting the awkward air settle between you two, instantly regretting it. 

“I’m just here to watch, okay? Don’t let me distract you.” You said, picking at your fingernail. 

Xavier laughed breathlessly next to you. “Easy for you to say.” 

You leaned back in your seat, deciding to go with a teasing response rather than none at all. You’d hope it would diffuse the tension. “Pretend I’m a ghost. Or, a witch, rather. I’ve cast an invisibility spell….” 

Ajax had told you about Xavier’s spiel about you last week when you were still riding the high from going on a date with Xavier. And let’s just say you’d have enough ammo for a while if Xavier would let you. 

The uncomfortable air dissipated as Xavier turned around quickly and shot Ajax a glare. “Are you fucking kidding?” 

The drummer just laughed and threw his arms up in surrender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” 

“I hate all of you.” 

You wore a smug grin as you stared at his side profile. 

“Not Y/n, right? You still have so many dates to go on.” Ajax called.

Xavier physically froze, and Ajax started clicking his fingers at Enid to get her attention. 

His head slowly turned towards you, a lopsided grin on his lips. He glanced at his best friend before he nodded. 

“Yeah, no, I don’t hate you.” His expression softened when he saw your teeth capture your bottom lip. “What are you doing tonight?” 

You ignored Enid’s giddy squeal and replied. “Whatever you’re doing.” Your gaze never left his eyes. The anxiety about Xavier you’d harboured had been on the back burner.

Ajax laughed. “She’s so smooth, Thorpe! Up your game, bro!” 

Xavier dropped his head and let out an easy chuckle before looking back at you. “Sounds good. We’ll go out after this.” 

You nodded, anxiety fizzling in your stomach as you thought about being alone with him again. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

The deep chords of the guitar vibrated through the garage. Enid went inside to get water with Ajax, who desperately needed one too. You rolled your eyes when the couple left, leaving you with Xavier. Although, he was in his own world while he figured out the riff to a new song. 

You had relaxed a while ago with your head lolled to the side as you watched Xavier pluck the guitar strings. You didn’t mind watching him; you found it intriguing and didn’t want to disturb him. You wanted to ask him about not calling but were deterred when you saw his expression.

Xavier’s face was tense with concentration, his hair hung in his eyes, and you took the time to admire him while he attempted different patterns. The way his fingers moved up and down the neck; the way he hummed the melody; the way he sighed in annoyance when he couldn’t get it quite right. 

After he played through the song with the riff he was trying out, you intervened. “That sounds really good, Xav.” 

Xavier glanced at you, a sheepish smirk on his lips as he shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.” A deep red dusted his cheeks as he smiled wider. “Thanks.” 

You noticed him lean closer, and you did too. His eyes flickered to your mouth, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. It was quiet, the only sound being the wind brushing the plants a few feet away from you. 

But the door attached to the kitchen slammed open, making you two jump apart. 

“Are we ready to rock and roll?” Ajax yelled. Enid bounced on her toes next to him, and Xavier stood, putting the guitar strap over his head. He gave you an apologetic look before smirking, dimples indenting his cheeks. 

As you watched him adjust the strap, you noticed the ends of his hair were caught under it on the back of his neck. 

“Xav.” After the sound of your voice, Xavier turned. He was confused when you stood up and reached towards his neck. You spun him back around, grabbed his hair, and slowly pulled it out from under the strap. The room was silent as the others watched your interaction. Xavier’s forehead creased when he felt you do so but relaxed when he realised what you’d done. 

“Uh, thanks, Y/n.” He mumbled, his cheeks still painted a darker crimson than before. 

“No problem.” You wrung your hands together. “You should probably put your hair up.” 

“Is that what you want?” He teased, leaning over to pluck the hair tie off your wrist. 

You stammered as he took it, heat rushing to your cheeks when he winked at you as he pulled his hair out of his face and into a bun. If Enid was squealing with excitement like usual, you didn’t hear it, too preoccupied seeing how a single hairstyle could change his appearance. 

His features were sharper in the afternoon light compared to on stage. His nose longer, cheekbones higher, his jaw defined, and his neck slender. 

“Stop drooling, or you’ll have to mop the floor yourself, Y/n!” Xavier chuckled to himself as Ajax yelled. 

Your whole body was on fire in embarrassment. “Fuck off, Jax!”

The drummer only laughed and began the first beats of the new song. It was difficult without the bass guitar, but they made it work.

So She Goes. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

Xavier was relieved practice was over, something he would never admit. He loved playing, and he loved the band, but when you sat there looking pretty, he would do anything to leave and take you out instead. He was a little upset that you hadn’t texted him back, but he would do anything to find out why, which is mainly why he asked you to hang out. He couldn’t stand to be away from you again when you were so close. 

So, he led you to his car, a black Toyota Corolla, and opened the passenger door for you. He would drop you back here to get your car afterwards. 

The silence inside the car was uncomfortable as you watched the street lights pass by out the window. Unironically, High and Dry by Radiohead played softly through the radio, and Xavier tightened his fists on the steering wheel, glancing over at you through the darkness. 

You pursed your lips in an attempt to stop your giggle. But you told him last week that you’d always laughed at the wrong times, so he was expecting it. 

“Xavier,” You said, a breath of laughter following. “Where are we going?”

He smirked, poking his cheek with his tongue at the sound, and looked at you when the car stopped at a red light. “A lookout. We need to talk.” 

His tone was light, faking seriousness, so you weren’t expecting an awkward chat about where you stood with each other. 

Warm light passed through the car in bursts as you turned to watch Xavier drive a few minutes ago. He let his hair down some time ago, rolling the hair tie back onto your wrist with a thank you. You played with the band on your arm as you admired him, and you knew he knew you were doing so. 

A few bumps in the road made you look straight ahead. The feeling told you the car was pulling up to a gravel road, and then the crunching sound of tyres on the pebbles filled the car. You slid slightly in your seat, and Xavier looked over at you, smiling. 

You’d heard about this lookout from people at college. It was a beautiful spot at night but also the number one hook-up spot for students who lived in dorms and had roommates. You couldn’t help but feel the anticipation as he pulled into a parking spot. 

The view that expanded past the windscreen was unexpected. The vivid lights of downtown and the clusters of lights from neighbourhoods blurred the stars in the sky, but it was a sight. 

You sat further up in your seat to try and spot your apartment building—something you still couldn’t find every time he brought you here. 

As you searched, Xavier fidgeted in his seat. He wasn’t sure how to bring up the situation with you, his confident persona that you knew from a week ago fading with every day he wasn’t on stage. 

So, instead of stalling, he outright asked it. “Why didn’t you text me back?” 

You turned your head towards him, a confused look on your face. “You never texted me.” 

“Yes, I did,” Xavier plucked his phone from the cup holder and passed it to you. You squinted at the screen. “See?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you grabbed the phone out of his hand and read the phone number at the top of the screen after reading the message: hey y/n, i had a great time the other night. wanna do it again?

“My number is wrong,” Xavier’s head whipped towards you. “That six is meant to be a five.”

“Seriously?” He was breathless as he asked and then blushed, playfully snatching his phone from your hands. “I’ll fix that.” 

As you watched him change the number, you sat sideways in your seat. Glancing to your left, you saw a familiar grey t-shirt on the backseat.

“Let’s see.” You mumbled, reaching to grab the shirt. As you unravelled it, you saw Xavier take a glimpse at what you were holding. Your phone number was still scribbled messily on the chest area of the shirt where you wrote it a week ago, and you could see how he could have mistaken the 5 for a 6. 

“I wrote that so badly, sorry,” You smiled sheepishly, covering your cheeks with your hands that held the shirt, mostly by accident, but Xavier thought it was cute. The faint scent of his cologne and him overwhelmed your senses, and your ears felt hot. 

Xavier locked his phone and set it in the cup holder. Your phone buzzed under your leg, and you ignored it as you made eye contact with him. 

You dropped your hands to your lap and rubbed the fabric with your fingers, tilting your head when Xavier sighed. “Aren’t you gonna answer?” 

“Depends.” You whispered, throwing a teasing smile in his direction as you tossed the shirt in your hands in the backseat, tapping your phone screen afterwards.

Saturday? 

Xavier gave you a crooked smile and dropped his gaze to his lap, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He lifted his eyes to yours before you spoke.

You nodded. “I can do Saturday.” 

“Perfect,” His cheeks were pink. “But I have a gig beforehand, so if you want to come to that, I can get you a spot backstage.”

Xavier leaned his elbow on the middle console and brought his face toward yours. Your eyes flickered between his and his lips, noticing him doing the same. 

“Sounds good, rockstar.” You say, brushing his jaw with your fingertips. 

It was silent for a moment as the two of you admired each other. His breath on your lips and your nose brushing his. You tucked his hair behind his ear, a few strands falling forward in protest.

“Can I?” He mumbled, his hand caressing the back of your head, fingers twisting in your hair. 

You nodded, wasting no time, and gripped his chin, kissing him. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

On Saturday night, Enid invited Xavier to perform his new song. One the band had spent hours on that week s he could do so. You stood in the front row after declining Xavier’s offer to be backstage. You would tell him later that it was because you liked the atmosphere and not because you could see him better from there. 

Xavier was in his element. With his burning glances and swollen lips, long fingers and raspy voice, he only kept his eyes on you. He played his guitar and sang with Enid like an angel, and it was only a few songs before he was running the show.

He dedicated this song to you. The one he had been writing for months and couldn’t finish. 

But once he had his muse, he was hooked. 

Rose colored glasses glued to my face when she always came around,  attaching memories to these sounds

Dimming the flashes from the Polaroids I took inside my head,  but I'll forget the words she said

And so she goes, leaving those aspirations And so she goes, free from those conversations

And she faced the window driving back on Main Street And I'll keep my cards close whenever someone's near me

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

songs mentioned: - so she goes - geskle

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

thank you for reading! <3

[i-like-plan-m]

the wind on another star

[On Ao3]

Lan Zhan wondered if pirates, of all things, were going to succeed where dozens of far superior fighters had tried and failed to kill him before.

The wide open void of space mocked him. Millions of escape routes within sight, and all worthless to him with a sabotaged hyperdrive and navigation system. The Hanguang-Jun was stranded in the middle of nowhere and caught in the crosshairs of a rather established band of mercenaries who doubled as pirates when they were between paid jobs.

Lan Zhan stood at the helm of his wounded starship and watched the empty escape pods drift away with so much fury he half expected them to explode.

Su She had conned his way onto Lan Zhan’s ship, hacked the navigation controls to drop them out of hyperspace and straight into the heart of a company of heavily armed mercenaries, and taken the only escape pod that he hadn’t already ejected into space.

Lan Zhan’s crew was trapped. Lan Zhan was trapped-- his ship’s weapon systems were mostly offline, brought partially back to life only by Lan Jingyi’s sheer desperation and skill. It wasn’t nearly enough to keep a dozen fighter planes and two cruisers at bay.

“Ambush,” Mianmian said tightly from beside him. “This was carefully planned, Captain.”

“What did we ever do to piss off these guys?” Lan Jingyi asked over the open comms, an edge of panic to his voice that made Lan Zhan’s mouth twist. It was his fault that his cousin was here in the first place, after all; he’d offered him a position on his ship due in part to Lan Jingyi’s skills and also to get him out of Lan Qiren’s hair. Apparently a too-clever, loud mouthed teenager trapped in the peaceful City of Clouds in Gusu had driven everyone up the wall.

He’d reminded Lan Zhan of Wei Ying-- the irrepressible character, the frequent mischief, a voice that ricocheted off of steel walls like a blaster shot. He was joy and humor and noise, a welcome change from the solemn silence aboard the Hanguang-Jun. It made him think of things loved and lost, bittersweet memories that perhaps made him more lenient with Lan Jingyi than his family would approve of.

And Lan Zhan had brought him straight into a trap, likely to be picked off by power hungry mercenaries or held as a hostage.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the control panel beeped urgently, warning him that the cruisers had locked their missiles onto the Hanguang-Jun.

So they had decided to kill him after all.

His brother would be devastated, Lan Zhan thought distantly.

“I’ve still got the sonics,” Mianmian said, strapping herself into the copilot’s seat and reaching for the weapons controls. As his security expert and weapons master, Mianmian had seen them through insurmountable odds before; she remained as cool as ever under the flashing red warning lights. “I can pick off the missiles as they come, unless they unload several at once on us.”

“Can we use them to hit first?” Lan Jingyi asked, breathing heavily as he worked in the overheated mechanical room. “No one in the galaxy can counter Lan sonic tech.”

“They’re out of range,” Mianmian said regretfully.

“They haven’t attempted to hail us?” Lan Zhan asked, staring the largest cruiser down as it loomed over them in a blatant attempt to intimidate them. He suspected there was more at play here-- cruisers like this cost serious money, and even if simple mercenary crews got their hands on one, they didn’t keep them long. But two? Lan Zhan knew a set up when he saw it.

Lan Jingyi-- their mechanic and communications officer, because he was “skilled like that”-- made a sound of disgust. “No. So much for intergalactic law, right?”

“So many for just us,” Mianmian said, scowling out the front shield. “That’s half a damn army out there.”

The Hanguang-Jun had a reputation, though. Lan Zhan and his tiny crew went where the chaos was, and recently they’d taken on a number of jobs that had required the full force of their combined skill and strategy to survive. Except they’d not only survived, they’d demolished multiple bands of the rogue mercenaries that wandered the galaxy, terrorizing the helpless colonies too small or poor to defend themselves.

Someone had been paying attention, it seemed. And they had gone so far as to plant a spy-- Su She, hired only a week ago as extra support-- to lead them to an ambush in the middle of nowhere.

No one would know of their deaths for some time; the largest cruiser had an active jammer to block any distress signals, and Lan Zhan wasn’t due for a check in with his family for weeks.

He regretted the deaths of his crew. His friends. The loss his brother and uncle would soon face. And, privately, Lan Zhan regretted that he would never find Wei Ying. The bright, brilliant boy who’d vanished entirely after the Sunshot Wars, wherein the galaxy had come together to bring down Wen Ruohan before he could harness a sun’s energy to demolish entire planets.

So much left unsaid. But Wei Ying had broken the Wen remnants out of a prison world and disappeared into the darkness between the stars. No one knew where he’d gone. If he was alive. If they’d ever see him again.

Lan Zhan, it seemed, would never find out.

“Our shields?” He asked quietly, gripping the sleek rail separating the pilots’ seats from the rest of the control room so tightly his knuckles were white.

“In tatters,” Lan Jingyi said, trying to sound brave and landing somewhere around apprehensive. “I’m doing my best, Captain, but…”

“It’s alright,” Lan Zhan said gently. “We will try the sonic cannons.”

Mianmian’s eyes flickered to him, but she kept quiet. They both knew it would only take one missed shot to destroy their ship, and they were laughably outnumbered. But the comms were open and Lan Jingyi was listening intently from the engine room, so they kept their mutual understanding nonverbal.

“Well. It’s been an honor, Captain,” she murmured, too low for the comm line to pick up.

“For me as well,” Lan Zhan said, and dropped his hands to the pilot controls. He would try to help Mianmian dodge missiles as best he could, despite the futility of the situation.

The beeping became frantic, screaming in urgency as the second cruiser locked onto them. The cockpit was dim, lit only by the flashing warning lights that cast them in hues of red.

They waited, braced for the first burst of light that would signal a dispatched missile, surrounded on all sides, caught in a killing field with no way out.

Three bright souls on the cusp of darkness, facing a death that would leave them floating adrift in the eternal expanse of space. Not so terrible an end, he supposed, for a crew of wayfarers.

Mianmian suddenly jerked in place. “What the...?”

Lan Zhan’s attention snapped to her, wondering if he’d missed the beginning of the execution. He followed her baffled gaze, and then froze at the sight of a mid-sized, battered red cruiser dropping out of hyperspace, right on top of the armada.

He knew that cruiser. Had seen it only once, when a small collection of Wen prisoners had boarded it in the midst of a fierce storm with a slender, defiant figure guarding their escape.

The Yílíng Lǎozǔ drifted casually along, drawing the attention of the armada when its heavy artillery cannons dropped into active position. Half of the mercenaries turned their starships around to face the new threat.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mianmian whispered. Lan Zhan could not answer, though the hope in her voice matched the rising sun of his own.

“Is what who you think it is? What’s happening?” Lan Jingyi asked. They didn’t answer, too focused on the Yílíng Lǎozǔ and its unhurried course through the mercenaries’ ranks. Neither took much notice when he skidded into the cockpit to join them, breathing hard with wide, fever-bright eyes.

MianMian made a noise low in her throat when one of the cruisers disengaged their missile lock and turned it onto the Yílíng Lǎozǔ. “They’re going to get blown into pieces, why aren’t they moving out of range?”

Lan Zhan didn’t even notice the moment he stood, so tense his bones felt as though they’d shatter into pieces at a single touch. Wei Ying, what are you doing?

As if in answer, the largest cruiser angled to give chase to the Yílíng Lǎozǔ-- and exploded so abruptly and violently that Lan Zhan nearly staggered back in shock. Mianmian swore in mingled fear and delight, and Lan Jingyi exclaimed similar feelings at the top of his lungs.

“They dropped mines, did you see that?” She asked, leaning forward with bright eyes. “Completely off the radar-- we didn’t get so much as a blip, and this radar’s the only damn thing that is working on this ship.”

“Wei Ying has always been inventive,” Lan Zhan said, chest tight with something huge and undefinable.

“Fucking brilliant is what he is,” Mianmian said, and then made a face. “Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

That implied Lan Zahn was going to see him, which promptly overrode every other thought in his head and made him feel as though he’d been struck in the head with a Lan sonic cannon.

Debris from the destroyed cruiser littered the battlefield, briefly hiding the Yílíng Lǎozǔ from sight.

“They won’t fall for that trick twice,” Mianmian muttered, leaning forward. “Careful, now.”

And then, so suddenly Lan Zhan and Mianmian made twin noises of shock, the starships closest to the Hanguang-Jun exploded. He thought at first it was another trick with the mines, but--

A ripple of darkness rocketed past the nose of their ship, far too fast to track. It was utterly undetectable except for the trail of destruction it left behind. The starship moved at impossible speeds; not even the Nie’s most advanced fighters could move like that, and they were the foremost engineers in the galaxy.

It took another moment, during which starships blew up like a pre-planned chain reaction, for Lan Zhan to realize there were two of these ships-- starfighters, combat aircraft built for speed and stealth. They worked off of each other like they were a hive mind, targeting clusters of enemy ships and annihilating them with some unknown invisible weapon that pulverized the ships into fragments.

A series of explosions along the remaining cruiser nearly tore it in half. Lan Jingyi whooped as it careened wildly out of control and erupted into blinding light.

Lan Zhan’s focus, though, was drawn inexplicably to the shimmer of darkness flitting through the ranks of the armada, slipping into impossibly narrow spaces, performing acrobatics that only someone absolutely fearless would even dream of.

Wei Ying had always taken “attempt the impossible” to heart.

“Look!” Lan Jingyi exclaimed, pointing outside their windshield to a furrow in the black void of space. A third ship, this one hovering just beside the Hanguang-Jun as a clear threat-- come any closer, and you’d be decimated like the rest of the ruined armada. Lan Jingyi waved, and the ripple of black dipped low and then back into place.

“What kind of weapon is that?” Mianmian wondered, watching in awe as a single shot from one of Wei Ying’s starfighters dissolved a starship into particles.

Lan Zhan remembered Wei Ying’s theories on dark matter, and he wondered.

It did not take long for the battle to end. None of the ships even had a chance to escape, and any that tried were chased down within a few heartbeats and destroyed.

The communications system blipped as the two starfighters finished off the remaining enemies. Lan Jingyi looked at Lan Zhan in question, who nodded and waited for him to open the channel to say, “This is Lan Zhan, Captain of the Hanguang-Jun.”  

“Hello, Captain,” someone replied. A young man, by the sounds of it, and politely cheerful. “Our captain has asked me to escort you to the Yílíng Lǎozǔ, if you are amenable.”

That was almost certainly not the way Wei Ying had likely worded it. Lan Zhan found himself wanting to smile. “I am amenable,” he said. “My ship is badly damaged and in need of repair.”

“We can help with that,” the boy replied, and was then interrupted by a voice that made Lan Zhan’s stomach swoop violently.

“Lan Zhan! Are you really going to let me put my grubby hands all over your shiny ship?”

He closed his eyes, emotion swelling in his chest. “Wei Ying can put his hands on anything of mine he wishes,” he said calmly, and meant every word.

He heard a squawk, a faint crash followed by an angry beep, and then a third voice calling in concern, “Wei-gongzi!”

“I’m fine, Wen Ning,” Wei Ying said hastily. Lan Zhan eyed the small piece of debris spinning away into the void, as though it had been clipped by the wing of a starfighter, perhaps.

“Ah,” Wei Ying laughed. “Lan Zhan, I didn’t expect you to have jokes now! I’ve missed a lot, it seems.”

“I have missed more.” Too much, if Wei Ying had made advancements like this; he’d clearly discovered some secret to the universe and left the rest of them far behind.

Lan Zhan had let him slip between his fingers once before. He was tired of being left behind.

“Wen Qing is bringing the Yílíng Lǎozǔ to you,” Wei Ying said with more warmth than Lan Zhan deserved. He had, after all, let Wei Ying down all those years ago. “I’ll see you soon, Lan Zhan.”

“Soon,” Lan Zhan agreed, and let the comm line fall to silence.

Soon. He felt his heart skip a beat in anticipation. Soon he would be face to face with Wei Ying again, the boy he’d loved and lost before he truly understood the potential for what it was, too busy being offended by the concept of his own stupid infatuation.

Soon, Lan Zhan thought again, and his tiny, hopeful smile was witnessed solely by the blanket of darkness and the glittering, luminous lights of a nearby star. A secret of his own, held between him and a universe full of possibility.

[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep ~ Part 4

Author’s Note:  Hi everyone!  As @that-one-person​ reminded me, we were overdue the next chapter of Skin Deep!  I hope this has been worth the wait. As always, if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know!  Also, requests are open and I love when you re-blog and like my work!  Thanks for all your kindness!!

This is the 4th Part of our Story with links below to the previous chapters!  ENJOY!

