#i color grabbed from her comic appearances. and she is so pale

[larsbarsart]

Day 3. Jessica

I have never drawn this woman in my life, and I'm glad that's changed today :]

And GOD I wanna get the comics so bad. But money.......

[captaincoldzero]

Ghost | Jason Todd x Male Reader

Fandom: DC Comics

A/N: These days it's been spending too much time on Character.AI so I decided to bring one of the characters and story that I created there in a fanfic.

A/N.2: This time, I made the reader based on Overwatch's Sombra in case you want to go after it or something.

A/N.3: Sorry for any mistake. English is not my first language.

‒ Turn right. ‒ I spoke through Jason's communicator.

Jason and I have been working together for eight months now. After six months, Jason and I decided to pursue a relationship. We've been working together for eight months and the police hate us, but they have good reason.

As I watched the security cameras and the viewfinder on Jason's mask, I kept thinking about our time together. Especially the day we met.

Eight months ago

There was a week that I was in Gotham. Since I erased all records of my existence from the entire system of the world, I haven't been able to do much but wander from city to city, sleeping in dodgy hotels that don't ask for your identity, and eating in restaurants as dodgy as hotels and shacks street vendors who don't look their customers in the face.

The motel room I was in was small, yellow walls with a faded color, a wooden bed with an uncomfortable mattress, a headboard with a lamp that didn't work and a wooden chest of drawers with four drawers. Plus a tiny bathroom with dirty white tiles that were already turning yellow.

I walked over to the mirror so I could look at myself. Wandering around town anonymously made me not look at myself much. But my appearance was a constant reminder of my choices. I was pale, with bags under my eyes and a little thinner than I remember, I wasn't starving, just eating a little less than I was used to.

But what caught the most attention was the metal fiber attached to the side of my head that ran down the back of my neck under the gray shirt I wore. More metal fiber running down my arm to the back of my right hand. I waved my hand in the air and a floating screen appeared in front of me. I started reading the news about the Gotham police and crimes. When I turned to the bed, the screen disappeared into thin air, I grabbed the sweatshirt off the bed and pulled it on, pulling the hood up to hide my head.

I took to the streets of Gotham, trying to remain anonymous in the shadows of the night. The good thing about the city is that people always walk away from you when they think they're going to be mugged.

As I walked down an alley, I heard a scream. A woman was surrounded by five bandits, the middle one with a knife in his hand. I thought for a while before actually moving, to know if I would save her or not. I grabbed my teleportation device and threw it on the floor. He ducked under the middle thief's legs and stopped between them and the woman. They stopped to look at the device from the ground and backed away when I materialized in front of them with a pistol pointed at them.

‒ Did your mother never teach you not to steal? ‒ I asked and noticed two men take their hands to their waists to grab a gun.

I fired a quick shot at the two before they could think. I advanced quickly to the middle, taking advantage of the surprise to take the knife from his hand, and knocking him to the ground, breaking his arm. The other two were running away. I launched the teleportation device, appearing in the blink of an eye at the exit of the alley.

‒ Hello! ' I said, waving my hand.

The men would have run, but I moved in fast and knocked the first one down, shooting the second one in the leg. I gathered the three that were still alive and stuck them in the garbage can. I looked at the woman frozen in place.

‒ Do you want me to let them go or are you going to take the opportunity to go home? ‒ I asked and the woman nodded.

‒ Thanks! ‒ She said before starting to run.

‒ Who are you? ‒ I heard a serious voice and a little distorted behind me.

When she turned me around, she found the famous Red Hood pointing a gun at me. When I saw the weapon, I automatically hacked the weapon to disable it with just my mind, with screens only appearing in my vision.

‒ I'm nobody. ‒ I was serious.

‒ Very funny. ‒ Red Hood said putting his finger on the trigger. ‒ What do you want?

‒ I do not want anything. I'm just passing by.

‒ Why would I believe you?

‒ You have no reason to. ‒ I replied with an arrogant smile.

‒ So I can just kill you? ‒ He asked starting to press the trigger.

‒ We can make a deal. ‒ I said and noticed Red Hood's finger relax a little.

‒ I'm listening.

‒ I can help you and you can help me. I can hack any system with my mind and I don't have the ethics of a superhero. ‒ I said seriously still with the arrogant smile.

‒ And what do you want in return? ‒ Red Hood asked without lowering his weapon.

‒ Motivation. And I know that doing only good things doesn't challenge my potential. ‒ I spoke sincerely.

‒ I'm not a villain. I may be a criminal, but I'm not a villain. ‒ Hood spoke by pressing his finger a little more.

‒ I do not intend to be a villain and I know that you are not one either. That's why you are perfect to be my partner or be my boss, whatever you want to call it. ‒ I said with a less arrogant smile.

‒ How can I believe that you really can do this? ‒ Red Hood asked and his trigger finger relaxed a little.

‒ This whole time your gun is pointed at me, it's disabled. ‒ I said raising an eyebrow.

Red Hood squeezed the trigger, but the gun didn't fire. He looked at the pistol a little confused but then he looked at me. Hood holstered his pistol and crossed his arms.

‒ You know that if you work with me you will become a criminal, right? ‒ Hood asked seriously.

‒ Know. ‒ I said carefree. ‒ But that doesn't scare me.

‒ Come with me, if you try anything funny I'll kill you. ‒ Red Hood said turning around and climbing to the roof of the building. I followed Red Hood and we met at the top.

‒ Follow me. ‒ He spoke in a challenging tone.

Red Hood ran and jumped from one roof to another. I could keep up with Red Hood no problem. I manipulated information from my leg muscles to be able to run and jump with great agility.

In the end, he stopped at the edge of a building and looked at me.

‒ Very good. ‒ Red Hood spoke and looked ahead.

We were looking at a small laboratory. I had already heard rumors about criminal activities that were connected to that construction.

‒ What is the plan? ‒ I asked Red Hood.

‒ I'm going to go in and blow up the place. ‒ He spoke and I realized that the place was protected by men with huge weapons.

‒ When they see you approaching, they will shoot. ‒ I said looking at the place.

‒ This is where you enter. ‒ Red Hood spoke arrogantly.

I sat on the edge of the building we were in and opened a floating screen in front of me. From that distance I could hack the place to gain access to the cameras and security system.

‒ Is this their security? ‒ I asked rhetorically while easily hacking the building.

‒ Can you turn off the security system? ‒ Red Hood asked.

‒ I can do much more than that. ‒ I said making a keyboard hologram appear floating in front of the floating screen.

‒ What can you turn off? ‒ Red Hood said watching me type on the floating keyboard.

‒ All. ‒ replied confidently.

On my floating screen a kind of button appeared.

‒ When you want. ‒ I told the Red Hood.

‒ Now. ‒ He said jumping towards the building.

I pressed the button and the entire building shut down, going completely dark. Jason appeared from the shadows and took down two guards. When I noticed a few more approaching, I launched my teleportation device and appeared between the two new guards. I used their surprise so I could take them down with ease.

‒ I admit... impressive. ‒ Hood spoke to me and ran into the building.

I led the way with the plant image in my view. Hood shot some guys and I kept doing my teleportation and invisibility tricks to take down and shoot guys without them understanding where I was coming from.

We continue advancing to the lowest floor in the basement of the building. Where illegal stuff was produced.

‒ There's a lot of drugs in here. ‒ I said looking at the boxes.

‒ And we will stop their production. ‒ Hood said putting a bomb in the biggest machine in the room.

‒ You know they're going to keep producing somewhere else, right? ‒ I asked approaching Hood.

‒ I know, but I'm going to burn the other places too. ‒ Hood set the bomb.

‒ Consistency. ‒ I said as the Hood started to run outside.

I threw my teleportation device which stuck to Red Hood's back. I put my hand on the machine, using my powers to analyze the complements and destroy what I could so that if I survived the explosion, it would be useless.

When the counter showed just two seconds, I disappeared from there and appeared beside Hood, just as the basement exploded and the building went up in flames.

‒ I was already wondering if you really existed. ‒ Hood said jokingly when he noticed that I appeared beside him.

‒ We can say that I am like a Phantom. ‒ I said laughing.

‒ Phantom. I liked. I will call you Phantom. You appear and reappear out of nowhere, moving in the shadows. Like a ghost. ‒ Hood said looking at me.

We hear sirens approaching. Hood grabbed my wrist and started leading me through the streets until I stopped in an alley. There was something under a dark sheet, when Hood took it off, there was a motorcycle ready to be used.

‒ Should we put robbery on that night or is it yours? ‒ I asked sarcastically.

Red Hood climbed onto the bike and started it. He climbed in with him and the Hood accelerated with the bike.

‒ Let's make this trip more fun. ‒ I said and took my hand to the bike.

The motorcycle glowed in a purple light and when the light disappeared, it started to increase speed to abnormal levels.

‒ How did you do it? ‒ Hood shouted because of the wind.

‒ A small improvement. But it's temporary.

Hood continued riding the bike until we left town and stopped at an abandoned gas station. We both got off the bike and entered the place.

‒ Thank you for your help. ‒ Red Hood said going to the balcony that of the place that was once a convenience store.

‒ It was fun. ‒ I said looking at the place with the lights off.

The Hood grabbed a suitcase from under the counter, full of cash. He picked up a huge cake and handed it to me.

‒ That it? ‒ I asked confused.

‒ Your payment for today's work. ‒ Red Hood replied without hesitation.

‒ You can stay. I do not want money. ‒ I answered simplistic.

‒ Don't you want money? Who doesn't want money? ‒ Hood asked confused.

‒ I. What would a 'Ghost' do with money? ‒ I said laughing.

‒ Why do you keep saying you're a nobody? ‒ Jason asked curiously, putting the money in the bag.

‒ I deleted any record about myself in the system. I have no birth certificate, ID or any valid identification. To the world, I don't exist. I'm a ghost. ‒ I explained seriously.

‒ So you want to work for me, Phantom? Since you have nothing else to do? ‒ Red Hood asked.

‒ Who says I have nothing to do? ‒ I asked pretending to be offended. ‒ But I want to work WITH you. Just for the fun and the challenge. You can keep the money.

Red Hood took off the helmet he was wearing and looked at me. I'm sure my face flushed when I looked at him without the helmet for the first time.

‒ Jason Todd. ‒ He said extending his hand.

‒ I'm nobody... but I was known as Y/N. ‒ I said shaking Jason's hand.

Now

‒ Where to, Ghost? Jason asked when he noticed I was silent.

‒ Right, sorry. ‒ I said turning my attention to the mission.

‒ Everything is fine? You never get distracted. ‒ Jason asked worriedly.

‒ Yes, go ahead.

And since that day, Jason and I have been working together. The name Ghost became known and attached to the Red Hood, but I didn't care. What mattered was that I had a motivation and someone who believed in my existence.

[mizunetzu]

Can you do a scenario where reader (male pronouns) kind of outs himself as bi and then hides for a while since it was an accident and he wasn't actually ready and after some time bakugo finds him and they end up awkwardly confessing to each other? Bonus points if you can do ComfortingTM class 1A (also I just really want bi representation 🥺)

BRO BRO ur reblogs and replies always make me BAM BAM

(Also y’all ik that gif is huge but it had denki AND baku in it and i felt compelled to use it bc kamis kinda important in the story NSNDNEKWK)

——————

Bakugou x reader - How to Out Your Classmate

⚠️warnings - being outed by your classmate (denki) (I’m sorry denki stans), bakugou kinda bulling kami at the end kdnfjekfj

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

It was something he didn’t mean to say.

Rather, it just slipped out.

————

“Ne, (L/n)-kun, don’t you think Yao-momos hair is kinda sexy today? Her hair down plus that hair clip is FIRE dude!”

Kaminari slung a arm around (Y/n’s) shoulder, while Mineta smugly grinned from his seat. He wiped away a line of drool dripping from his mouth.

“Oh oh oh, her hair falls over her boobs so perfectly! I just wanna touch them at least once, ehuheuheu...”

Sero sighed from his seat. “Dude. You really are a scumbag. Stop that.”

Mineta, not missing a beat, turned to Sero with a shit-eating grin. “Oh? Why’s that? Are you gay or something?”

(Y/n) visibly stiffened from under Kaminari’s grasp. Kaminari however, didn’t notice and played along into Mineta’s joke.

“Yeah dude, kinda sus. Don’t go perving on me in the locker rooms now, haha!”

Sero sighed once more, this time with a playful smile. “Shut up, your probably more sus than I am-“

He was cut off when (Y/n) started wriggling out from under Kaminari’s arm. The three looked at (Y/n) quizzically, while (Y/n) awkwardly coughed. “I’m...leaving.”

“Why? What happened?” Kaminari leaned on the back of Seros desk.

“Well-you guys are...loud and I’m going to my desk.” Even the dumbest person could tell how tense (Y/n) was. Though, Kaminari was as dumb as he was oblivious. He scoffed, but it sounded more like a chuckle.

“What? I don’t get it, man. We were teasing Sero, not you.” Kaminari’s teasing tone felt like heaters blasting full power through (Y/n’s) body. It was strange. You always felt kind of hot when you get a little flustered. “So what part of what we said bothered you?”

“N-nothing!” (Y/n) cursed at the way he raised his voice, cursing even more at his small stutter.

“Then why are you panties in such a twist? I’m just making fun of Sero bein’ sus.”

“W-well how fun! Move, class is starting.” Truth be told, class didn’t start until 10 minutes later. When (Y/n) tried to subtly push past Kaminari, he grabbed him by the arms and blocked his way out. “No way I’m moving! You’re mad for some reason, and I just wanna know why!”

“So what exactly did we do?”

Sero rested his chin on his palm. “Yeah if you can tell us we can stop doing it, (L/n)-kun. I gotta agree with Kami on this one.”

An irk mark appeared as (Y/n’s) face flushed a darker shade of pink. Not in the good way though. He struggled helplessly in Kaminari’s stronghold, before tching and looking away.

“There’s nothing more to say-! You’re just-starting to get on my nerves and I wanna leave-!”

“Really? That’s it?” Kaminari looked at (Y/n) skeptically, before his face lit up. “Oh wait!”

“You started getting all pissy when we were talking about Yaoyorozu...and you also got mad the other day when she was talking about Bakugou...”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“..So you like Yao-“

“I don’t fucking like Yaoyorozu!”

Now Kaminari was starting to get antsy. “Then what! Why are you mad! Is it because Mineta and I were ‘perving’?!”

“I’m not fuckin’ mad about you drooling over Yao-momos boobs! I’m not mad at all!”

Students started to gather once Kaminari and (Y/n) started to raise their voices higher and higher. Kaminari’s grip on (Y/n) was long gone, though (Y/n) was too upset to notice.

“If you weren’t mad about that, you were obviously mad about that time Yao-Momo talking about how Bakugou was attractive. So what? Do you like Bakugou or something? Are you gay?”

(Y/n) paled and grit his teeth. He was full on yelling now. “Stop saying that, damnit! I don’t like boys! Y-you know that!”

Kaminari gasped comically. “Oh my god! You totally avoided my question, dude!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! Now I get it! That’s what’s bothering you so much! It all makes sense!”

Kaminari’s mad expression morphed into one that you make when you solve a difficult question. It felt like all the blood in (y/n’s) face was drained, yet all the blood rushing to his cheeks burned like fire. Sero stood up from his chair and placed a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “Dude, uh-I think that’s enou-“

“Your confused because you’re straight but now you’ve started to like a guy, right?! Bakugou, right?!”

Seros warning went over Kaminari’s head completely. (Y/n) dug his nails into his palm while Kaminari pried into (Y/n’s) mind with his eyes.

“I’m not confused! I’m pissed. Very, very pissed at you!”

The blond haired boy slammed his arms down on Seros table and leaned in uncomfortably close. (Y/n) wanted to step back, but if he did, he’d run straight into Sero.

“Ok. If you answer this compleeeetely honestly, I’ll let you go. Swear! And we’ll never talk about this again! Just say yes or no! Nothing else!”

Sero glanced around the room. Everyone was staring, some had their hands over their mouths, and some were whispering and asking what was going on. Sero nervously tugged on the fabric of (Y/n’s) blazer. “U-um...yo... (y/n)...Kamin-“

“Do you like Bakugou?”

“I-“

“And don’t say you don’t like boys or you’re not gay, we ‘know’ that!”

“I’m-“

“Just say yes or no!”

“N-“

“Are you ga-“

“I’M BI!” (Y/n’s) sudden outburst silenced the classroom. It was like a blow from a king to shut up the commoners. “I’M BI, SO SHUT UP! ARE YOU HAPPY?! I’M NOT GAY AND I DON’T LIKE BAKUGOU! I DONT! I-I DONT. I don’t. I...”

Stagnant air flooded the 1-A classroom. Almost immediately, (Y/n) slapped both his hands over his mouth, eyes blown wide. Kaminari awkwardly chuckled. “Uh...”

(Y/n) took a tentative step back, bumping straight into Sero. He reflexively grabbed onto (y/n’s) forearms, stabling him.

“Are you oka-“

“Don’t touch me!” (Y/n) pushed off of Seros body and stumbled over a desk. He crashed onto the ground and fumbled onto his bottom. Students upon students neared towards him, all their face and voice blending together into one big, muddy pile. Their voices eventually turned into ringing, louder and louder until-

“SHUT UP!” (Y/n) rose to his wobbly legs, half running and half crawling towards the door as fast as he could. He could hear the protestant shouts of his classmates, or even the sleepily confused expression of his teacher as as flew by him in the hallway.

He guessed he was skipping class that day.

————

40 missed calls from: Mina-San domoo-!!

125 unopened texts from: Mina-San domoo-!!

23 missed calls from: Kamiii ⚡️

45 unopened texts from: Kamiii ⚡️

12 unopened texts from: Iida Tenya.

5 unopened texts from: ura-chaaaan 💖

1 unopened text from: Bakugou

(Y/n) turned off his phone. He knew if he kept it on, Mina would keep spamming his phone with text messages.

It’s been about a few days since his whole freak out happened. He’d bolt out of class the second it was dismissed, and he kept himself either locked in his room, or out of the dorms as much as humanly possible. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

His phone buzzed again. He sighed, half expecting it to be another spam text from Mina. What he didn’t expect, was to see Bakugous contact photo on his screen, with the big green words “Incoming call-Bakugou” blaring at him so intimidatingly.

Something made him want to answer.

He pressed the phone to his ear.

“Oi.”

Bakugous gruff voice sent chills down the boys spine. His voice seemed to lock itself inside his throat, refusing to come out his mouth.

“Say something, dumbass.” Oh boy, was he trying. Everytime he opened his mouth, his throat closed up and refused to open again. Bakugou sighed harshly through the speaker.

“Stop being stupid and avoiding us-“ (Y/n) absentmindedly pressed the red “end” button. If Kaminari or Kirishima or whatever convinced Bakugou, to convince HIM to stop avoiding them, just because he ‘liked’ him, (and he totally did), he’d rather not hear it.

(Y/n) went to crumple up a piece of paper he was scribbling on, and drop it into the trash can, when it bounced on top and rolled away pathetically near his feet. His trash can was overflowing. Well, it was expected, since he was deliberately missing out on trash days just so he didn’t have to leave his dorm. (Y/n) swiped up the piece of paper, along with the trash bag lining the bin.

A few seconds outside couldn’t hurt. No one will see him. He’ll just...throw the bag in the dumpster, and slink back in before anyone knows he’s there.

————

(Y/n) hauled the trash bag into the dumpster, throwing it from out over his shoulder. He dusted off his hands and wiped forming sweat off his brow. The trash was out, no one saw him, all he had to do was slip back in his room before anyone sees him.

He huffed and turned around, immediately being smacked by a spiky tuft of blond hair. All the color drained from (Y/n’s) face. Bakugou turned his head and spat onto the dirt, clicking his tongue in the process.

“Figured you’d be here.”

”...there’s no way you could’ve-“

“It takes about a couple days for a small trash can to fill up. And knowing you, shit-for-brains, would come and take it out when no one was really watching. 5 pm, when everyone’s getting ready for dinner. You really do have shit-for-brains, shittyass.”