Skin Deep Part 1

Skin Deep Part 2 Skin Deep Part 3

Pairing;  Loki x Reader, Steve x Reader, Bucky, Natasha, Nick Fury, Thor and Valkyrie round out of cast! Summary:  Picking up where Part 3 ended:  You’re on the run with Loki, who wants answers.  Steve comes clean to an old friend, Natasha and Fury make a plan. Warnings:  References to violence, smut, intergalactic travel, and some kissing!

From his vantage point at Steve’s grill Bucky noticed the almost frantic vibration coming off his oldest friend from all the way across the lawn.  And Steve wasn't carrying any champagne.  In fact, he was whispering furiously to Natasha, shaking his head.

Looking to the skies, Bucky smelled the electricity in the air.  It made the hairs on his human arm rise, antenna to trouble, tuning into the wrecked wavelength his friend was putting out.  It was about you, of that Bucky was certain, and with your own strange behavior tonight, he knew trouble was en route. He had let you sneak away, sensing your breaking point, knowing your need for a minute alone.  It was the reason you were such great drinking buddies.  You let Bucky be himself and he returned the favor.   Besides, something in Steve was different these days, something Bucky didn't exactly like.  His friend, Captain America, hero to the weak, was pushy.  Aggressive.  Angry.

And when Steve looked at you, there was a gleam, a spark of possessiveness that gave Bucky pause.  Sure, you were amazing.  Funny, smart, undeniably sexy in a way all your own.  Bucky understood wanting you, he even got the need to have you, hold you, lock you down with a ring.   If only Steve could see how unhappy you were.   Each time Bucky saw you, the strain had pulled more of your joy away.  Sure, you baked pies, smiling the whole way, chirping platitudes and teasing Steve.  That happiness, though, it never reached your eyes.   Telling Steve that an engagement ring was too much, too soon, Bucky had tried in his very stoic way to prove that you weren't ready.  Never fully able to give his buddy his blessing, Bucky had opted instead to provide you a shoulder to lean on.  And lean you did. Slugging back vodka shots at all these parties, in the quiet and seldom used spaces of kitchens and dining rooms, you had talked easily with Bucky.  No topic was too wild or off limits, with the exception of Steve.  Anytime the name of your new love came up, the subject would change.  You'd deflect and Bucky let you. Maybe he should have pushed harder, he thought as Steve stomped his way.  Maybe Bucky should have forced you to talk about whatever issues you and Steve faced, tried his hand at advice, or offered excuses for his best friend’s erratic behavior.  If Bucky had done that, then perhaps the stifling stench of trouble wouldn't be pooling around the party, pulsing through all the high energy people gathered together.  “Buck… come here, would ya?”  Sure, Steve sounded like himself.  Jovial, a little concerned in that serious way he had, but not mad.  For some reason, it reminded Bucky of the way Steve’s father would talk, just before he’d beat the ever loving hell out of Sarah… or Steve.  It soured the stomach of battle tested Sergeant Barnes.  War was coming. “Sure thing, punk.”  Cocking his head, Steve couldn’t quite look his friend in the face, opting instead to focus on the open back door of his farm house.  Would you come strutting out of it, unaware and un-phased?  Steve prayed for that, even if his gut told him otherwise, “Bucky, you said my girl was in the ladies’ room?” Tucking his hands in his pockets, nodding solemnly, “Yea, Stevie.  Yea.  She had to piss.  It happens.”  Waiting for the battle was exhausting and Bucky just didn’t have the patience to stew in the slow burn of Steve’s anger. Clapping a broad hand along the neck of the Winter Soldier, Steve pulled his friend close.  To anyone looking, the embrace would seem brotherly, kind.  What they couldn’t see was the tight grip used to keep Bucky contained, or hear Steve’s heated harsh whisper, “Where the fuck is she, Buck?  I know you know.  So tell me.” Reacting instinctively, pulling against the restraining hook of Steve’s palm, “I don’t know what you’re talking about… she went to the bathroom, I came out here.” “Well she’s gone now and so is Loki-” Stepping back out of Steve’s reach, “Wait.  Loki was here?  I thought you said he left.  Opened the Bi-Frost or whatever.  Disappeared.” Almost growling, Steve ran desperate hands through his blonde hair, ignoring Bucky and turning to Natasha, “We need to let Fury know.  Set a perimeter.  Loki won’t be able to get off the planet, not without help anyway.” “Fury’s involved?  Steve, what is going on?” Jabbing a finger into the chest of his best friend, Steve spun, spitting, “You let Loki kidnap my fiance, that’s what’s going on!  And now I have to find her and rescue her before that greasy alien asshole does something else to the woman I love!” Rearing back, Bucky inhaled, lifting his shoulders.  If you have to fight a friend, fight fair, he thought.  Already Bucky could read violence in Steve’s muscle movement.  The graceful way Steve bounced on his toes to build momentum into his fierce throw was minute but effective.  Dropping his right arm, just a touch before stepping into his swing, Steve's eyes screamed murder and they were locked onto James Buchanan Barnes. A swish of air brushed at Buck's dark hair as the blow missed.  Bucky easily blocked the punch, grabbing his pal at the wrist and twisting until his chest was pressed into Steve’s back.  It was as fluid as the ballet you had forced them to attend a few months back, quick and clean movements, executed flawlessly. Bucky felt Steve spin in his grasp, planting his feet, preparing to toss the Winter Soldier on his ass.  His counter maneuver was a leg sweep, one Bucky was ready to use, when Steve went limp in his grip.  Natasha had sucker punched her mission partner in order to get his attention, “Steve.  You gotta relax.  Bucky didn’t know and you’re drawing attention.  Too many eyes around here, ya know?”   Natasha waved to Tony, a gesture that said, no worries, everything is ok over here.  It was enough to satisfy the playboy, who turned back to his cocktail and conversation with Rhodes. “I'm fine.  It's fine.  I’m just…” unable to find the right word, spiraling, Steve sagged towards the ground. Catching him at the waist Bucky steadied his woozy friend as Natasha brushed off help from the other guests.  Returning to the pair of soldiers out of time, The Black Widow, barely containing her disgust, “Bucky, get him inside.  Steve, I'm sending everyone home, then I’m going to make a call.”   True to her word, Natasha whispered something to Tony and Pepper, Bucky clocking their reaction of concern for both you and Steve.  It was very clear to the Sergeant that The Avengers were not in on this mission.  None of them were permitted to hang around the farm house with Nat going so far as to walk out with Clint and Rhodes.   Bustling Steve into the kitchen, Bucky kicked a chair free from the table, dropping his buddy on his ass.  Still a little amped up from the almost altercation outside, Bucky decided to put a bit of distance between him and his childhood friend, resting his hip against the counter, "What the hell was that, Steve?" "Stay out of it, Bucky." "It's too late for that, punk.  Either you start talking or we take this back outside." Side eyeing the super soldier with a metal arm, Steve tugged at the corner of a pretty place mat sullenly, "Fuck you." "Language!" "You think I give a shit about bad words?  Now?  No… things are too far gone." Waving his hand, begging for more, "Care to elaborate, Cap?" Steve had a second to consider his options.  He could let Bucky in, tell him what was going on, hear his opinions on the situation at hand.  Or… not.   "You don't need to be involved.  Once Nat gets back, it's best if you go." Thunking into the opposite seat, Bucky leveled his grey gaze on his pal, "And if I say no?" "Look, it's an off the record thing.  Tony, the rest of them?  They know nothing.  I don’t need you sticking your nose in-" That was all it took for the dam of Bucky’s own outrage to burst.  With a wood rattling slap to the custom built dining table, open palm connecting enough to make Steve jump, "Damn it, Rogers!  My nose is in this already.  Hell, you were ready to half kill me over this… over her, not fifteen minutes ago!" Sighing, hard and heavy, Captain America pressed back in the wooden chair.  He saw the questions in Bucky's look, the need to unravel this mystery, the desire to find a way out for his friends.  And Steve realized that to accept his buddy's help, Bucky would need the full story. The truth hurts and Buck's words stung Steve.  Bucky was right and in the end, he reasoned, they might need him to help bring down Loki.  After a second of consideration, a rough hand sliding through his blonde locks, "Fine.  FUCK!  Fine.  What do you know?" Crossing his arms over his chest, stern voiced but curious, Bucky started, "Just you and Nat reporting to Fury?  Small team." "Small mission.  At least, at first."  Trying not to give anything away, making Bucky work for it felt good, almost like a return to his life before Loki, before you.   Tapping his metallic finger on the table, Bucky resumed his questions, "So, how does Loki figure into this?" Leaning forward, Steve lowered his voice, “Weapons tech.  Power.  More than when he attacked New York.  He’s been off world gaining followers, an army, and a throne.” “So the plan was to keep Loki away, right?” Nodding, Steve’s inflection solemn, “By any means necessary.” Rocking his head back, as if slapped, Bucky’s eyes widened.  Just the implication of those words, by any means necessary, used by Nick Fury meant that this mission was crossing a line from mundane into murderous.   "And she was your way in."  It started to take shape, the whole sorted plan, Natasha’s involvement and Steve’s role in it all.  Bucky felt that prickly sensation again. Bowing his golden head, Steve shook it yes, "Only… I wasn't brought in… I… volunteered." "Ok, but why?"  Inching closer to the truth, waiting out the Captain, Bucky nodded for him to continue.  When Steve wasn't forthcoming, Bucky nudged his foot with a sharp kick, eager to accelerate the story. For a second that frantic, frenzied energy flashed through the room again, pulling on Bucky's sixth sense, "Because I wanted what Loki had… who Loki had.  I wanted her, so bad Bucky.  So bad."  “Steve… come on, man.  There are other girls out there-” Cutting his friend off with a shout, “Why should that asshole have her?  He doesn’t deserve her.  Before he left, she was always so sweet, so cute… then he… abandoned her!  Left her!  Man, that was… just so hard to see.” “Yea… I know.  I mean, I remember when she and Loki were together.  And I know his leaving was hard on her.” “Hard on her?  She… she stopped eating, stopped sleeping.  God, I could hear her crying all night.  Know how hard it was to keep away?  To know that Loki had forgotten her?”   Steve kept talking, about you, about loving you, and the lengths he went to in an effort to court you.  He followed up with all the ways you denied him, over and over, until Natasha intervened.  That all of it played into Fury’s plan was a convenient cross-point, coincidence, until things had gone wrong this afternoon. Bucky let him tell his story, knowing full well it was merely a version, a fairy tale wrapped around the rotten apple of truth. In Steve’s world he was the hero, wronged by fate, Fury and Loki Odinson.  His path had been paved with good intentions and pure hearted motives.  It was everyone else who misunderstood, miscalculated and mistook his actions.  Could Steve be blamed for that?   Of course, this edition of Steve’s tale didn't include beating up a cuffed prisoner.  It also omitted the fact that Steve had been pursuing you while actively lying about Loki's whereabouts.  Glossing over the details allowed Steve to paint a picture highlighting the best of him, but Bucky had known the little punk a long time.   During a long pause that found Steve with his head in his hands, Bucky took a deep breath and asked, “And how did you and Fury know what Loki was up to?” “He was sending mission reports weekly.  Loki had been tasked with helping promote peace across the Nine Realms.  That he gained so much was the tipping point.  Fury felt like a return to Earth would be 2012 all over again, only this time… total annihilation.” Something was still nagging at Bucky, “Had Loki made any threats?” A guilty look passed over the face of Captain America and his normally solid voice wavered, “Not that I was told about.” “So, Fury...?” “Fury needed… no, that’s not right.  He wanted to keep close tabs on Loki, monitor his return, his mood, his movements, if he ever came back.” “And since she was his lover, she was a potential point of contact… the entry point?” “A possible one.” “If you were dating her and Nat was posing as her friend, then you’d know if Loki reached out, spilling the details on his plans, and be able to head him off at the pass.” “Exactly!”  Oddly proud, Steve was almost happy that he no longer carried the burden by himself.  Sure, Natasha knew, had even engineered some of it, but having a friend on his side made Steve feel better. “But Loki didn’t do that?  He surprised you today?” Blowing out a frustrated snort, “Natasha went to meet him at the base.  Apparently, the high and mighty Prince expected to be greeted by Fury and his forgotten lover.” “That didn’t sit well with the God of Mischief?” “Nope.  Somehow he froze Nat.  Confined her, I don’t know… Anyway, he came here and…”  Trailing off, Steve could still picture his lady’s body, your body bent under his own, your eyes pressed shut in ecstasy.  How you ground against what looked like his own sculpted skin, moaning through an orgasm that appeared amazing, and left you with shaky legs. Going silent, Bucky didn’t push, not this time, but he did feel the moment Steve surrendered fully.  His shoulders let go with a deep inhale, his voice sounding like that scrawny kid from Brooklyn after a bad scrape,  "She loves him, man.  And I fucked up.  Loki’s got my girl and I don't have any way to find her or fight him." Tears?  Sighs?  This wasn't Steve.  No, Captain America was an unstoppable, unflappable hero.  Spinning out was Bucky's move, not Steve’s.  Putting his fleshy hand on Steve’s shoulder, trying to console the broken man in front of him, "Come on, kid.  There's always a way to win.  It's what you and I have been doing for over a century." “Not this time, man.” "Why not?  Did you come clean?  That’s why she left, isn’t it?  You told her what was going on and she went after Loki."    Shame filled Steve’s heart, his cheeks burning, "I… I didn’t get the chance.  She left here, but not alone." "She'll be back."  Words, pathetic platitudes, were all Bucky could offer.  He had seen you tonight, skittish and jumpy.  He saw Steve’s reaction to your disappearance, angry and hurt.  Bucky thought that a snowball in hell stood a better chance than you're returning. "Not happening.  I lost it on her, Buck.  Smashed up mom's dresser, yelled… It was like being outside myself, watching myself do and say these terrible things.  And it wasn't her fault.  Not really.  I mean, yea, she fucked him but he was me, so-" "Whoa.  Stop.  Say that again?" Steeling himself to relieve this afternoon’s nightmare again, Steve swallowed hard, "Loki, you know how he can… shape shift?  Well, he came here as me and I walked in on myself screwing my girl!" Bucky's eyebrows lifted, his full lips curling into a cockeyed grin, "Wait.  You're telling me that you came home and saw yourself banging your future fiancé?" Pausing, catching Bucky barely holding back a smirk, "Yea… why?" And for some reason, after all the incredible things Steve had shared tonight, it was the idea of Steve catching himself balls deep in your naughty bits that made Bucky laugh.  Once he started, Bucky couldn't control the mad giggles from overtaking him, much to Steve’s astonishment.  But then Steve laughed, too, "I guess it is pretty funny, when you think about it." "I mean, your face must have been priceless!"  Clutching his stomach as the laughter grew stronger, Bucky had tears running down his cheeks at the image Steve described.  Sure, it was a horrible thing, but who could say that they watched themselves having sex like that without being in porno?   It took them both a minute to calm down, with Steve settling enough to counter, "Shit, Buck!  I was pissed!  I probably looked crazy." "That I do believe.  What did you say to her?  Them?" Now his face flushed scarlet, burning with embarrassment.  The lie was just easier to get out, "Um… I don't really remember.  I know I surprised Loki and well, my girl fainted from being used by him.  The shock of it not being me, ya know?" Bucky didn't buy it, but he let his friend sell the story anyway, "Must have been scary for her.  And that's when you secured Loki in the locked shed?  And set Nat as your watchdog?" "Yup."  Unable to meet his friend’s stormy stare, knowing that it would undo him completely, Steve focused on the edge of the table, running his fingers back and forth along the rough wood.  If this were an interrogation and Bucky were sitting across from a suspect and not his best friend, he’d have no problem beating the guilty man into submission.  But Steve was his strongest connection to this world, this time, and it was hard to walk away from family, even if they didn’t deserve the benefit of your doubt.  To that end, one thing still bothered Bucky, "Why not cancel the party, man?" "Because I still want to marry her."  Pulling the small black box from his front pocket, Steve toyed with the thing, his vision of a future with you still so close to realized. Whistling at the size of the sparkly rock enshrined in white gold, "Fancy.  What do you think your chances are?  Think she'll say yes?" "My chances went down to zero the second Loki dropped down to Earth.  As for her answer… Dunno.  I… I hope so, but now…", Steve faded off, knowing there was little hope for your romantic reunion if he didn’t have a clear idea of where you were at the moment. "Now Loki’s back." "Right." “And they’re gone, together.” “Right.” “And Fury’s on his way.”  Striding in on impossibly high heels, Natasha folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the two gossiping men in front of her.  It was going to be a long night. --- Somehow you had made it to the treeline undetected, using the orchard as a shield, ducking behind trunks as you and Loki scrambled toward the edge of the property.  You couldn't help looking over your shoulder, checking for pursuit, worrying that Steve or Natasha were going to find the pair of you.  There was no possible way they would let you get away, not after today, not with Loki. It was a bit treacherous, though.  There was only natural light to guide you through twisted branches and raised roots, so your progress was slower than you wanted, but Loki was with you.  Even beaten and bruised, he radiated calm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.  Something about that made this whole situation seem better, manageable.  You were no longer alone, Loki was here, holding your hand, not directing you but consulting.  "Pet… the roadway is up ahead.  Stay here, tucked out of sight." Pulling your long lost lover close, a small kiss passed between you, a passionate promise to sit still.  Stepping tentatively out onto the gravel filled shoulder, Loki surveyed the highway quickly.  When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, Loki waved at you, motioning you forward.   Striding confidently at your side, Loki stopped in the dead center of the yellow lines, his grounding arm around your waist.  A car, low, black, expensive, came racing round the bend, barreling towards you.  Tucking your chin to Loki's chest, you gripped him tight, readying for the car's impact.   A roar of wind swirled around you, grabbing at your skirt, whipping around your legs.  For a second you thought you'd been struck.  Breathless, your lungs emptied.    There was nothing solid under you, just the feeling of Loki and a current of warm air.  Next, you felt the impact of hard earth under your feet, vibrating through your shins, then Loki's grip loosening a touch, "Ok, darling?" Peeking from under his arm you saw lights everywhere.  A bar was to your left, filled with noisy drinkers, barely discernible from the traffic around you.  Honking horns made you jump, "Where the hell are we?" "Cleveland.  I can't yet take us off world.  I'm still a bit weak, I'm afraid… but at least we have a bit of a head start on Rogers and Fury." People pushed past you on their way to dinner, chirping happily, not seeing you in their tunnel vision.  Being anonymous was a nice change, welcome even, as your personal life had been lost to Steve's intergalactic presence.  On the busy streets of Ohio no one took notice of the two well dressed people standing on the damp sidewalk. "Um, you changed?", no longer sporting his battle gear, Loki was dapper in a black suit with an ebony tie.  Leaning closer you straightened it, not because it was crooked, but because you needed to feel it… him.  The whole look was just shy of too much, but that was the space Loki filled best and honestly, looking at him made your heart swell. Loki was back, and yours.  After more than two years, having him close again felt natural, easy.  In so many ways, the opposite of your life with Steve.  As if somehow sensing your tug into nostalgia, Loki knuckled your chin up, "Just keeping up with you, love." His nose brushed against your own, so weirdly intimate and innocent for a man who had slapped your ass red only hours ago.  Resting his forehead to yours, you inhaled that magical combination of burning sparklers, broken in leather with just a hint of honeyed citrus, "God, I forgot how great you smell." "Hmm… dove, there is nothing on Asgard that smells or tastes as wonderful as you.  Believe me.  I looked." "Careful Loki… people will say we're in love."  At your cheekiness, Loki claimed your lips, his hands sliding over the soft fabric of your dress.  Clinging to him, unwilling to let go now that he had returned, you puffed out a pouty sigh as Loki withdrew. “Norns.  You know how badly I want you again?  I can barely think straight for wanting you.” Oblivious to everything around you, lost in the sweeping pools of Loki’s desire filled expression, you toyed with his collar, “We have a lot of catching up to do, for sure.” “I’d love to get reacquainted-” here he paused to lick over his full lower lip, hunger for you dripping from every word, “-but we are on the run from the Earth’s mightiest heroes.”  Snickering, you rolled your eyes at the thought of the Avengers, hours away eating charcuterie in Steve’s backyard.  Stepping back, you sighed, “You’re right.  So, have you got a plan?” Hanging in the air, your sentence had just left your mouth, your tongue still savoring the syllables when a sizzling crack snapped next to your ear.  Swinging you away, forcing you to the sidewalk, Loki spun in a blaze of green.  Crouched over you, snarling, “Fury!  Always a pleasure to see you.” Stepping from the blazing golden circle supplied by Dr. Strange, Fury crossed onto the Cleveland sidewalk from your now empty garden party, weapon trained on Loki’s broad chest.  “Wish I could say the same, Loki.  You know it’s time to end this.  Let’s take our… deliberations back to the office.  Talk about this man to man.” A barking laugh left your lover, “Man to man?  I am a GOD!  And you… you are pathetic.  Your attempts to keep me off Earth, imprisoned, away from my woman have all failed.” “Where are you going to go?  You can’t get off the planet without help.  My help.  And it’s yours, Loki, if-” “If I come quietly?  Tail between my legs, submissive and compliant?”  As the words left his mouth, you watched, focused on the way Loki was shifting closer to you.  The long fingers of his right hand were visible, reaching back for you, a silent signal of his escape plan. Fed up and furious, Nick Fury’s voice was flat with frustration, “Loki.  Enough.  Let’s do this somewhere people aren’t.” “Oh, I don’t know, this seems as good a place as any!”  Circling Loki, edging nearer, Fury tried reasoning, “Endangering civilians isn’t going to make things easier.  You know that.” “You know, I’d love to talk about how you betrayed me.  How you stonewalled my lady… how you put Captain America in my place, as if he could ever be worthy of her.  But, I’m a little busy at the moment.”  Snapping his fingers, you jumped to your feet, grabbing for Loki’s outstretched hand.   The second your palm connected that feeling of floating overcame you once more.  This time you were ready for the roar of traveling through space by Loki’s magic, the push of meeting the ground, the curl of Loki’s body against yours.  Blinking, you opened your eyes on new scenery, the chill of a beautiful sea soaked morning breaking around you. Straightening the coat of his pristine suit, Loki smiled at you as his fingers wove between your own, “New Asgard.  My brother’s realm, now ruled by Valkyrie, by his abdication.  We need to find him.  He has a lot to answer for.” --- "Just what in the hell happened?  I thought I was very clear about avoiding this exact problem."   Pacing, hands firmly on his leather belted waist, Nick Fury growled at the bent head of Steve Rogers.  "Now Loki’s on the run, dragging your… Well, what is she exactly Captain?  Girlfriend?  Fiancé?  Mark? along for the ride." At those harsh words, Steve started, ready to focus his own anguish somewhere, anywhere.  Fury was as good a target as any, as far as Steve was concerned.  Pushing off the paving stones, he was stalled from rising by Natasha's firm hand and quiet words, "We have an idea-" "I don't want ideas.  Not from you two.  What I want are answers, Romanoff, and I want them now." Sitting on the emptied bench of the picnic table, still covered with your pretty tablecloth and jars of peonies, Natasha sighed, "I didn't have time to alert Steve.  Loki made it here first and… reconnected-" "Is that what we're calling it?"  Snapping, Nick glared from his good eye, his last name never more appropriate. Exhaling deeply, Natasha Romanoff squared her shoulders, "Sir, Loki… manipulated the circumstances." "Just what in the hell does that mean?" All three available eyes locked onto Steve, “What it means, Fury-” lifting his golden head with a jaw clenched tight, “- what it means, is that the son of a bitch showed up here and had his way with my woman. “After Loki… took advantage of her, I had him.  He was contained, here, in my shed.  It was modified with the restraints Tony provided with Thor’s direction.” “And still, he got away?”  Disbelief clouded every syllable from Fury.  That his two top agents had failed and so badly, had the normally stoic director steaming. Standing now, Steve was almost chest to chest with the man who’d been pulling the strings of this entire operation.  Natasha, watching closely, knowing that she would only be able to subdue one of them if it came to it, gently palmed the dagger concealed in her waist band.  Steve thrust forward, brushing past Fury before facing him once more, “Yea, Nick.  He did.  He got away.” “Do you know how?”  Fury’s fingers were curled around his pocket taser, just in case Captain America needed a jolt, reminding him of who was calling the shots here.  It wouldn’t do much except give Nick a head start, but with the Captain looking so rough and so raw, the SHIELD director would take any advantage available. “We believe that… he was set free.”  Natasha didn’t want to say the words.  You had let Loki go, that much she knew to be true, and she supposed that it made some sort of sense. Steve had been right all along.  You and Loki did have some cosmic connection that even time and distance couldn’t eliminate.  Intervening for the sake of Fury’s mission and Steve’s pining heart, Natasha had no qualms about why she’d guided you into a relationship, in fact, she still believed that he was a better man for you than Loki. But no.  No matter what Rogers did, you had never let go with him like you had with the younger son of Odin.  Not that you complained.  You had taken all of Natasha’s words of praise, her seemingly well intentioned advice, her flat out advocating for Steve in stride.   Sure, your friendship suffered for it.  Natasha, never having been one for close ties to anyone, had enjoyed the talking and gossiping.  It was nice to have a girl around the tower.  One who understood period cramps and cravings.  A person who would put on high heels and makeup for a night of dancing then suggest hoodies and shorts for watching Pride and Prejudice.  That was over now.  When she had been, well, frankly, overpowered by Loki and his new paralyzing weaponry, Natasha knew the plan for a peaceful capture of the prince was over.  Having seen the aftermath of your reunion with the space god, having seen Steve’s seething anger, the Black Widow felt her own ire spike. Didn’t you know how hard she had worked?  How tireless her efforts had been to keep you and Loki apart?  Just how invested she was in joining you and Steve together?  It was like you wanted to throw all of that away, squandering those bonding moments where you had become something more than a mission, those times when you were Natasha’s only real friend. Couldn’t you just go along with the plan, unknowing, quietly?  She knew you couldn’t, wouldn’t.  It wasn’t in your nature.  So, channeling that frustration into the cold facade that so many had seen just before they met their end, Natasha had to compartmentalize the “you” she cared about away from the “you” she was responsible for trailing.  Both had pissed her off. Now, hearing the gruff grumble of Director Fury bearing down on her, Natasha could only accept the berating tone of his hard words.  He wasn’t wrong.  She and Steve had fucked up royally, the whole mission was blown, and while Bucky had certainly aided in your escape, he was blameless collateral damage.  The consequences fell to you and the Captain.  Killing you was going to be hard for them both, but if it had to be done, so be it. Shrugging, Natasha started again, “Nick, we have a tracker on her.  We know that she and Loki made it to Cleveland, but he can’t get away from Earth without some aid.” “Well, that’s good to know, if only it was some new intelligence.  You’re tracking her?  Great!  Where is she now?  Don't know huh?  Well, she and Loki tele-ported from a city sidewalk, in front of me and hundreds of civilians, with no word on their next destination.  “And make no mistake.  Loki will find a way off of this planet and when that happens, there’ll be nothing else we can do.” “So what?  Let him go!  He’s won, Nick.  It’s over.”  Throwing himself down onto the bench, Steve’s dejected voice breaking, he slumped over his feet. “That’s not an option Cap.  Loki is more powerful now than he’s ever been.  You both read the reports.  He wasn’t just hanging around on Asgard.  No, Loki was negotiating peace between his native realm of Jotunheim and his adoptive home.  He was gifted with tools and technology that no human could hope to wield.  Earth ending stuff, Captain.” “Whatever plans you had of making peace are over now.  There’s no way Loki gives us any help… and why would he after all this?” “Rogers, I’ll do whatever I must to keep this planet and the creatures on it safe.  Loki is a threat to that, just by existing.  With his new powers, high placed connections and intergalactic royal title, he had the potential to be unstoppable.” Seething breath puffed out the chests of the two men standing toe to toe.  Machismo made Natasha want to vomit.  Men. “Look, I’ll go after them.  Steve, stay here, in case she reaches out.  I’ll take the quinjet and trace their path.”  Standing now herself, Natasha turned to the depressed super soldier, patting his arm, “Bucky’s still here.  I’ll let you know when I’ve found anything.” “No.  Nat, I can’t let you go alone.  It’s my fault, too.”  “You’re no good to me like this, Rogers.” “But, She’s-” Cutting him off, Natasha stepped closer to Nick, “I know, but you’re too involved.  If tough choices need to be made, can you?” Gulping hard, passing a rough hand over his face, Steve frowned, “I can do my duty, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Steve.”  Her tone said it all the words she wouldn't vocalize.  I don’t trust you, not now, not like this.  I don’t believe you will have my back at the cost of the woman you claim to love.  I don’t think you can do the job. Fury didn't allow her the chance to elaborate, jumping in with his definitive voice, “Natasha’s right, Rogers.  You’re staying right where you are, on the bench.  Romanoff and I are going to resolve this issue without any further problems.”  Half hearted, strength sapped, Steve raised his eyes to the leather clad figures before him, “Please.  Please, Nick… Nat.  Don’t hurt her.” “I promise, Steve.  I won’t.”  And in the second, all three knew she was lying.