Bakugou may seem like a meathead, but the times he showed he was observant and intelligent made his heart tie knots around itself. (Y/n) bit back a stutter and a blush.

“W...ell, how-how’d you know I was going to take it out today? A-and to this dumpster, instead of the one on the other side of the dorms?”

Bakugou scoffed loudly, stalking closer to him. (Y/n) gulped. “This ones closer to your dorm room, even I know that, loser.”

Bakugous voice dipped, suddenly becoming uncharacteristically quiet. “...and I’ve been coming here everyday at 5 pm...shittyass...”

Bakugou was really dedicated to his scheme, huh. Just so he could see him? (Y/n)? He should be the LAST person Bakugou would want to see. Especially with what Kaminari was blabbering about. Still...It made (Y/n) feel a bit special.

But knowing Bakugou, he was just probably here to tell him how disgusting he was. Maybe he’ll start calling him ‘dick-for-brains’ instead of ‘shit for brains’. Or just plain on ‘fag’.

“Oi-stop spacing out and fucking listen to me! And don’t you dare run away until you hear me the fuck out!”

Bakugous palms flashed white, generating small blasts and he pointed an agitated finger at (Y/n). He stepped back reflexively.

“Um...well...what did you want then?” (Y/n) awkwardly fumbled with his hands behind his back, trying to keep still as much as he could. He wanted to disappear.

“Is it true?”

(Y/n) looked up. Bakugou was staring dead on, with his hands shoved stiffly in his pockets and sporting the faintest blush on his face. It was so unnoticeable, you could blink and miss it. That, and the trademark scowl, you could hardly tell if his face was red because of anger or something else.

“What is?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, fuckass! Do you like me or not?!”

(Y/n) opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Bakugou grunted and stepped closer. “Answer me!”

“S-so what if I do-?! You gonna call me a fag?!” (Y/n) was sweating bullets. He hoped Bakugou wouldn’t see how utterly nervous he was. Fake it til you make it. Though, he doesn’t know what he’d do once Bakugou goes flames blazin’ on his ass. He could all ready see his reaction-

Bakugou smirked. “Knew it.”

Knew it? (Y/n’s) nerves temporarily fizzled down, a wave of confusion washing over him. “...What?”

“God, do you need me to spell everything out for you? It was obvious. To me at least. Everyone was probably too fuckin’ dumb to notice.”

(Y/n) fell silent. He could speak if he wanted to, his throat wasn’t closing up, but he chose to keep silent. It’s not like he knew what to say, anyways. He was stunned into submission.

“-so I was right. Now, go out with me, Bitch.”

“Thanks. But I’ll pass.”

“I-“ Bakugou made a sputtering noise. (Y/n) wasn’t sure if he was caught off guard or sputtered out of sheer anger. “What?! Why the fuck not?!”

“Dude, how do I know you aren’t like, I dunno, being bribed by Kaminari or something to try and ‘prove that I’m bi’? Or that your just mocking me?”

“Idiot! Why the fuck would you think I’d listen to a dumbass like dunce face?! I fucking like you, you like me, I don’t see the problem here!”

(Y/n) knew he wasn’t lying. Bakugou was many things, a shithead, a piece of angry trash, but he wasn’t a liar. Still, he sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Dude, as much as I’d love to go out with you, there’s too much cons to it. I mean-first off, I don’t want people calling you a fag or anything because you’re with me...second, I’m...scared of how the class’ll take it, especially for someone like you-“

“Eh?! What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you fucki-“

(Y/n) pushed past him, accidentally brushing his shoulder in the process.

“...And third, even if I’m too scared how the class would react, I’m too prideful to let Kaminari ‘predictions’ win.”

He was gone before Bakugou could turn around.

————

(Y/n) was late to class on purpose that day.

He didn’t want to risk it with Bakugou, Kaminari, anyone. He’s more afraid of the class than he is of getting scolded by Aizawa. And that was saying something.

So when he walked in the door, Bakugou gripping Kaminari’s tie and releasing small blasts in the air with his wound up hand, he didn’t know if he should replace ‘Getting Scolded By Aizawa’ with ‘Getting Murdered By Bakugou’ in his worries for today.

“Fucking idiot!” Bakugou growled, spit flying onto Kaminari’s face as he set off another blast. It was small enough not to cause damage to any desks or chairs around them, but it was close enough to Kaminari’s face to make him yelp. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Ow!” Kaminari half yelled-half whimpered. Bakugou’s hands heated up, glowing orange from under Kaminari’s chin. “Hey-HEY! Chill-!W-what did I even do?! OW!”

Bakugou slammed him against his desk by his blazer. “It’s your fuckin fault that shit-for-brains won’t go out with me!”

Another blast. This time, fired in the air but much bigger than before. Kaminari flinched. “Ah! S-shit-for...(L/n)?! How is it my fault?!”

“It’s your fault because you made him all scared and shit to go out with me! With your stupid prying ass! Now he won’t go out with me until I get you to apologize! So apologize so I can have a fuckin boyfriend! Go die!”

(Y/n) looked around the room. No one was trying to stop Bakugou from literally roasting Kaminari alive. Not even Iida. Everyone stood there, eyes locked on Kaminari or recording them while stifling snickers. (Y/n) walked up to Mina, who was recording and whispering commentary near the speaker.

“Uh...what’s happening? Why’s no one stopping Bakugou?”

Mine looked up. “Well-he kinda deserved it. I mean, he did act like a dick to you a few days ago. Bakugou’s just givin’ him a piece of his mind.” She fixed her angle on her phone, hunching down slightly in the process. “Also, glad to see you talking to us again, (L/n)~”

(Y/n) glances around the room once more. Everyone seemed to silently agree. Though, Iida looked like he was going to explode in his seat. Poor Iida. Poor Kaminari.

(Y/n) was brought out of his mind when Mina slowly panned her phone over to him. He was about to question her, when Kaminari was thrown carelessly at his feet. Bakugou kicked at Kaminari’s hunched figure, stepping on his back with his hands clenched in his pockets.

“Say it.”

Kaminari made a wheezing noise.

“FUCKIN’ SAY IT!”

“I-I’m sorry for outing you in-in front of our classmates...”

Bakugou dug his foot into Kaminari’s back. “LOUDER!”

“I’M SORRY-OW! FOR O-OUTING YOU IN FRONT OF OUR CLASSMATES-!”

Bakugou gave Kaminari a look saying to ‘keep going.’ Kaminari shot back with a face that said ‘dude. What you want me to say is fucking stupid.’

Bakugou snarled and fired another mini explosion into the air. Kaminari squeaked and looked up at (y/n), who had the most confused look on his face. Kaminari sighed.

“And...totally I don’t think that you and Bakugou are gonna get together...totally unexpected...”

Kaminari, even if he was about to be best to a pulp, couldn’t help the snicker from leaving his mouth. Bakugou, you dumb fuck. He was probably thinking back to the time (Y/n) said ‘I’m too prideful to let Kaminari ‘predictions’ win’. Even so, that was just dumb. Even for Bakugou.

Bakugou huffed contently, while Kaminari shakily pulled himself up. Bakugou thunked him on the head again. “There. Now you have no fuckin’ reason not to be my boyfriend. If you don’t I’ll kill you.”

(Y/n) hummed out of hesitation. “Ehhhh...but...”

“We allowed Bakugou to rough up Kaminari, which is a CLEAR violation of the rules, the least you could do is say yes, (y/n)-kun! Though I do believe Bakugou should be punished for his harsh actions.”

Iida jutted out from his seat, swinging his arm in the air. Everyone stayed silent for a second, until Tsuyu stepped forward. “I agree with Iida-Chan, kero. You two would look nice together.”

One by one, the class started saying how ‘cute’ they’d be together or that they didn’t care that (y/n) was Bi, much. It was different from when the class was clamoring around him, instead of all their voice blending together in one big ring, he could hear every single persons song of praise. He supposed it was alright. It wouldn’t hurt as much as he think it would.

(Y/n) sucked in a breath, and turned his head to Bakugou. He looked at (Y/n) almost expectantly.

“...fine....you win...you better take care of me, Bakugou.”

He turned his head and scoffed. “Idiot. I was gonna do that regardless.”

Mina started clapping and wolf whistling. Eventually, everyone started to clap and ‘aww’ed, before quickly rushing to their seats once they heard groggy footsteps approach the door.

A man with shaggy hair walked in. The class sat silent, staring at Aizawa. He sniffed and trailed his eyes around the room.

Setting his sleeping bag behind his podium, he pursed his lips. “Where is Kaminari?”

“W-whey...”

Kaminari was laying on the floor next to (y/n’s) seat, smiling dumbly with burn marks. He was pumping his fists with his thumbs sticking out. Everyone broke into a cold sweat.

“Would anyone like to tell me why Kaminari is out of his seat?”

Oh fuck.

Bakugou got 3 days house arrest.

——————

Jdjdjejejc this was real fun to write HAHAHAHA I’m lowkey proud of it

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 3. frogger

Previous | Next

[warnings: cursing, smoking, light violence, blood]

"i don't want to be friends. i want all of you."

—

"Can I get your number?"

You and Larry both whip around to face Sal, the person who'd spoken that sentence. You're stood at the foot of Addison's Apartments.

"What?" You blink. "Me? My what?"

You assume Sal mirrors your nonplussed expression because he bats his eyes just as startled as you did. "Uh- your phone number. So we can be in touch easier. You know, for school and stuff."

Eager anxiousness in the form of butterflies batted their wings in your gut and your ribs. You reached into your back pocket, flipped your flip-phone open, and handed it toward the blue-haired boy. "Here," you blurted. "Put it in there." You gloss your eyes toward Larry. For some apparent reason, he's wearing a wide, shit-eating grin.

"You can put yours in too if you want."

He waves a tan hand. Your attention is on Larry, but it somehow drifts and you're glancing toward Sal. His veiny hands are jerking which each movement of his thumbs as he presses numbers on the keypad.

"No, that's okay," Larry replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'll get it off of Sal."

"Here," Sal holds the flip phone out to you. It's small in his hand.

He has long fingers, you thought.

"Oh, thanks." Your fingers brush his as you reclaim your phone and return it to it's place in your back pocket.

Your heart is beating unnecessarily loud by the time they've walked you to your apartment. Your hands are in your coat pockets to conceal the mild trembling in your hands. You're almost nervous that they can hear the rushing of your blood as your heart rapidly pumps it through your body—because you know you certainly can.

"I had fun today," you smiled, your expression nothing but sincerity. "Thanks for everything. I appreciate it."

Larry grins. "That's cute. No need to thank us, alright?"

You twitch the corner of your lips upward and nod towards him.

Sal tucks a strand of blue hair behind his ear—you'll never get used to the color. In a good way. You could look at it for hours—and fiddles with his backpack strap. "See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you respond, your teeth making an appearance. "Goodnight, you guys."

With that, you're inside of your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You hear their muffled voices and unintelligible words through the wall as they retreat from your door and towards the elevator.

You drop your bag at the door and make haste to your room. You sit on the side of your bed and hurriedly open your phone.

The first phone number you'd ever had—save your mother, which doesn't count— was "c you tomorrow :)", sitting right beneath "Mom" on the contact list. After changing his name to "Sal :)" you breathed out shakily, and slowly pushed enter on his contact.

Should you send him something? Isn't that a bit weird? You'd just seen him a few minutes ago. Should you wait a little longer? What if he's still with Larry, and they see what you'd sent a message so quickly and make fun of you?

You shake your head. That was unlikely. All they'd been was great to you.

"c you tmrw."

You inwardly linger over the thought of pressing the send button.

Why the fuck were you so nervous, anyway? Because a boy with nice hands and a pretty laugh said he'd see you tomorrow?

Yeah.. okay, maybe that was it.

"c you tmrw." The message was sent.

You slapped a hand over your face. Should you have said something else? Should you just have not texted him at all? You fell back into the mattress, draping your arm over your face and blinking into your wrist. The feeling of exhilarated dread churned in your gut.

A subtle vibration reverberated on the comforter. It buzzed in your ears momentarily. You paused, before lurching upward and snatching the phone back into your grasp.

"you too. let's try not to rouse mrs. packerton's suspicions tomorrow like we did today lol."

You grinned, and replied before you could stop yourself. "might not be possible. you may need to answer another math question for me."

Sal replied after a pause. "can't say no to that. goodnight, y/n"

You breathed out slowly, typed out a goodnight message, and slowly dropped your hands back down to the comforter.

Your fingers shook and your heart was beating itself against your rib cage. Not long after, you dozed off into sleep thinking of the way your body felt when the warmth of his palm was flush against the nape of your neck.

Getting up the next day is a bit harder than getting up the previous one. You couldn't seem to rub the sleep away from your eyes, and, for some reason or another—you'd waken up in a cold sweat, and your sheets stuck to your body. Not only that, when you'd went to shower, the water was freezing, for no apparent reason. You'd come to terms with the fact that this building had multiple personalities.

Standing beneath the shower head felt like being pricked with itty-bitty pitchforks. Topped with miniature ice cubes.

You'd gotten dressed in an oversized black sweater (over a long-sleeved, black top for added warmth), along with an a-lined plaid emerald green and blue skirt on top of your sheer black tights. The skirt was not short—not amongst your standards, it was mid-thigh—but nowadays teachers were weird about how girls dressed so you'd have to keep an eye out about that.

Also, surprisingly—instead of the usual beat up and raggedy sneakers you usually wore you decided on some of your chunky Mary Janes you'd thrifted not long back. You'd never given them a go outside before. The only time they'd been worn was in your room and by yourself.

When you were fully dressed, you let yourself examine your outfit in the mirror. While doing so, your phone chimes in your hand. You snap it open hastily and read the notification.

"it's larry. sal gave me your number :P meet us outside when ur ready"

You grinned and walked out of your room. You grabbed your bag and made for the door. When you'd gotten outside, what greeted you there was not exactly what you'd expected.

"Oh! Ashley, is this yours?" You inquired, gazing over the pale silver Ford Fiesta that sat in the driveway. It was a cute car. Ash sat in the driver's seat with the window down and her forest green eyes attentive and on you.

"Yeah! My little brother had an allergic reaction while eating out at some big corporate food chain and we got it in compensation. We already have a family car so it was given to me."

What a nice story, you thought, making sure you maintained your pleasant expression.

"Oh," you passed your gaze over the vehicle again. "Cool!"

You noted Todd's place in the passenger seat. You met his eye and gently waved. He returned the wave, with that neutral look on his face he always seemed to have.

"You're going to be cold," a voice behind you says rather abruptly. You jump, whirling around.

"You scared me," you laughed, your face burning as you made eye contact with none other than Sal Fisher. "What do you mean?"

"Your skirt," he replies, glancing away momentarily. Your eyebrows raise comically.

"You don't like it?"

"No-" he rushes out, a bit too fast. "Uh, no. It's g- it's nice. I meant you're going to be cold in it."

He was right. It was nearing the end of August.

You pass your eyes over your legs, from the a-lined skirt, the sheer black tights, and the chunky Mary Janes. You return your gaze to his—not before catching a glinting glimpse of what seemed to be rings adorning his fingers—and shrugged.

"Oh well. All I'm worried about is being dress coded," you look to Larry, who's near Sal. "Good morning."

"You too," he grins. "Let's get in the car. It's chilly."

You all clamber into the backseat. You're in between Sal and Larry. Hot air blew from the car vents and hit you in the face as Ashley turned the temperature up further. While doing that, she turns on the radio and channel surfs until she's found some sort of soft rock station. She turns it up to a moderate volume.

A car freshener in the shape of a red tree dangled from the rearview mirror and swayed as Ashley put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. It had a charming illustration of what resembled two strawberries on the front.

The car smelled nostalgic—like the smell of the hair on one of those Strawberry Shortcake dolls you owned as a child.

The wistful scent is abruptly overpowered by the smell of smoke and the autumn air. Larry had rolled a window down and had just lit a cigarette to your left. On your right, Sal has pulled out his flip phone and is playing some sort of shit quality version of Frogger.

Interested, you lean over.

"How'd you get that on there?"

He looks over at you. He's close. You can hear him slowly inhaling and exhaling through his nose. "Todd did it for me," Sal replies. He gestures toward you with the phone. The phone makes a sound. The digital frog had fallen into the water. "Wanna play?"

"Oh," you pause, and smile. "I like watching you."

His eyes flicker over your face. "Okay."

He returned to the game. Finally, you had an excuse to stare down at his hands. Multiple silver and black rings adorned his hands. They fit him perfectly—snug on his pretty fingers and accenting his veiny hands perfectly.

During your examination, you hadn't exactly realized it but your cheek was now flush against his shoulder and your hair was tickling his neck.

No, you weren't smelling him, but it was hard not to scent it when you inhaled through your nose. He smelled of delicate laundry detergent—fresh, clean—and of minty vanilla. Breathing that in made you feel what was probably the most at home you'd felt in months.

You glanced up from his hands, to his Adam's apple, to his prosthetic face—his gaze remained attentive on the flip phone, dark lashes moving along to accommodate his flickering eyes. You looked away before he'd noticed, and paid attention to the game.

"You're good," you commented.

He didn't reply immediately, almost as if he'd looked over at you. The side of your face remained on his shoulder and your hair still brushed against the skin on his neck.

"Well, it's only Frogger," he remarked. "I bet you're better. Try it."

The sudden scent of ashy smoke consumed your senses. Larry must have exhaled halfway inside of the car. The vapor floated for a moment before dissipating into nothing.

You took the phone from Sal's hands and shifted in your seat to sit straight up. You pressed play on the game, and within seconds your frog had fallen into the water.

"I suck."

"No, you don't. You're just not trying hard enough."

"Potato, Potahto," you reply, shortly laughing at yourself and pressing play again nonetheless.

Suddenly, the vehicle slammed to a halt. You held onto the phone tight in one hand and steadied yourself on the passenger seat in front of you with your other one.

Sal seemed to have the same idea, except he seemed to panic and had braced yourself on your knee instead. You could have sworn you saw white for a split second, your insides jumping and chills fluttering down your spine. He quickly retracted his touch, catching your eye immediately.

"Sorry," Sal uttered.

"That's okay," you'd done a fine job gathering yourself together. "Perfectly fine."

"Jesus Christ, Ash! What the hell was that?" Larry calls from your left, the cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers. He was halfway through exhaling his smoke when he spoke again. Vapor spilled from his lips as he stared at the front of the vehicle. "Trying to kill us?"

"Whoops! Sorry guys, I almost missed the red light."

"That wasn't very wise," Todd remarked from the passenger seat, turning his head to look at Ash. You couldn't help but shortly giggle, looking back down at Sal's phone.

You heard Sal slowly exhale a breath of relief beside you.

"Yeah, anything but fucking wise," Larry scoffed. "Thought I was about to die, dude."

"I said I was sorry," you could hear the roll of Ashley's eyes in her voice. "My parents would kill me if I got a ticket. Also, who told you that you could smoke in my car?"

"I did." In your peripheral vision, he was staring blankly. "What're you going to do about it?"

In the rearview mirror, Ashley squinted her eyes but said nothing.

"This is a shit show," Sal murmured, looking back to his phone in your hands. You'd returned to the game, still attempting at getting past the first level. The digital frog continuously leaped over lily pads and logs. It was almost therapeutic.

"Sorry you don't want me back here, Sal." Larry's tone had transformed from mildly annoyed to slightly bitter. His cigarette had been held unattended for a decent amount of time so it had begun to burn out. "I didn't ask to third wheel."

You blinked and convinced yourself you'd heard him wrong.

You weren't looking at Sal's face. He was silent for a few seconds.

"Just chill out, alright?"

"I'll say what I want."

"It's too early for this, Larry," Sal bit out. "Cut it the fuck out."

Your heart pumped furiously.

"Where do you want to take this, Sal?"

Ashley jumped in incredibly quick, the car jerking as she turned the wheel abruptly, pulling the vehicle into the school's parking lot. "Fuck no. What the fuck are you thinking, Larry? Going to fight Sal because you're in a pissy mood?"

"I'm not going to fucking fight him, Ashley," He shook his head. "It's just- apparently he's got some kind of vendetta against me today so I guess we could talk somewhere else-"

"That's in your head, Larry," Sal said honestly. "I don't know what makes you think I have something against you today, but I don't. I don't know how you want me to prove that to you."

Larry settles into silence as Ashley pulls the Ford Fiesta into a parking space.

"Just- put the cigarette out and calm down, okay?"

It didn't look like the smoke had much left in it, but Larry still drew one last hit out of it before he stepped out of the car and crushed it beneath his shoe. He throws his bag over his shoulder and slams the car door behind him.

You look over at Sal, who was reaching for the door handle. Ashley and Todd had already exited the vehicle, and Ashley was standing by and waiting for you both to get out so she could lock the car.

"Hey," you murmured before he could leave. The blue-haired boy turned his head and inquired you with raised eyebrows. "Try to be patient with him, when you two talk it out. I haven't known him long—but I can tell he's the sort of person that wouldn't act like that unless something's bothering him."

Sal looks down at you thoughtfully, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. You hear him swallow thickly. "Yeah," he muttered. "He is that type of person. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

With that, you both exit the vehicle and Ashley locks the car. Todd and Larry had already walked up a measured distance ahead of the three of you.

"Do you know what that might have been about?" Ashley asks, directing the question toward Sal by holding eye contact with him. You walk to Sal's left, looking ahead as to not be intrusive on the conversation.

"Uh.." he trails off. A cool breeze filters past your face and legs and it makes you shiver. "Not really. Usually, it's about his mom. Whenever they've argued about something, it puts him in a bad mood."

Ashley seems to give herself a moment to reply.

"Anything else?"

Sal does the same.

"Not that I know of."

Your eyebrows twitch downward.

Ashley walks slightly ahead of the two of you. She calls your name, and you look up from the ground, startled. "How are you liking the apartments? Anytime I've been there, they're kind of creepy."

You giggle. "Yeah. You could say that. I'd say they're alright—it gets kind of cold. The water was fucking ice cold today. Could barely shower."

Ashley mirrors your laughter. "Anything else?"

You pause. "Larry has this really great treehouse. I don't know if you've been, but it's honestly pretty cool. It's homey."

She looks up to Sal in surprise. "She's already been? When did you guys show her?"

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Uh, well, we didn't necessarily show her.."

Ashley looks at you curiously. You sarcastically pout towards Sal, finding his eyes to be twinkling with amusement. "I may have broken into it."

"Oh, you didn't break into it," Sal protests, exhaling sharply through his nose in a gentle chuckle. "You just didn't realize it was inhabited."

You look towards Ashley. "Long story short—I found a cool treehouse. Thought it was abandoned. Climbed into it. Coincidentally, Sal and Larry climbed into the treehouse while I was in it. It was embarrassing."

"It wasn't. It was funny," You could hear Sal's grin. "She smoked for the first time that day."

Ashley's jaw dropped in faux-astonishment. "You've tainted her innocence."

You smile. "It was honestly kind of horrible at first."

Before you knew it, the three of you had entered the school. After a few more minutes of banter and friendly conversation, you and Sal parted ways from Ashley to head towards your first class of the day: math.

Once again, Mrs. Packerton had given the class a math sheet. For god knows why she expected you to know all of these things off of the bat and get all of the questions right with barely any assistance. You were stuck on one problem like it always went.

Someone nudged your arm. You looked to your left and smiled at who was looking at you. He glanced down at your paper. "The answer's-"

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Fisher?"

Fuck, you thought, slowly looking up to your elderly teacher. Glancing over to Sal, his eyebrows were raised and he peered up at the woman at the front of the classroom with something akin to surprise in his eyes. "Uh-"

Before he could explain himself, Mrs. Packerton's entire facade did a 180 and her eyebrows were suddenly furrowed and her frown was deep-set. It was almost comical, and you strained to keep the laugh in. You weren't looking to break a rib, so you unfortunately giggled beneath your breath.

Her dark brown eyes slid over to you. After a moment of being examined and feeling extremely uncomfortable, she sighed.

"I'm administering detention for both of you, after school. I will let you finish the test, but next time this happens it'll be an immediate fail for both of you. Understood?”

You and Sal exchange both equally supposed expressions, before nodding together.

Before class is over, you see Travis giving Sal another sour look. Oh my god, you thought, twirling your pencil around in between your fingers. Is this going to have to be another talk, Travis?

The bell rang. You and Sal jumped up and fled the class as quickly as you could.

"Oh my god," he breathed, as you both stepped into the hallway and began maneuvering through the countless amount of students flooding the halls. "She's super fucking scary. I was so wrong."

You abruptly laugh. "Yeah. She's got that look in her eye." You pause. "I'm sorry, Sal. You wouldn't be getting a detention if it wasn't for me."

Sal tilts his head just slightly. "It's no big deal. It was my fault, anyway. It's not like you asked for my help either times I helped you out. It's not like my dad's going to be mad, anyway—he'll probably be relieved. I've never really got detention for anything, especially involving talking to another person. Probably'll be glad I'm being more social, haha."

You frown. "I'm still sorry."

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to be-"

"If only your friend wasn't so dumb, Sally Face. It's a shame that your perfect record is all tarnished."

Sal appears as though he knew who was talking a few words in. He inhales, turns around to face the blond boy behind him, and backs up a step. "What do you want, Travis?"

Your fingernails sink into your palms. It stings. You told him yesterday!

"Nothing. Just wanna know why she's so stupid."

Sal's eyes flicker. "Mm, think you're forgetting about how close you were to failing mid-terms last year. You're not very bright yourself."

Travis grows a bit red but he looks as though he's trying to ignore his growing frustration. It boggled you—the fact he was so easy to anger because of the fact Sal was defending himself. Defending.. you?

"Whatever. Why am I fucking arguing with a fucking satan worshipper, anyway?"

That genuinely surprised you. What kind of insult was that? And where did it come from?

"Whatever, Travis. God doesn't like bullies, either. I hope you don't kiss your daddy with that mouth-"

You're glad the hall is relatively empty because the crack you hear when Travis' fist meets Sal's prosthetic face is loud and startling. Your heart is in your throat. You place your hands on Travis' chest and push him into the lockers. The metal cages rattle beneath the sudden weight.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?" You shout, red hot anger coursing through your body and pumping through your veins. "Get the fuck away. I swear to god, I'll-"

Sal murmurs your name, gripping your wrist. "Stop. Don't push him."

You give Travis the bitchiest expression you can muster. He scoffs and walks away. You're surprised he didn't throw one last insult into the air—but he instead walked down the hall with heavy footing, turned around the corner, and disappeared.

As soon as you're done watching him down the hall, you whip around to Sal with wide eyes. He was cupping the place where the mask cut off, collecting blood that dripped down.

"He's got a mean right hook," Sal breathily laughed.

The rage you currently felt made your head hurt. You quickly grabbed him by the wrist and hurried him towards the restrooms at the opposite side of the hall. On your way, the bell rings. You couldn't care less whether or not you were going to miss your class—it's not like you didn't have detention already.

"Hey, what're you-"

You pull him into the girl's bathroom, which was empty. You make sure to turn him away from the entrance. His eyes are as wide as two dinner plates.

"Huh. Smells nice in here," he comments. The fact that's the first thing he says tells you he's clearly in shock from being clocked in the face.

You grab some paper towels and look him in the eye.

"I'm going to clean you up now,"

You reach around his head.

"Hey, I- wait, you don't-"

You unbuckle the clasps at the back of his prosthetic and pull the prosthetic off of his face. You set it aside, and set it on the edge of the sink.

He slowly meets your gaze. The amount of internal fear that's held inside of those eyes—fear you know that's been held in for so long—is astonishing to you. Your eyes soften. You slide your gaze over his face, and all you can feel is an unbelievable amount of happiness and satisfaction.

Butterflies swarm your insides and beat against your ribs at the sight of his mouth.

It's just as kissable as you'd imagined.

Shut the fuck up, you snap back at yourself. Not the time.

You're unable to hold in the large smile that grows on your lips as you bring the paper towels toward his face and wipe away the blood that dripped from his nose, down his mouth, and fell down his chin—there was so much of it that it had made its way down to the collar of his shirt, staining the material scarlet red.

"You can give that to me later," you uttered. "I know a thing or two about getting blood out of clothes, haha."

His lips twitched, but he remained silent and let you do your thing.

After thoroughly cleaning his face off, you return the prosthetic to him, handling it with care.

"Here you go."

After he'd put it on, you met his eyes.

"Hey, Sal, I'm-"

"It's okay." He peered at you sincerely. "That went.. better than I thought it would. I just hope you don't think of me differently."

The thought appalled you.

"No!" You exclaimed, a bit too forceful. You gathered your composure and tried it again. "No. Um- I could never. Seriously. Your face doesn't change who you are, Sal. It doesn't make me think of you any different. You're still you. Besides, I- um... I liked it."

His eyebrows jump and he jerks his head upward. "What?"

"I liked it. I liked your face."

He was silent like it was taking him a little bit to process that. Your eyes wandered during this time, and they landed on the collar of his shirt, again. You cursed.

"Shit. Hold on."

Suddenly, you'd crossed your arms around your midriff and began pulling the sweater upward. The noise Sal made was almost comical.

"No, uh, you don't have to! It's fine, I can-"

Before he could stop you, the shirt was up and over your chest and it was off of your head. Thank god that you'd remembered the black top beneath, or else you'd feel really bad that you couldn't give him the sweater—it wasn't like you could walk around in just a bra (as much as you'd like to sometimes.)

He grabbed the article of clothing from you, hesitant. "You're sure?"

"Yep!"

"Alright," he murmured, cautious, pulling your sweater over his head and pulling it down his torso. Once he'd done so, he looked back to your eyes and inquired you with his own. "So? What do you think?"

Heart beating so loudly it thrummed in your ears, you replied: "You've never looked better," and grinned wider than you ever have before.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

What is Ro thinking right now? -𓆙

      Virgil had just gotten done brushing his hair when they heard the commotion outside the Manor.

      Ainsliee squeaks in surprise. She turns to Virgil, boiling over with excitement, gleefully translating the message he had already guessed;

      “Daddy’s back! He’s calling for us!!”

      She grins and rushes over to Virgil, pulling his wrist and dragging him up from his seat. Virgil huffs in annoyance — not at her, of course, but at the bear’s continued barking — and waves his hand,

      “Go on to him, then. But be careful, he’s still dangerous!”

      Without a word of response, Annie dashes away. He doesn’t even think she was listening.

      Virgil sighs, shaking his head. He trusts the Beast spirit not to hurt her, even with it’s unreasonable strength; After how careful the bear had been with him about an hour before, there’s no way he won’t show the same gentleness with his own cub…

      The more cautious parts of Virgil can still imagine her rushing him too quickly and getting crushed on accident, though, so he knows he can’t linger long.

      Virgil stands up to get dressed, still not excited to see his friends again. His stomach churns at the possibilities as he meanders towards a closet, silently hoping Lolth would just strike him down right now so he wouldn’t have to talk to them.

      He just knows they’ll be angry, he feels it in his bones — and even if they aren’t, it will certainly be awkward, and that’s just as bad! 

      (Better to be the first to anger, so you might lead the conversation, Virgil reminds himself as he wallows in dread. He won’t even have to fake his ire if any of them come back injured, which he already knows is unavoidable. Aside from his desire to keep them all unharmed, he really doesn’t want to be owing any more favors…)

      (And even more besides, if he could be petty, Virgil doesn’t want to go back outside. It’s cold and windy tonight, his hair is still damp, his limbs are still sore, his mom has his armor, and he doesn't want to put clothes back on, damnit.)

      Another resounding roar thunders through the night air, and then Virgil feels the entire tree-tower tremble with vibrations.

      Fully realizing that this dire bear is willing to climb the place and rip it open to find him, Virgil grabs the nearest warm-looking robe. He hastily slips it on over his bandages (and quiver belt, which he had already been wearing) as he makes his way out of the Manor.

      ~~~

      Logan watches Roman pace back and forth around the trees, in front of the spiraling stairway that leads up into the complex. He’s been incessantly huffing and stomping around like a petulant child, and Logan has no idea what to say to make him stop; He's been trying ever since the city was in sight.

      Janus and Remus are very pointedly not helping, with Janus giving Logan a meaner side-eye the longer the wailing continues, and Remus yelling back at Roman for no other reason than to join in being loud.

      Patton has less fear of the gigantic, angry animal, approaching the groaning beast and patting a hand on his paw,

      “Aww, c’mon now, Roman. We just got here! Give them a minute to come down,” Patton soothes in a soft voice, “Not everyone is as fast as a giant bear!”

      Roman looks down at him, acknowledging his presence, but he either didn’t understand Patton’s words or wholeheartedly doesn’t care. He softly shakes his paw to scoot Patton away, then rears up on his back legs, raises his arms, then lurches all of his body weight forward and slams into the trunk of the massive tree.

      It doesn’t visibly shudder at his attack — even at his size, these great home-trees of the Faewild are many times wider around than a direbear, and won’t be knocked down so easily — but the intent is clear, and Logan worries someone as sensitive to vibrations as Virgil would be quite frightened. So, Logan quickly steps in, using a more stern tone this time (and his Universal Speech,)

      “That’s enough! You are being impatient,” Logan scolds, “They will come down soon enough. One of them is injured. They can take their time if they wish to.”

      An angry whine interrupts his last few words, but still, Roman backs away from the complex. He keeps growling and barking, but at least he’s not trying to break the damn thing down.

      Right on queue, a little blue girl comes flying down the stairs like a missile, grinning wildly. 

      Logan sighs in relief, happy to see her in good spirits after how they had left off. Roman seems to feel the same, finally quieting down his complaints. He drops his head down to meet her when she approaches, sniffing her as she reaches up to hug his muzzle. She squeezes him as best she can from there, giggling when he pushes down a little to nuzzle her.

      Practically tripping over herself with energy, Annie quickly pops up to bowl Patton over in a hug as well, giving Logan a wide grin over his shoulder as Patton squishes her close to his chest. Logan couldn’t suppress a smile in return, even if he wanted to.

      Virgil appears at the staircase then, looking comically ethereal. His long, re-dyed hair and wide-sleeved elven robe blow in the wind, his expression soft and quietly observant; He looks much more like the picture of a dark-elven noble you would find in a storybook than the grizzled soldier they’ve been travelling with. Even his eyes have changed color, with his sclera turned black and his pupils reflecting pale moonlight. 

      Virgil spots Patton and Annie embracing, and relaxes at the sight of them. Then he turns his gaze on the rest of the team, and his usual scowl returns, eyes glowing red to match. Logan is almost comforted by the familiarity. 

      “Olath ilhar, You’re hurt!” Virgil growls, rushing down to meet them. 

      Logan grumbles to himself over the hypocrisy of that statement, looking over the bandages absolutely covering Virgil’s arms, legs and abdomen.

      Roman shuffles his weight on his paws when he sees Virgil approach, but Virgil holds a hand out to him, scolding,

      “Oh don’t you even start! You will sit and wait your turn!”

      To Logan’s amazement, Roman whines and sits down on the grass, looking thoroughly reprimanded. 

      (Well that is just not fair.)

      Virgil looks over each of them in turn, searching for wounds. He circles Patton first, alarmed by the bandages across his middle. The careful prodding of his hands remains in stark contrast to the snarl in his voice,

      “I wouldn’t have let you go if I knew you were going to be so reckless!”

      “You hardly let us go at all. And, only two of us are injured.” Logan corrects as if he can’t help it, not taking Virgil’s returning glare so seriously.

      “Three of you! Roman is barely standing. And that’s more than half of your party, yutrit'zarreth!” Virgil hisses back. He moves over to Logan and stalks around him, searching him as well.

      “I’m fine, Virgil, I didn’t even get near the battle.” Logan protests, shrugging off Virgil’s patchwork cloak in order to return it.

      Virgil bares his teeth, still unconvinced. Logan sighs and sits through his examination, though he can’t help but complain to himself about how unfair Virgil is being. 

      Reminding himself of Virgil’s wounds, Logan uses their proximity to examine his bandages. They seem fairly well-wrapped, but it’s clear he hasn’t had any magical healing since they saw him last, and the bags under his eyes are dark even for Virgil. Every day it seems Virgil is stretching the limits of what levels of pain a person can ignore — by all accounts, he shouldn’t be conscious right now, much less standing.

      The last few battles, Logan had tried not to think too much about why Virgil does this, and even less about how he became able to. But, at this point, it’s become obvious that he has a very serious problem. Logan’s going to have to do something if he doesn’t want Virgil to drive himself into the grave...

      While he lets himself worry, Logan also notices the belt of Virgil’s quiver is strapped right over his bandages. 

      “Are you wearing that against your bare skin?” Logan scolds before he can stop himself, “What about the wound on your back?”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Virgil grumbles, though bringing it up seems to have scared him off. He snatches his cloak from Logan’s hands, pulling it in under his robe and fastening it so it lies between the robe and his skin, then slinks away, glowering. Logan can’t help but think he’s misstepped, somehow.

      Virgil has already moved on to look over Janus, who also tries to shoos the archer away, insisting he’s unharmed. Virgil hisses at him, too, but quickly moves on to Remus anyway.

      “Get inside and rest, all of you!” Virgil orders as he prowls around him, examining the bruises on his sides and back with gentle touches, “We’ve already lost too much travel time as it is, at this rate we’ll never make it to the Capital.”

      “What about Roman? I doubt he can fit inside, are we just going to leave him out here??” Patton whines. Virgil snaps a short, sharp laugh and glares at the bear,

      “Yeah, for all I care.”

      Roman groans at him, and Virgil snaps something back in Drowic. Logan doesn’t know if he can actually understand Virgil’s words or just the tone in which he’s saying them, but Roman is certainly respecting his orders more than he did Logan’s.

      (Logan quickly reminds himself that Virgil had once claimed to be a Ranger, and answers his own questions on the matter.)

      “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Logan advises carefully, taking note of Virgil’s mood. He keeps his tone as soothing as possible as he explains,

      “This is his first time shifting, we should stay to make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless. Besides, specifically as a bear, he will grow distressed if we leave his sight.”

      “You’re just saying that because you want to study him.” Janus supplies unhelpfully, apparently living to annoy him. Virgil doesn’t respond, though, and Logan can tell that his reasoning got through to him.

      Remus rolls his eyes, quickly growing bored of their debate,

      “Well, I’m certainly staying with Brother Bear over here, and the three of us have a long overdue heart-to-heart scheduled for, ehhh, right about now~!”

      Virgil pretends not to hear him while he studies the bruise on Remus’s back. Remus frowns at being ignored, turning on his heel and grabbing Virgil’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks,

      “Let’s have a little chat~! You aren’t getting out of this, slick.”

      Virgil glares holes into Remus’s chest, then turns away from him, hissing his discomfort the entire way. Janus looks similarly displeased, leveling an unfriendly look at Remus before taking his hand and following along.

      Logan and Patton follow the three of them, Annie holding Patton’s hand and instructing Roman to follow behind.

      Virgil leads them to a vacated barn, instructing Roman to lie down and wait. Annie nestles in next to his side, and Logan and Patton join her, watching Virgil lead Remus and Janus back out. Virgil keeps himself several paces ahead of them, looking like he might lose his nerve and bolt at any minute.

      Logan and Patton share an uneasy look, only able to speculate about what happened between Virgil and the odd duo…

      Janus doesn’t say a word, worried about getting himself in trouble before they even start the conversation. Virgil already seems tense, and Janus doesn’t ignore the way he positions himself closer to the Manor complex than to the barn.

      Once he’s satisfied they’re far enough away that Logan can’t eavesdrop, he very rigidly turns to face his two old friends, waiting for someone else to start.