--- Finding Thor’s shanty was easier than you expected.  A friendly fisherman was only too happy to point you in the right direction.  What you saw upon arrival was not entirely what you had expected when visiting Loki’s brother. It was a beat up looking cottage, surrounded by empty cases of cheap Midgardian beer, crumpled take out containers, and a collection of well fed seagulls situated near the edge of the village, “Ugh.  What a pig.” “Loki!  It’s… charming?”  Your admonishing whisper turned the statement into a question at the sight of Loki’s disgusted face.  For a second you just stood at Loki’s side, staring at the weather beaten front door, your hand clasped in his strong one. “It’s disgusting.” Agreeing with a small nod, “Um, yes.  Yes, it is.  But, this is your brother’s house and you said we needed to talk to him.  Step one is ringing his bell.” “No.  I won’t do it.” You had forgotten about this side of Loki.  Fastidious, precise and obstinate, Loki could cop an attitude that had the ability to drive someone crazy.  Someone like you. Over the last two years it had been easy to forget all the little things that made Loki prickly.  It was even easier to forgive him.  Since he’d left, you had looked at your life together through rose glasses, through a gentle fog of missing him, and those elements of your relationship that were less than perfect had been abandoned. Now, standing outside the hovel that Thor called a home, as a fresh day dawned over New Asgard, you were reminded of all those imperfect things that came with loving Loki.  A wave of need, love, and longing for him rolled over you.  All of those imperfections made you perfect for each other. Rising up on your toes you pressed a small kiss to Loki’s pout, taking the tall God by surprise, “What was that for?” Shyly grinning, you bit into your bottom lip, “I missed you… missed kissing you.” “Then perhaps you should come over here again?”  That was all the invitation you needed.  Stepping into Loki’s space, your chest resting against his own, you savored the nearness of him, as himself.  He wasn’t playing at being Steve.  Loki was here, he was with you, and if you weren’t mistaken his hands were drifting down your backside.  The rush of it, well, it was familiar and new at the same time.  How Loki seemed to inhale your breath, inhale you, as his mouth opened to accept your lips.  His gentle exhale, a moan, as his tongue licked over your own.  It was overwhelming.  It was wonderful. Stepping back, you started to pull away, only for Loki to wrap his arms around your waist, “Not so fast, darling.” Losing yourself, you focused solely on the firmness of his body, the weight of his hands on your hips, the intensity of Loki’s desire.  Intoxicating, heady, you leaned into those feelings.  Kissing Loki back, you tangled his hair in your hand, earning another one of those sultry sounds that made your legs weak.  How had you lived without the passion and pleasure he provided for so long? A smashing crash broke the quiet morning causing you to jump in Loki’s embrace, “What the hell was that?” Immediately on the defense, Loki pushed you behind him, crouching into a protective stance.  From over his broad shoulder you watched, worried about the new danger coming your way, unsure how to help your reactive lover.  Another rattle had Loki palming his dagger, anticipating an attack.  That’s when a raccoon, bigger than your childhood terrier, scuttled from under an overturned trash can carrying what looked like a half eaten slice of pizza in its mouth. “Appalling!  Mother would be modified!” Loki cursed as he offered you his hand, kicking away an empty glass bottle, "Why is he living like a dirty animal, surrounded by trash?  One would think they were back on Sakaar!"  “I don’t know what’s going on with Thor, but we came here for a reason.  Let’s get it over with, ok?” Loki shook his head, refusing to step any closer, “He’ll have to come out here.  I won’t go inside this… dilapidated shit box.” Sighing, “Fine.  Fine, I’ll do it.”   Stepping around a pile of broken electronics, you carefully picked your way to the front door, gracefully knocking on the splintering wood.  After an answerless few seconds, you tried again, rapping lightly with your knuckles before turning to flash Loki a small smile.  That’s when you noticed the striking woman striding towards you and your returned lover. “My, my… is that pretty Prince Loki I see?”  Even her voice was sexy, you thought, as the sarcastic words dripped from her full lips.  The swaggering stranger radiated cool, calm, sensual energy.  Otherworldly energy that made you feel mortal and boring.  You couldn’t help tugging your skirt straight and fluffing your hair as she got closer. “Ah… Valkyrie!  How are you?” Hugging her tightly when she opened her arms, Loki found that he was genuinely happy to see the fierce, battle tested warrior. Smirking at your man, she countered, “That’s King Valkyrie to you.  Your brother crowned me, or have you forgotten?” “On the contrary.  It seems like he finally realized what I’ve known all our lives.” “Which is what, exactly?” “He’s not fit to be the ruler of Asgard, obviously.” Drawing right up to Loki, hands on her hips, Valkyrie leveled her dark eyes at his, “What would you know about ruling, Mischief?” “Enough to know that you’re good at it.  Enough to know that I no longer want to be the King of Asgard.” “Is that so?  And what’s changed your mind?” At those skeptical words, Loki wound an arm around your waist, tugging you close, “I’ve got more… important concerns these days.” Looking you over with her shrewd, searching gaze, but speaking to Loki, “And she likes you?  Are you sure?” Laughing, the sound deep and rich, “As much as you like fighting and drinking.” “I hardly drink anymore.  As King I have mead only on important occasions, I have to keep my wits about me the rest of the time.” Sharing a laugh, the two shared another small hug before Valkyrie turned to you directly, “Alright.  Who’s this then?” Loki started to respond but you cut him off, extending a hard towards the newly crowned King of Asgard, “Uh, I can answer for myself, thank you, Loki.  Valkyrie is it?  Nice to meet you.  And, yes, I love Loki.” Making a face that was part disgust, part pride, Valkyrie smirked, “Love?  Oh no.  Hasn’t anyone told you yet?  Loving the Odinson boys is hard on a girl.” Pulling Loki in for a small kiss, taking him by surprise, “I’ll take my chances.” Shrugging nonchalantly, “Suit yourself.”  Focusing on Loki once more, Valkyrie shifted on her feet, “Listen, if you’re looking for Thor, he’s not here.” “Oh?  And where exactly is the lovable oaf?” Hitching a thumb over her shoulder, pointing up the hill, “At the palace… the new palace, that is.  You can come and, please, don’t forget your girlfriend.” Falling in line behind the King, Loki couldn’t help but add, “You know Val, I think I liked you better when you were drunk.” Snorting in response, “And I know I liked you better when I was drunk, weird right?” Bringing up the rear, your own sarcastic comment dying on your throat when the Palace of New Asgard came into view.  Banners of gold shimmered in the light of the rising sun, flapping in the breeze of the young morning, beckoning you closer.  You hugged Loki’s arm tighter, excited and exhilarated by the sight before you. “Home is a people, not a place.  Those were some of my father’s last words to Thor and I… and while I can never take you to the place where I grew up, this… this is the home of my people.” “Loki… it’s beautiful!” Valkyrie, stopping so you could both catch up, “It’s getting there.  Thor’s been a huge help.  Come on, let's show you around the palace and let your brother know you’re here.” ---To Be Continued!

My minxes:  @sammy-jo1977 @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki  @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person

[lady-of-all-cards]

Ikemen Revolution: Alternate Ending (Kyle Ash)

One-Shot Statictis: Pages: 3 Word Count: 1061 Characters: 5960 Characters (without spaces): 4934

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Characters: Lancelot Kingsley, Kyle Ash, Ray Blackwell, Amon Jabberwock, Alice the Second Pairings: Kyle Ash/Main Character Summary: The duty of a doctor is to save lives, but the duty of the Seven of Hearts was to save every life that was threatened by a grievous injury. However, when Cradle’s biggest threat faced the country’s greatest saviour, he couldn’t allow the good doctor to breath another saving grace...

Notes: SPOILERS!This is an alternate universe ending based on Kyle’s main route. If you don’t want the main points of Kyle’s route being spoiled, don’t read this. I highly recommend downloading the game if you already haven’t and experiencing Kyle’s route for yourself.

“The fighting has lasted for days now. But the number of patients we’re getting is steadily decreasing.” Kyle explained.

“Yes, and their injuries have been getting less severe.” Alice agreed, smiling happily, knowing that the strategy was working. She hoped that everything was going to go according to plan and that they didn’t have to make any sacrifices.

Just then, two flustered soldiers came stumbling into the tent.

“Everyone, listen up!” The one clad in crismon announced, pushing ahead of the Black soldier accompanying him.

“The battle is over! Victory is ours!” The Black soldier called through the wounded, causing Alice to gasp in shock.

“Really?” Kyle asked from his place in the back of the tent. As relief washed over her, and her heart became so light she wanted to jump for joy, but the soldiers who had given the report remained solemn.

“But we can’t drop our guard yet. When we got word of our victory, we also heard-- someone has been gravely wounded at the top of the Magic Tower.” The Red soldier reported.

“There’s a serious injury?” Kyle tried to confirm, all wound up to get the equipment he needed and get to the patient as quickly as possible.

“Is it Lancelot or Ray?” Alice asked, knowing they were leading the charge against Amon.

“I don’t know. Things are still pretty chaotic there, so we weren’t able to get any details.” He frowned, wishing he could have been more helpful, but regardless, if someone was suffering, they had to do something about it.

“Kyle--”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter who the patient is--” grabbing his medical bag, Kyle headed for the exit. “Let’s go, Alice.”

“Right behind you!” She smiled, stepping closer as it to prove her point. 

The two soldiers led them to the top of the tower, where they found evidence of an intense battle. Lancelot and the rest were able to defeat so many opponents. The marble floor was littered with immobilized Disciples wearing robes. Two men were still in the process of tying them up to make sure they couldn’t escape.

“Alice, Kyle--” Ray gasped, clearly surprised to see them.

“What are you two doing here?” Lancelot asked with the same curiosity.

“Ray! Lancelot!” Alice smiled, happy they were both okay. She breathed a sigh of relief and ran up to them. It was clear they both took a few hits, but it was nothing too serious.

“We heard someone was gravely wounded. Where are they?” Kyle pressed, fully away from the severity of the situation.

“Someone who’s gravely wounded?” Lancelot questioned, furrowing his eyebrows. He shared a tense look with Ray, who hummed thoughtfully. “I think they must mean him.” They followed Lancelot’s gaze to the center of the room, where someone was sprawled face-down on the floor, a pool of blood spread all around him. “That’s the leader of the Magic Tower, Amon Jabberwock.”

“I see. So that’s how it is.” Kyle spoke shortly, gazing at his patient, and when Kyle went to his side, Amon’s eyes fluttered open.

“Uh--” he groaned. His heavy, purple robes and his fine, silvery hair were soaked with blood, and there was a look of anguish on his face.

“He’s lost too much blood. If we don’t do something immediately, he won’t stand a chance.” Kyle assessed. “Alice.”

“Yes?” She questioned, crouching down beside the Good Doctor, who was just about to open his medical bag when--

“Don’t touch me.” Amon hissed. His breathing was ragged, but he still managed to glare up at Kyle. “If I can’t create my ideal world, then there’s no point in living. I don’t need your pity or your charity.”

“How dare you.” Kyle snapped back. “You need to survive so you can be punished for your crimes.” The doctor gave the man a scowl. “I don’t care if you’re the enemy, I won’t have you dying on me, you fool!”

“Hah. You’re the fool.” Amon scoffed. “Do you really enjoy tying your own noose? If I survive this, I promise I will destory everything with my own two hands.”

“That’s tough talk for someone who can’t even lift a finger at the moment.” Speaking in an unconcerned tone, Kyle continued his treatment,

“What an ironic occupation being a doctor is.” Amon’s sneer was as sharp as a knife. “By saving me, you ensure that others will die by my hand in the future.”

“Mm--” Kyle’s hands froze. His eyes wavered with indecision as he looked at Amon. Amon had already stolen countless lives, and as Alice imagined those same tragedies repeating, anger and sorrow bubbled up inside of her. Many tragedies had transpired, but she had seen Kyle perform just as many miracles. Without a word, she placed her hand on Kyle’s back. “Alice--”

“Don’t worry, Kyle. You haven’t done anything wrong. No matter what you decide, you have my support. Just continue following the path you believe in,” She gazed at Kyle reassuringly, hoping he could sense her faith in him. He sat in silence for a moment, until finally nodding.

“You’re right. Thanks.” Pressing his lips together, he let out a shallow breath.

However, the rest of the air in his lungs choked out with a flurry of blood, His hand gripped the hilt of the dagger that had been plunged into his side, and he looked down before slipping back, quickly losing strength. He could feel Alice at his side, but it was the call of his old comrade that deafened his ears.

Ray, overcome with rage, gave up on Amon, driving his sword into the tyrannt’s chest one last time, twisting it mercilessly just as Lancelot collapsed by his old friend.

But it was already too late. No matter Lancelot’s efforts to remove the dagger from his body, no matter the pressure he applied to the wound, no matter the begs he whispered in Kyle’s ear for him to hold on...

It was just too late...

There were many more soldiers with permanent or long-term injuries that day, but nothing could compare to the ache in their hearts that yearned for the gentle touch of the Hungover Doctor, and his goofy smile that no one could help but return. 

And, deep in the Red Territory, a lonely, drunk man mourned the death of his second and last son, forced to bury his child once more...

[gaycrouton]

A Sex Education Fic

“A Safe Place” - Snapshots of Eric's relationship with Jean, leading up to the night of the call. 

2011

Otis hadn't locked his bedroom door.

The realization washed over Eric like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on him. One moment they were singing along to "The Origin of Love", trying to figure out how to apply drugstore lashes, and attempting to find the best shade of lipstick for their complexion - the next he was watching the light from the hallway break into their sanctuary.

Did he not realize Mrs. Milburn was home?

With each creak of the heavy wooden door, every muscle in his body froze in anticipation of what he'd always dreaded. Shock. Disgust. Anger. Disapproval. Maybe not all, maybe only one, but those were the reactions he'd always imagined on the faces of his parents whenever he made sure his chair was securely positioned under the doorknob of his room, always making sure to check twice. And a third time. Just to be sure.

Except this time, the reactions wouldn't manifest in the dark brown eyes of his family, but instead he'd see it on the face of an eccentric lady who had always greeted him with a wide smile and open arms.

Otis was frozen for a completely different reason. He remained still as a statue as he held his glued eyelash precariously over his eye, looking into a propped up hand mirror. "Should I be closing my eye when I do this?" he asked before wincing in pain. Eric felt himself wanting to give Otis a warning, but he couldn't find the voice to do so.

The door swung open and Mrs. Milburn looked around, trying to find them before her gaze fell down to the floor. Eric locked eyes with her and he felt the blush on he'd applied to his cheeks starting to burn from the real thing. Her brows furrowed for a moment as she squinted her eyes, looking at them with an intensity that he felt to his core. "We were just kidding arou-," he started, trailing off as he watched her raise a finger to pause him as she spun around on one wedge adorned foot.

She was going to call his parents.

"Mrs. Milburn!" he called out, sitting up straight and watching the multiple layers of fabric billow behind her. He turned back to Otis in panic, just to see his friend was completely unfazed at having been caught. In fact, he was trying miserably to apply lash glue on the other thin lash line.

He heard some rustling in the other room and he felt his heart rate speed up. He wasn't going to be allowed to come over anymore.