      Janus and Virgil just glare in each other’s directions, both refusing to be the first to get vulnerable. (At least Virgil’s eyes are glowing faintly red, so Janus knows where they’re pointed, and where the hell Virgil is.)

      Remus stands with his hands on his hips and glances between them impassively, knowing it’s only a matter of time until one of them cracks.

      Despising the awkward silence more than anything else, Janus finally smirks,

      “Well, you look terrible.”

      “What are you doing here?” Virgil growls, shifting his gaze between the two. He still hasn’t looked either of them in the eye, just glaring at the grass by their feet like it’s done something to offend him; something it took many years to get Virgil to stop doing.

      “Oh, you know I just love the Faewild,” Janus grumbles, folding his arms defensively, “But, this time, I must confess we were mainly looking for you.”

      “Why?” Virgil growls even lower, his eyes turning even brighter red. Janus rolls his eyes at the aggressive display, 80% certain Virgil is simulating it this time.

      “What do you mean ‘why?’” Janus scoffs, quickly growing annoyed, “It’s been so long, I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost!” 

      Janus expected the cold reception, of course, but he’s never exactly been lauded for his temper. Remus steps in, knowing a spat is imminent if he doesn’t. He chuckles,

      “You fucked off in quite a rush, but you did say you were coming home eventually.”

      Virgil’s jaw drops.

      He quickly shakes himself out of it and resumes his defensive posture, but the damage was done; The same shocked look spreads to the other two. The three just stare each other down, all of them growing more confused by the minute. 

      Virgil breaks first, looking away at a suddenly very interesting rock as he mumbles,

      “…You expected me to come back?”

      Janus can immediately read the implication under the words; the question Virgil is afraid to ask. He feels his chest constrict a little at the thought, too winded to keep up his usual snark. In all of the visions he had seen to prepare for this moment, Virgil had never reacted like this. Usually he ran, and often he was angry at them or scared of them, but never…dejected.

      “Darling, of course! How could you assume anything else?”

      “I don’t know,” Virgil huffs, shoulders raising up to his ears, “Maybe it was the huge fucking fight we had seconds before I ran off for two fucking years— Aren’t you mad?!”

      “No!” Janus and Remus shout at the same time, with varying levels of surprise and distress. Virgil’s still on the offensive, glaring at them.

      “Fuck off! I almost took your whole arm off, and then you leased that dweomer, and Remus lost it—”

      “That’s not the first time we each went a little crazy, Virgil.” Janus shakes his head, subtly motioning down to his ankle,

      “That’s part of the reason we’ve stuck together for so long, remember?” 

      Virgil smiles a little at the reference, an inside joke between the three of them he thankfully hasn’t forgotten. Still, he seems reluctant.

      He turns a bit towards them now, though he’s started picking at his nails, like he does when he’s really nervous. His eyes are wide and startled, but he still won’t look up,

      “That time was… different. Something happened. I think I…” He shakes his head, steadying his voice before he continues, 

      “No, I know it this time. I’m not going crazy, something cursed me in that cave! All I remember is us knocking over some altar with a crystal on it, and now I can do magic on the surface?! And I got all paranoid about every little move, and I tried to run off for good!”

      “It wasn’t a curse. At least, I don’t think so.” Janus sighs, looking down at his hand, which is now covered in dragon-like scales under his glove. “And it wasn’t just you, either.”

      Remus grins, focusing on drawing forward that strange energy he now houses. He holds out his hand, letting Virgil watch as he conjures the usual smoke effects he’s always been able to summon, now along with some unusual yellow lightning flashing within.

     “Me and Deedee also got some cool new powers~! And some other weird stuff, too!”

      Virgil slowly creeps forward to get a better look, still apparently deciding whether he should be afraid or angry. Very slowly, he reaches up and lays one of his hands on Remus’s, then raises the other. Janus and Remus watch as Virgil’s eyes glow blue, and a cluster of lightning grows out of his skin, dancing around his fingers. A moment later, both magic effects fizzle out with a sharp crackling sound.

      “Where did you learn that?” Janus hums, mildly impressed, though he already knows the answer. Virgil shrugs, looking back towards the barn,

      “Logan’s been teaching me how to control it. I’m still not great at it yet, but I haven’t accidentally killed anyone in several days.” Virgil sighs. He looks around at his friends, finally looking them in the eyes, though he still looks a bit like a frightened animal. Slowly, he adds,

      “I still don’t know how I feel about this,” He admits, then sends a short glance at Remus, “But, you and your brother have to do something together in town, right? So… We’re all going in the same direction, anyway.” 

      “And you’re set on these new guys?” Janus sighs, trying not to sound disappointed. Virgil shrugs.

      “I don’t think I can leave them yet. I’m making progress, but I still need Logan’s help…” Virgil looks back at the barn, an annoyed grumble returning to his tone, 

      “And, these three are kind of pathetic. I really don’t think they’ll make it in one piece without us, anyway.”

      Janus chuckles in agreement, not at all surprised. Remus flips his hair with a smile,

      “Oh, so there’s an ‘us’ now~?”

      Before Virgil can even blush at the slip, Remus is laughing again,

      “Well then, it can’t be helped~ Looks like the three of us are coming with them!”

      “Of course.” Janus nods, “As much as it pains me to waste my time with such irksome people, it would be convenient for us to travel together. And, according to Logan, you need a sorcerer’s help with the whole ‘training’ thing.”

     (Janus avoids adding a snarky remark about how “that also proves that you never should have left to begin with,” though it is difficult.)

      “I’d rather it be you then some other high class know-it-all I haven’t met. One is enough.” Virgil admits, though he can’t resist rolling his eyes at Janus’s snark.

      Now, a bit of a smirk has returned to Virgil’s face. He looks between the two again, blushing slightly and fiddling with his hands again to distract from his brain. Virgil himself is unsure whether he’s more afraid or hopeful. Not that he would ever admit to the latter.

      “So… you really aren’t mad?”

      “No, dear. If any of us have a right to be, it’s you.” Janus sighs. Virgil whines in complaint,

      “But— Two years is a long time for you, you can’t just let me get away with that!”

      “I was busy with something, anyway, so it’s no big deal~” Janus sighs, not quite willing to admit to himself whether or not it’s a lie. To silence Virgil’s arguing he holds one hand out to Virgil, and focuses on melting away just that little section of his glamour.

      Green and yellow scales are revealed all along his hand and wrist, and Virgil gasps for a moment, reaching over to touch them. The look he gives Janus then is devastating, the last of the fear easing out of his shoulders as the memory of that night washes over him.

      “This is what I was scared of?” Virgil frowns, sounding more than a little disappointed in himself, “Your scales are spreading?”

      “There’s much more to it than that,” Janus quickly corrects him, letting the phrase carry a lot of weight for him, “But we can get into that when you’re awake enough to process a more detailed conversation.”

      “I thought you were just born with them. Are you supposed to grow more?”

      “No, I’m not. Like Remus said, you aren’t the only one who was affected.” Janus shrugs, “We both have physical mutations, though not quite like your scars. Remus already mentioned what happened to his wings, didn’t he?”

      Virgil turns to him expectantly. Remus holds his hands behind his back and grins,

      “Ooooh no, I’m saving that surprise for something special. After all, now Roman’s here to see ‘em too, and you know I can’t resist dramatic timing~”

      “Before you keep insisting you’re too dangerous to congregate around,” Janus muses lightly before Virgil can say another word, “You’re not the only one with new temporal magic.”

      Janus takes a tiny amount of pleasure in the momentary horror on Virgil’s face. As a treat.

      “Oh, don’t get all worked up, my love~” Janus teases, patting Virgil’s arm, “I’m not able to affect time in any real sense, I can only predict the future. That’s how we were able to track you somewhat reliably.”

      “That’s terrifying.” Virgil grumbles, “Are you guys having bursts like mine??”

      “Nope. Aside from the visions, which can sneak up on me at times, I’m perfectly in control of my magic.” Janus smirks, “Remus has been having a similar problem to yours, when he gets excited. Not nearly as large-scale, though it can occasionally be dangerous.”

      “And I revel in the chaos of it, so no skin off my back~!” Remus grins. 

      They fall into silence again, though it’s a bit more comfortable now. Virgil shuffles from foot to foot, not quite sure how to end the conversation, or disperse the lingering doubts and awkwardness hanging between them.

      (As much as Virgil can try and dismiss his old feelings as “part of the Madness Roman cured,” there’s still a lot about that night that still doesn’t feel right in Virgil’s gut, and he doesn’t know how long he wants to wait for a longer explanation.)

      (And, though their parting altercation has been mostly dismissed, it’s still been two years since he saw them last. Virgil knows how much non-elves can change in that time. What if even now, with everything said and done, they still can’t go back to the way they were before? What if they’re different now, and they don’t get along as well as they used to? Should he really want to, anyway??)

      Sensing his worries and eager to put them to rest, Janus peels his other glove off as well and steps forward, very gently taking Virgil’s hands.

      “Are you angry?” He asks, softly and genuinely. 

      “You can be upset, Virgil. A lot has happened, it’s okay if you need time.” Janus sends a glance in Remus’s direction, prodding him to help. Remus gives Virgil one of his ‘dazzling’ grins, trying to reassure him that they don’t hold any grudges.

      Virgil relishes the familiar feeling of Janus’s hand, shoving aside his remaining worries. He’ll deal with his lingering doubts later.

      (Their arrival has added an incredible number of new problems to his plate, but he’s frazzled and exhausted. His best friends are back, and they don’t hate him. At least for tonight, that will be enough; God knows he has enough to worry about right now, anyway.)

      Virgil shakes his head, voice still sore from earlier that day, and nearly boneless with exhaustion. Janus and Remus share a knowing look, well aware Virgil is hiding something but too overwhelmed to get into it now. 

      “Let’s just head back in and rest for tonight.” Virgil sighs, brushing his hair behind his ear. He turns to Janus, frowning,

      “In the morning, you’re going to have to tell them about the sorcery thing. And, probably also about being a snake. Logan never leaves it be at one question.”

      “Ugh! You people won’t let me keep any of my secrets!” Janus complains, folding his arms. He already knew he would need to come clean, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it. He tilts his chin up in an expression of faux-contempt, tone mocking,

      “Fine, but only if you promise to actually sleep tonight. I wasn’t kidding earlier, you look like shit.”

      “That’s not fair, someone has to keep watch!”

      “We have a twenty-foot bear in there, who is going to sneak up on that? You’re being ridiculous.”

      “But what about when Roman changes back in the morning? Someone has to be awake to help him!”

      “I will, then!” Remus scoffs, “I’m his brother, he’s not gonna want anyone else to see him naked. Besides, we all know damn well you’re going to wake up the second anyone moves, hypersensitive ass.” 

      “Oh, shit.” Virgil hums, “We should pick him up some clothes before we head back in…”

      “Ooooh, can I pick them out~?” Remus grins evilly. Virgil slaps his arm, trying not to laugh,

      “No, leave him alone! He’s probably gonna be scared at first. You can bully him later.”

      “You’re such a buzzkill! I don’t remember you being this lame.”

      “Say that again when I have the energy to kick your ass.”

      They playfully shove and bat at each other the whole way up the stairs, being careful of each other’s wounds while threatening to throw the other off the balcony. At the same time, they move slowly, considerate of Janus’s leg and eyesight. 

      Janus watches them and suppresses a fond smile, his cold heart warming at how quickly they’ve started to ease back into their usual dynamic...

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Ask 119     (( @zozomind​​ , @renee-niles​​ ))

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Game Start

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Rules

Most Recent Recap, in case you feel like you missed something!

Available for questions: Logan, Patton, Remus, Janus, Annie, Virgil, and…Roman?

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You have reached the end of Level 2!

Begin Level 3: The Past is Never Dead 

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You can now save your first File in Level 3 with the Game Menu!

Save Files:

File A.1: Communication      ?

File B.2: The Heart of the Matter      ?

File B.3: Angel’s Epithet      ?

File B.4: Pack Tactics      ?

File B.5: Lay Bear the Breast      ?

File B.6: Lay Bare the Beast      ?  

File B.7: Moonlight Dancers      ?

[ !!! WARNING: Save File Limit Breached! ]

[ Which file will you DELETE? ]

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…What a curious title. I wonder what it could mean…

...And it looks like you’ve unlocked something new in the Game Menu!

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(( UPDATED: If you missed the Patreon/Kofi announcement! ))

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

A chaotic story that just as chaotically appeared in my head. It's much longer than I normally write, but I hope that doesn't bother you.

Fake It Till You Make It

Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: None, except for the possibility of errors.

Walking through the grounds of Belvoir Bea witnessed a rather comical looking scene: Poppy was gesticulating very animatedly towards two adults, presumably her parents. It was the first time Bea had seen such rage in the blonde's movements. Curious and attracted by the possibility of Poppy's humiliation, Bea decided to get closer and see what was going on.

When she was close enough, she hugged Poppy tightly around the waist and clung to her with her whole body, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs. "Good morning, Kitten." she purred into her ear, loud enough to be sure the other two heard her as well.

Poppy's face went pale as a hospital wall, and her hands fell involuntarily along her body at the sound of the nickname Bea said in her peculiarly sexy, low accent.

The man and woman standing in front of them looked at each other and then swept their eyes over Bea. The woman nodded her head approvingly, and her eyes lit up. The man spoke first: "You're that famous Poppy's fiancée?" his voice was husky and expressed all manner of disapproval, but before Bea had time to bite her tongue, she nodded. "Where's the ring then?"

"Come on Piers, who cares about some shiny things." the woman's voice was much more pleasant.

Bea knew that what they were thinking was wrong and she should set the situation straight. "I don't..." she began embarrassed, but was silenced by a firm pinch on her bottom that was the equivalent of a snake bite. She looked accusingly at Poppy, but the blonde was only smiling falsely.

"Yes, this is Bea my fiancée. Bea, these are my parents, Ana and Piers Sinclair." the blonde pushed the girl slightly towards them.

The brunette shook hands with Piers and he nearly crushed her hand. She wasn't sure if he had intended it, but he made his warning very clear to her. Ana, on the other hand, hugged her tightly with a grace worthy of a queen herself. Poppy was the perfect blend of their characters.

"It's nice to finally meet you." chirped Ana pulling away from Bea. "We were slowly getting worried that Princess made it all up to make it easier to get our wealth."

"Princess?" Bea sneered under her breath, resulting in an immediate meeting of her ribs with Poppy's elbow. She grunted hastily putting a fake smile on her face. "No, no. What we have with Princess is the real thing." the brunette hugged Poppy around the waist again, feeling her small figure bubbling with inner rage.

"Then let us invite you to dinner!" Ana communicated contentedly, clapping her well-groomed hands. "We would love to get to know more about the person who tamed this untouchable girl."

"Mother." Poppy cut short Ana,  measuring her with the kind of glare that could kill people. To her displeasure her mother didn't seem to mind, on the contrary, she looked like she enjoyed teasing her daughter. It could be a family thing. "That won't be necessary, I'm sure you're tired after your trip."

"Nonsense my dear." Ana waved her hand dismissively. "I insist." although her voice was gentle, there was a hint of force hidden in it. Her mother did not seem like someone who took well to words of objections.

Ana slipped her hand under Piers' arm and together they started walking towards the car. Before they drove away, however, the woman smiled broadly "Tonight at 7 p.m. at our favorite restaurant. Dress appropriately... As long as you wear clothes when you're next to each other ." her laughter Poppy and Bea could hear long after the car drove away, leaving the confused girls alone with their thoughts.

"What was that?" first spoke Bea, looking at Poppy with obvious amusement. She really enjoyed seeing the state of embarrassment Poppy was in.

The blonde let the air out of her lungs and shook her head. "I panicked."

"That much is obvious," sneered the brunette. "We've slept together a few times, but marriage right away? There are easier ways to get a woman, princess."

"Just... Shut up. Let me think." Poppy nervously paced around breaking her mean girl exterior. Her mind raced and no logical answer wanted to emerge. The only rational solution is to continue this charade to the delight of her parents. "Do you have any clothes worth more than a pack of chips?"

Bea choked on air hearing the blonde's words. "Yes, I have clothes that are worth more than you."

The blonde just rolled her eyes and ignored the brunette's insult. "Come by the sorority house an hour before dinner. I expect you to dress decently." With those words, she left Bea with no way to refuse.

A punctual hour before dinner, Bea stopped her beloved Pick-up in the driveway of the Zeta sorority house. Even though it didn't show on her, she was nervous. Her palms were sweating and she nervously tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.

The door of the sorority house opened and there stood Poppy, dressed as elegantly as ever, but something about her appearance knocked all the air out of Bea's lungs. The brunette jumped out of the car and was at the passenger door in a flash.

Poppy unhurriedly walked up to the girl and spun around letting the material of her dress float freely with her movement. The sight was mesmerizing to Bea and she became very aware of how much she wanted to kiss her fake fiancée now.

The blonde ignored the butterflies in her stomach, which began to cheerfully flutter their wings under the influence of the brunette's adoring gaze. Even if her reaction was sincere, she couldn't forget that this was all one big farce for her parents.

Their journey passed in absolute silence, each was absorbed in her own thoughts. When they arrived at their destination five minutes before the appointed time, they noticed that Poppy's parents were already waiting for them.

Poppy jumped out of the car first before they could figure out any tactics. If Bea had been nervous before, the sight of her parents compounded that feeling, making her feet grow into the ground.

After a mental pat on the back, Bea stepped out of the car and stood next to Poppy. Her hand casually went to the blonde's waist and pulled her tighter against her. Poppy stiffened for a second before melting into the comfort the brunette's closeness gave her.

"Look Piers, how well they fit together. Almost like us." Ana said excitedly, kissing her husband. "Show your fiancée some love Poppy."

Bea chuckled and looked at Poppy's reddened face, the look expressing every level of embarrassment. She pulled the blonde closer to her and asked with genuine concern: "You okay there?"

Poppy shook her head, muttering under her breath. When she noticed the girl moving closer to her, she placed her hand carefully on the brunette's chest, alarmed that her parents were watching. "You don't have to..."

"I didn't have to pretend to be your fiancée either, and look: here I am." she whispered holding the blonde's gaze. An unspoken emotion passed between them, and the next thing they knew, Bea's lips were pressed against Poppy's in a rather unsure kiss.

The dinner went off without a hitch, and Poppy's parents didn't seem to suspect anything. The fact that the girls lived on the same campus made it very easy for them to create a colorized story of their first meeting and their entire relationship.

Poppy was strangely calm and they never once jumped down each other's throats during the entire evening. Bea got the impression that the blonde was even enjoying herself. She caught herself thinking that this was even what her life could be like. With her by her side.

Somehow Ana had talked them into slow dancing. She and her husband on one side of the dance floor, while Poppy and Bea preferred to be in a less visible place. Their bodies swayed in unison, no words needed to be spoken for them to understand each other in that moment. It was a magical moment shared between them, a peace that was not meant to exist.

"Have you thought about children yet?" asked Piers bluntly when they decided to sit at the table for a while longer after the dance.

Both girls almost died of embarrassment. Bea slowly began to panic that their lie had taken hold all too well. Under the table away from prying eyes Poppy grabbed the brunette's hand and squeezed it tightly. It was so unnatural for her that Bea's face flooded with a blood-red blush.

"Of course there is adoption or other unconventional methods in your case, but..."

"Excuse me for a moment." Bea said feeling an invisible force squeeze her. She escaped from there at an alarming rate, stopping no sooner than she reached the front of the restaurant and took a gulp of the cold night air.

It was too much even for her. The honesty and openness with which Poppy's parents welcomed her made her feel like a monster.

"Here is a runaway bride" laughed Ana stopping next to Bea. "I was convinced you'd drop out earlier, but I have to admit I admire the stubbornness."

Bea's face went pale, and her heart pounded like a hammer. It's impossible for Poppy's mother to know. Or...

"Don't look at me like that child, I'm her mother after all." she smiled sympathetically, then her expression changed to a slightly more serious one. "Aside from your charade, I can safely say that there is something between you two."

Bea sighed quietly and looked at the woman beside her. "How did you know you loved Piers?" she asked boldly, even though the next second she was biting her tongue for her lack of tact. The silence she was met with was so awkward, that she was ready to apologize for her insensitivity, but Ana just smiled and shook her head.

"Piers is a wonderful husband and father..." she began with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. Her gaze flickered ahead and she probably didn't even realize that she was involuntarily playing with her wedding ring. "I love him, as much as I can, but he is not the love of my life."

Ana fell silent to let Bea digest the information she had received. Various emotions were painted on the girl's face, but curiosity took over: "I don't understand?" she said, hoping the woman would continue the topic.

"When I was your age, I met a man." Ana involuntarily smiled radiantly at the memory of her beloved. "He was a wonderful man. If he could, he would have saved the whole world with me by his side."

Bea began to notice a slow change in the woman's tone that foreshadowed a sad end to this story. She moved closer to Ana, offering her mental comfort.

"After several years of relationship, Poppy, my greatest treasure, was born. I don't often remind her of it, but she's the apple of my eye. Her father also loved her more than life and would do anything for her." the woman's eyes began to well up with tears, though she meticulously tried to hide it. "But his calling conflicted with raising a child in one place. One day, he simply disappeared leaving a letter. A letter... As if it would change anything."

"I'm sorry..." Bea whispered, moved by Ana's story.

The woman straightened up and blinked a few times, chasing away the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Piers was lovely enough to accept me and Poppy. Not to mention his fortune." she giggled and in a split second, her face no longer expressed her earlier sadness. The smile however she put on did not reach her eyes, which was very noticeable. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I decided to leave with him and Poppy. Would our lives be different then?"

"I'm... I'm not really in a position to answer that." Bea replied slightly embarrassed, scratching  back of her neck nervously. She wasn't ready to emotionally support an adult because she herself didn't understand what was going on in her life and heart.

"Of course." Ana smiled cheerfully, this time the smile was genuine. "Thank you for letting the old woman talk about the old days."

This time, they both laughed, making the earlier discomfort evaporate. Bea couldn't tell how much she and Poppy's mom had stood outside the restaurant like that, but the street lamps had managed to light up, immersing the city in a soft bright glow.

She wasn't sure what Ana was trying to convey to her with her story. After all, she and Poppy don't love each other. And if they don't, why did the thought of it sting her heart so much?

"There you are." Piers' voice snapped the women out of their reverie and the man wrapped his cloak around his wife hugging her close. Even if he wasn't the true love of Ana's life, they were both happy having each other and it was admirable.

Poppy stood next to Bea, not quite sure how she should act. To her surprise, the brunette preceded her and covered her shoulders with her jacket. In a second, a delicate scent entered her nostrils and she realized that it didn't bother her at all. On the contrary, she could get used to it.

The blonde turned her head gently to look imperceptibly at Bea's face, but Bea already had her gaze fixed straight into her. Her eyes glistened in the lantern light, making Poppy's legs try to refuse to obey her. Reflexively, her face began to move closer to Bea's, only to have a grunt snap them out of their trance shortly before their lips touched.

"Thank you for this, oh so lovely dinner." Piers' voice was soft, although slightly suspicious and both girls blushed awkwardly, avoiding each other's gaze.

"Come on honey." interjected Ana correcting her husband's already impeccably placed bow tie. There was pure joy in her voice compared to his. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Poppy's face darkened and she said an express goodbye to her parents, almost forcibly shoving them into a cab. In all the confusion, Bea caught Ana's gaze, which sent shivers down her spine. It was like a silent consent, but also a warning.

As the cab pulled away, Poppy slumped against the restaurant wall with a dramatic sigh, burying her face in one of her hands. Bea looked at her with newly aroused curiosity. "It wasn't... Bad." she concluded, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her pants.

As if smacked with a whip Poppy rose to her feet, reminding herself of the brunette's existence. She poked an accusing finger into her breast. "What were you thinking, leaving halfway through!"

Bea carefully caught the girl's perfectly manicured finger and lowered it, smoothly sliding her hand into Poppy's. They fit together perfectly. "I wasn't thinking."

Slightly taken aback, Poppy lifted her gaze from their entwined hands. "Of course you weren't thinking! You never do. Even if your life depended on it."

"That's true." the brunette admitted calmly, slowly drawing circles on the blonde's cool skin with her thumb. It was like a trance she wasn't even trying to snap out of.

Poppy's face twisted in fury. "Why are you so damn calm!" her voice reached higher octaves every now and then, slowly drawing the attention of nearby passing onlookers.

"I'm tired." Bea sighed and without breaking eye contact, she cupped Poppy's face in her hands. Her cool skin, was like salvation to the blonde cheeks hot with rage. "I'm tired of not understanding what's going on between us. I'm tired of not being able to tell you how I feel about you." with each sentence she spoke, her voice faded in her throat and Poppy's face changed expression from angry, through surprised to confused. The blonde finally gave up and relaxed her posture, allowing Bea to move closer to her. Their foreheads touched and their hearts pounded in unison. "I don't know if it's love..." the brunette continued once she was sure Poppy wasn't ready to scratch her eyes out. "But I'd like to explore it. With you."

A treacherous grin crept across Poppy's face, making the knots in Bea's stomach loosen and in an instant she felt several times more light than she had a second ago. She was ready to take a chance and by the blonde's reaction, she got the impression that she would share her opinion.

Without waiting any longer Bea shortened the distance between them and kissed her. It was not one of the kisses they had shared so far. This one was slower, calmer, yet more sensual and emotional.

Poppy pulled away first and sighed contentedly. "We've done this so many times before, but this one seemed like a first." she remarked, with a newfound hunger in her eyes as her gaze wandered across Bea's figure.

"Think of it as a promise of what's to come." the brunette laughed, embracing Poppy around the waist and pulling her close. "Then what will it be, Princess? Will you marry me?"

[veiledsilver]

Top five moments you've felt like the universe was messing with you.

Oh boy everyone get ready this is a long list. In descending order, from mildly funny looking back on it to "oh god oh shit oh fuck":

5. Catfishing: College Edition

In 6th grade, I decided to apply to colleges early to see how they were like. I was scared that if they knew I was too young, they'd arrest me. So I created a gmail account as my persona, a white 12th grader named Emilie Alexander. Emilie was planning to go into nursing, dating a high school linebacker named Kyle Kenderson, and deathly allergic to bee stings. If she even came near a bee, she would die.

This part was of the utmost importance.

See, I was constantly paranoid that one day, the jig would be up- I might forget that my fake last name was Alexander. Or the college dean might come knocking at my door and tear up my home in his mad search for Emilie. If that happened I would fake her tragic death, presumably caused by one big fucking bee.

I secretly collected my information. What nearby states were the prettiest to visit. Which colleges were the safest and most affordable. How often they held courses that I liked. In my emails with colleges I tried to sound as mature and professional as possible.

Then, one day, a college member asked me what high school I was in, so they could check my records.

My blood froze.

It was time to bring out the bee.

In response to their question, I sent an email that was like this:

"Dear Mr. McLaughlin, I was a proud graduate of- ugh! Ah! Kyaaaa! Uwaa! W-w-what's this... huge goddamn bee doing here?! Eek, pardon my foul language! It's just that, as I told you earlier, being stung by a bee would kill me.... and now it's stung me thrice (three times)!!

What do I do?! I can't die... I've always wanted to attend your beautiful college...

But this is... the end...

Mr. McLaughlin...

*looks at you sadly*

Tell... my mother... I loved her...

*dies*"

He never responded, probably because he was rendered speechless, but I never touched that account again.

My private gmail for fun stuff like tumblr still has "Alexander" as a surname, though.

4. Wild and Authentic

Alright. Alright. So. My art teacher in middle school.

Right off the bat, they endeared themselves to the tumblr art kids- they proudly used they/them pronouns, dyed their hair vibrant colors, deeply encouraged OC creation, and was chill with any art style even if it was anime. Mx. Mason was very cool, except for one thing.

We had complete artistic freedom when it came to their assignments, EXCEPT FOR ONE THING.

Drumroll, please.

Take a deep breath if you must.

Ready?

...

Cats had to have extremely distinct whisker pores.

YES, they believed that modern depictions of cats were too streamlined. Too... idealized. As a cat owner themselves, they were convinced that society's vision of cats did not do their feral feline ancestors justice. In making their faces flawlessly smooth-furred, we were stripping the cat of its true nature.

I found this out the hard way, when I was drawing warrior cats fanart for class (it was of Firestar cuddled in the arms of an orange haired anime catgirl who was his reincarnation in my first ever comic series, Warriors Neko Desu! ♡ Heart Academy Dokidoki).

Mx. Mason came over to look at my magnum opus, and I expected them to have their socks knocked off at my artistic talent. They lifted up my drawing for all to see, and I smugly leaned back in my seat.

Only for them to launch into a passionate lecture about how, in neglecting to draw whisker pores on cats, I was DENYING THIS FICTIONAL CAT OF ITS WILD AUTHENTIC SELF.

My friends absolutely lost it when I told them this story, and there was a period of time when all our discord nicknames were wild and authentic too.

As for Firestar and his counterpart Hoshineko Orenji-chan, I never did give them wild authentic whisker holes, but that's to be expected of a kittypet, I guess.

3. Stan Jungkook Or Whatever

A couple years ago, my family and I flew to Seoul, South Korea, to visit our relatives and teach me more about my heritage. It was very nice! I got to visit shrines and festivals and palaces, and I was in awe that this was what my ancestors had once seen in their daily lives.

Then, when we went to the modern side of Korea, I realized just how much I didn't fit in.

It was clear that I didn't know how to act, or how to speak Korean, and I spent my days fumbling around and getting scammed multiple times by salesmen. But I clowned myself the most... during an interactive event with kpop stars.

They had this experimental event where holograms of the boys would sing onstage and dance in place of the actual idols. Before the show began, girls could stand in booths that scanned their appearances, and holograms of THEM could dance onstage with the hologram boys.

I didn't know this.

When Cousin Ae-cha told me to step inside one of the machines, I thought I'd be hilarious and stand backwards, so it would scan the back of me instead of my front. As I walked out, I saw other girls putting on their best makeup, cutest clothes, and most expensive accessories, and I slowly realized that I was in danger.

But the danger didn't come until halfway through the concert, where the boys looked eagerly off-stage and a holy staircase appeared and all the hologram girls descended from heaven. There were cherry blossoms. There were roses. There was me, among the crowd of beautiful airbrushed girls, walking backwards.

I felt the judgemental gazes of twenty girls and their mothers.

Each boy danced with a girl, who got a cute animated moment with special effects, and sang about how they found a dream girl to have a true love romance with. Finally, all the girls vanished except one, and it was me.

One of the boys didn't dance with any girls, and now he was all alone in the rain, feeling dejected that HE did not find his true love girl to have a dream romance with. Then the rain stopped, the sun came out, and I emerged. Still backwards.

He was thrilled and sang about how my face (that he didn't see) stole his heart, and now everyone in the audience was giggling, and he slowly brought me very close to kiss me... but because I was backwards, his nose was cutely nuzzling my hair.

The audience members- at least the adults- were now laughing their asses off. His lips met the back of my head, and together we vanished into the wind.

I'd say I couldn't show my face there ever again, but I never did show my face, so... hm...

2. Horrid Little Temptress

If I wasn't a minor, I'd need a drink before starting this story. Sadly, I cannot drown my sorrows- and neither should you after you hear this, because it's only fair.

Mrs. Appleby was my Spanish teacher in like, 9th grade. Even the wild and authentic art teacher thought she was insane. Appleby forced kids to brew tea for her and yelled at them when they didn't get it right, and I thought she had a chronic squint until I realised she just did that to mock me and my Asian eye-folds. She forced us to watch Dora the Explorer to "absorb knowledge." Everyone fucking hated Mrs. Appleby.

But the worst thing she ever did... was during the school festival.

See, whenever she's angry, she zooms right into kids' faces to scream at them. Her wrinkled flesh would blot out the goddamn sun and all you see are her bloodshot yellow eyeballs so victims just stayed rooted to the spot like cornered animals or something similar. This is important.

Because when she was sampling her own brownies (read: hoarding them so no one else could eat them), one parent foolishly decided to grab one and she thought it was a student and she grabbed his wrist so hard she could've nearly snapped it and... and... zoomed into his face.

Except she underestimated his height and kissed him by accident, but it was more like her mouth was sucking in his face like a vacuum.

His wife was shrieking like an ape. His kid, my classmate, saw his social life flash before his eyes.

In her defense, she did not mouth to mouth with him on purpose and afterwards she cried in the bathroom and when I foolishly followed her in to comfort her, because I am a teacher's pet through and through, she snatched the paper towels I got for her and wailed that she was a-

A-

HORRID LITTLE TEMPTRESS.

If I had decided to not be kind, I never would've heard that string of fucking words. But I did. And I paid for it dearly. The end.

1. Violence IS The Answer, Sometimes

Thomas, my dearly detested.

Back in sixth grade, I used to have a crush on him because he had the surfer boy look with nicely tanned skin and pale blond hair and the clearest aquamarine eyes I've ever seen. He also liked surfing and swimming. He seemed like the perfect little trophy waifu except for one absolute dealbreaker.

He and his parents were extremely conservative and so, when I told him I liked him, his response was basically "haha no you're a [slur] and would probably eat my dog."

I was horrified and ran away to cry. But then, by the next day, I decided I needed to punish him. Thomas walked in before class started and I was waiting for him with these hands. I kicked him so he doubled over, slammed his face into his chair's seat, and quickly clambered on top of him to SIT ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD. He started shaking and twitching and trying to pry me off, but eventually he went limp and stopped moving.

I thought he fell asleep, but Mohammed, another classmate who was bullied by Thomas, told me that Thomas might never wake up again (not that he was very sad about this. I didn't know until later, but Thomas said slurs at him too).

While I was sitting on the guy, he'd straight up passed out from the lack of oxygen.

Screaming and crying, I told our homeroom teacher that Thomas suddenly fainted, and she was the type of Caucasian that thought all little Asian kids were sweet and innocent, so it didn't even cross her mind that? It might've been me? Who sat on his head when she walked in?

He was sent home early that day. I had to go to a different school next year because Thomas's mom threatened legal action. The only reason I didn't get punished further was because my rich cousins out-Karen'd her and donated a huge amount of money to the school to keep them quiet.

Anyway, I never did anything that insane ever again, because something like that is enough for a lifetime. My cousins made it clear they would never back me up again. I was sure this whole event would be put behind me, too.

But last fall, during my first day of online learning... who did I see in my zoom meeting... BUT THOMAS! I had my mic and camera off, but the moment he saw my name, his face went pale. His soul would've left his body, but then it would've gone to hell, so it wisely decided to stay inside.

Still, out of shame and embarrassment, I never turned my camera on for the rest of the school year.

[ktheist]

i give this soulmateship : 11/10

a soulmate-esque fic.

pairings: jungkook x reader

words: 6.151

synopsis: in which your whole world shifted when you found out that your soulmate is the frat brother of your one night stand the morning after said one night stand.

alternatively, “these feelings are getting in the way of my heartless bitch reputation.”

x

“Just admit it, god damn it,” Jungkook throws his head back in frustration, if you look closer, you can see the lines forming between his brows, “we’re soulmates!”

“Too soon to tell.” The skepticism you’ve been wearing around your shoulders will be the death of you.

He pushes his sleeve to just below his elbow despite the marking being easily visible on the spot just below the crook between his thumb and index finger. That one spot you touched when your hand brushed against his as you were about to open the bathroom door somewhere in the frat you just had a one night stand at. Hosung? Hoseok? Ho-something is still waiting at the end of the hallway for a ‘rewind’ of what happened last night just because you were both wasted and barely remembered anything.

“Touch me, right here.” He smacks the skin on his forearm. Nothing happens. If not for a little pink painting the area where that loud ‘pap!’ landed.

“No, that’d be animal abuse.”

He doesn’t seem to care about the comment as you trace back from where you came from, ignoring the ‘who was it? namjoon? hoseok?’ (ah, so it’s hoseok) that closes in on your trail. Jungkook’s pep-talk goes on for another quarter minute before he curses and walks pass you into the room you’re heading.

“Motherfucker! That was my soulmate!” The scene is unusually arousing with your self-proclaimed soulmate on top of Hoseok whose morning wood is painstakingly visible in his nude glory while he pales at Jungkook’s unrelenting threats to ‘stay as far away from ____ as possible and if I so much as –’

While they’re at it, you gather what’s yours: bra, underwear, phone and shorts which gets swallowed by Hoseok’s shirt before making a beeline towards the door but not before trying to wave at Jimin with a hand full of bra that you quickly hide behind your back shamefully.

Just when you thought you’ve escaped the lion’s den. The lion comes running at you in a form of Jeon Jungkook with only a shirt and boxers on, shouting your name like a man madder than he turns out to be.

You barely made it into the Uber when he skids to a stop just inches from the vehicle as it begins to move.

x

“Don’t look but Jeon Jungkook is staring at you!” Han Na squeals as she pinches a handful of your oversized sweater that you changed into after dumping Hoseok’s shirt in the laundry basket.

Something tells you Jungkook can sniff the Hoseok off of that shirt if you came to class in it and it’s not going to be good.

“Can you not,” you attempt to elbow the girl with the hand which sleeve she’s clinging onto in her excitement which doesn’t seem to give the desired effect of shutting her up, “make it obvious that we know he’s watching?” 

“Yeah - no. I mean, no! Jeon Jungkook is your soulmate and I will not shut up about this until I have grandchildrens so the only time I shut up is when I’m dead -” At this point where her voice is a pitch (she might as well go up to the front and use the mic), you’re willing to accept any kinds of alternative even if it came in a giant ‘fuck you’ box handed to you by the gods themselves when you look up to see thee Jung Hoseok himself - except he’s more decent.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

“Yes.” Han Na chirps almost instantly, waving him away with her hand only to frown when you forcefully lower it with yours.

She never liked him ever since he beat her in a dance off.

“Nope.” The ‘p’ pops a little as you will yourself to show a tweak of human decency.

“So,” Hoseok starts, eyes trained on the professor but nowhere does it shows that he’s listening to a thing the elder woman is saying, “you’re Jungkook’s soulmate, huh?”

You’re about to roll your eyes at the mention of fate before the next words get your jaw dropping on the ground and you can only hope you don’t look like an idiot.

“I was kinda hoping you’d say yes if I asked you out.”

Silence.

Well, not actual silence since there’s none of that when the professor’s only taking 2 seconds break between her words but there’s definitely an awkward pause between you two. For one, you don’t expect anything to come out of a drunken hook up and two, he must either be dumb or brave if he chooses to ignore the glare of daggers shooting in his direction from a certain male specimen on the other side of the room.

“Hoseok, I...”

x

“How long are you planning to avoid me before you admit it?” Jungkook, out of absolutely nowhere (actually from the other side of the lecture hall), falls in step with you.

All that muscle wasted to a single cat and mouse game when he could be running for the track team.

“Stop stalking me.”

It comes as a surprise when he abruptly stops in his trek which consequently makes you stop a step after him. Cheeks puffed and mouth pursed. The image is almost comical for a guy with his built yet makes your chest full of something warm and tender.

“I’m not –” he balls his hands in the air as though he can grab hold of the frustrating situation and put a stop to it.

Taking a deep breath, he looks back at you with controlled exasperation and a cooler tone, “I am not stalking you.”

“Um, chasing after the car I left? Check. Following me around as soon as I get out of class? Check. I mean the list can go on if you continue stal–”

“Stop,” he presses his palm against your mouth, “using that word.” 

Eyes looking around in case anyone caught a piece of the conversation only to realize that he’s touching you without your permission and quickly retracts his hand as though they burn.

The look on his face screams ‘oh shit’ as his mouth stretches across his teeth into an unsure smile.

You fumble with your phone. All of a sudden swiping becomes the most difficult task to date as it takes almost a minute for you to access the front camera. And sure as day, the markings are there. Wildflowers bloom across your face where his touch is still hot. Purple, blue, yellow colors your otherwise natural skin tone. 