"Eric!" she called out. He jumped in his seat and pivoted his head to watch her stomp back towards Otis' room, a large bag in her hands.

"Yes?" he called back, trying to subtly shuck the boa from off his shoulders.

"How many times do I need to remind you to call me Jean?" she teased with a wide smile.

"W-what?" he stuttered, eyes glued to her as he watched her cross her ankles and sit down on the ground next to them.

"No one calls me Mrs. Milburn. Especially not friends," she replied, pulling the bag in between them and unzipping it.

She looked over at Otis and gave him a look of sympathy. "Sweetheart," she prompted, looking through her bag while making a tsk sound. She found what she was looking for and pulled it out with a proud smile. "Use this when you apply lashes. You're getting the glue all over your fingers," she stated, passing him a weird looking pair of tweezers.

"Mom!," Otis whined. "No, look. I got it. See?" He turned proudly to face them - one eyelash a few centimeters from his lash line as the other started peeling up from the side.

"It's a stylistic choice, that's for sure," she laughed as he sighed in resignation and took the tweezers from her hand.

Eric turned to face her again and craned his neck to get a better look into her bag. All he could see was makeup. Different types and brands of makeup.

"So, Eric," Jean beamed, making his attention snap up to her face.

"Yes?" he squeaked.

"What's your color?" she asked, trifling through her bag, the sound of plastic clinking together filling the room.

"My color?" he repeated.

She looked back at him with a friendly smile, lifting one hand up to wipe her finger delicately under his eye makeup to touch it up. "Mhm. What color do you think compliments you?" she asked.

She really wasn't mad. "I-I'm not sure," he replied honestly. He'd been trying to figure that out in one of his sister's Vogue magazines, but he hadn't gotten far before he heard someone coming up the stairs and he ran.

Jean observed his face delicately, holding up a few tubes to his lips before searching again. "Aha!" she proclaimed, pulling out a shiny, silver tube. "I think you should try this," she whispered.

Eric turned to his mirror and upcapped the lipstick, twisting it until an orange tip came out. He turned back over to Jean who was applying a pink color to her own lips, experience being her guide to applying it without error. He turned back and carefully outlined the area of his mouth, covering it twice over so that the orange popped.

In the mirror, he saw Jean's face peer over his shoulder. "Orange looks wonderful on you. Do you like it?" she asked.

She was looking at him with such fondness. No hint of disapproval, no indication there was anything abnormal about this, just a desire to help. He felt an embarrassing wave of heat hit his face again as his throat grew tight and his eyes burned. "I love it," he replied, a shaky smile trying to convey the depth of his gratitude.

He met her eyes in the mirror and saw that her smile turned melancholy and her eyes took on a note of understanding in their blue depths. "I love it too," she murmured, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back and wiping the trace of lipstick off with her thumb.

Jean stood up slowly, looking down at them with her continued fondness. "Otis, I promise it gets easier over time," she reassured, watching as he tried to dislodge the tweezers stuck to his lashes. She looked back down at him and winked. "You boys can use any of the makeup you want in that bag. Under the condition you come downstairs later and let me see the results!" she proclaimed playfully.

"Okay, Mom," Otis replied.

"Thank you, Mrs-Jean. Thank you, Jean," Eric rambled, sniffling as gracefully as he could.

"I'm going to leave the door open. It's hot as balls in here," she said as she walked down the hall.

He looked at his lips one more time before pulling Jean's makeup bag into his lap, looking at all the treasures inside. "Otis, your mom's really cool," he beamed.

2015

"Do you both have your cell phones?" Jean asked for what had to be the twentieth time.

"Yes, Mom," Otis groaned, reaching under his skirt to re-adjust his nylons.

"And you, Eric?" she asked, turning her motherly worry to him.

He patted the breast pocket of his jean jacket proudly. "Of course, with your number on speed dial."

She smiled at him and as she opened her mouth to ask another question, he beat her to the punch. "And! I have the bus station map with all the routes we will be taking there and back highlighted."

"And the times?" she asked.

"And the times," Eric confirmed.

Jean took a few steps forward and pulled them into her arms, kissing the tops of both of their heads while trying not to get synthetic blonde hair in her mouth. "Mom, we've been on the bus plenty of times," Otis mumbled into her shirt.

"Yes, but you're only thirteen," she replied. Taking a step back and putting on a serious face, holding one of their hands in each of hers, she stated, "I want you to listen to me. Stay by each other at all times. If one of you needs to pee, the other follows. I'd even feel more comfortable if you followed each other into the stall. It's okay to use the big one for safety purpo-"

"Mom!" Otis exclaimed, trying to end the speech early.

"I'm serious, Otis." She paused for a moment, choosing her words before slowly confessing, "The world can be cruel to people who express themselves outside of societal conventions. I love you both and I think you look fabulous, but I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Eric nodded in solemn agreement while Otis just agreed to placate Jean. "I promise, buddy system. We're going to be late," he said, adjusting his purse strap on his shoulder.

Jean smiled sweetly at him before placing a kiss on both boys' cheeks. As they started to walk towards the door, they were stopped one more time by her. "Eric?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around.

"Um. They haven't called here since you got your cell phone, but just in case it's loud and you can't answer your phone and they do call. Um, where did you tell your parents you would be?" she asked tentatively.

She never made a big deal of it, but he knew Jean had noticed he wasn't the same around his parents as he was at their house. She'd helped him wipe the makeup clean off his face enough times to see the anxiety in his eyes about any accidentally being left on. She would never lie, she respected them as his parents, but she wasn't in the business of outing kids either.

"There's a showing of Die Hard at the same cinema, so I said we're going to that," he answered.

She pursed her lips in a smile and nodded. "Okay. Have fun at Die Hard. Be back by eleven! And I wasn't kidding about the bathroom thing!" she shouted as they left.

2018

He didn't even think twice. There was no other choice. All he needed right now was unconditional and non-judgemental help, and his fingers were unconsciously dialing the number for the one person who fit the bill.

Even so, hearing her voice made him want to cry.

"Hello?"

Putting on as cheery as a voice as he could, he rasped out a small, "Hi."

"Who is this?"

"Hi. It's Eric. Um-," he swallowed thickly. He could hear her starting to respond, but cut he cut her off as the words tumbled from his lips. "Something bad has happened. Can you come and pick me up?"

There was a slight pause as he listened to the sound of fabric moving, followed by the unmistakable sound of her shoes on hardwood. "Eric, are you in danger? Where are you? Is Otis with you?"

He looked around at the hanging lights and the crowd of people that had slowly amassed nearby. "E-excuse me. Where am I?" he asked.

"320 North Park Passage. You're at the White Oak Food Truck," the girl who'd given him the napkin replied.

"320 North Park Passage. White Oak Food Truck," Eric repeated. "Otis missed the bus. He said he had something else he needed to do. An errand or something. He said he couldn't make it," he answered.

"But I saw him leave," she mused, almost to herself.

"I-I don't know what happened," he replied, his voice quivering despite his attempts to keep it steady.

He didn't. They'd been doing this exact same routine for years. They got from the bus to the show without a problem. They got stares, they got jokes, but they were safe together. They were just seen as two weird kids having fun.

Tonight he was a faggot wandering the streets in women's clothes.

"Eric," she called out, getting his attention.

"Yes?" he whispered.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, the sound of her engine punctuating her question.

"Um, I-," Eric stammered, taking the napkin off his cheek only to see the once white material had turned completely red. "A little."

"Eric, I'm on my way. I promise I'll be there very soon," she reassured him. He could hear the slight tremor in her voice and he knew she was scared. Scared of what she'd see when she reached him. Scared of what 'something bad has happened' might look like on the boy she's treated like a son. But he also knew that Jean wouldn't ask him to divulge anything sensitive over the phone. "Do you feel safe?"

"I think so," he replied. The men had gone the other way after they were done.

Coughing away the onslaught of emotion that threatened to emerge from the memory, he joked, "But you're not. I don't want to make you talk and drive. That's one of the leading causes of-"

"I'll stay on the phone as long as you need me to, sweetheart," she interrupted seriously, not letting him deflect. "You're on speaker in the passenger seat," she replied soothingly.

The motherly tone in her voice struck a nerve in him and he felt his bottom lip begin to quiver. He didn't have many numbers memorized. He had three: his own number, his home phone, and Otis' home phone. He was in pain, he was scared, and he couldn't call his own family. The strings of rainbow lights started to meld together like a blurred kaleidoscope as tears started brimming in his eyes. He pursed his lips together as he tried to avoid making a sound, curling in on himself in an attempt at self-comfort.

"I-it's okay, Jean. I promise I'll be right where I said I would be," he replied, tears evident in his shaky tone.

There was a moment of silence and he could practically hear her fighting her own parental need to keep him on the line. "I understand if you want a few moments to yourself before I pick you up, but please stay by the phone. Okay, darling? I'll call this number when I'm close," she replied.

"Thank you," he replied, listening to her goodbyes before ending the call and walking to the table.

"Thank you for letting me use your phone," Eric said, looking around the group for someone to hold out their hand and take the phone he was offering. He couldn't actually remember who had given it to him.

"What happened?" a boy, a bit older than himself, asked.

I was jumped. I was beaten up. I was robbed. I was the victim of a hate crime.

Which was the most accurate?

"You can't just ask that, Tommy!" a short girl snapped, making Eric jump.

"Do you need something to eat?" the girl who took back the phone asked.

"N-no, I'm just going to sit over there and wait for my ride," Eric mumbled, pointing indistinguishably to a table.

He sat nearby, hoping that the phone girl wouldn't leave, but not wanting to ask another favor and have her hover over him. He didn't see who did it, but suddenly a bottle of water was placed in front of him along with several fresh, clean napkins. Listening for the seal to break, he drank some of the water, ignoring the copper taste that went down with it, and grabbed a new bandage.

Eric heard a loud crack and quickly turned around to look over his shoulder, checking the road he'd just been walking on for a group of men stomping back to have another round.

But there was nothing.

Turning back to the table, he watched idly as a woman resumed the dancing she'd been doing when he got there. The couples on dates occasionally turning to look at him before focusing back on each other - placing kisses on the other's cheeks and whispering words of comfort for an act of violence they didn't actually experience themselves.

Not knowing what to focus on, and not wanting to make eye contact with the people looking at him, he turned his attention to the wood of the picnic table, reading the various messages of graffiti carved and penned into the surface.

He wasn't sure how long he was staring at the table when he heard a voice call out. "Hey, uh-Eric! Your mom's calling!"

Eric looked over and saw a phone being held out to him. As best he could in his shoes, he got out of the table and rushed over to the girl. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he heard the girl say as he held the phone to his ear.

"Jean?" he stated.

"I'm on North Park. Do you see my car?" she asked, sounding relieved to hear him.

"Uh," he drew out, looking both ways. He saw a pair of lights coming from where he'd been walking and he felt his body tense up before seeing the blue hue of Jean's car. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going to come to you. I'll be there in a sec," he rushed before handing the phone back.

"Thank you so much," he said appreciatively to the crowd.

"Get home safe, mate." He heard as he turned and started speed walking to the car.

He heard the car door slam before seeing a tuft of ash blonde hair rounding the car. "Eric?" she called out.

"Here, Jean!" he replied, his voice breaking from the strain.

He hadn't had a chance to seem himself, but if the look on Jean's face was any indication - he looked like shit. She ran the rest of the way to him, but when she went to throw her arms around him, she stopped herself. She lifted her hand but it just wandered in the air, as if trying to decide whether to touch his head, his cheek, or his arm. Only to end up going back to herself to wipe away the tears threatening to fall.

Her tears brought on a fresh wave of his own, and he bent down slightly to wrap his arms around her small frame. "Thank you, Jean," he whispered, finding comfort in the smell of her hair and the feeling of her clothes.

She coughed lightly, trying to dispel the emotion from her throat as she rubbed soothing circles into his back. "I'm here. I'm going to take care of you. You're safe with me. I promise," she mumbled.

She was barely over five foot, a tiny, willowy woman who was practically drowning in her old, worn pyjamas and slippers. But he believed her. And for the first time all night, he felt safe.

He sniffled and stood up straight, smiling at her as comfortingly as he possibly could. "Thanks, Jean."

She nodded and offered him a weak smile before looking around him, making sure they had privacy. "Eric, you can disclose what happened to you at your comfort level, but I need you to tell me if I need to take you to the hospital or the police. I know it sounds invasive and like the last thing you'd want to do, but-" she informed, Dr. Milburn, Ph.D coming out.

He shook his head and interrupted her. "It wasn't anything like that. I was just robbed. Got roughed up a bit," he explained.

She nodded and let out a long, low breath before pulling him back into her arms, cradling his head. "Thank god," she whispered.

"I did lose my phone and wallet," he lamented, letting her hold him. "And my stylish tiger print coat. I don't have a feeling I'll be getting any of those things back."

"No," she exhaled with a humorless laugh, giving him one final squeeze before leaning away while holding his arms. "But I'll be on the lookout for an even better tiger print coat," she promised with a smile.

She caught sight of his cheek and visibly winced. "How badly does it hurt?" she asked, motioning for him to get into the car.

"Uh," he started, actually evaluating it for the first time in the night. "Badly," he answered.

"Well, let's go home so I can help clean you up before you have to go back to your parents," she offered. She paused for a minute, looking at the sky reflectively. "I'm sorry Otis didn't show up. I tried calling him, but he didn't answer," she apologized before getting into the car, a twinge of worry lacing her voice.

He got in and buckled his seatbelt as he answered. "I talked to him an hour or two ago. It sounded like something important came up. I'm sure he didn't want to miss," he shrugged, wanting to comfort her even half as much as she confronted him.

"I'm sure you're right," she nodded, letting out a low breath.

He sure hoped he was.

The car ride over was spent in relative silence. He was busy enjoying the comfort of not having to watch over his shoulder for danger, while she was enjoying the comfort of having him safe next to her. Eric couldn't help but notice it was taking longer to get there than it seemed the route had taken her the first time, and it brought a small smile to imagine speed demon Jean racing through the night to get to him.

Eric followed her into the Milburn house, agreeing to stay so he could see Otis and have a moment to collect himself, and watched as she ran to the sink. "Take a seat on the couch! I'll be over in a minute. Do you want anything to eat or drink?" she called out.

"Uh, no. No. Thank you," he called out, sitting down on the red and yellow embroidered sofa. He glanced around the room with a deep sigh. He'd been here just the other day, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago now.

Have you got a penis?

Show us your dick!

"Eric," Jean coaxed, making him jump as she sat down next to him.

"Y-yes?" he stammered, glancing over to her.

She stared into his eyes for a moment, as if checking to see if he was really looking at her back, before presenting her medical kit. "I'm afraid I don't have much. Here, face me," she commanded.

He pivoted his body and did as she told, holding still while she gathered some materials. "I'm going to wipe this over your cheek, it will sting, but it will take some of the blood off and help disinfect the wound," she explained, waiting for him to give her permission before continuing.

He hissed and gritted his teeth in pain as the sharp burn of chemicals infiltrated his cut. Her brows furrowed as a small frown tugged her lips downward. "I know, I know it hurts. Just a moment more, okay?" she reassured, scanning his face to look for any other wounds. "Does anything else hurt?" she asked, looking into his eyes again.

His gaze darted down to his lap where he was playing idly with his old bloody napkin. A lot hurt, but nothing that could be fixed with a medkit. "I think I'm good," he shrugged.

She made a tsk-ing sound with her mouth that drew his attention upwards again. "You are not 'good', Eric. You're strong, but you were still hurt," she lamented. She put her fingers under his chin and tilted his head so the light was on him better.

He nodded weakly in agreement as she assessed him. "Just as I expected," she murmured. "Still handsome."

A real smile graced his face and he saw the same reflected on her own. Standing up, she took an old blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over him lovingly, making sure it was tucked into his arms before leaning down and placing a kiss to his forehead, followed by a featherlight kiss above his cut.

"It won't need stitches or anything, will it?" he asked as she sat back down next to him.

"No, nothing like that. Just some care and time," Jean replied, kicking off her slippers and wiggling her toes.

After a moment of silence, he felt her nudge his knee with her own. "Eric?"

"Hm?" he mused.

"What are you going to tell your parents?" she asked tentatively.

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as the reality really dawned on him. He knew he'd be going home after this, but he didn't think about the fact that he now had a bruised face to cover for. "I-I don't know," he replied honestly. "They might be asleep by now. I can probably just-," he began before she interrupted him.

"Sweetheart," she cooed in that all-knowing-Jean way. "They'll know something happened."

He nodded in acceptance and thought through excuses. Tripped into something? Fell downstairs? Fainted and fell?

"Have things gotten better?" she asked.

He looked over at her and saw understanding and sadness, upset she couldn't protect him from the inevitable cruelty she'd been so worried about him facing. He remembered his parents meeting her for the first time. "That is one strange woman. I've never seen a woman so obsessed with orchid art. Her son's pretty strange too."

He reached over and held her hand. "They-um. I'm sure they know. It's just kinda like an unspoken thing in the house. They don't like the clothes, and I never let them see me with makeup on. But- they love me. In their own way."

She nodded, listening to him intently. "Well," she whispered with a small smile, raising their joined hands to her lips. "I think it's hard for someone to meet you and not love you, you sweet, sweet boy."

She said it with so much conviction, it almost made him believe her.

[nuts-cracker-pn]

Finally, my 3rd fic attempt. Hello kaisooists. I’ve been madly pressured about Ksoo’s enlist date running over me trying to come up with the snippet I wanted to post here for you before that happens. AFF link coming soon. Here’s the foreword and a snippet of a way ahead chapter.

Foreword:

Do Kyungsoo (26), a fresh graduate biologist is called to enlist in the military. He’s sent to a small base in the southwest cost of the country, around the Songgong-ri village, in the Aphaedo island on the Sinan county,Jeollanam-do province, a place full of jagged coastlines, small harbors, diversity of species and a high nature culture, where he’s assigned to work with local projects. 

Snippet :

-----A spring Tuesday-----

Pedaling like a maniac, Kyungsoo’s usual reasonable state of mind starts to emerge to his conscience, as if going out of a daze -which has been really big in the last 12 hours- bringing the thought of what credible excuse he’s going to pull off to try to, at least, reduce a more than possible penalty.

His legs are brought to a radical hit on the brakes, right at the middle of his route. He looks at a big stone at the side of the road. He checks there’s nobody around. There’s no other way…

Still unsure of everything, he makes his stop at the base entrance post, saluting and informing about his current situation with the required solemn militar speech. The guard eyes him suspiciously on the head while talking through the post communicator device. Kyungsoo takes a second to look inside when he sees Chanyeol spotting him from a distant window with those black weird scared eyes. It is Sergeant Major Kim’s office. He’s the higher-up of the base.

Fuck.

He knows he needs to be firm, so he musters all the ‘stone faces’ he knows he has so well mastered during his entire life, and takes his way inside when he’s allowed by the guard. Reclining the bike outside of the office he peeks at the marks in his inner forearm, surprised that they’re already scarring, and quickly unroll his sleeves to the correct uniform code, even if the weather it’s starting to feel warm.  

He doesn’t get the chance to a second nock. Chanyeol makes an exaggeratedly fast door opening with his front body totally facing him -thankfully blocking Sgt. Kim view- the big weird black scared orbits trying to speak to him, now adding his also weird frowned eyebrows to the picture when he glances at Kyungsoo’s right side of his head.

”STEP INSIDE, PRIVATE!”  The higher officer commands him from his seat.

Despite his short time in the base, Kyungsoo already knows that high pitched bitchy tone so well. The one when things turn bad.

Chanyeol steps aside quickly to let Kyungsoo in, then places himself in his glorious tall militar stance at the right of his subordinate, arms at the back. Kyungsoo adopts the same position. The superior command of the base stops his writing to rise his eyes with a serious questioning scowl in his face. They both remember they are not in school but in a military service which require first of all saluting their superior ranks. “Joong seong!” There’s a void after that when Sgt.Kim starts writing again on his papers. Kyungsoo decides the next course is suck up to the chief. The nerve. “Permission to speak,sir!” He salutes with his hand again.

”Report.”

Kyungsoo takes an imperceptible breath. “It was a matter of life saving, sir.” 

Sgt.Kim keeps writing while eyeing him for a second. Kyungsoo doesn’t waver though. 

“What kind of life?” 

Kyungsoo does hesitate there, but realizes that his superior is really asking about species. “Animal, sir.”

Sgt.Kim closes his eyes a bit longer than one second, disdainfully, but doesn’t stop writing. “What kind of animal?”

Kyungsoo has thought about it high and low already meanwhile he fast pedaled back there and thanks heavens he remembered something he recently read that was the perfect deal.

“A deer. A siberian musk deer, sir.” From the corner of his right eye, he can feel Chanyeol weird nervous left side-eye on him but he manages to remain unmoved. 

Sgt. Kim addresses the move, stopping his writing, to finally leave the pen over the table and seats back on the chair.   “Do we have those around here?” He squints at Chanyeol, the someday-in-the-future-to-be veterinarian.   

Chanyeol’s answer is constricted. “I think I’ve have seen it in Mokpo.”

Sgt. Kim now gives the shortest a serious rise of his brows.

“Sir, I was also shocked to see the baby deer. Since I’ve read it’s one of the species in danger of extinction in this province, so I had to save it, sir.”

Sgt. Kim now puts his left cheek resting over his left hand, elbow also resting over the armchair. He’s really studying Kyungsoo now.

“ I will patiently hear the whole story and how is that related to your head wound and the fact that it’s 7:36 hs.” 

Kyungsoo knows he can’t fuck it up so he reviews a flash of his made-up story in his head for the last time. 

“I left the base at 15:05 hs after the lunch repose to my weekly exploration round.”

Sgt.Kim makes a stop hand sign. “I’m assuming you were informed since you’re his Corporal?” the officer directs to Chanyeol.

“Yes, sir. Specialist Do has been assigned the weekly mission of ground exploration & samples collection, by signed agreement with the Maritime Museum & University.”

“THAT I DO KNOW.” the officer rises an octave, exasperated, and both soldiers blinked out of alarm. “I’m asking if PRIVATE Do informed you yesterday of his departure time.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Does he always go the same day of the week?”