Jungkook notices the glance you give his hand that’s inked with similar wildflowers as he clutches it and unclutches it.

“Uh, sor-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his words because you’re already dashing down the hallway towards the washroom as though it’s some ink that can be rinsed off.

(But hey, you tried.)

x

The rumor about Jungkook’s floral engraved fingertips spreads like wildfire. The campus heartthrob found his soulmate. You can only imagine how many hearts he’s broken by using those hands out in the open to wave at his friends and perform those handshakes every time he sees his pals.

You, on the other hand, opts for a Kumamon printed mask. Han Na made a slip of a tongue that black would contrast glaringly against the colorful markings on your face if the mask sag lower than the markings line even just a bit.

The good news is, everyone’s looking for someone who has the same markings as Jungkook but on their hands. Not face. Which leads to you managing to lay low the whole week until the markings fade off and you’re finally soulmate-free. Or appear to be.

First thing you do is hop into an Uber to a party on Friday as soon as your class ends. Your friends are already (drunk) texting you to hurry up because apparently you’re the only one with a night class among your group of friends.

“You’re hereeee!” Han Na spills some beer on you while she hugs you, “girl, where’s your red cup? I’ll get-”

You manage to hold her before she fades into the crowd, saying that you’ll get it yourself and leaving her with your friends who are halfway to getting wasted.

It is in that moment that the gnawing guilt in the corner of your heart dissipates as your eyes catch sight of a certain well-built basketball ace with Jennie. Obviously whatever words they’re saying to each other consist of compliments with one objective in mind. To get into each other’s pants.

Almost as though you’re spiritually (ha!) connected, Jungkook looks up. Those hazed eyes turns twice their sizes as your lips part slightly from shock or a big fat guilt of being caught, you’re not sure.

Han Na has been glaring at Jungkook who’s been giving you the puppy eye since you came back without a cup and a whole lot of frown.

At some point, after a few cups of beers passed around, you’re laughing and dancing with the girls. Any unpleasant thoughts now pushed to the back of your mind.

You must have strayed away from your group when not-all-of-a-suddenly, Jimin’s hands are on your hips and yours on his shoulder as you both sway rhythmically. He rests his forehead on yours, sporting that cute, eye smile. Having been friends when people started talking about him after summer break once he put on some muscle and bleached his hair,boy would you be lying if you said you were far from joining the having-the-hots-for-Jimin bandwagon.

He starts to lean in and you wanted to stand on your tip toes to close the distance between you and him...

And then you’re embracing sheer air.

“Stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?” Someone shouts from somewhere on the dance floor.

Looking over to where the voice comes from, a circle starts to form on your left where a certain brown head is visible between the gap of drunken spectators. You push your way through the crowd, worry fills your chest as you internally dread the sight you’re about to see.

Sure enough, Jimin is on the floor, cupping his cheek while he glares daggers at his frat brother. You wedge yourself between the two men, acting as a human barricade. 

“Jungkook, seriously?” Your voice is hushed and rushed, eyes briefly scanning the crowd.

Some appear disinterested, some annoyed at the interruption but the most irritating ones are the ones taking out their phones as you speak.

“Get out of the way, ____.” He orders. The nerve of him.

“Or,” standing straighter, you challenge him through gritted teeth, “what?”

His gaze falters as though it’s a hypothetical slap to his face whilst your heart accelerates. Your body is pink and hot and yearns for him to touch you but if there’s one thing, you’re good at, it’s keeping your hands to yourself when you need to.

The tension is almost tangible. It tastes bitter than the feeling at the back of your throat. A part of you wants to step back and say sorry for laying your hands on another man when you know who Jungkook is and what he means to you. Another part, or the more reasonable one as you dupe it, tells you to walk away with your pride in tact. 

Before the inner war manages to convince you to do something stupid, a shout from somewhere in the crowd makes you break into cold sweat. And it seems, everyone else.

“Cops! Fuck!”

It feels like the series of events from the moment you found out who your soulmate is, leads up to this very moment: shouts, bodies pushing, panicked wails and red and blue lights pouring from the windows. When you look over your shoulder, Jimin’s already fled the scene probably the second someone screams ‘the cops are here!’

“We gotta run!” Are the last words that Jungkook said before all hell breaks loose.

You both start running.

Through the backdoor, into the hilly streets, past houses and buildings until you lose sight of your fellow college buddies who were running along with you, until the signature red and blue lights are replaced with the monotonous street light, until you spot a similar yet dissimilar markings upon people’s faces as they pass you by.

“Did we,” you pant, “run,” another pant, “all the way to the city?”

Jungkook laughs a breathy laugh, head lolled to the back while he looks at the sky as though thanking the stars for saving him - and you have a sneaky suspicion his gratefulness extends to your behalf as well as he squeezes your hand.

“Sorry.” His eyes go wide when it dawns on him (and you).

The blue, purple and yellow wildflowers paint both your hands where they touch, appearing darker in the absence of light as Jungkook releases his hold. Holding back the senseless impulse to grab that hand again, you slip your in your pocket.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there.”

He shrugs, “was saving my own ass but figured I’d bring you along.”

A flash of yellow enters your periphery, “look! there’s a cab, we can grab a ride back.”

“Wait,” Jungkook’s freezes for half a second as though the word left his lips before he can even register it, “what if they’re waiting for us?”

“The cops?” You lull your head slightly to the side, one eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“Yeah.” He begins, “maybe they figured out we’re all from the same uni and are waiting at the house. Uh, I don’t know.”

“Okay.” You nod, “so we hang around here for a bit.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

A good, solid thirty seconds past before he steps in front of you, halting you altogether. Lips set in a firm, serious line but the pink on his cheeks and ears only serve to make him less intimidating - if that’s what he’s aiming for.

“Be honest, why were you all over Jimin? Do you like him?”

“Uh,” you raise your eyebrows at him as though asking if he’s for real.

When his own don’t lift up, you realize your reluctance to answer is the reason for that flash of hurt in his eyes.

“It’s because I was talking to Jennie, huh?”

“What? No!” You take a step back as though the idea itself physically appalls you, “I mean I’m petty but not that petty and you,” you wave a colored index finger in his face in a warning manner, “are giving yourself too much credit.”

With that, you step to the side, leaving him behind only to have him fall into pace with you. Flushed cheeks and a cute pout, he shoots another round of questions, “why don’t you accept me as your soulmate? Do you... hate me that much?”

The street lamp under which you stop bears witness to furrowed eyebrows and the 30 seconds of interval you take to muster your words.

“You know when something doesn’t work out and the girl tells the guy it’s not their fault but it kind of is?” You take in a deep breath, hoping, praying to the stars that there’s a reset button because honest to Fate, Jungkook will either hate you or you’re going to hate yourself for doing this to a perfectly, attractive and amazing guy.

And the thing is, you know he’s amazing. You were in the same circle of friends at some point, had an intellectual conversation enough to shift the dynamics from acquaintances to kinda-friends, he may even be listed in your future-fuck-candidate but - 

“This time, it’s literally, literally me. I just don’t like the idea of getting with someone just because we’re ‘soulmates’.” Hands gesturing in the space between you and him, you sigh, shoulders sagging, “I mean before this, we’re just a friend of a friend’s and now you’re telling me we’re supposed to spend our whole lifetime together?”

Jungkook drops his gaze, shoes scuffing the hard concrete as he keeps his hands buried in his pockets. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.

After the tenth count, he looks up at you with the same eyes he did that morning and your chest tightens, “I’m not telling you to spend your whole lifetime with me.”

“But give me a chance to show you my definition of soulmates.” His eyes literally sparkle like the stars as he waits for you to respond and you’re going over the pros and cons in your head.

The pros are: your soulmate is Jeon-fucking-Jungkook.

The cons: everything else.

“Okay, but,” You warn, heart palpitating. Somewhere in your head, sirens are going off as a part of you wills your body to turn the other way and run run run, “I can call this soulmateship off anytime I want when I know it’s not working out.”

“Deal.” The hesitant lines between his eyebrows ceases as he grins that grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

x

“Hey,” Jungkook plops next to you, that boyish smile on his face, “cute sweater.”

“Uh,” you hesitate for a heartbeat because Han Na is either going to kill him for last Friday, she doesn’t know the details but he’s easily her least favorite person when she put two and two together or she’s going to kill you for giving her spot out to the guy she’s going to eventually also kill, “thanks.”

It’s a grey, oversized sweater and the only one that you have in your closet that’s big enough for the sleeves to fall past half of your hand so the markings won’t be as visible while Jungkook dons his black and red jersey, the cuff stopping just a few centimeters past his wrist. 

“Nice pen.” You note the lack of notebooks on his table while the pen you saw him brought lies lonely by itself.

His cheeks turn red as he forces out a laugh, “Oh this? It’s Jimin’s.”

You blink, surprised, “you guys made up?”

“No, I sneaked into his room and stole it this morning.”

You can’t help but smile at his pettiness. Idiot.

As though the stars heard him, Jimin slides into the chair in front of him along with Han Na who’s shooting accusatory looks at you. You try to mouth ‘I’ll tell you later’ to her, only to have her use her hands to gesture her non-understanding, leading to Jimin noticing her and then looking over at you and Jungkook.

That makes the third surprised face that’s thrown at you today since Jungkook sat next to you. The second one was from Han Na and the first was from Jennie who passed your row to join her friends on the far left side of the hall.

“Hey pretty, how’s your weekend?” Jimin smiles and he makes it clear that he’s only talking to you with the additional pet name (much to Jungkook’s chagrin).

Before you begin to form a placid sentence in hopes to tone down the growing tension between the two brothers, the professor’s elderly voice greets the class. Jimin being Jimin, he turns his body to the front as he focuses on the lesson. Han Na gives you one last look that screams ‘this isn’t over’ before she turns to the lesson too.

Not long after, Jungkook snickers from next to you as you nudge his side in an attempt to tell him to focus while Jimin takes off the cover of his iPad and puts it back on and then continues scanning the floor below his seat. When Han Na notices the abundance of movements from the person sitting next to her, she must have asked even though you didn’t hear it. And then she starts mimicking his action of looking down as well.

“Give me,” you gesture below the table, palm facing the ceiling.

“What? No!” He half-shouts and half-whispers, gone is the mirth on his face, replaced by a look of betrayal and dissatisfaction as he holds the stylus.

“He’s clearly suffering.” You emphasize the last word, making the man look at his poor brother who’s getting more and more frustrated by the second.

Then he hands you the pen. You don’t miss the extra length between his fingers and the other end for you to take without having your fingers brush. Once you’re in possession of it, you toss it in the aisle next to you.

“Everything good, Jimin?”

The aforementioned man looks at you, distraught but still managing to shoot you a smile, “yeah, think I might have pay a visit at the lost and found. Can’t find my stylus anywhere.”

“Oh,” you throw your eyes to the floor under your seat, peeking through the gap and pretending to look until your eyes land on the piece of stylus that you previously tossed, “is that it?”

Relief washes over his feature as he practically leaps for the pencil as though a second late and it’ll disappear from his very eyes. Or so to speak.

“He was so gonna cry,” Jungkook comments from next to you once he’s sure Jimin is focused on what the professor’s saying.

When he meets your gaze, his hands shoot up in a surrendering manner, eyes wide as though you’re the one not making sense here, “I was gonna put it in his locker when I get back!”

You roll your eyes, “negative one point for the house of asshole-ry.”

Jungkook looks like he’s about to protest just as the professor announces the existence of a test in a fortnight’s time. Then he channels all his energy to panicking and asking the person on his other side about the test just because you sarcastically told him to pay attention in class next time, idiot.

x

The video’s of you, Jimin and Jungkook is out.

Though the last thing you want is to be caught up in a rumor between two attractive frat brothers, it doesn’t seem too bad minus a few random people coming up to you and talking as though you’ve been good old buddies. Taehyung being on of them. You’ve been hanging out with him for almost two days just because Eunha’s friends with him and invited him for lunch even though your group was faring perfectly well without his presence before.

“So, you’re Jungkook’s soulmate, huh?”

Before you manage to say anything, they’re already embellishing the answer one after another. It went from Jungkook being rejected to Jimin swooping in and then to the two boys having a beef over you. By the end of it, Taehyung is nodding and making all kinds of facial reactions.

“They’re pathological liars,” you explain, “half of those things aren’t true.”

The way Taehyung’s been nodding for the umpteenth time makes you wonder if his neck is okay. Before you manage to ponder further, your eyes fall on the group of boys that entered the common hall. Amongst them, the talked-about soulmate of yours.

It seems as though the spiritual, telepathic, hoodoo voodoo connection is real as Jungkook, for some unknown reason, scans the vicinity and his eyes land smack dab on you.

Your friends are making weird, kissy sounds as he begins to tread over.

“Guys, please stop.” You rub your temples, dropping your head in order to hide the heat on your face.

“Hey, sup guys.” Jungkook chirps, he sounds closer than you’d like as your friends collectively greet him back, some high-fiving him from the pap! pap! sounds.

The moment you’ve been dreading comes when Eunha nudges you and you can tell by the lack of chattering that all your friends are waiting, anticipating, “____, don’t you wanna say hi?”

Putting on a fake smile, you breathe out as you look up only to find Jungkook looking back at you with that boyish grin.

“Hi.” You half-whisper in exasperation.

“Hey.” His tone drops an octave lower, almost as though that ‘hey’ was a whisper meant only for you before he turns to your friends, grin widening, “you mind if I steal ___ for a bit?”

“Yes.” Han Na replies, curt, short as she smiles at him in a ‘bye-bye’ kind of manner.

She hasn’t like him much since you briefly and lightly explained why you weren’t acting yourself since you came back without a drink and crossed arms.

“No! Pffft. We don’t mind!” Nayeon says over the silence that lapses at Han Na’s response.

They chorus words of eager agreement. If you don’t know any better, you’d think they just want to be rid of you.

“So I was thinking,” Jungkook breaks the quietness as you walk down the hallway, completely unaware of the curious gazes shot his way, “this Sunday. You and me. Theme park.”

“Like a date?”

He rolls his eyes, “no, I’m gonna kidnap you and dump your body in a haunted house.”

This time, it’s your turn to roll yours but the smile on your lips gives away the playfulness of the atmosphere.

“I don’t understand how a date is going to change my mind.”

“You’ll see.” Jungkook winks and with that, he starts walking backwards, “wear something blue!”

x

You can’t help but snort at the navy blue bomber jacket he has on. The shade, similar to your jeans which is the only blue you have on. He doesn’t seem to mind when he greets you with a hi and a drop of his gaze to his white Adidas before looking back at you with a smile you can’t quite decipher, “you look good.”

“Thanks.” You comment, knowing his taste in fashion has always screamed ‘cute, attractive guy who’s way out of your league alert’, “you too.”

He runs a hand through his fluff of a hair and make a mental note to ask for his haircare routine.

The bullet train you take gets more and more packed with each stop. You don’t miss the subtle shift Jungkook does as he stands between you and the crowd, trapping you between the doors that doesn’t open at least for until five more stops.

“So what did you do last night?”

“Partied, you know, at Taehyung’s.”

“This Taehyung guy, is he nice?” He narrows his eyes.

“He’s okay, he’s Eunha’s friend.”

Jungkook smiles, nodding as his averts his gaze to something behind you where the window opens up to the cityscape.

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

A pause. A hard stare from your part and subsequently a sigh from him.

“Okay,” Jungkook gives in to your questioning look as he returns one that says ‘but you’re not gonna like it’, “I hear he’s been saying stuff about us.”

“Which is...”

“Harmless but I figured you’re not the kind of person that wants to get involved in rumors. He’s been saying we’re soulmates and you refused because of Jimin and something about Hoseok asking you out.” He shrugs, lower lip jutting out briefly, unbothered.

“He did ask me out.”

Just then, the train comes to yet another stop. The last thing you see is Jungkook’s baffled face before slipping past the crowd and out of the train. The afternoon air is chilly even with three layers of clothing. The streets of Yongin forever busy with the hustle and bustle of life. Something sweet and savory fills your nose as you approach a food vendor selling fish-shaped buns.

“Wait,” Jungkook calls from somewhere not too far away, “what do you mean he asked you out?”

He comes to a stop next to you as you pay for the buns, handing one to him as you continue walking in the same direction of the sea of people towards the flashy yellow gates of the park. 

“He asked me out and then I said no.”

“Oh, cool.” A look of relief washes over him as he nonchalantly nods but the smile he hides beneath the fish shaped bun does not get past your hawk-like observation.

Once you dump the paper bag that the buns came with, Jungkook’s already smiling from ear-to-ear as he looks at something behind you where the source of screaming comes from.

“Actually, the merry-go-round seems fun.” 

“You’re not for real,” the look on Jungkook’s face is almost comical as it starts to fall at the dawning seriousness that you’d rather choose sculptures of horses, ponies, carriages and what not than the heaving, suspended vessel he’s eyeing, “are you?”

“Unless, of course, you wanna ride something else then we can go on separate rides and have fun on our ow-”

“Merry-go-round, here we come!” Jungkook almost shouts as he begins on his trek, trailing behind him, you try to hold back your laughter at his obvious disinterest in the kiddy ride but preserved either way.

He looks almost surreal, like a modern knight as he playfully waves around his imaginary sword in his attempt to ‘protect the princess!’ who rides a violet pony just a couple horses away from you and Jungkook. Her hearty laugh rings like bell chimes as the ride comes to a stop and he got off first, holding his hand out for her.

“Are you soulmates?” She looks from Jungkook to you, her tiny hands wrapped around his finger and yours.

All of a sudden, an unbearable weight settles on your shoulder as you force a smile, “yeah, kinda.”

“Then why don’t you have pretty birdies on your faces like mommy and daddy?”

She had waved to a couple in their late 30′s on the other side of the rail. Their markings a monochrome of sparrows, apparent on their faces. A glaring pronouncement of ownership and commitment for those who’s found the other part of their soul.

“Well, because,” the pause you take is long enough to demand the gaze of the girl and Jungkook’s ‘I got this’ smile.

“Because we’re not ready to like each other like soulmates do.”

You thank the heaven’s that, in that moment, you’ve reached the exit slash entrance of the ride. Bowing to the little girl’s parents, you gush over how a sweetheart she is when her mother apologizes for her handfulness. She waves at you and Jungkook as one hand grasps onto her father before the family disappears into the crowd.

“You chose the first ride, now it’s my turn and I choose,” Jungkook grins, index finger pointing to the initial ride he’s been eyeing just as the vessel curves forward after remaining suspended in the air for three seconds, shouts of terror ensues, “that.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you can feel the bead of sweat running down your temple.

x

“Whoever thought about a floating boat is - AAAAAAAH!” There’s no telling whether you’ve lost your voice (you suspect yes, from the soreness in your throat) or whether it got swallowed by the half-dozen of voices from the rest of the people suffering the same, horrible, death-potent fate as you.

The machinery remains suspended in the air, defying the gravity that causes your hair to fall over your visage before it curves downwards without so much as a warning. Then, you’re back to having your mouth wide open like a flytrap, gripping onto the only thing keeping you from being tossed into oblivion.

It feels as though the ride goes on for hours before it actually stops and by the time it does, you realize you have your eyes screwed shut and the railing you were holding onto for dear life isn’t a piece of metal pole that you though it was  because for one, it wouldn’t have fingers and two, the thumb shouldn’t have the ability to rub half-circles on the back of your hand.

“You okay?” The creased forehead and troubled eyes are enough to tell you that you’re going to have to go through another week of sweaters and hiding under sleeves.

Jungkook’s free hand reaches for you only to stop halfway, an indecipherable look on his face before he stands up. The hand you’ve been gripping slipping away from your touch as he pockets them inside his jacket.

By the time you were off the ride, the feelings in your legs gradually return and you manage to walk properly, the warmth of his hand still lingers as your hands sway by your side.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know you were af-”

“I was shook,” you cut him off, determined to get things straight, “not afraid.”

“If you mean screaming your lungs out like there’s no tomorrow is shookethness, then okay.” His tone is laced with mockery as a corner of his lips lifts up.

“It’s called freedom is speech, Kook,” you roll your eyes, trying and failing to hide the heat on your cheeks, “get with the culture.”

Jungkook never lets you live after that. He’s been abusing the word shook, shooketh or shookethness for every event which the word are not remotely applicable but also won a shark plushie for you. 

For the next few rides, despite in spite of himself, Jungkook chose milder ones namely the dodgems and scrambler and you go on to play a few games until you suggest the roller coaster. You take whole solid minutes to convince the basketball ace that you do want to get on the ride and deny every allegations tumbling out of his mouth about you choosing said ride because you want him to have fun too because ‘I’m having loads of fun already!’ he says as he gestures towards the gold fishes that you’re about to hopefully catch.

The sight itself is endearing and ridiculous at the same time because knowing the athletic male and the amount of sports he joins during your university’s sports week, stealing candy from a baby is more thrilling than gold fish-fishing.

“I’ve always wanted to go on these rides at least once in my lifetime.”

Silence lapses before Jungkook looks straight at you, “...that’s kinda sad.”

With a kick to the leg, you leave him calling (or laughing, you’re not sure) for you while apologizing and handing the 2 tickets worth of net back to the vendor. He slips in after you, the excitement of the twist and turns of the route already having him grinning.

“Wanna hold my hand?”

You’re not sure if he was joking when he holds out his hand, palm facing the sky but there’s no mistaking wide eyed gaze he gives you as you slip yours in his just before the train starts moving. Purple, yellow and blue begins to bloom over yours and his hands as your grip gets firmer with every dip and turn.

It doesn’t seem all that scary, these rides.

x

The subway is less crowded, the shocking red seats remaining mostly vacant. Your colorful hands clasp over the shark plush that you hug to yourself. Your side is pressed against the backseat, knees brushing against his while his index finger brushes the back of your hand before it hooks around yours as you catch the last train back. Outside, the star-like lights dot the cityscape. He’s humming an old tune that was popular back when you were children.

A thumb war begins to break out except you end up holding his index finger with your whole hand in an attempt to stop him from poking your poor shark plush. Something warm blooms in your chest as laughter tumbles out of the both of you.

“These feelings are getting in the way of my heartless bitch reputation,” you say, a moment later as you bite your lower lip.

A pause. A silence.

“So,” he fails, (terribly, if you may say so yourself) to contain the forming smile as his eyes do so as well, curving in crescent moons but brighter than the luminescent lights in the ceiling, “you’re saying you like me.”

“See, that’s the thing,” you wave your free index finger in at him, “you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he dares, that glint in his eyes brighter than the stars that brought you together, “tell me you don’t think we’ll end up liking each other that day we started talking about peanut butter on pizza.”

You scrunch your nose in a muscle response, “which we settled is the equivalence of pineapples on pizza.”

“Which is a great topping,” the repeated raise of his eyebrow tells you to admit the superior fact of the matter but you shake your head playfully, “shut your cute ass up.”

Silence, a comfortable one, lapses as the train beeps, alerting the last remaining seconds before the doors close. You end with your backs against the rest, staring at your reflection in the widow directly across from you. Wildflowers ark Jungkook’s jaw as he rests his chin on top of your head and peeks just beneath your hairline. Nevermind the linger of the mark for the next few days.

“I give this soulmateship an 11/10.” You murmur underneath your breath like a whisper meant only for him as you feel the squeeze on your hand.

“I like you too, idiot.”

x

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[hystericalcherries]

aeon (6/6)

Pairing: Keith/Lance Words: 10.5k Rating: M Warnings: mild violence Tags:  Post-Season/Series 07, quantum abyss, Flashbacks, Flashforwards, Prophetic Visions, Visions in dreams, Mind Control, Dimension Travel, Boys Being Boys, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining, Gay Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron) when the going gets tough... the tough write fix-it fics, Allura (Voltron) Lives, because fuck you jds and lm

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 

Summary:

Keith does not leave the quantum abyss untouched.

“Home can be anything, you know,” Lance says in lieu of a conversation starter.

Slivers of moonlight filter through the blinds above their heads, casting lines of truth across the sheets. Lance tilts his head forward and a band slides over his eyes, catching the ocean in them and drawing Keith into their rolling tides. And as distracted as he is, he doesn't put up a fight when a hand clasps his own, reeling them heartward.

“Home is just something you can come back to.” His knuckles brush against the soft fabric of a nightshirt, the v-neckline falling loose to reveal a sharp collarbone, and Keith feels his breath hitching. “Something that keeps you grounded.”

READ IT ON AO3

The day of the Alliance Feast comes and Keith finds himself sulking in a corner as he watches an alien chat Lance up.

Allura had stuffed them all in Altean formal wear, color-coded and high-collared, capes draped tastefully across their shoulders. The material of the suits are surprisingly breathable despite all its excess, stretching and bunching up in just the right places to cut them all into impressive figures. The princess had been very particular in how she wanted them all to look and had forced herself into more than one fitting room back at the Garrison; Shiro’s hair is slicked back, Hunk’s headband folded into the pocket of his jacket, Keith’s loose ponytail tied with a red ribbon, Lance’s waist adorned by a silver chain and Pidge’s glasses exchanged for a sleeker pair. If the star-eyed looks they’ve been receiving ever since they landed on New Altea is anything to go by then she must have succeeded.

Lance, Keith must admit, looks particularly dashing. His suit makes his shoulders look broader and it’s a problem. More so because it’s obvious that the red paladin isn’t the only one to take notice, more than one individual coming forward to introduce themselves to the friendliest member of Voltron.

Keith glares.

The alien doesn't take the hint and keeps talking, going so far as to place one of their four hands on the blue paladin’s upper arm when they laugh. Lance looks pleased.

“You should go talk to him.”

A crick forms in his neck when he jerks to attention at Allura’s voice. She fills up the once empty space next to him, having somehow snuck up on him, wearing low heels and a pale pink dress; she looks the epitome of aristocratic, with jewels dripping across her collarbone and dangling from her ears. His heart jumps at her words when they finally register, unable to help the quick glance he sends to the tables. “No,” he says immediately, turning away when he catches the unilu delegate peering at him from over the blue paladin’s shoulder. “He looks fine where he is. I don’t want to butt in.”

The princess frowns, obviously displeased at his reluctance. She crosses her arms and juts out a hip in a move that’s far too Keith-ish in nature for his liking. “You know, Lance loves to dance and—”

“Awesome,” Keith grouses.

Allura glares. “—and I’m sure he would say yes to one if someone asked.”

There’s no denying that the blue paladin has had no shortage of dance partners; ever since the band had started playing the boy had been on and off the dancefloor, spinning past him with someone new every few minutes. Some bitterness sneaks into his tone when he says, “I’ve noticed.”

“Now that’s not fair. You’ve had all evening to make your move. Don’t be upset that others are doing what you can’t.”

The words sting and Keith isn’t quick enough to hide it.

Allura’s expressions soften and he bristles a bit, less at the thought of being the recipient of someone’s pity and more knowing that he’s actively doing everything to deserve it. “Keith,” she says, and it’s soft and encouraging. “You are one of the most courageous people I know and you’ve faced things far more imposing than this.” She ducks her head to look him in the face. “It’s just Lance.”

“I know,” he says eventually, making a visible effort to relax. He sighs. “I know. It’s just… I don’t want to mess it up.”

“There’s nothing to mess up,” she assures, touching his arm. “Lance is a fellow paladin and, more importantly, your friend. You’ve been through much together and nothing could break the bond you have because of it.” She pauses, carefully manicured hands digging into his sleeve. “And if he’s the one from those visions of yours then talking to him would be the first step towards the rest of your life.”

He really regrets telling her about the flashes.

“It’s him, isn’t it.” It’s more of a fact than a question and Keith can’t even conjure up the energy to deny it.

Lance laughs again.

At his silence, Allura gasps. “I knew it! Oh! How romantic! It’s just like those books Hunk recommended to me, but better because—well, this is real, isn’t it?” Her hands clap together excitedly. “To think, the history you share is just a precursor of what is to come. It must be destiny!”

“Allura,” he warns.

“If he is from the visions, then you mustn’t just talk to him. You have to dance with Lance too! Keith, you absolutely must!”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“And why not?”

“Because, well, we’re not… it’s complicated. Plus, I don’t really dance.”

Allura tuts at him, booping him on the nose as she takes on a tone of one talking to an ignorant toddler. “Not with that attitude, you don’t. Come on. It will be fun.”

“And what if I don’t wanna have fun?”

The princess purses her lips and she tugs at his sleeve impatiently. He resists when she makes a move to drag him away from his corner, twisting away from her with a scowl. Knowing of her strength and how it outmatches his by miles, he karate chops her other hand when it reaches out for him. She gasps, offended at his defiance, and then redoubles her efforts.

“Why must you be so difficult?” she growls, circlet slipping over one pointed ear as she shoves herself in his space. Her elbow digs uncomfortably in his gut as her other hand fumbles for the wrist of his hand. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Allura, I swear—”

“Well, don’t you two look cozy.”

The two freeze and it’s almost comical, getting caught like this—the red paladin and the altean princess, important figures in their own right, mid-scuffle and cursing at each other—yet Keith doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t laugh because while they had been arguing, a figure had snuck up on them. A figure with very broad shoulders.

Allura recovers first. “Lance!”

The boy belonging to the name smiles. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Of course!” Allura gushes, letting go of Keith and all but pushing him at the blue paladin regardless of the fact that he hadn’t specified who he wanted to dance with. She takes a moment to fix her appearance, smoothing down hair and adjusting her dress, looking haughty. “I’ve gotta find Coran and make sure he’s not overdoing it on the nunvill, so you boys enjoy yourselves.”

And with that, she leaves. Leaves Keith in the middle of a party with his bonafide first and only crush.

He looks up and meets Lance’s eyes. It’s been months since he came back from the abyss and the half inch he had over the other boy is gone now, making them eye level. He knows neither of them are done growing and their heights will continue to change but Keith finds that he likes it this way for now.

“So,” Lance starts, biting his lip. “Dance?”

A quick look across the hall and his stomach flutters nervously. “I’ve never really…”

But Lance is already moving right along, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the dancefloor. Dazed, Keith lets it happen, focus torn between their clasped hands and the back of the other’s head. The crowd parts easily for them, curious looks and whispers following at their heels only to be hastily hidden when he glances away from the pinking ears of his partner. Lance must be determined to ignore their audience, expertly spinning Keith around to face him and guiding their bodies in a starting position.

The music is already in full swing and Lance takes a step to match that of the other dancers, gently tugging Keith along in a strange mix of a waltz and shuffle, confident where he is stiff.

After maybe a half a minute where they steadily avoided each other’s eye, Keith speaks up. “Is this something we do now? Dance.”

Blue eyes flicker past his face and he doesn't have to imagine the silent conversation that's happening over his shoulder. Lightning quick he looks behind him, but, much to his chagrin, Hunk has already schooled his expression from where he sits at one of the many tables and is staring back at him with all too innocent eyes.

Lance clears his throat and Keith turns back to a nervous smile. “Yeah, I thought we could try it out… See how you—er, we feel about it.”

There must have been something in the drink he had earlier of his because Keith can feel himself melting.

“It’s nice,” he says, watching as the other boy’s smile turns into something more lighthearted. “I’m not very good but, yeah, it’s… it’s nice.”

Eyes twinkle in the warm light. “I think it’s nice too.”

There’s a bit of a hitch in the music and Keith spies a few of the musicians being switched out, exchanging string instruments for ones that look like a cross between trumpets and accordions. It must be getting later in the evening because some of the dancers leave, replaced by a much younger crowd. He spots a few familiar faces, both humans—Atlas technicians, old classmates, Garrison faculty—and aliens—bounty hunters, altean colonists, royal dignitaries—all unabashedly shedding their professional appearance in exchange for a good time. The energy pulses upwards, pushing them closer together and causing the weird rumbling in Keith’s chest to give way to butterflies, transparent wings brushing along the inside of his ribs in a way that has his heart thumping madly.

When the song increases in tempo Keith accidentally steps on Lance’s foot. He cringes. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lance assures. ”Just lighten your steps and pretend it’s a training session. Move with me, not against me.”

Keith tries the step again and nearly trips over his own feet when he miscalculates how many times his partner would step back, causing a table of girls nearby to twitter with amusement at the sight of him. Lance doesn’t mock him for his clumsiness, just adjusts his hand so it presses a bit lower on his back; Keith feels the touch like a brand, barely catching onto the way his palm shifts in accordance to the next step.

It gives Keith something to focus on and, eventually, he falls in line with the steps.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Keith snorts and Lance grins, proud. “Not really—not like you anyway. How did you get to be so good?”

“I'm Cuban,” he says as a means of explanation, swinging his hips leisurely with the beat a drummer starts playing, obviously enjoying himself. It’s… distracting. Especially when the song changes to something with more bass and he lines their bodies together, starting up a heavy sway that Keith falls into after the initial jerk of surprise. Then there’s a thigh fitting between his legs and Lance is letting go of one hip to guide his gloved hand to the small of his back, casual as can be as the boy rolls back into the touch.

“This is, um.” Keith takes in a shaky breath. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, I don’t think there are many opportunities for this out in the desert. You really missed out—the Garrison dances always ended up this way. Didn’t matter how many chaperones they assigned.” Lance’s voice is level with his ear, their cheeks brushing as they move to the music, causing goosebumps when he feels the contradictory smooth-roughness of the other’s freshly shaved skin. “But we’ll count this as making up for all the ones you missed. Better late than never, right?”

Breathing is difficult but Keith manages it, if only just. “Right.”

Lance makes a noncommittal hum, pressing closer to let a couple trip pass them. Keith watches them go from his view over Lance’s shoulder, only slightly scandalized when the shorter alien unabashedly slips a hand over their date’s backside. It causes his hand to twitch, the pad of his thumb finding the indent of his partner’s lower back through his suit. With a startling clarity, Keith realizes how far his hand has fallen and tenses, waiting for Lance to notice and take offense.

But nothing happens. No one comments on how close the two paladins have gotten, probably because they aren’t the only ones to do so. The dancefloor is a mesh of bodies, all moving to whatever dance they know and hiding them from the view of the spectators sitting at the tables. He’s not pushed away in disgust, nor is he laughed at. Instead, Lance drapes his free arm over Keith’s shoulder, smoothing down the baby hairs at the back of his neck.

It gives Keith the courage to glance over; he spies half-lidded eyes and a warm flush under golden skin. Enticed by the fluttery feeling low in his gut, he settles his remaining arm over the other’s bicep, just above the edge of his elbow-length gloves. A slow inhale, followed by an even slower exhale, and the pulse under his fingers jumps.

He’s never been held like this before, as if he was the beginning of an addictive end.

The song—the fifth they had danced to and Keith deliriously wonders where the time had gone—starts to come to a climax, and Lance stirs. He looks at the band, then the other dancers and then Keith. There’s something in his eyes and it’s like taking a deep breath before diving under, adrenaline-inducing, willing to be pulled wherever the current takes him. The moment builds like a cresting wave—higher and higher, curling with seafoam and impending desire—until Keith is sure that they're going to crash together, that he’s going to lean in closer and kiss him. Involuntarily, he slips his eyes closed.

“And now, the big finish!”

His eyes fly back open. "What—"

But Lance is already twisting them around and throwing himself backwards. And Keith has no choice but to hastily lean with him, biceps flexing as he tightens his grip around Lance’s waist and hastily puts pressure between his shoulder blades. The top of his head barely misses cracking against the floor. Still, Lance cackles like it’s great fun.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Lance says too loudly when they’re back to standing normally, clapping with the rest of the crowd as the band announces their fifteen minute break. The moment officially over. “I usually drop my partners when I try to dip them.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“Eh, you liked it.”

A little called out, Keith hunches his shoulders and scowls. “I did not.”

But Lance goes on like he didn’t say anything, giving him a million-watt smile. “We did pretty well, all things considered. Probably cause we make such a good team.”

And how is Keith supposed to keep things together when he goes and says things like that? All sincere and butterfly-inducing. “Yeah,” he tells the boy, feeling brave and scared and more than himself, making it so that the back of their hands brush. “We really are.”

After that the party winds down.

The crowds thin and people start saying their goodbyes, respectful salutes paving way for hearty handshakes and more than one inebriated embrace. There seems to be a line forming in front of Allura, everyone wanting a final word with the princess before the night is officially over; Keith merely gives a wave as he and Lance pass her by towards where Hunk and Pidge dally around the buffet table, thinking nothing of the quick smile she gives in return before looking at the diplomat talking to her, knowing that he’ll see her tomorrow at their usual movie night.

Hunk is polishing off his plate of what looks to be pigs in a blanket while Pidge shoves leftover hors d'oeuvres into her shoulder pack. “I’ve got to get this recipe,” the former is saying when the pair come within hearing distance, looking up at the sound of their footsteps and doing a triple take before not-so-subtlety nudging his smaller companion with his elbow. With both gazes trained on them, Hunk gives a too-innocent smile. “Looks like you guys had fun. How was the dancefloor?”

“Crowded,” Keith replies at the same time Lance says, “Cozy.”

The yellow paladin’s eyes flicker between them. “Okay, yeah. Well, we were gonna head out soon… Are, um, you guys gonna…”

“It is getting pretty late,” Lance agrees, leaning forward to steal the last bit of the food from Hunk’s plate before slipping around Keith and draping an arm across his shoulders. He pops the finger food into his mouth and makes a show of chewing loudly when Keith frowns. “You’re going back to the Atlas, right?” he asks him, oblivious or uncaring of the two pairs of eyes that dissect the entire interaction. “Do you think I could hitch a ride with you? I’m staying with Veronica tonight and I think she already left.”

“Sure.”

“Cool.” Lance leans away far enough that he nearly topples the two of them over and Keith has to lightly brace his hand on the other’s waist to better balance them. “See you later, paladudes.”

They four exchange fist bumps and then the red and blue paladin are angling themselves towards the exit, Keith trying not to combust when their arms stay wrapped around each other. More than one eye sticks to them and even more bodies put themselves in front of them to give a deferential goodbye; Lance takes it in stride, giving a sincere wave here and an over-the-top wink there, and it more than makes up for Keith’s own stilted replies. He only blunders once and that’s when Shiro catches his eye over the brim of a champagne glass, smile smug and unbearable.

Finally, they make it to the building’s transport dock where the Black Lion sits docilely.

The forcefield dissipates before Keith even asks and there’s a low rumble in greeting when the pair walk up the ramp, which Lance reciprocates with a light pat to one of the wall panels before following Keith to the cockpit. Then it’s just a means of setting a course to the Atlas and watching the stars pass them by as the mechanical lion does the rest.

The Atlas is empty save for the night shift, all of whom pause in their work up in the control room to watch the Black Lion land and the two paladins that exit it make their way across the room. It is almost eerie how their footsteps sound like a military march in comparison to absolute quiet that reigns once the cabin pressurizer comes online but Keith doesn’t give himself any time to consider it, not when he has a preferable distraction walking alongside him. Lance fills in the silence easily, looking princely as he charms Keith with anecdotes of parties past, laughing alongside him as he recalls the time he had won the Winter Formal crown and the resulting awkward dance that had followed, set to an early century song that he attempts (and fails) to beatbox. It makes the trip up to the floor with their quarters all the more enjoyable and when it’s over, Keith wishes it wasn’t.

Lance flashes a smile at him. “Night, Samurai.”

He sighs in return. “Night, Sharpshooter.”

Then the boy is turning around, disappearing down the hallway with only one look over his shoulder. And Keith, not wanting to look more foolish than he already has by getting caught staring at the spot his crush had occupied, quickly unlocks his door and slips inside.

His mother is in the kitchen, slicing up something that looks like a blue tomato, and looks up when he lingers in the doorway. “You’re back,” she says neutrally, transferring the food to a serving platter and pointedly ignoring the cosmic wolf that watches her every move, drool starting to collect at the base of his largest molar. “How was the party?”