“Mostly Mondays, sometimes Tuesdays, since we have to take the samples to the city before the weekend. It depends on the base scheduled activities.”

Sgt.Kim returns his look to Kyungsoo. “Continue”

“I was about to have my return here when I heard this whining. I followed it and saw this little one trapped under a tree that seemed recently fallen.” He cleverly remembered that tree that he took account of in the middle of the small forest at the end of the island; apparently someone tried to cut it doing a poorly job but it ended up falling later.

The sergeant remains still.

“It was a little difficult to lift the tree by myself ...” he didn’t miss the snort coming from his superior. “...I managed pulling it off with my whole body though while trying to grab the little one. I got up carrying it in my arms so I could check his state but he went crazy writhing ...mm yes I observed he was a male. And it made me lose my balance and I ended up falling, sir.”

“ AND?”  sergeant seems getting impatient.

“My head crashed against a big stone,sir.” 

Again a void.

“Time?”

“It was already sunset, sir.”

“ So this happened around 19h.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eleven hours unconscious.” the sergeant subtly glance at the wound in the soldier’s head. It’s barely a cut with a little bump around. 

“Apparently, I was pretty tired after the morning routine, sir.”

Sgt. Kim makes a sarcastic smirk that Kyungsoo thinks was intended to be a smile. Perhaps not.

“Apparently, your little basic training month in Nowon-gu was not enough to make a potential soldier out of you. So I’m correcting that. 1- Special training level 4 starting now. Your Corporal will be in charge and instructed to it. Morning and afternoon.”

Kyungsoo’s heart sinks. He kind of expected this. He hears Chanyeol long silent exhale. 

“ 2-  Helping in any task the base requires from you. Morning and afternoon.

He can’t help the whimsical twitch of one corner of his mouth. So this means...

“ 3- Retention on the base perímeters for 15 days.”

He looks to the floor. Shit.

“OBJECTIONS?” The sergeant major rises his usual octave again and  takes his time observing both reactions, but mostly Kyungsoo’s.

What kind of fucking question is that? Does he want a fight?!

Both soldiers salute in unison  “ No, sir!”

“Of course not. I’m being benevolent.” the officer singsongs lower.

Kyungsoo does not agree but he hopes the clench inside his mouth pass unnoticed. Chanyeol however, swallows audibly hard.  

“DISMISS!”

“Permission,sir! Joong seong!”

They are out of that office walking as if the soil burns under their feet, but Chanyeol stops his fellow before entering the dorms where he’s going to grab some cereal bars as both’s breakfast -the base one ends at 7hs for recruits. 

”Why do I have the feeling you’re protecting something? Or someone…”

Kyungsoo remains ‘stone faced’ again, looking at his corporal.

The tallest lips forms a disappointed grimace. “You are not going to tell me, right? The guy crosses his arms in his chest, waiting, but the other stays in the same stance. “ Yeah, you seem like the kind to sacrifice yourself for good causes. Prepare for hell.” And with that, the Corporal leaves the biologist there and enters the dorms. Kyungsoo sighs and his eyes go by his now clothed forearm. He checks his surroundings and rolls the sleeve. He knows he has to hide those 5 marks as if the salvation of humanity depended on it.

---------

tagging @kimchikai-sooshi because you asked and might know what is this about.....😉

and @rimon4kadi because you encouraged me🤗 

[ghostlywritten]

Awkward II.

Words: 3k

I

Song recommendation: Now or Never by SF9

Being in the same company as the one, who rejected your feelings was relatively awkward.

You would constantly run into each other in the halls, shoot each other uneasy looks, smile briefly before hastily coming up with an excuse to leave.

No biggie, right? It was something many had to go through, whether they were students in the same class or random strangers, who lived close to each other, crossing paths every now and then. Who had become friends and got closer and closer until one of them caught feelings, confessed and they drifted further and further apart after the ultimate, most dreaded response.

Those encounters would be uncomfortable at most.

But being in the same company as the one, who rejected your feelings and being close-knit friends with his group since trainee days…made this all ten thousand times harder.

You watched from across the dance room as the boys of Sf9 and the girls in your group were scattered around, munching on the take out your managers had brought over. You watched him chuckle at something Rowoon was showing him on his phone, his usually solemn expression brightening with that one cheerful emotion. You couldn’t tell when it started making your heart race but now you couldn’t tell whether you would ever be able to stop feeling like this.

His eyes suddenly met yours despite the distance and you almost dropped your chopsticks in your hand at the rush of emotions that coursed through your veins, the butterflies flying amok in your stomach.

“You what?” he breathed out, almost whispering.

“I…I like you,” you said, slowly starting to regret your outburst upon seeing his petrified expression.

“…Oh,” was all he said and that’s when your heart dropped. Whatever Mina or Youngbin or Inseong had seen…it was false. Because he was sure as hell not looking at you the way you were looking at him.

“Listen Y/N,” Chani started, swallowing nervously, “I-I’m really sorry, I don’t...”

“No, no. I get it,” you said quickly, biting your lip harshly. Right now, you just wanted to get away as fast as possible, “It’s all good...um, I think I forgot to buy something. You can go ahead.”

He nodded slowly, quickly accepting your lame excuse and you could see him sigh slightly in relief. “Yeah...alright. See you then.”

You turned around without answering, scrunching your eyes shut at the burning feeling of rejection in your chest.

He quickly snapped his head back down, his dark brown eyes flicking around and you felt your chest clench painfully. That was probably the first eye contact you two shared after two weeks when you parted ways that day.

These encounters weren’t uncomfortable at most. They were hella awkward.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Mina had said after you retold what had happened with your head buried in your pillow. “I really thought he likes you. We all did.”

“Well, you were wrong,” you sighed, “And now it’s going to be so embarrassing to see him.”

“Hey now. This will all blow over in a few weeks and you will get over it and find your ultimate soulmate,” Yuna tried to console you from your other side, rubbing your back, “You just need some time.”

“Yeah, I guess...,” you replied, sniffling slightly.

“Aigoo, don’t cry now, sweetie,” your unnies cooed, squishing you between their arms, “A boy is not worth your tears.”

“I know. I will just have to avoid him until then,” you muttered, snuggling deeper into the comforts of your bed as if it could swallow you and your embarrassment.

“It’s gonna be alright, don’t worry too much.” Easy to say, but you couldn’t help but cringe every single time you bumped into him or even his members. At first, you thought he would tell them all what had occurred that day and you were mentally preparing yourself for their pitiful stares or teasing - mainly from Dawon - but nothing of that sort happened. He hadn’t told anyone for your sake and you were grateful for that for the most part even though it just made you crush even harder on him. However, they did stop trying to push you two together, scared shitless of his death glares. You were glad about that as well, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere alone with him again.

If you did happen to end up in the vicinity of the other the atmosphere would turn tense up to borderline unbearable and you couldn’t do anything about it. Each time you saw him you got reminded of that god awful moment of rejection as if it had just freshly happened. And it was like he remembered too because he would always robotically greet you and then clam up…well, clam up more than usual. It was no wonder no one else realized, he was a naturally quiet person, but you being hyperaware of his every move due to your stupid feelings just had to notice those slight changes.

At first at least. After a week he simply started to ignore your presence, seeing that this was the easiest approach to this particular situation. You felt hurt when he would brush off your greetings with a silent nod, not even turning his head in your direction, or when he would always turn his back on you when you were approaching but you figured it was a good way to get rid of your feelings.

You were walking down the hallway where all the practice rooms were located, having finished your rapping lessons for the day. Glancing down at your watch, you sighed as you read 11PM. You should be used to it by now, but you felt exhausted when you thought back on how you woke up at 6AM. And how you were going to have to wake up at that time again tomorrow. You heard roars of laughter ahead and looked up to see some of the boys standing in the middle of the hallway with your unnies from AOA.

Of course, your eyes immediately zoomed in on Chani’s figure, your heart leaping awake after having slept the entire day deprived of his existence near you and you cursed it for betraying you. ‘We’re over him, remember that!’ you scolded yourself, slowing down as you contemplated whether there was another route for you to get out from. As you kept thinking you kept observing their interaction, noticing how Chani stared at his noona’s, hanging onto their every word and smiling down shyly ever time he made eye contact with them. The burning ache that had dulled down over time resurfaced and you involuntarily scrunched your face at the pain. You should be used to it by now.

Seolhyun pinched his cheek, giving some kind of compliment that you couldn’t quite make out but your eyes were sharp enough to detect the blush on his cheeks and the tiniest tilt of his lips as they turned up. Fortunately or unfortunately, Hwiyoung got aware of your presence.

“Yah, Y/N-ah!” he called you over cheerily and you plastered up a fake smile, approaching them. Your heart sank when you noticed Chani’s lips turn down into the frown as he caught sight of you before he turned his head away in indifference.

“Hey peeps,” you greeted them, bowing slightly to your unnies.

“Yah, haven’t we told you not to do that?” Seolhyun complained playfully, “It makes us feel old.”

“Well, you kinda are,” you responded cheekily to which she slapped your arm as the boys and you laughed (minus Chani). “Rude!”

“At least you don’t look older than you are,” Hwiyoung grumbled and you giggled at his sour expression. People always assumed he was 25-something because of his features when in reality he had just turned 19. You locked your arm through his, pulling him to you. “Don’t worry, Hwiyoungie. We all know what a baby you are.”

“A baby?? Just because you are a few months older!”

“Half a year, hellooo?”

“And you act more like a baby then I do!”

“Oh really? When did I ever act like one, hm?”

“Remember that time in the haunted house?”

“You were the one, who screamed like a dolphin!”

“No, that was you!”

“We both know I can’t hit high notes like that. Didn’t we have a competition a few months ago?”

“…that was still you in the haunted house…”

“Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

The others were in tears at this point except for Chani, who for some reason seemed rather annoyed. “They’re fighting over who’s a baby when they both act like one,” he said dryly, 'tch'ing and you immediately shut up.

“Yah, our maknae is so rude. We gotta teach him a lesson,” Taeyang, who had been laughing his head off, spoke up now, putting his dongsaeng in a headlock. You watched the two wrestling quietly as you fiddled with Hwiyoung’s sleeve.

“Why are you suddenly so quiet?” he inquired, moving his head closer to talk quietly as if he knew you didn’t want others to hear. You smiled at him gratefully, being reminded once again why he was your best friend.

“It’s nothing. I just realized how tired I am.”

“Sure. And I don’t look like 25,” he sassed and you had to chuckle at that.

“You can’t really blame people when they hear you talk with your deep ass voice,” you commented and he cleared his throat, attempting a higher pitch.

“How about now?” he asked, his voice close to a dolphin and you giggled.

“Way better,” you encouraged with a faux thumbs up and he just grinned.

“I know you are not serious but at least you are laughing,” he said and you laid your head on his shoulder, touched by his sweet and simple nature. He would always try to cheer you up no matter if he knew why you were upset or not. “Thanks, Hwiyoungie,” you said quietly, yawning to yourself.

“Let’s head home, shall we?” Hwiyoung suggested and the others nodded, Taeyang and Chani finishing their playfight. You startled when you saw he had his eyes on you and didn’t even look away when yours connected with his this time. An unreadable expression was set on his face and his brown orbs flickered slightly between you and Hwiyoung before he turned away like usual, leaving you in the shadow of his attention. The AOA unnies parted ways with you, each of them having their own apartments unlike you after so many years of debuting. You knew when you reached their level, you and your members would get their own places as well as a reward and you already felt excited about it.

“I wonder if we can choose where to live,” you spoke out loud as you headed to the complex with the Sf9’s maknae line.

“I’m sure we can tell our preferences as long as it’s reasonable,” Taeyang voiced out his thoughts from the other side of Hwiyoung. You still had your arm locked around his with your head on his shoulder, putting dead weight on him in your tiredness. And you kind of wanted to assess Chani’s weird behavior and whether it would happen again or not. So far, he showed no signs but his face was still set in that unreadable expression as he looked off in the distance.

“So, no Gangnam for us,” Hwiyoung said and you pouted.

“But they have the best restaurants there,” you whined slightly.

“Just take a flat nearby,” Taeyang suggested.

“Or maybe I will just share a flat,” you mused, “Will you share with me, Hwiyoung?”

“Pff as if,” Chani scoffed, speaking up all of a sudden, “You really think anyone wants to share a flat after years of being stuck in a dorm with each other?”

“I wasn’t stuck in a dorm with Hwiyoungie,” you mumbled half-heartedly, feeling like a kicked puppy. Why was he being like this? You didn't ask for his opinion, yet he insisted on hurting you anyways.

Taeyang noticed your disheartenment and slapped his dongsaeng on the back of his head. “Aish, you are so harsh sometimes.”

“Wae? I was just telling the truth,” he complained, rubbing the sore spot, “I can’t wait to move out of that dorm. You guys are too messy.”

“Says the one, who leaves everything around,” Hwiyoung shot.

“Says the one, who is so cheap he won’t even share his shampoo,” Chani shot back, causing the other to scoff.

“What does that have to do with you being messy?”

“Nothing, but I wanted to point that out,” he said with a shrug, glancing at you, “You don’t want to live with a cheap guy, do you? Y/N?”

“At least he is not uselessly throwing his money away,” you pondered out loud with a shrug and he looked away with his lips pressed together.

“See? I’m amazing,” Hwiyoung complimented himself, puffing his chest.

“Now, I never said that- oof,” you whined as he elbowed you lightly, “That hurt!”

“Serves you right. We gotta be on the same side if we move in together.”

Your eyes lit up. “Does that mean you would?”

“Sure thing. I don’t like living alone,” he said with a shrug and you cheered, jumping a bit.

“You mean you are too scared to live alone,” Chani grumbled with Taeyang snickering in agreement.

“Am not!”

“You are!”

“You kinda really are,” you admitted, grinning cheekily at your best friend, who glared at you in betrayal.

“That’s it! I’m going to look for someone else to live with!” he declared, going ahead and you gasped dramatically, playing along. “No, Hwiyoung-nim. Please do not deprive me of your presence!”

“Too late! This man is gone!”

“Too bad. Anyone else wanna move in with me?” you asked, turning to the other two with a nonchalant shrug. You grinned when you heard a dramatic gasp from behind you.

“How dare you give up on me so easily?” your best friend exclaimed and promptly picking you up and running the rest of the way to the apartment, yelling like Tarzan. You tried to shout over him but your laughter wouldn’t let you, “Hwiyoung! Let me down!”

“Never! I’m not losing my flatmate to them losers!”

“WHaT?!” Taeyang and Chani yelled from behind.

“Nothing!”

Times like these were the greatest. They reminded you of why you were doing this, how you managed to keep going after so many hardships. Without the mental support of the others, without the teamwork and cheering ups at your downs, you didn’t think you would have come anywhere close to reaching your goals. Of course, you need a certain amount of hard work and talent to become an idol, but 50% of the chances also depended on luck. And you were damn lucky for your unnies and Sf9.

But when you glanced back towards the youngest of the boy group your happiness dimmed and you saw his smile falter slightly as well when he met your eyes. You were glad that he didn’t tell anyone about your confession but you also regretted trying in the first place. Now you felt like you took a bit of that luck away because, despite these beautiful times, you would always remember that awkward moment between you.

Even now, when Hwiyoung placed you down right in front of his younger to ring the doorbell, you both stiffened in surprise at the sudden proximity and shuffled away from each other, you bumping slightly into your best friend’s back.

You thought that time that you would never be able to get over him. Until you overheard a very interesting conversation between him and his hyungs one late evening.

The girls and boys had been spending the late afternoon together, your elders joyfully drinking whilst you weren’t allowed to yet (officially). Today they were intent on not letting you drink a single drop despite the fact that you needed it now more than ever after being seated right next to Chani.

It was safe to say that your tensed posture didn’t relax over the entire evening and you finally sagged in relief when you waved goodbye to the boys and went towards the elevator to get up to your dorm.

“Damn, where is my phone?” you muttered to yourself when you had tried to reach for it in your pocket only to come up empty-handed.

“Maybe it slipped out at the boy’s place,” Mina pondered and you guessed she was right, stopping the elevator before the doors fully closed.  “Be right back, you go on,” you yelled over your back, already jogging back towards the boy’s dorm. You would have knocked and maybe avoided listening in on their conversation but knowing them, they forgot to lock the door again and simply turned the handle. ‘They’re such easy targets for thievery,’ you thought to yourself as you silently walked in, thinking of a way to scare them.

“What’s the matter between you and Y/N lately?” you froze as you heard Dawon say your name, wondering why they were talking about you.

Your heart skipped a beat when Chani answered, “What do you mean?” They were asking him about you?

“Well, things are weird-ish between you. Like all awkward and tense.”

“Yeah, before that she would at least be friendly to you,” Rowoon agreed, “Did you finally confess and she rejected you?” The others laughed out loud as you raised your eyebrows. That’s what they were thinking? That Chani was the one with the unrequited feelings?

You chuckled soundlessly to yourself. If only they knew.

“No, hell no!” Chani immediately declined, “I never confessed to her.”

“But you do you like her?”

“No! Jeez, you guys. I thought you let it go.”

“Nope, never.”

“We are drunk now, your scary glares are not scary to us anymore.”

You heard Chani sigh loudly, “For the thousands time. I don’t feel a single thing for her.”

“Hmm, what do you think, Jae?” Dawon said thoughtfully. “Isn’t our little Chani behaving strangely lately?”

“Totally,” Jaeyoon answered in that same thoughtful tone, “And he is being more defensive than usual. I bet he confessed and got rejected.”

The others ‘Ooh’ed loudly as if hit by the revelation and you rolled your eyes, wishing they would let it go. You felt warm at the fact that Chani was basically protecting you from humiliation by not saying anything, but you also wondered how long he would be able to take this teasing.

“I did not!” he protested. “Stop it already.”

“Oh you did not, you say?”

“But something must have happened for little Y/N to be so cold towards little Chani nowadays.”

“Who says she is being cold to me?”

“Puh-lease,” Jaeyoon scoffed, “We can tell. I bet if you confessed to her now, she would definitely reject you.”

“Yeah,” Inseong laughed, jumping into the conversation for the first time, “Before that you might have had the slightest chance, but now…”

“What the hell?” Chani cursed and you could tell he was getting frustrated, “Of course she would accept my confession.”

Would you? Yeah, you would, definitely.

“Oh, you are that sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well, do it then,” Dawon dared, causing your heartbeat to stop.

“W-what?”

“Confess to her and if you don’t get rejected you have one wish from each of us.”

“WhAt?!”

"NO!"

"Why all of us?!" the others immediately complained, speaking over one another. Now you knew Dawon was drunk and out of his mind (more than usual) and you were happy to see the others had still kept their sanity in check.

“And if you do get rejected,” Dawon spoke out loudly, “Each of us has a wish on you!” Your jaw dropped when the complaints immediately turned into approving hums.

“You guys are crazy,” Chani said, thankfully not drunk, “But if I really get a wish from each of you…” Your jaw dropped.

He didn’t drink a single drop!

“We have a deal!” Dawon cheered, drunkenly.

Help me Get Coffee Support?

[vegafiction]

Not at all platonic klance where lance is being mega stalked and Keith wants to help? For the bad things happen bingo.

Count: ~1.2kPairing: klanceChara(s): Lance & KeithFandom: VLDPrompt: StalkingWarning(s): Stalkish behavior

This came out way more fluffy than I intended it to be, but compared to the last two prompts, I figured it was ok to indulge lmao. I hope you like it, Anon! FYI: yellow hearts mean the prompt has been requested!

Get your own card @badthingshappenbingo

Lance was 100%, without a doubt, absolutely, positively sure he was being followed.

At first, he thought it had been his imagination. He lived on a busy street where cars were constantly going to and fro, and people often stood just around the corner of his street reach their bus stop. So it wasn’t that unusual for Lance to see some familiar faces trailing behind him or heading his way, but never in his life had he ever felt like… he was being followed.Suddenly, Lance felt as though he shouldn’t have been outside so late at night or alone on the sidewalk. Despite the human traffic that had begun to dwindle as the sky grew darker and darker, Lance could sense that there was at least one other person matching his steps. He pulled out his cellphone to check the time: 9:30 pm.He still had a long way to go before he could reach home, but the idea of leading a complete stranger down the route he took to get there made Lance uneasy. If anything, he was closer to Keith’s place and getting there involved cutting through some unusual paths.If he was lucky, maybe he could lose his unwanted stalker.

Lance cut through an alley between two food stores. He ran across the back parking lot, hopped over the metal divider and nearly tumbled into a residential trash can that had been left outside carelessly. He didn’t bother to cast a quick glance over his shoulder as he rushed through the residential condos and onto open street.He ran for a few more minutes, cutting through lawns and backyards until he was certain whoever was following had lost him. He climbed the last fence into Keith’s backyard and made a beeline for the sliding door.He knocked on the glass anxiously. “Hello? Keith?” He sent a quick text to Keith’s number before scanning the backyard.Now that the sun had fully set, the yard was dark, lit only by the lights from the lightning bugs. The backyard light still hadn’t been fixed since the last time Lance came over, which admittedly wasn’t that long ago, but he figured Shiro would have at least tried to fix it before Krolia hunted him down for it.Five minutes later, the glass door slid open. Lance’s earlier anxiety morphed into amusement. Keith stood before him, dressed in black sweats, a red tank two sizes too small for his muscular frame and hair a mess. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed… or was in the middle of something Lance would very much like to participate in.“Babe, it’s ten o’clock at night.”Lance rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?” Keith yawned. “Not really. I accidentally took a nap. I was working out but then I fell asleep.”“In the middle of a work out?”Keith shrugged. “It happens.”He urged the younger boy into his home before locking the backyard door. He turned to Lance, his violet eyes more alert than before.“So,” he started.“So,” Lance repeated, suddenly distracted by Keith’s proximity.“What are you here for? Is this what they call a ‘late night booty call’?”“It’s not a booty call if we’re dating. Wait—no! That’s not what I’m here for! Keith, I think I have a stalker.”Keith furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”“Definitely sure! I came here because your place was the closest and I didn’t want to lead them home.”“So you lead them to mine?” Keith deadpanned.Lance sputtered.“Babe, relax. I get it. I’m happy you’re safe here.” Keith reassured. He gently caressed the back of Lance’s trembling hand. “You can stay here for the night.”Lance lurched into Keith’s chest. “Yes! Thank you, Keith! But, uh, won’t your mom say something?”The older boy shrugged. “Keep it down? I don’t know. She likes you so I’m sure she won’t mind.”Lance sighed, feeling the most relieved he’d been that whole day.After Lance called his family to let them know where he was, and then enduring ten solid minutes of his older sibling’s teasing him until he was red in the face, Lance dropped onto Keith’s messy bed and curled his blankets. He inhaled the scent that was inexplicably Keith and sighed contentedly. Not only was he in Keith’s room, on his bed, cuddling his sheets, but he was also in Keith’s spare pajamas. They were slightly large around his frame, especially around the hips, but Lance didn’t mind. He felt so warm and content, surrounded from head to toe in Keith’s scent. Maybe there was one good thing about having a stalker.Keith watched him with a quirked brow.Lance blushed. “What?”“Nothing.”“Don’t judge me.”“I’m not.” He chuckled.“Hey man, I’ve had a weird week, okay? So what if I want to find comfort in my boyfriend at the end of the day? I’ve got a creep stalking me and I don’t even know why!”The mirth in Keith’s face turned solemn. He joined Lance on the bed, violet eyes hard. “How long has this been happening?”Lance felt his heart start to race.“Not that long,” he lied. “Just a few days.”Keith’s eyes narrowed. “You said you had a weird week. That’s not a few days. How long has this been going on?”Lance tried to turn away from his boyfriend’s intense gaze, but Keith crawled over him, caging him to the bed.“Lance, please, tell me what’s going on.”“Okay. It’s been going on for a few weeks. Maybe even a month.”“A month?! And you’re just telling me this now?”“I didn’t think it was a big deal—““It’s a serious problem, Lance. Some stranger’s been stalking you for a month?! What else has been going on?”Lance mumbled.“Lance!”“Okay! Just… they take pictures of me. It’s just… me walking around town or hanging out with friends. They send it to me online with…” Lance hadn’t realized he was trembling until his voice hitched. He swallowed thickly. “…they, uh, they say stuff. Sometimes, but I don’t think they know where I live exactly or, um, who my friends are. N-not really.”Keith’s expression was oddly soft. He had gone from pure unadulterated rage from Lance’s words to quiet reassurance. His thumb rubbed soothing circles into the skin on Lance’s hip as he listened. Lance listed off a series of unpleasant experiences he’s had throughout the weeks: the photos, the phone calls, the anonymous messages on his social media—the list went on and on until Lance finally buried his face into Keith’s neck.“Can we stop talking about this?” He pleaded. “You being here with me is all I really want to focus on.”“Sure Lance, but if it happens again, tell me.” He pulled Lance away far enough to gaze into his eyes. “Promise you’ll tell me.”“I promise.” He sealed the distance between them with a grateful kiss.They slowly fell back into bed, enjoying the warmth brought on by their kissing when Keith pulled away a second time.“If they come after you again, I’m going to kick their ass.”“As much as I think that’s hot, I don’t want you getting into trouble with your mom. Or Shiro. I don’t know which one is worse.”“It’d be worth it for you.”Keith leaned in for another kiss, silencing Lance’s retort.

[silkygoldmilkweed]

I am yours and you are mine

OK. So. The episode of Game of Thrones that follows the fabulous weird intimate-as-fuck emo melodrama of “Blackwater” is “Valar Morghulis.” And in this episode, which follows the epic SanSan intimacy of “I’ll keep you safe. Do you want to go home? etc etc” there are not one, not two, but three couples basically making commitments and pledging to each other.

I THINK THE SHOW IS TELLING US SOMETHING ABOUT SANSAN AND MARRIAGE GENERALLY THROUGH THESE COUPLES ALL OF WHOM ARE DOOOOOOOOOMED in different ways. (Five of the six people involved have since been murdered.)

I’ll circle back to the couples in a minute, but first I must quote problematic Cat Stark from this ep, because I think if there is a message here, rather than some broken models of what not to do, she’s the one delivering it.

Cat to Robb about his feelings for Talisa and their agreement with the Freys: 

“Your father didn’t love me when we married. He hardly knew me. Or I him. Love didn’t just happen to us. We built it slowly. Stone by stone, over the years. For you, your brothers and sisters, for all of us. It’s not as exciting as secret passion in the woods, but it is stronger. It lasts longer... You agreed to it. Treat your oaths recklessly and your people will do the same. If your father lived his life for one thing...”

(1) I gotta appreciate the “over the years” in this because god knows that SanSan has been years in the making. 

They’ve been completely apart for many of those years, but dear god the personal growth! She’s a wolf now; he’s no longer an emotionally crippled thug with a serious drinking problem.

If they are cosmically linked soulmates who have been bound by some inexplicable tie for a long time, they have used the intervening years relatively well. Sansa learned how to survive and make her own justice, and Sandor built a very strong relationship with the only other surviving true-born Stark (by my account Bran is dead) and went to rehab and therapy, etc.

Mistakes were made, to be sure, but they are both better, healthier and stronger people after the fact.

Source: http://devilsbastion.tumblr.com/image/168855312743

(2) “It’s not as exciting as secret passion in the woods, but it is stronger. It lasts longer.” 

This line makes me feel like the writers have read all the Blackwater AUs where Sansa and Sandor run off together and despite best-laid plans end up fucking inside a month. In fanfic they usually end up happily ever after (usually), but in George’s world, Sansa probably ends up married to a Frey, Sandor ends up dying at the hand of god knows who, and without the Hound, Arya ends up raped and dead in a ditch and certainly not the killer she is today.

(Of course, Robb and Talisa do go the forbidden love route and we all know how that turns out.)

(3) “You agreed to it. Treat your oaths recklessly and your people will do the same. If your father lived his life for one thing...” 

I will say this: Sansa tried valiantly to keep her promises and the promises her family made. She agreed to marry Joffrey, arranged thought it was, and she keeps to that agreement.

In the same episode, Theon is whining: “Yes my captors were so very kind to me...Do you know what it’s like to be told how lucky you are to be someone’s prisoner?” but at this point in the story, Sansa is being held prisoner by awful people and being beaten and stripped and threatened with rape at every turn.  So Theon can just shut up. 

And in re Robb, Sansa was bound to marry a much worse prospective spouse than a Frey girl, and yet she stuck with it, even if out of sheer cluelessness. She was offered a “get out of jail free” card by Sandor Clegane, and she refused it. 

As horrible as it is, and as patriarchal and un-woke, Westeros custom says that Sansa was Joffrey’s—to torment or treat any way he saw fit. And, for better or worse, Sansa and Sandor have both internalized the patriarchy in a way that Arya never does.

In season four, Arya asks the Hound, “Didn’t you steal anything from Joffrey before you left?” He says no, he’s not a thief, and then says “a man’s got to have a code.” 

Arya’s talking about gold or other treasure but in the same conversation he calls Arya “the only thing of value I’ve got in the world,” which tells us as clear as day what really matters to him—even though he wants us and Arya to believe the issue is her exchange value in gold.

Sansa is the only thing Sandor wanted to steal, but she belonged to the king and if she didn’t want to go of her own volition—if she didn’t think she needed to be rescued—he wasn’t going to abduct her. 

He probably should have, for her sake, but I suspect he was too hurt when she turned him down to face her fighting him and being disappointed and teary. Sansa’s recrimination and distress was not something he was equipped to cope with at that point. Now Arya he could manhandle, but Sansa, for reasons (SEX REASONS PEOPLE), he could not, would not and did not.

ANYWAY MARRIAGE

He cloaked her in the throne room. She accepted the cloak. 

Did it mean something to them? Did it mean something to the gods? 

We have no idea. It has never been addressed.

But...the line in the Westerosi marriage vows is “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” And within weeks he’s saving her from being gang raped (and he’s secretly pretty fucking pleased with himself), and he risks beheading (or much much worse) by attempting to smuggle away Tywin’s prize hostage and get her through the entire war-torn country to Winterfell. 

If that’s not protection, I don’t know what is.

Tyrion’s speech at the Blackwater (after the Hound has already deserted) about defending Your City rings false for the Hound because he literally cares only about one thing in the whole place (maybe two if you count Stranger). Hound figures why not take the girl out of the city rather than trying to save the whole shit city to protect her?

But it doesn’t work, and Sansa and Sandor break up.

Next episode. Sandor does not appear. Sansa does. And three separate couples—all doomed in different ways—make promises.

MARRIAGE PLEDGE #1: JOFFREY BARATHEON TO MARGERY TYRELL

Joffrey: “It would be an honor to return your love. But I am promised to another. A king must keep his word...I took a holy vow.”

Pycelle: “The gods do indeed hold betrothal solemn.”

Joff: “The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart...you will be my queen, and I will love you from this day until my last day.”

OK so mostly this is foreshadowing for Robb getting whacked and Joffrey getting poisoned at his wedding. But it’s also amazing extra-level bullshit. Every single person in the scene is lying through his or her teeth and putting on a show for the court, except for Sansa who is genuinely delighted to be relieved of Joffrey. 

Well, the situation also thrills Littlefinger who pounces on her literally moments after Joff sets her aside. If the Hound had waited maybe one more day he and Sansa would have been so much freer to figure themselves out together--but then it wouldn’t be a heartbreaking romantic separation would it?

But there are a couple of lines I want to highlight as possibly important for SanSan.

“The gods do indeed hold betrothal solemn.”

What if this is true on some level and the gods have considered SanSan to be pledged to one another in some spiritual way? Could the gods actually have been intervening in their favor in some way? Probably not but...maybe.

“I am free to heed my heart.”

So so so few people in Westeros are free to heed their hearts. That’s why the freefolk call themselves that—they aren’t bound by the feudal system and the arranged marriages and the taxes and high-maintenance castles and all that. 

But come season eight, guess who is free as hell to heed her heart? Sansa Stark. She’s even finally rid of Littlefinger. Nobody except maybe Jon Snow can tell her what to do, and I feel strongly that he DGAF who she marries so long as he’s a good man. 

MARRIAGE PLEDGE #2: SHAE DA FUNNY HOAR TO TYRION LANNISTER

Tyrion: “I’m a monster, as well as a dwarf. You should charge me double.”

Shae: “You think I’m here for money?”

Tyrion: “That was the arrangement we made. I pay you and you lie to me.”

Shae: “You have a shit memory. I am yours and you are mine.”

I don’t understand these two. I think Tyrion did love her, but “I pay you and you lie to me” was the truth of it. Their relationship was built on a shaky foundation of business and lies.

In the end she testified at his trial for capital crimes and he strangled her to death. So...as the Hound said to Tyrion in the series premiere, “It’s not hunting if you pay for it.”

You can buy a wife with an army or gold, or you can buy the girlfriend experience from a prostitute, but you can’t buy a healthy, happy and loving marriage, not for any price.

I am a crazy person, admittedly, but I think George’s endgame is two well-deserved happy marriages: Jon & Dany, and Sansa & Sandor. (I wouldn’t mind Brienne & Jaime, Missandei & Grey Worm, and Sam & Gilly also living happily ever after but WE WILL SEE.)

MARRIAGE PLEDGE #3: ROBB STARK AND TALISA MAEGYR

Secret love in the woods!

The theme to this scene is “I Am Yours and You Are Mine,” a lushly romantic love theme by Ramin Djawdi. These are good people, and they are madly in love, and they are doomed as fuck.

As a wise man once said, “What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms...or the memory of a brother’s smile?”

I wish I could tell you that the series is consistent about punishing oathbreakers, but I can’t. The best I can offer is that the story does seem to treat marriage (and the children of marriage, i.e. trueborns versus bastards) as a special and very important kind of oath. 

The camera focuses on Lady Oleanna Tyrell at Joffrey and Marge’s wedding just as the High Septon says, “...one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” And of course, House Tyrell is eventually exterminated. 

George, if not the gods, does seem to value fidelity in marriage and not running around “stabbing” girls you don’t plan to marry. Ned Stark is a saint who never cheated. Cersei and Bobby are both unfaithful, but Cersei went a step further and aborted all of her trueborns and cuckholded Bobby with Jaime’s bastards. Stannis is a cheater. Renly is a cheater--he’s married to Marge but sexes up Loras. Rhaegar was a bigamist maybe--timeline unclear but undoubtably problematic. Ramsay Snow was fucking Myranda while married to Sansa. Theon is a jackass for whoring and banging captain’s daughters whereas Jon Snow doesn’t want to make bastards on Ros. Daario wants to come to Westeros as Dany’s fuckboi even if she’s going to marry someone else but Dany is all “hard pass” because Dany ain’t like that. Brandon Stark (Ned’s murdered brother) was a bit of a fuckboi. Littlefinger gets married and murders his wife within the space of a...day? No bueno!

Tyrion gives Shae a heartbreaking speech when he’s breaking up with her for her own safety about “you are not fit to bear my children, and Sansa is.” Bastards! So much talk about legitimacy or not and what that equips you for, or not, in Westeros. Blah blah thousand-year dynasty.

These are not always our contemporary morals, at least in popular media, but they do seem pretty solidly founded in Westeros: 

Marriage matters. Fidelity matters. 

I do think it is important that we never ever see Sandor interact with other women on the show besides Sansa and Arya (and the farmer’s daughter Sally). 

Not Cersei. Not Myrcella. Not Melisandre. Not whores. He isn’t even shown talking to Dany after she saves him on Drogon. Sansa is his woman. Period. 

Sansa takes marriage very seriously, but she is never in a position to choose her husband or control the circumstances of her marriage. Marriage to Sansa is suggested or arranged, canonically, to Joffrey Baratheon, Tyrion Lannister, Littlefinger, Robin Arryn and Ramsay Snow, and that’s not even including all the fan-made pairings like Sansa-Marge, Sansa-Tywin, Sansa-Stannis, Sansa-Edd, Sansa-Jon, Sansa-Pod, Sansa-Bronn, etc. 

Tyrion is by far the best of the lot of Sansa’s canonical consorts, a list that includes two psychopaths, one sociopath and one disabled child. 

By Ned Stark’s standard of “brave, gentle and strong,” again, Tyrion might qualify as brave and gentle, but the other four fail to have even one of those qualities. Ugh. Sandor is all three, to my mind, although the show de-emphasizes “gentle” in favor of sassy, but we all know that he’s a very different kind of brute from Joffrey or Ramsay.

Three more tidbits and then shutting up. 

** The episode ends with Dany’s vision in the House of the Undying. Drogo says: “Or maybe it is a dream. My dream, your dream. I do not know. These are questions for wise men with skinny arms. You are the moon of my life and if this is a dream, I will kill the man who tries to wake me.”

If Sansa’s dreams are as important as I think they will turn out to be, this line may feel more evocative of SanSan in the future. I mean, LOL, “These are questions for wise men with skinny arms” is a total Sandor POV thing to say, although Sandor does have a rough-hewn wisdom of his own.

** The next episode is the season three premiere, “Valar Dohaeris (All Men Must Serve)” and in that we get:

Littlefinger telling Sansa that “stealing you is treason”

Sansa telling Shae that it’s better to use your imagination and dream than think about the truth, because “the truth is always terrible or boring.”

Ros telling Shae that Sansa is a very important person and reminding us of her connection to Winterfell

And Marge telling little kids that knights “protect the weak and uphold the good”

** And then finally, in the second episode of season three, Sandor reappears and it’s clear that he’s been drunk non-stop since he left Sansa behind. He gets captured while unconscious and when he comes to, the first thing he sees is Arya (he recognizes her instantly) and the first words of out his mouth are “What in seven hells are you doing with the Stark bitch?” It’s clear to me that he determines on the spot to watch over her. He has not been granted the status of protector of Sansa, but Arya is fair game.

Was it divine justice or the hand of the gods, putting Sandor together with his wife’s little sister who needs to be protected? We shall see. We shall see.

“In winter, we must protect ourselves.” “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” “I miss him.” “Me too.”

[chaosstar290]

My thoughts and opinions on Xenoblade Chronicles 2 thus far.

The game’s only about a month and a half away from being released, and Super Mario Odyssey releases in just about a week. These are two of my most anticipated games for the Switch. Now, it’s pretty obvious that nearly everyone’s really excited for Odyssey. 

But as for Xenoblade 2...not so much. 

From the artstyle, and character designs, and the voice acting...lots of fans and gamers alike are pretty much giving it The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker treatment. From Youtube comments, social media sites, and game message boards...many fans weren’t happy with it. I was one of those people when the game was first announced. I kinda thought the artstyle looked way too generic, anime, and similar as to games like Tales of Berseria.

However, I did some research and mostly figured out as to why Xenoblade 2 looks the way it does. In the most recent interview with Monolithsoft director/writer, Tetsuya Takahashi said a couple of things as the reason he chose the direction he made with the game.

The Tone:

Let’s start with the overall tone of the story. No doubt that the bright and cheery look of the game has thrown off many people into thinking the plot will be “kiddy” or “generic, shonen, harem, fanservice, etc.” trash. All Xeno games up to this point has stories that were more serious, dark, and adult themed. This here ties in with what Takahashi has to say:

“A young adult story with a taste of boy-meets-girl. Lately it feels like all I’ve been doing are games full of devastation, like where your hometown burns down at the start, or the spaceship you’re riding crashes (oh wait, that is all I ever do). Sometimes I just wanna try something different! I’ll leave the stories about the solemn old men and stylish hot guys to someone else (even though there’s way more demand for that stuff), and go ahead with this.”

“ I want to make something that people can look back on fondly one day as something that really shaped their lives. Something like what I loved as a boy, like Oliver! (by Carol Reed) and Galaxy Express 999 (by Rintaro). — That’s why I started working on this game. “

So it seemed that Takahashi wanted to try his hands on making a more light-hearted, character-driven plot. Which mostly explains the more brighter tone of Xenoblade 2. He draws inspiration from this due to some young adult/coming-of-age books and films he experienced as a kid. Mostly in his case, the 1968 musical, family drama film Oliver!, and the 1977 adventure, space western anime Galaxy Express 999.

In addition, we’ve been getting quite a few JRPGs this year in the similar tones that Takahashi mentioned. 

While it would be nice to have Xenoblade 2 following this trend, I can kinda understand where Takahashi’s coming from. As someone inspiring to become a writer myself, making the different story with the same tone and setting can be tiresome. Sometimes the creators just wanna to go with something different. even if their fans won’t like it.Plus, making original stories in this day and age is pretty hard to do. 

People who’ve read tons of books, watched a lot of story-driven cartoons, movies,or anime, or even play many plot-heavy video games for years already know so many tropes and cliches these days. Writers have to borrow some old tropes from movies and such from the past, and figure out ways to add a unique twist to it. Sometimes it succeeds, while other times it fails. And this is pretty much the similar route Takahashi’s going with.

Sure the story might end up being “shonen,” but knowing the guy...I’m sure the story might end up being good. I can’t say for certain why, but I do have some faith in him. Speaking of such, let me explain the next thing many people have against Xenoblade 2.

The Artstyle/Characters:

If it’s no surprise, Xenoblade 2 has a cast of a mostly kids group instead of young adult and such. Which sets a lot of people off, and makes them think that the cast might not be as likable. Especially the main character, Rex himself. And no, this isn’t about his pants. No matter how ridiculous they seem.

Many gamers nowadays come to conclusions that having a young kid or teenager as the protagonist is a sign of something bad. Mostly due to the fact that they might be whiny, bratty, or angsty. But before I dive deeper into this topic, let me talk the main character of the original Xenoblade, Shulk.

There was a time in JRPGs last gen where many main characters would end up being too unlikeable. They were either very one-dimenional, oblivious, annoying, idiotic, cowardly, or overly negative with zero character development. Takahashi’s goal for Shulk was to make a more likable and relatable protagonist than in most JRPGs. He was originally going to be a silent protagonist, but Takahashi rejected that idea. 

He figured in order to make Shulk a more likeable protagonist, Takahashi tried giving Shulk a bit more of positive interactions and words of encouragement, especially in battle. Takahashi tried to make Shulk react much like he thought players would react to the scenarios. This was followed by giving him a bit more of a intelligent personality so he could interact with the world and characters better. Takahashi even took advantage of getting feedback from the Super Mario Club, whose assured that his intake for Shulk was positive.

Unfortunately, Shulk’s character got mixed reception from game reviewers. Some saying that he was pretty darn enjoyable with a fantastic voice actor and character growth, while others saying that he was rather "a  vanilla, personality-less, unequivocally bland warrior" who "makes other JRPG heroes look like Marlon friggin' Brando."

However, Shulk does get pretty great responses from the fandom these days. Mostly getting praise for not being an idiotic, whiny brat, or some emo-ish ultra hot obnoxious macho man...who’s very mature, intelligent, and quick-to-the-bone instead.

For the most part, I’m one of those people as well. While Shulk may have seem bland or generic form an outside stand point, playing the game for myself, I was actually surprised by how likable and down-to-earth Shulk was. His interactions with some of the cast was nice as well. For example, with Reyn, him and Shulk felt like real close friends. Brothers even. With Dunban, Shulk looked up to him as a mentor and a hero. Dickson also felt like a father figure to him. Shulk wan’t just some one-dimensional character...he felt like a real person. This, lead by his incredible voice acting, made Shulk one of my favorite JRPG protagonist of all time.

It’s just too bad the Super Smash Bros. version of himself gets a bad rep.

Now where was I...? 

Oh yeah, Rex.

Now it’s no surprise that compared to the more mature/older main characters from the previous games, Shulk and Elma, many people think Rex will probably be some annoying, bratty, angst kid like I said. And as I said before, this is the issue people have with making a kid as the protagonist in JRPGs nowadays.

Although, thinking about what Takahashi said about trying to make Shulk a likable protagonist, I think I can see Rex being handled in a similar manner. For a better example of a kid protagonist done right, Oliver from Ni No Kuni is one of them.

Some of the things I liked about Oliver was his honesty, determination, courage, kindness, strong sense of justice, and character development. He never strikes me as the whiny/bratty type when I got deeper into the game. He stroked me as a brave and sweet kid. And while he may not be the best JRPG protagonist out there, I really did like how his personality and character was handled, especially for someone his age.

I think I could see Rex being as well-developed in a similar way, especially with Takahashi saying that he’s a lot more mature than people let on. But only time can tell how Rex’s character will be handled, since we know very little about him.

Speaking of characters, let’s talk about the artstyle. 

This is the major thing Xenoblade 2 gets a lot of flack about. Compared to the more realistic styles from Xenoblade 1 and X, going to a more “childish” anime look was a major kneejerk to a lot of fans. It’s no surprise that a lot of JRPGs these days are going in for more anime-esque artstyle to gain popularity, which is getting a lot of negative response. Fire Emblem Awakening and Fates being prime examples of this.

It’s no surprise to the older side of the FE fandom out there that the reasons Awakening and Fates get so much popularity is due to the fact that the games went in a more anime-ish approach with the characters and story, while making the games easier for newcomers to play...this choice made the veterans real upset about the direction the series has been going in lately.

And despite Shadows of Valentia going for a more classic approach with the characters and story, the gameplay and lack of many support conversations made the game not sell as much as the previous titles.

The anime artstyle approach that Xenoblade 2′s going with is making the fandom feel the same way. However Takahashi had this to say about the  artstyle change:

“Targeting a wider audience was one of our goals but we wanted to make it to where the characters had more facial expressions. Masatsugu Saito’s character design is a way to make the protagonists more expressive.”

For those of you who don’t know Masatsugu Saito, he was the guy that did the animation for the CGI anime film, Escape From Paradise.

As far as video game designs, I think he only did one character design for Fire Emblem Awkening, which was Celica.

Not sure if this counts, but I believe this is the first time he’s designed characters in a video game. 

Many see this a negative thing, but I think the reason Takahashi chose Saito was probably for the eyes.

In most games, using cel-shading artstyle can be a way to make the character a lot more expressive. Which I think might be a good thing, because if you can recall in Xenoblade X, the characters expression in cut-scenes mostly stayed the same. 

This was a major issue lots of fans and myself had with this game. While there were cinematic cut-scenes, the characters mostly had expressions like this 75% of the time, compared to how much more expressions there were in Xenoblade 1. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the characters in X, I was just mostly disappointed in the lack more expressions in the cut-scenes. And the more realistic visuals, heavy focus of exploration with the lack of a proper main story were probably to blame for this.

Whereas in Xenoblade 2, the characters show more a lot more expressions. The eyes and the artstyle help this out for the most part. 

Visuals also getting improvements for not just the lighting and shading, but also for the facial expressions. While this may not change a lot of minds about how they feel with the art direction in the game...let me show another game that’s gone though a similar processes.

The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker.

This is a game that received a massive amount of negativity for a reason.

 Before Wind Waker was announced, Nintendo showed a tech demo in 2000 about how a Zelda game would look on the GCN. This was something Zelda fans were excited for the realistic look. It was every OOT/MM fan’s dreams...but alas...they’re hopes and reams were crushed when Nintendo showed...

This.

The Wind Waker’s cartoony artstyle made Zelda fans cry and scream in rage like never before. Everyone thought that Nintendo was losing their touch. Of course, despite the positive reviews the game got, hardcore Zelda lovers still weren’t interested. Of course, over 10 yeard from now, many people now consider the game to be an ageless classic despite some gamers still not a fan of the artystyle

Later in the years after Wind Waker was out, fans rejoiced when Nintendo announced the more realistic The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess.

While I enjoy both The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess for different reasons, and I promise this isn’t a WW vs. TP debate, I will say there is one aspect I loved in The Wind Waker more:

Toon Link’s facial expressions. 

This easily is one of the reasons why I love this version of Link. Nintendo chose this artstyle to a similar reason of Takahashi’s, to make the characters more expressive. And they nailed it. Even without any dialogue, Toon Link’s face would speak for itself. I could tell if Link was happy, sad, scared, shocked, meme worthy, or even annoyed just by his facial expressions alone. They couldn’t have done something like this in a more realistic artstyle as much.

And this is the same thing with Xenoblade 2. Had they used a more realistic style, the characters wouldn't be as expressive. Do I still think Monolith Soft could’ve went with a different artstyle? Yes, but now I understand why they went with this style.

TL;DR 

I’m really hoping people will give Xenoblade 2 a chance, instead of giving it The Wind Waker treatment. Yes, the graphics and character designs aren’t the best...but honesty, did the previous Xenoblade games get any praise though for those similar issues?

C’mon now...let’s be real here...

But hey, at least Xenoblade 2 still follows the trend of having some freaking gorgeous environments. Combine that with the gameplay and music, and I’m cautiously optimistic for this game along with Super Mario Odyssey. Don’t let me down, Monolith!

Additional Notice:

Also..the cutscenes in this game look freaking awesome.

[peterjonesparker]

the saga of is it a fic or are they headcanons continues.

one | two (THIS ONE!) | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

so michelle starts to get buddy buddy with ned and peter, ish.

she starts to actually kind of like ned, even if he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth sometimes. but they argue about the merits of comic books as a form of literature and he teaches her some words in tagalog and she learns how to call peter a son of a bitch so she’s pretty entertained.

but the weird things just keep piling up with peter.

he rushes off at random times, freezes whenever she asks him where he’s going, shows up to school with cuts and bruises looking like he’s been fighting in an underground boxing ring. she even saw him go into the chemistry lab the other day at lunch time even though they both took chemistry last year and he’s taking biology now.

he just does really weird things sometimes and michelle can’t help but notice.

michelle also can’t help but notice that spiderman is becoming more and more popular. people sell t-shrits, masks, shot glasses, tote bags. everything, basically. and maybe one day michelle might spend a little too much time looking at a t-shirt with a picture of spiderman in all his toned, muscly glory. but she just shakes her head and keeps moving.

she gets curious about him, though. where did he come from? who is he? why is he doing this? why did he sound oddly familiar in DC when he saved her friends?

and then one day she’s walking home from school after academic decathlon and she missed the bus which is totally her fault for staying later after practice to chat with peter and ned about the upcoming weekend and how their plans to construct a lego version of the starship enterprise were so utterly boring she could barely stand to listen to them. (and weren’t people supposed to choose star wars or star trek? was that not a thing? not that she cares about things peter likes. well, peter AND ned. anyway.)

she’s turning a corner when she sees someone out of the corner of her eyes. there is a man on the opposite side of the street walking several yards back from here. it could be nothing. but she’s also been taught to always be on high alert. so she grips her backpack to her body a bit tighter and walks a little faster down the street, cursing herself for not taking the more populated albeit slightly longer route home.

she continues down the street when she notices the man cross the street so that he’s on the same side of the road as she and at that point she just starts running. better that he thinks she’s odd if he isn’t following her than be caught if he is trying to catch her. she sprints down the street and turns another corner as she looks back to check if the man is following her and then bam. she’s on the ground, gripping the shoulder that practically crashed into a brick wall.

“oh my goodness, are you okay?” she sighs and looks at the owner of the panicked voice and she is left speechless. it’s…well, it’s spiderman.

“what the hell are you doing here?” she notices that in her panic she turned into an alleyway instead of the main street she has intended to run onto. at least she ran into a superhero.

“well, I just, I, uh…” he fumbles over his words and looks around them. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I had seen something so I came down here.”

she lets him help her to her feet and looks at him blankly. “and you always carry a backpack with you?” she motions toward the one strapped on his back and tries to get a better look, but he shifts away so she doesn’t see. she raises a skeptical eyebrow at him, crossing her arms and smiling slightly. “what you got in there?”

“oh, nothing special.” he coughs and his voice gets deeper. “nothing you need concern yourself with, citizen.”

“drop the act, man.” she laughs, but his breath hitches. she scrunches her eyes together. “dude, you’ve got to be in high school if you’re carrying that around. don’t pretend that you’re a thirty five year old man when you’re probably no older than eighteen.”

“i’m sixteen, actually.” he says as a throwaway and she can see him hesitate immediately after the words leave his mouth.

“i’m not trying to expose you or anything.” she sighs. “look, sorry I ran into you. I thought some guy had been following me so I was trying to get away as quickly as possible.”

“i’m not sure running into an alleyway is the right solution for that.” he chuckles and she rolls her eyes. She does not need this from a dude in red and blue tights with a spider on his chest. he stops chuckling suddenly and gets solemn. “wait, why are you walking alone this late at night?”

“just trying to get home like the rest of us. accidentally stayed later at school than I had intended.” she crosses her arms, trying to keep her cool. she doesn’t think of herself as someone who buys into the hype of things, but, well, this guy has a really nice butt. and he saved her friends. and he’s saved a lot of people. and okay, maybe, just maybe, she might have a thing for hero types but that’s a more basal part of her and she doesn’t let it control her actions. but, well. “I never thanked you for saving my friends.” when his head tilts, she clarifies. “in DC. my friends were the people stuck in the washington monument.”

“oh, uh, no problem at all. just doing my job.” he says, saluting at the very end and oh my goodness who is this person and why is he so dorky. “sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“me neither, man. it was dorky.” she laughs, and he does too. “well, I should really be getting home now. my parents will be worried.”

he nods his head and she turns around to leave. just before she leaves the alley, he clears his throat and speaks up. “do you, uh,” he pauses briefly and coughs. “could I accompany you home? it’s still pretty late and anyone walking home alone is a little dangerous at this hour. especially here where they aren’t many people around.”

she doesn’t know what to say. part of her wants to refuse. she can handle herself. she took self-defense lessons for three years and she knows how to fight if she needs to thanks to the kickboxing classes as a kid. but. another part of her is still a little shaken up from the man following closely behind. and that part of her knows that, even though it sucks, walking home with a man gives her added safety because people don’t fuck with men. especially not when the man is spiderman. she thinks of her parents at home and them worrying and allows herself to say yes.

he falls into step next to her and she laughs. “are you really just going to walk next to me? aren’t people going to see you and get curious?”

he scratches the back of his neck. “I…I don’t have a response to that.” he chuckles nervously, “I don’t suppose you want to travel by web slinging, do you?”

“eh, it could be fun.” she says before she even thinks about the words. they both stop walking suddenly and look at each other.

“are you serious?” he asks, incredulous and she feels a little defiant because of it. she might be very slightly scared of heights. no, she isn’t scared of heights. she’s scared of possibly falling from said high heights. but she takes his incredulous question as a challenge and she’s never been that great at backing away from a challenge.

“yeah, why not.” she says, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly. “but if you drop me, i’ll kill you.”

“uh, okay.” he says, slowly stepping toward her. she doesn’t know what to do because she’s never exactly been in a situation quite like this and oh my is her journal going to freak out when she writes about this. so she just wraps one arm around his back and the other over his shoulder, making sure to avoid the backpack he has on. and maybe in hindsight this isn’t the best idea, but it’s a little late now. at least it is in her mind. he wraps a firm arm around her back and pulls her tight against his body and she nearly gasps but she doesn’t want him thinking he has that large of an effect on her. because he doesn’t. her body just happens to be very attracted to his and reacts accordingly when there is close proximity between the two.

*sexual frustration intensifies*

“if at any point you want me to take you down, just say so, okay?” he says, looking at her with those white beady eye holes on his mask and she wishes she could see his face. she wishes she could know who this person is. though she knows she’s heard his voice before. that’s the one thing that always stays with her. she knows she’s heard it and she can’t place it, which infuriates her. but then they’re shooting up into the air and travelling building to building and she grips her arms more tightly around his body and closes her eyes so that she can pretend they’re not at lots-of-pain-upon-impact falling distances.

she nestles her head into his shoulder a bit and then she smells it. once in her life has she ever hugged peter parker. that day in the hallway when he found her crying. she smelled him and took in his scent and for reasons she isn’t willing to admit she has remembered his smell and thought about it and him more than she’d care to say. and she smells it again. and suddenly, everything clicks. she can’t believe she could have been so stupid as to not have put any of this together before. he’s always rushing out, the sticky goop she saw him trying to sneak out of the chemistry lab, how anxious he gets every time she accuses him of hiding something, why he’s so busy, why he fucking knows tony stark. oh my goodness, is this the stark internship? she is going to kill peter.

but then she thinks about it.

he never told her. he didn’t want her to know. doesn’t want her to know. and she can’t blame him. this is a huge secret and he can’t just go around telling everyone, no matter if they are kind of friends or not. but, still, a small irrational part of her is slightly hurt he never shared this with her. didn’t think she would keep his secret. she wonders if ned knows. she wonders if his aunt may knows.

then he’s stopping onto a roof directly adjacent to her apartment building. snd she realizes she never told spiderman where she lived but that peter parker has been to her house exactly twice in their entire friendship. but she doesn’t bring it up. because she still can’t get over the fact that she didn’t figure this out sooner. and she doesn’t want to spook him and drive him away. should she tell him that she knows? he clearly didn’t want her to know. but he spent so much time chatting with her as spiderman, he must have known the risks.

“thank you.” she says, as she slowly extricates herself from him. and there’s still a small part of her that aches at the loss, but a much larger part of her is reeling from the fact that peter parker, dork galore and friend, is spiderman.

“uh, no worries.” he hesitates. she still needs him to get her down onto the street from this roof, but other than that they don’t have anything else to say. “try to avoid taking the shady routes home. it’s just common sense.”

and of course he would have the audacity to insult her at a time like this. “oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who will walk into the middle of a bank robbery.”

“fair enough.” he laughs, shaking his head. “guess we’re both looking for some thrills in life.” he looks at her. she can tell he is looking directly into her eyes. and she knows it’s peter under that mask and she wants to tell him, to say she will keep his secret safe, that she won’t do anything to knowingly hurt him. but they aren’t friends like that. yet. snd she doesn’t want to ruin any friendship they might have at this point. so she just smiles.

“I guess.” she smirks and feels so uncharacteristically protective of this boy in this moment. impulsively, and she will bang her head against the wall for this when she walks into her room, she steps toward him and plants a light kiss on his cheek. “thanks again for saving my friends. and other people too, I guess.”

he doesn’t say anything for a bit, but then he coughs and giggles a bit and oh my goodness how could she not know this was peter immediately? “of course. anything to help. we all have our battles to fight.”

“so, uh, can you help a girl get down to the street?” she points toward her apartment complex and he seems to shake into duty. he uses his web to slowly drop her down. she pushes against the wall a bit and it feels like repelling down a rock climbing wall. but much less controlled and she definitely doesn’t feel all that secure. but then her feet touch the ground and she looks up. he salutes and then takes off and she smiles against her better judgement. she walks into the house and her father lectures her about calling if she is going to be late and how it’s dangerous late at night.

she just nods her head, thinking back on how peter parker walked her home and how peter parker is fucking spiderman.

[dasirunrunrun]

Good Grief - Chapter 3

Jungkook makes a habit of showing up drunk to a nearby flower shop. Bad puns and fluffy pining ensue.

Or, a college!au in which BTS are all frat boys, Namjoon is a science club president,Jimin just wants a good party, and Jungkook is hopelessly fascinated by the girl who takes care of flowers in her free time.

author's note: aaaand we’re back folks, with chapter three! it get’s a little dramatic this time around, so just a fair warning!! i hope you enjoy it, and once again comments, tips, and critiques are all appreciated!!

disclaimer: all mentions of the university in this fic are purely pulled from my ass— I don't claim to know anything on a deep, spiritual level about university clubs, classes or frat parties. Side characters, that aren't specifically Bangtan Members™, are all made up and therefor fictional .

words: 5k

If you’d prefer reading on AO3 the link is here

I glanced up at the seemingly endless stacks of write-ins, wishing for them to somehow disappear before my eyes. It was chaos in the offices of the News Club. Almost straight after the Fraternity article had been released, there had been letters upon letters of indignant students. Most of them claiming that the article was unjust: an uncalled for attack on Fraternities. Others had deeper questions— wanting to know which House specifically could be held responsible. In other words: it was a fucking mess. Mary, though, having been the main editor and writer of it: was taking most of the heat. And it was quite obvious, with her wearisome behavior as of late.

Mary skidded into the room - weary eyes jumping to every object seen. “El, I’m so sorry.” She sounded panicky, a signal to the rest of the club that she was close to self destruction.

“Mary-” I tried to cut in, using my softest voice, but she wasn't’ having any of it. Instead, she only started bustling around the room more, doing nothing productive, but still working around.

“We’ve definitely lost her, boss.” Jona’s solemn voice cut in, and when I turned to look at him: he was hosting the biggest shit eating grin. “Call her Leo Dicaprio because this girl's sinkin-”

“That’s enough, Jona.” I interrupted, watching as he tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe to pestering grin off his face. He leaned his hand back for Finn to give it an appreciative smack. And once again in my editing career, I wondered if those two possessed any sympathy at all.

Mary continued to bustle around- picking up a letter, cringing, and then repeating with another as she tried to open every single one.

“I should've never suggested this stupid article. I've put the news club in lots of trouble, oh have I ever.” Mary was babbling, hands shaking as she opened letter after letter. I watched hopelessly, letting out little sounds of interruption here and there. Any time she got a little too self degrading. Mary blamed herself for the backlash of the article, though in truth, every member played a part in publishing it. Not that Mary would ever recognize that. The thing was, when Mary went into panic mode, there was no stopping her. She put everything on herself, and tended to cut everyone out. That is, except for Seokjin. He was, seemingly, the only one who could calm her down.

I threw my rubber band ball at the side of Seokjin’s head, causing him to glance at me — looking a little betrayed. I raised an eyebrow back at Seokjin, and mouthed the words ‘go help, dickwit’ at his passive face.

Seokjin gave a secretive smile, and raised his hands in defeat as he moved towards the other girl. I took in the scene, watching as he rested a calming hand on Mary’s  shoulder, before mumbling something softly to her. Probably - ‘follow me’ since the two of them left the room, shortly after.

   Finn gave out a low whistle— and I turned my attention towards the noise, already ready to bully him back into place. “I don’t want to say it but —” He glanced over at Jona, who returned a shrug, to which Finn also shrugged back. The two of them sat shrugging back and forth at each other for a good minute, Jona’s face passive, while Finn looked scandalized.

“Boys, please.” It was no time for me to be cracking up at their strange antics, even though they looked so funny. “Start helping with some of these letters.”

   Finn broke off in a light, breathy chuckle, while Jona remained a passive face- clearly acting still for the jokes. “C’mon, Cobra Commander, it is her fault.” He sounded set in his opinion. “It was her idea in the first place- we all told her it was a bad one.” He cleared his throat. “Which is why she should be the one to deal with these letters.”

   Jona gave an agreeing nod, his face finally normal, if not a little serious.

   I raised an eyebrow at the two boys, more disappointed than anything else. “You’re going to blame her?” Even I could hear the beginnings of venomous anger seeping into my voice, which explained why both of the boys held such defensive poses now. “When you two were the ones urging her to turn it into the drama piece it became?!”

“No one told her to go around attacking random people,” Jona’s own irritated voice shot back at me. “Honestly, it’s no wonder she’s made some enemies, she basically defamed the most popular boy at our university - with no hard truth. Or have you forgotten about this?” He tossed the latest print my way, a paragraph dedicated to one singular person highlighted in bright yellow.

Though one boy stands out from the rest, Jeon Jungkook, member of the Sigma Chi fraternity. Who has made a rather wondrous show of partying ,not only on weekends, but throughout the week as well. Going as far to even skip classes. And seeing as though he is, somewhat, of a celebrity at our school- its no wonder that he’d be the one to start this binge drinking trend...

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose with one hand. This part Mary had done solely on her own, without even consulting anyone on the team before publishing. A real shocker to us when we found out. She had been rather upset with how Jungkook had acted at the interview, and even more put off by how easily affected she was by his looks. Basically it was an unwarranted vendetta.

   When Finn spoke again, it was in a much more diluted tone, his voice only holding confusion. “So tell me why we should be responsible for her mess.”

   I glanced up and swallowed the insults that wanted to fly out of my mouth. Collecting my things in my arms, I stood up and moved towards the door, trying to think clearly with all the emotions running rampant in my head.

   “Boss-”

   I couldn’t make out who had called after me, didn’t have the energy to find out either. “When you can tell me why you should defend a friend,” I shook my head, unable to comprehend it, “then I’ll come back.” I glanced back at the two of them - expressions open. “I mean, really, you two act like you’ve never made a mistake before.” Without waiting for a response, I opened the door and left for the library.

track: there’s nothing holdin’ me back - shawn mendes

Walking to the library was, in normal circumstances, an enjoyable route where I could spend the time in my thoughts, but now- with the absolute lack of anything to take my mind off the situation: it made me cringe to arrive at the library with absolutely no plan in mind.

   Normally, this was my time to be studying with Namjoon. Or, moreover, getting tutored. Kim Namjoon was a Senior, and head of the Science Club, but he was also my savior. He had tutored me in almost every science course that I struggled in (which was most of them), and for a cheap price too. A true angel sent from god.

   I had canceled our usual session in favor of the “Newspaper Club emergency meeting”, but standing here now, I wished desperately that I could call Namjoon back and beg him to give me the original tutor session. I sighed deeply, moving through the rows of empty desks - lined by bookshelves. The school library was massive; extending three floors, each with study sections. In my first year of university I used to pretend the library belonged to Hogwarts - and that I was in some sort of wizarding school.

   The memories pulled a light smile onto my lips, making me wish to be back in the beginning again. I quickly pulled open my books, not wanting to get distracted by the nostalgia that clung onto my thoughts.

Studying Chemistry even with a tutor was difficult. Studying Chemistry by myself made me want to fling myself into the endless abyss of space. Nothing made sense. Nothing. I stared at the equations, uselessly, cursing the College planners for making this a “core” subject. When was I ever going to need to balance an equation while filming movies? My head hurt, and the endless sets of letters and numbers that stood before me didn’t help.

“Ugh,” I dropped my head uselessly onto the desk in front of me, feeling like death would be a more welcome addition to this day. There were four beats, four beats, of holy silence. Right until the chair beside mine squeaked against the floor; indicating that someone had occupied the place next to me. Right next to me. Out of all the empty chairs in the room, this one. How tragic.

I probably could've lifted my head, probably should've, but no part of me wanted to show my face to anyone. So I hoped, that whoever was next to me, wasn't offended by my lack of acknowledgement.

   “Having a rough go of it?” A familiar drawl came from the ‘intruder of personal space.’

I almost wanted to groan at how obvious my life seemed to playing out. I lifted my head slightly, resting my chin on my arm, to look at Jungkook. He seemed to be mirroring my position - head resting against his bent arm, his hair fluffy, looking masterfully disheveled. Somehow, he always managed to look like the personified version of a god. I wanted to smack him for it.

“So is that what you do? Trash someone in an article and then nap off the bad feelings?” He held a smile, looking like the concept was hilarious— but his words made me cringe, and Jungkook took definite noticed of my distaste.

“Jungkook—” I tried to start but when I returned my sight back to him, he was fixing me with such a concentrated look that I immediately felt uncomfortable. I sat up abruptly, and somehow he took this as an invitation to invade my personal space. Because, moments later, he leaned in- ridiculously close to me.

Basically stretched across my lap, with elbows resting on the desk, Jungkook was peering down at my chemistry book with a look of intense interest. Or at least, I assumed, considering all I had a glimpse of was the back of his head.

“All your equations are unbalanced.” He commented, voice sounding much more like a professor than the frat boy. “Did you even try to correctly place co-efficients?” I flushed, the feeling of being in a ‘classroom setting’ hitting me like a brick. I couldn't see his face, but I could only imagine what type of incredulity it held. I wanted to burrow further into my sweater. I wanted to retort back, sneer that he probably knew less than I did. But I was far too concerned with the proximity between us to do anything of that sort.

He pulled back— far enough to finally be out of my lap, but still close enough where I could see the light golden flecks that swam in his dark eyes. “Are you studying? Or making John Dalton roll in his grave?” His voice was low even though it held only amusement, for some reason it sent shivers up my arms. It was a mystery to the world how he made bullying attractive.

His eyes still held that full intensity, and it was oddly both intimidating and flattering to have his full attention directed at me. “Eh..” I gave a light shrug, watching Jungkook’s eyes follow the movements like a sniper trained on it’s target. “Why aren't you mad?” The words that chose to came out my mouth were definitely tension breakers, which is what I needed right now. And they definitely threw the boy off.

I took in the switch of emotions on Jungkook’s face— his eyes changing like the seasons in front of me. A look of indignation snapped on his face at last, making me wonder how he could always remain combative. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enraged by the travesty of your Cobalt and Carbon Monoxide-”

I scoffed, slamming my hand lightly on the desk, “The article, Jungkook.”

He tilted his head at me, his face finally dropping the act of “rage” and landing on something along the lines of soft. “Why would I be mad?” he rested his chin on his hand, brown eyes searching mine. “You didn’t write that.”

“Yes but I aided in that.”

His lips quirked into a smile, and my stomach flopped. “Your reaction right now is telling me you wish you hadn’t.”

I swallowed, feeling completely outspoken, stuck wondering why I had even tried.

He started at me for a while, and I back. There was absolutely no way to tell what was going on inside of his head. My thoughts were running wild, yelling at me to say something, say anything. But I felt like any words I could spout out were inadequate. How do you apologize to someone for basically trashing their reputation? “Tell me what do to make up for it.”

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a flicker of surprise flash across his face, for only a split second. Although, I couldn’t be sure, because right after he was fixing me with an amused grin. “One question?”

I spluttered, thrown off. “What?”

“Let me ask one question?” He was watching me intently, like I was some endangered animal that needed cautious wording.

I nodded, preparing myself for the worst - what kind of monster are you? Was this your plan all along? Who else have you potentially def-

“What’s in your bag?” His real question caught me off guard, and I followed his line of vision to where he was staring right at my film bag.

I shuffled a bit, uncomfortable and suddenly embarrassed. “My camera, equipment, and stuff.”

“What do you need that for?”

The genuine curiosity in his voice is what made my shoulders loosen, he didn't seem mocking or berating. Or any sort of teasing. His face held genuine interest, and it made me warm up instantly. “I'm a film major— well, film production major.”

Jungkook’s eyes rounded comically, and he glanced back at me with a sort of amazed wonder. “So you're going to make movies and stuff—”

I let out a little gasp of a laugh, trying not to associate him with my brothers when he seemed to mirroring them exactly. Young, naive. “I want to tell stories. Make people feel something.” I shrugged, looking around the library and realizing that we really seemed to be the only two on this level. “So, yeah.”

Jungkook nodded, seemingly understanding exactly what I was talking about. I had no idea what this was, I hadn’t ever said more than ten words in one setting with the boy, and now here I was sharing my life goals and aspirations as if we were childhood best friends.

I moved my attention back to my books, also realizing that this was the first time Jungkook had ever appeared somewhat serious around me. It was unnerving, and as much as I disliked his ever present amusement: I was suddenly wishing for it back. I started packing my books, and I could practically feel Jungkook’s curious gaze boring into the side of my face.

“I actually have a shoot today- filming,” I had no idea why I started giving the explanation, it was just- something about leaving Jungkook staring and confused that made me feel unsettled. “For my spring project.” I glanced outside the window, taking in the grey clouds- heavy indicators that it was going to rain not too long from now.

Jungkook seemed to be on the same page, because when I looked back at him he held a comical smile on his face. “In the mood for ruining your equipment?” The sarcasm was back, and I couldn’t stop my eyebrow from raising at him disinterestedly. My response seemed to tempt him more, because the smile on his lips tilted higher. “Gonna get some good shots of those rain puddles?”

I shoved my books into my book bag, quickly zipping it up and picking up my things in one swift motion. Deciding quickly that it would be better to keep my mouth shut and temper in check. When I glanced back at Jungkook he raised an eyebrow back at me. I opened my mouth to say something, anything. Another apology, or just yell at him for always being a shit head, but the only thing that came out was: “I'll see you around.”

“I'm just messing with you— you know that?” Jungkook's response made me whip around, and the humor that was on his face had dimmed a little bit. It made my stomach drop. I didn't want him to think he couldn't joke around, normally I would've chastised him for it, but at the moment I felt wrong about doing anything that could potentially be considered unpleasant to him.

I threw back my heartiest smile— hoping it seemed real rather than forced. “Have you gone soft on me, Jungkook?”

I didn't wait for the response, just quickly turned away towards the stairs and the exit.

track: believe - mumford and sons

The second I stepped outside a crack of thunder rang in the sky. I gave a small shiver of fright, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t get caught in the storm. I had given Jungkook the quick excuse of a “filming shoot”, when in reality I just wanted to be home when the storm hit. I had a crippling fear of storms- something I’d brought with me from my childhood.

   The walk to the bus stop wasn’t long, only 20 minutes, but it felt like years under the dark, intimidating clouds. I walked quicker, wishing now more than ever to be able to apparate like a wizard from Harry Potter. The second whip of thunder had me frozen in place, and it was just then that the rain started.

   My whole body gave a full shudder under the coldness of the rain, and I willed my legs to pick up the pace again.

   At the third indication of thunder I couldn’t will myself any further. There was a strange sensation in my body: utter and hopeless fear. It was almost as if some invisible rope had tied itself around my legs.

   A sleek, black buick pulled up to the side of the road,and I turned my attention quickly away from the driver, hoping that they would just continue to drive rather than look my way. In the background I could faintly hear the window being rolled down, maybe even a voice calling out to me. But thunder rung dangerously in the air, and my whole body cringed in a way where I was left squatting on the ground- bookbag forgotten, and arms wrapped around myself in a form of protection. The rain pounded down harder.

   I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut- convince myself this was a bad dream, but before I could - a hand reached down into my line of sight, offering to help me up. I lifted my head, before me stood Jungkook, soaking wet, with my bags slung over his shoulder and his hand extended towards me. “C’mon,” He said lightly, but there was no rush to his voice, no indication of anything even remotely close to amusement. He seemed patient- dark eyes watching me with more understanding than I’ve ever seen - or maybe I was just imagining it.

I grabbed his hand, letting him pull me up easily, basically against his body. He placed a hand gently on my waist, probably balancing me, or maybe for the physical support. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was the physical contact gave a much needed sense of relief. Desperately, I fought the urge to lean heavily against him. “...but the door’s unlocked, you can get in.”  

Whatever he had begun with was lost due to the pelting rain and obnoxious booming in the sky, but I got enough of it to move hesitantly towards the car. I was unsteady, and every time another boom of thunder sounded: I cringed. As I moved towards the car, I thought humorlessly about how at another time I’d be running over just what kind of life Jeon Jungkook lived to be driving a black buick. But at the moment, the relief from the rain, and little sound barrier from the thunder was enough to leave me thanking whatever gods for him to have crossed my path.

The second Jungkook was settled in he turned the radio on- loud. Any evidence of the storm was interrupted by the music playing through the speakers. I looked over at him, a wave of gratitude surging through my body. He stepped on the gas, hair dripping, clothes stuck to his body. I didn’t ask where he was going, didn’t care. I could only stare.

We drove for a while, going nowhere in particular, I assumed.I watched out the window, not recognizing the scenery of wherever we were. And once again, I was surprised to find how little I cared. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was filled with the music that continued to play through the radio.

So open up my eyes, tell me I'm alive.

The car slowed to a halt, stuck behind a red light, and I looked back over at Jungkook to find his attention directed at me as well.

This is never gonna go our way, If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind.        I turned down the music a bit, keeping my sight on the radio pad, rather than looking back at Jungkook. “Thank you,” it sounded inadequate to my own ears. There was not enough to say to express my gratitude. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something more, when Jungkook cut in.

   “My sister also.”

His words were simple, but the tone and the shortness of them had me glancing quickly back at him. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, rather at the red light, probably waiting for it to change. I wanted to ask him, touch more on his comment. But even I was bright enough to pick up on what he wasn’t saying. My sister is also afraid of storms. And something about his tone told me he didn’t want to discuss it.

   The light remained red, and when Jungkook glanced back at me I internally cringed at how I must’ve looked -  still staring at him. “Where do you want to be right now?” I knew he was asking if he should drive me home, but I had no desire to be there. I glanced at the clock- 20:13.I thought of my mom, thinking of how worried she probably was. But Jungkook sat in front of me, hair now only beginning to dry, clothes still soaked.

The storm was long over with. There was no reason for me to still be here. Jungkook was still watching me, I shrugged in response. For a moment I was worried that he wouldn’t catch the movement, but his gaze was held against me like he couldn’t look away. I nodded to the light which was now blaring green at us, and Jungkook’s lips tilted up slightly, just a bit.

track: favorite record - fall out boy

“Are you going to drive?” I asked, finding the strength in my voice coming back.

He shook his head a little, and I could practically see the muscles in his cheeks working to hold the smile back. The car kicked into motion, and I couldn’t help my own smile that worked on my own lips.

It was spring, so it was not yet completely dark at this time, but the sun setting in the horizon made for a beautiful viewpoint. We talking about everything, and nothing all at once. The conversation ranging from favorite hamburger condiments to song genres.

“I’m sorry I just can’t see how you can enjoy modern Fall Out Boy when their older stuff is so much better.” Jungkook argued, raising his hands defensively, before quickly returning them to the wheel.

I angled my body towards him- back resting against the car door. “I’m not saying it’s better now, I’m just saying it’s still amazing.” My smile grew at the look on his face.

After a while the conversation got too intense for driving, and he ended up pulling into a Mcdonald's parking lot so he could angle his body towards me, as well, and continue.

I learned more about Jungkook than I ever thought was possible. Not necessarily important things, just little facts about him that made him seem so much personable.

I learned how funny he was, how he could make any topic interesting enough if you just let him babble about it for long enough. I liked listening to him talk about the things he was interested in - like his friends at the frat.

“Do you really think we’re that bad?” He asked after a while of silence between us.

I looked at him, shaking my head once, and then again for good measure. “No, I don’t.” I admitted, watching as a smile crept it’s way back to his face. “But, I’ll have you know I’ve been best friends with Kim Seokjin for as long as I can remember.”

The surprise lit his face up like a christmas tree. “Kim Seokjin?”

I nodded, smiling at the thought of my best friend. He was, no doubt, going to laugh at me for hours after after the news of this night reached him. Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, eyes wide with new information. But before he could my phone exploded with a loud ringing from my bag in the back seat. He raised his eyes expectantly, and I sighed, muttering a quick, “Let’s take bets on who that is,” before pushing myself over the seat- trying to grab it. This, of course, was a hilarious idea to Jungkook and he burst out laughing. Instead of yelling at me for dirtying his expensive-ass car. I rolled my eyes and dug around blindly in my bag as the ringer continued to go and Jungkook continued to laugh.

   I cringed once I picked it up and was met with the Caller ID of my mom. Nearly 11:00 now, and I hadn't let her know anything of my whereabouts. I quickly hit the green receive option, starting off with a “Hi mom…” Just to let Jungkook know not to pull anything funny. I turned my head to glare at him, another warning for him to stop laughing, and he raised his hands in defense.

“Honey? Oh I’m so relieved to hear your voice, you haven’t been picking up any of my calls. Are you okay, where are you?” My mom spoke quickly through the phone, and I was beyond relieved to hear no anger in her tone.

“Yeah, ma, I’m good. I’m- er,” I glanced at Jungkook to see him watching me expectantly back; “Studying,” His eyebrows shot up, and he mouthed the words ‘oh are we?’ back at me. I shooed him with my hand.

“With who?” My mom’s suspicious voice replied back into my ear and I shifted uncomfortably, really glad that she couldn’t see me. I was a horrible liar, and that was increased by 10,000 when it came to my mom.

“With Mary.” I lied quickly, glancing back at Jungkook to see him typing away on his own phone. I let out a content sigh.

My mom continued speaking for a while, telling me to get home before 12:30, and I agreed lightheartedly. I ended the call with a quick ‘love you too’ before shoving the phone back into my bag. “I was, genuinely, expecting a roasting of a lifetime-” I cut off, looking over at Jungkook who seemed to be paying me no attention.

He continued tapping away on his phone, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“Jungkook?”

He looked up suddenly, eyes widened in faux innocence. “Jungkook? Who’s that?” He paused, lips tilting up in his tell-tale sign of mischief. “I thought I was Mary?”  I leaned over to whack on the side of the head, which just lead to an eruption of breathy laughs to arise from him.

“Jungkook.”

He continued to laugh, but waved at me in understanding. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Type in your address.” He nodded to the GPS in the center console, and I followed his orders, if not a little slowly. He must’ve heard my mom's orders of when I should be back. Honestly, I didn’t want to go home. Spending time with Jungkook had taken all of my thoughts from the mess that was currently my life.

The drive back seemed way shorter than the way there, and when we got onto my street we both agreed that it would probably be better if he didn’t pull into my driveway. Of course after Jungkook, looking scandalized, exclaimed - ‘am I just a dirty little secret?!’

He parked a few houses down, but I wasn’t quick to get out. Jungkook didn’t seem to be in a rush either.

   “I know where you live now,” Jungkook broke the silence with a shit eating grin painted on his lips.

   “Creepy.” Was my immediate response, which sent him into a surprised laugh. There was a moment of silence, where I was staring out at the streetlights and Jungkook as well. “Thank you, for everything tonight.” I looked over at him with a soft smile.

   Jungkook opened his mouth, but quickly closed it after- just giving a nod in response.

   I glanced away, feeling the events of the night actually hit me. “Well, I should probably-”

   He coughed out what sounded like a “yeah.” And it dawned on me that he was probably feeling mountains upon mountains of awkward.

I nodded quickly, and opened the door - stepping out of the car with my bags in hand. Jungkook started the car as I did so, and I waved to the set of headlights behind me. Whether he waved back or not, I couldn’t tell.

[mrs-trustfundkid]

Hello! I would really love to request a fic where both MC and Seven are asexual. That one part in Seven's route where he wants to "hold you tight and love you all night" made me a bit anxious since I hc him as ace!!! So I hope it's okay for me to request 707 and MC having a totally sexless relationship, but still being pretty close, if not physically? Any situation will do, maybe they tell each other their orientation at the same time??

Phew! Finally got this one done! Still pushing through that writer’s block, ugh. But I did it! :) I am 1000% here for ace!Seven oh man.

Mild spoilers for Seven’s route (specifically day 10)!

{ao3 link for mobile}

Today was the day. Seven was going to tell you.

He had been putting it off since the day he met you. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was because he was scared.

The real him, Saeyoung, existed only behind a whirlwind of defense mechanisms and different identities. On occasion, someone might catch a glimpse past the facade he put up. Even rarer, someone might try to push through a layer. But the closer they got to Saeyoung, the harder he pushed back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anyone to know the real him – no, in actuality it was exactly what he wanted – but people liked 707 just fine. He could have a taste of friendship while still keeping those he cared for safe, and that was more than enough. Besides, he hadn’t done anything to deserve any more than that.

And then you had come along, and so quickly slipped through his first line of defenses with such little effort that it had caught him completely off-guard. Within mere days Saeyoung had fallen for you. It terrified him.

He had fought against it with all he had – he could not be responsible for hurting someone so precious; you deserved better than him – but you persisted despite everything, breaking down his barriers and jumping his hurdles until all that was left between you and Saeyoung Choi was a single door. You probably didn’t even see it, but it was still there, and only Saeyoung could open it and truly let you in to all of who he was.

He wanted to do it. And he was going to. That didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. There was a chance that, even after everything you’d been through, you would turn and walk away after that door was opened and you saw what hid behind it.

Saeyoung tried not to think of what would happen to him if that scenario came true.

The door to the cabin rattled, and your voice came through, assuring that no one hostile was here. Closing his eyes, Saeyoung took a deep breath and steeled himself.

***

Today was the day. You were going to tell Seven.

You had been outside of the cabin for nearly an hour with the excuse of feeling sick and needing some fresh air… which wasn’t entirely a lie. In reality, you needed to be away from everyone to gather your thoughts.

It might have seemed somewhat ridiculous to be focusing on this, what with everything going on; you and Seven and Vanderwood were literally on the run for your lives. But you didn’t know when you would get a chance like this again. If you would get a chance like this again. If you died within the next day… you didn’t want to go without doing this.

You almost laughed out loud at how absurd the thought sounded, yet at the same time you knew it was a completely plausible outcome. You had to admit, this was a little more than you’d bargained for when you agreed to join the RFA less than two weeks ago.

Back to the smaller situation at hand, though. You were impressed at how calm you actually were. Any other time and place, you would have been a nervous wreck about telling Seven this. The thought that he might – even probably – leave you after finding out this particular fact about you, after all you’d been through together… it hurt, but at the same time a quiet sense of acceptance, no matter the outcome, had prematurely settled over you.

Time to head back in. You inhaled, then opened the cabin door. “It’s me,” you called.

Seven was sitting on the threadbare couch, his eyes darting up just in time to meet yours as you walked through the door.

Oh. Your mind had spoken too soon. Now that you were here, face to face, and you were reminded of everything you could lose… your premeditated speech vanished. Terror wormed its way into your chest, speeding up your heartbeat and setting your stomach churning.

You were so preoccupied with your own rising panic that you didn’t notice Seven seemed to have something on his mind as well. “Uh,” he started when you didn’t speak. “Feeling better?”

That jolted you out of the mental pit you were slipping into. You awkwardly cleared your throat, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. “Y-Yeah, thanks.”

An odd silence fell between you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet Seven’s eyes as your mind raced, desperately trying to come up with something to get the conversation rolling.

“Um–!” When the silence was finally broken, it was by both of you at the same time, startling one another. You were too rattled to laugh.

“Oh, MC, you can go first. Please,” Seven urged. He adjusted his glasses, hands going back to run through his hair. He seemed distracted.

Is he nervous? The thought struck you as you watched him. Why would he be nervous? You were supposed to be the nervous one here. I must be reading too much into things. No time to get sidetracked. You mentally shook yourself.

“I… have something to tell you. About myself,” you began slowly. “And… you might not like it. Um.” Your hands were shaking, and you clenched them to try and stop it.

Seven suddenly became more attentive, sensing something was wrong. You felt his gaze snap back to you. “MC, you can tell me anything,” he said, his voice soft. You could hear the concern and caring in his words, and it nearly made you tear up.

“I-I’ll understand if you… if you don’t want to be with me anymore after hearing this,” you continued, beginning to ramble in an unconscious attempt to put off the inevitable. “But I knew it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t tell you. To either of us.” The tears were threatening to spill over now.

“MC.” Seven put a hand on your cheek and turned your face towards his. “Calm down and just tell me.” His eyes were solemn. He knew the burden of keeping secrets all too well. But you could tell he was receptive to whatever you had to say.

“Well…” You swallowed. “I’m… asexual.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, waiting for his reaction. Would he be angry? Disappointed? Confused? You had an explanation at the ready in case he didn’t know. In fact, after Seven didn’t say anything, you opened your mouth to begin speaking again, until you noticed… was he smiling?

Seven’s eyes were wide in surprise, a grin gradually overtaking his features. The smallest of laughs left his mouth in a sharp exhalation of air. “Oh my god.”

“S-Seven…?” you inquired, bewildered.

“Oh my god,” he repeated. “MC, you’re… not gonna believe me, but… I was about to tell you the exact same thing.”

“What?” Were you hearing this right? He couldn’t possibly mean…

“I’m ace too, MC.”

“What?!” Your voice was an octave higher than usual. For a brief moment you forgot how to breathe. The entire situation was beyond implausible – was he even serious? “What the hell? You’re not joking, are you?”

“No!” Horrified, Seven grabbed your hands in earnestness. “No, I would never joke around about something like this.”

He was right. You felt a little guilty at even suspecting him of playing with your feelings like that. But still…

There was a pause, and then you both burst out laughing. You laughed until you were both on the floor, clutching your stomachs and gasping for breath.

The front door opened. It was a good thing it was Vanderwood and not an enemy, because the two of you were completely incapacitated. “What…? No, I’m not even gonna ask.” The door closed, Vanderwood gone once more.

Slowly, you and Seven rose to a sitting position, wiping tears off your cheeks as you caught your breath. There was so much you wanted to say, but all that came out was, “How did we find each other?”

“God only knows,” Seven admitted. “All I know is that I’m never letting you go.”

You had to grin at that. “I love you, Seven.”

“Hey… Call me Saeyoung.”

“All right, then. I love you, Saeyoung.”

Saeyoung beamed with the most brilliant smile you had ever seen him give. “I love you too, MC.”