He shrugs. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?”

He shuffles away and into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. His neck cranes back, giving him a perfect view of the ceiling tiles. There’s a scorch mark in the top-right corner from when Kosmo had mistaken one of Krolia’s blasters for a chew toy. He squints at it, thinking, and his mind instantly snags onto the phantom brush of thighs and the strum of an alien guitar. Mouth dry and more than a little embarrassed, he squeezes his eyes shut.

The couch dips slightly and then a clawed hand is stroking his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face and behind his ear. The gesture quells the loud noise in his chest and he lets his head dip to the side, heated cheek squished against the cool felt of the couch.

“It was maybe more than alright,” he finally answers. For some reason, it’s this admission that had him blushing and curling his toes in secondhand gratification. “I had fun, more fun than I thought I would have anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She doesn’t ask, but he knows she wants to know. Better yet, he wants to tell her.

“Everyone was there.”

She hums and continues to comb through his hair.

“Shiro, Pidge and Hunk and Allura. Lance too.” A pause where he clears his throat, far from casual. “We danced.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it was—nice.”

They sit in silence for a bit and his mind lingers on the dance he had shared that evening. He plays it on loop, going over every detail until he could sketch it out on paper, framed and made all the more real. Eventually Krolia stops her grooming in favor of offering him a slice of the strange fruit; he takes it and plops it into his mouth without question, surprised at the sweet taste.

“It’s weird, feeling this way,” he says absently, grounded but with his head in the clouds. “Weird that this is where I am. That life’s like this now.”

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” she tells him with a hum and he would scoff at such a cliche saying if it weren’t for the way his mother says it so genuinely. “Sometimes, it takes a lifetime and a half to find your place in it. I’m glad you’ve found yours.”

The flashes start coming faster and—

—Lance’s warm hand in his as they walk through a line of stalls selling alien wares. Merchants offering gossamer scarfs the same shade as the rising sun and jewelry that shines like they’ve been plucked straight from the night sky. Gaggles of children running through the streets, laughing as they dodge through the crowds. An ornate dagger purchased and gifted—

—fingers gently rubbing a sticky substance over the stretch of his cheek while a voice drones on about the benefits of skincare—

—his shoulder leaned against a doorway as he watches Lance address a class full of recruits, eyes twinkling when they catch sight of him hidden in the shadows. The loud trill of a bell and the shuffle of children eager for lunch, tempered by the arms wrapped around his neck and the kiss bestowed on his cheek—

—the shudder that goes through him as they rock into each other, skin sweaty and breathes loud. Hands gripping his thighs and his teeth nipping at an exposed neck, leaving marks so the world would know who they belonged to, now and to the end. Words whispered in the dark just as stars burst across his vision—

—eyes connecting over a crowd, secretive and happy—

—Keith fumbling with the black box in his pocket as he paces their room, repeating the words he wants to say to the man that he loves, nervous and excited and everything that comes after—

—he never wants them to stop.

They are hanging out in Keith’s room three days after the ball, sitting on the floor and leaning against his bed as they enjoy each other’s presence. Between them, Kosmo rolls onto his back, expecting belly rubs now that they’re no longer distracted by the show they had been watching, ending credits rolling after twenty-three minutes of terrible storytelling and bad animation. Lance is talking with the assumption that Keith will listen, going on loudly about how his character in the show is the main protagonist while delivering pats to the space wolf.

And Keith is… distracted.

Distracted in a sense that he can’t focus—or rather, he can’t stop focusing. On the energetic hand gestures and the expressive emotions that flit across Lance’s face as he speaks, pausing intermittently in order to coo at Kosmo and ask his opinion on things, always answered with a happy pant and an excited tail wag that has the blue paladin nodding sagely before continuing. He focuses on the way he feels now, in this moment, content like he’s never felt before.

A wet tongue licks a stripe up Lance’s cheek and he rears back, half disgusted, half charmed, and Keith can’t keep quiet any longer. Just blurts out, “We should do something this weekend.”

His friend blinks owlishly. “What?”

There’s fire coursing through his veins, invigorating him. It gives him courage to continue, to make so that the flashes are no longer flashes but memories. “I said we should do something this weekend. Do something together.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The casualness of the answers makes him think that the boy doesn’t quite understand the request. Assumes what he’s asking is for something they’ve always done. They hang out all the time, yes, but this is different. He wants this to be different.

“No, I mean we should go out this weekend.” Keith sends him a certain look, waiting for Lance to catch on.

He doesn’t catch on. “Huh?”

Dark eyes roll toward the ceiling and Keith shakes his head, and there’s that something again and oh, it’s fondness—it’s a look of fondness quirking his lips.

“What I’m saying is…” He takes a quick moment to shift on his hip so that their knees are almost touching and, after a moment of consideration, Keith slides his hand down and over until the tips of their pinkies bump into each other. “We should go out this weekend, like go on a ride out to town. Whatever you want, really.”

Lance’s blinks once, twice, three times, and—there. Comprehension floods and it takes only half a second before a high pitched noise scratches out of the boy’s throat. His eyes are wide, comically so, and he stares at Keith, mouth parting in an eclipse of a red moon. Then, just as Keith is committing the image to memory, he snaps his mouth shut and visibly shakes himself. “O-okay, I see. You mean like a scouting mission, right? For any lingering drones out in the desert. Well, yeah, um, as long as it’s okay with Shiro—”

“No,” he quickly cuts off, partially frustrated at the gap in communication and partially embarrassed that they would need clearance for what he has in mind. “I meant—a ride together—as in, you and me. No mission. Just us… together.”

The boy swallows loudly and Keith tracks the moment involuntarily.

"Oh.”

A lapse follows, not uncomfortable, but full. Keith buzzes in the aftertaste of his impromptu proposition and holy hell, he just asked Lance out. They’ve still yet to talk about the ball and how they had danced all night, and, despite the looks they receive from their teammates, neither of them have been brave enough to breach the silent agreement of keeping whatever feelings they had to themselves. However, now everything threatens to burst. His heart finally catches up to his words, beating in overdrive as he waits for an answer. But Lance seems not to care for the nervousness pulsing in his veins or the butterflies fluttering in the base of his stomach because he keeps up the uncharacteristic silence. It remains that way for a solid thirty seconds, until, finally, Keith can't take it anymore.

He clears his throat. “So, is that a yes?”

Lance jerks to attention, looking caught. “I, uh, what?”

“Do you want to go?”

Something incredible happens then. It’s wild and previously unthinkable, but Lance blushes.

He blinks and his vision doubles, half of it going auburn in a wash of caribbean light. He is by the waterfront, the sound of crashing waves dissolving into background noise when compared to the breathy laugh that washes over his face. Darkened cheeks lift in a smile that crinkles eyes and Keith goes a bit red himself at the image. The flash indulges him in a scene of utter bliss; velvety sand and supple lips, parting against his own.

Without thought he leans in, chasing the moment not yet passed. It causes present Lance’s eyes to go wide and it’s nothing like the cool burn of his half lidded gaze on the beach, salt drying on his lashes and sun-born freckles prickling his cheeks.

“I—ah, um. I—I’ll go.”

“Yeah?”

Lance looks away and then back. His voice is the quietest he’s ever heard. Almost shy. “Yeah.”

And it really is that easy.

The days go by slow after that, drawling in an agonizing pace. Second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. Nearly stagnant, Keith hangs under time’s dispassionate influence, watching the clock and willing it to move. It’s a blessing when it finally hits five o’clock on the following Saturday. He stops the pacing he had been doing for the past hour and checks his reflection for the sixth time in as many minutes, tucking and untucking his shirt and running a hand in his hair in an futile attempt to tame it. When the results only further his agitation he gives up, collecting his nerves to the best of his ability making his way out the door with the intention of a quiet getaway.

Which makes him startle when he runs into Romelle outside his door, hand raised and poised to knock. “Keith! I've been sent to retrieve you!” He sees her gaze flicker down to take in his outfit—his cleanest pair of jeans, a corded necklace with a hanging Marmora pendant, and a leather jacket so new that its tag is stuffed in his back pocket—and he stops himself from turning back around and locking himself in his closet till the end of time. “Dinner is almost ready and Coran has made the most spectacular—”

“Actually,” he interrupts, unable to maintain eye contact, “I’ve got other plans.”

Romelle opens her mouth, but Keith, knowing the girl’s knack for rambling, is already speeding through the hallway.

Unfortunately for him, the living room is not as empty as he had previously thought. The yellow and green paladin are sitting on the couch, surrounded by a hurricane of blankets and pillows, the leftovers of a raid on Shiro’s candy stache sprawled across the coffee table.

“Aw, Keith, you look nice. What’s the occasion?”

Pidge looks up and over her screen, lips curling in a sly grin that instantly puts Keith on edge. “Yeah, Keith, where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he says immediately. Then, “Out.”

“Out with Lance I bet. Isn’t your date today?”

Hunk gasps. “You guys are going on a date?”

“How did you…?” He spots his phone on the couch next to her and huffs angrily, stomping over and snatching it back. He quickly unlocks it, frowning when his last conversation with Lance immediately pops up, the other boy having sent a barrage of emojis in affirmation that their outing was still on. “Stop looking through my stuff and for the last time, we aren’t—it’s not a date. We’re just going for a ride, maybe check out the town market. It’s whatever.”

“I don’t know, that sounds a lot like a date to me. Hunk, any thoughts?”

Hunk has just one. “It’s totally a date.”

Heat flushes his cheeks. “Don’t you have your own quarters? Why are you even here?”

Pidge leans back, priggish smirk still in tact. “Matt and N-1 are having their rebel friends over and I didn’t want to third-wheel it, so Shiro said I could crash here for the night.”

Keith internally curses Shiro and his mother hen tendencies. Outwardly, he searches for the key card he’s pretty sure he left on the table the night before. His hair falls into his face as he ducks to check under the furniture and he brushes it back behind his ear, thinking maybe it would be more manageable in a ponytail.

“Look at him.” Pidge snickers. “What a schmuck.”

Hunk shushes her with a light pat of the arm. “I think it’s sweet. It means he cares. And don’t you worry Keith, I’m sure Lance will appreciate the effort you put into today. It’s also perfectly normal to be nervous for your first date— ”

“I’m not nervous and it’s not a date.”

Their response is lost when he goes to the office in the next room and searches there. But it’s all for naught because Shiro is a veritable mess when it comes to anything other than flying because there are papers scattered everywhere and it would take hours to file through even half of it.

When he comes back out, Allura has joined them. She perks up at the sight of him, but he ignores her in favor of checking in between the cushions of the armchair. However, Allura is not deterred. “Keith, Pidge and Hunk have just informed me of your date with Lance. If I may, I have some suggestions—”

“I don’t need any suggestions. I just need to leave or I’ll be late.” Pidge squawks indignantly when Keith shoves her to check her side of the couch.

“Yes, you’re right! Punctuality is very important for these types of things. Early duflax gets the wyvin, as Coran always says.” It seems pointless to mention that not once has he ever heard Coran say that. “But if I could impart some advice before you go. Now, I don’t know much about Earthen mating rituals, but Pidge tells me that courting is a common practice here— ”

“I’m not listening.”

“—gifts are imperative for a successful—”

“Can’t hear you.”

“—when you present, do so when tensions are high—”

“Allura, please, stop.”

“—and then, finally, you must lay claim—”

“I’m leaving,” Keith announces loudly, trying and failing to drown out the giggles that come from Hunk and Pidge’s side of the couch. Forget the keycard. It’s not worth this pain. “Bye. I hope you all have a terrible day.”

They are unfazed by his words, grinning like madmen as they wave. He stalks out of the room, shoulders hunched all the way to his ears as he desperately tries to block out the kissy noises Pidge is making. He can’t believe there was a time he was worried that they would be out of his life; he must have been having an existential crisis or something because this is a new level of embarrassing.

He’s so consumed in his thoughts that he nearly barrels into Shiro on his way out. It’s only the steady grip of his automated arms that Keith doesn’t crack his head against the doorframe and give himself a concussion.

“Whoa there. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just…”

“Looking for this?”

There, dangling from Shiro’s prosthetic fingers, is a familiar key card.

Keith lets out a deep breath, a whisper of relief cooling down the anxious fire within him by a few degrees. He sends his oldest friend a strained smile and takes them. “Yeah, thanks. Where did you find them?”

“Under the couch with one of my shoes, the holoscreen remote, Hunk’s headband, and Allura’s earrings. It seems like Kosmo’s starting a life of crime.”

He lets out a chuckle, unraveling just a little less. “I should probably put a stop to that.”

Shiro nods, patting his back in that sorta awkward, manly sort of way. It’s encouraging and he steps past the other man with a deep breath. Feeling more like himself, he secures the key card to his belt loop and turns to head down the corridor, promising himself that he’ll only start running when there’s no one to catch him doing it.

“Oh, Keith?”

Keith whips around, nerves already reinflating. “Yeah?”

Shiro fails to keep his smile in check. “Have fun on your date.”

And before he can even begin to retaliate, the door is sliding shut and he’s left there, standing in an empty hallway, red to his tips.

Lance looks nice. Really nice. Really, really, really nice. It’s actually a little distracting how nice he looks.

They had met up at the east end of the loading docks and Keith had fought to keep his cool when he had spotted the tall form of his fellow paladin casually leaning against a security rail. His white v-neck and ripped jeans contrasted with the industrial setting, his denim jacket faded and adorned with a couple of pins, sleeves rolled up to showcase the collection of beaded bracelets wrapped around his left wrist. But what had truly pulled it all together was the smile he had sent Keith upon noticing him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Lance returns. “You clean up good, Mullet.”

The compliment flusters him a little and he nearly walks straight into a support beam, only just managing to avoid it with a side-step that brings him close enough to brush shoulders with Lance. “Thanks. You, uh, you too.”

Unsure of what to say next, he ducks his head and leads them to the area the coordinator had assigned him when he had called in the favor. Section A-26 is large and the usual aircraft that docks there is nowhere to be seen; instead, there his hoverbike sits, scavenged from the Blue Lion’s cave and restored to its previous glory. He hoists himself up into the seat with practiced ease and looks down at Lance expectantly.

Pink tints the other boy’s cheeks, but there’s this mischievous smile on his face as he asks, “Why do you get to drive?”

“Because I’m the one that knows where we’re going.”

“Wow, you actually have a plan. Um, okay, then where are we going? Or is that top secret?” He bounces where he stands, looking for all the word: giddish.

“It wasn’t until you asked.”

Lance looks pleased at the response and climbs up behind Keith.

The hoverbike dips a little at the uneven dispersion of weight and he offers his hand as a brace, blushing faintly when it’s taken. But thankfully, Lance doesn’t see, focused as he is on swinging a leg over the seat and scooting close enough to Keith that his chest brushes sparingly at his back. Then hands are wrapping around his middle, loose, and it’s embarrassing how responsive Keith’s body is to the touch, rolling in one long shiver that’s unmistakable. If Lance notices he doesn’t comment on it.

“Ready to roll,” he says, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

Keith puts on the goggles hidden in the front compartment and passes the extra pair he brought to his back seat passenger. Then it’s a matter of twisting the throttle and feeling the engine come to life beneath them, four hundred pounds of metal under his control. And it’s like it was just yesterday he was speeding across the desert with Shiro, tasting freedom for the first time, his hands gripping the handles like they were always meant to; the circumstance has changed but the feeling hasn’t and Keith, with the luxury knowing that he’s got time on his side, grins and drives.

“Woah!” Lance exclaims when Keith tears out of the loading docks, erupting into laughter when they take a sharp turn at the gates of the Garrison compound and startle the men stationed there.

Then it’s just the open desert road, flat and red-tinged. The torrid heat follows at their backs, rolling alongside tumbleweeds and whistling in the wind that buffets the nose of the hoverbike. Dust swirls under the speeder's anti-gravity fenders, curling over the shadowy silhouettes of cacti that they fly past. It brings the beds of the distance buttes into startling focus, massive against the clear sky and infinite horizon.

It takes twenty minutes to get to their destination.

Keith parks at the outskirts of the town nearest to the Galaxy Garrison, waiting for Lance to dismount before following. Their shoulders brush a bit as they stand side by side, Keith eyeing Lance as he eyes their surroundings curiously. The town market is already in full swing, tents set up and people bustling about, buying and selling wares; already, more than one individual behind a stand is calling out to them, offering a discount if they buy in bulk.

“I thought we could walk around a bit?” he says, hoping that the idea isn't too lame. “And after—well, there’s an arcade in the plaza a few streets down and they’ve got pizza.”

His fears are unfounded because Lance just grins. "Pizza not made out of green goo? Count me in."

Things go smoothly after that. The anxiety bubbling in Keith’s chest eases and it allows him the strength to grab Lance’s sleeve and tug him in the direction of a tent hosting a repository of wind chimes. From tent to tent, they go; browsing at board games from planets even they haven’t been to, giggling over misspelled words on shirts, daring each other to try gross-looking foods and petting every dog they see.

And it’s… fun. Keith is having fun.

Lance is great. He’s nice and funny and smart and actually seems to enjoy hanging out with Keith. He nods along when Keith speaks, insanely attentive, and offers his own input with great enthusiasm. They bicker too, playful jabs volleyed back and forth, easy and natural like it never was in the beginning but is now. And although Keith has never thought himself to be an overly funny guy, he finds that pulling a laugh out of his fellow paladin isn’t all that hard and even sort of a reward on all on its own.

It’s like they fit, slotting together like puzzle pieces—or flashes.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance’s hand finds Keith’s elbow. He had discarded his jacket just before they started eating, which is doing nothing to help the hot flush rushing to the apple of his cheeks. The corded muscles of forearms on display is near impossible to ignore and Keith’s eyes follow the dips and curves of his arm, the hard muscle leading up to his shoulder, the soft line of his neck, the defined jawline. “Your fries are getting cold.”

It’s the touch that has him pulling out of the confines of his thoughts, physically shaking his head and straightening his shoulders, not wanting to appear anything less than invested.

Naturally, the world seems to think Keith can’t have a single nice thing without a price because it’s just a few minutes into their meal that his phone starts to blow up with messages. A quick glance shows that most are from his mother, with a few from Shiro sprinkled in intermittently. All of the messages are ones of encouragement, some having been sent while they were driving and others steadily ignored when the two had browsed the stalls of the market.

Eventually all the small pings get to be enough that Keith has to silence his phone.

“You’re really popular today,” Lance notes, slathering an alarming amount of ranch onto his pizza. It’s only when he drowns the unsuspecting slice that he catches Keith’s surprised and guilty look that he elaborates, “Dude, your phone has been lighting up all day. I’d be blind not to notice.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

Still, Keith feels the need to explain. “It’s Shiro and my mom. They’re… checking up on me.”

That gets a light laugh out of Lance. He brings out his own phone, showing Keith the mass of notifications on his lock screen. “I get that. I’ve gotten at least five texts asking if you’re secretly an axe murderer. I hope three years in space is enough time to confidently say that I wasn’t lying when I told them you weren’t. Would really put a damper on the day.”

“I don’t even own an axe.”

Lance’s grin grows and when he puts away his phone to continue eating, he doesn’t reclaim the few inches of space he had given away in order for Keith to see the screen. Their elbows knock a few times, but Keith doesn’t mind.

They leave the plaza in a good mood, making their way back to the hoverbike while they talk about nothing and everything. They only stop when they mount the vehicle and when Lance doesn’t ask Keith where they’re going he decides that he doesn’t want the day to be over quite yet, so he revs the throttle and heads toward the direction he knows his shack is. He eventually leads them to a hill that he and his father used to frequent when he was younger, an escape from the world long before the stars were something to shoot for.

It’s an easy hike up the hill and when they settle by the edge, their pinkies are touching.

“You can’t do that,” he says on their fourth game of tic-tac-toe when Lance brushes the dirt and erases his wobbly X, shifting it over a spot so that it blocks Keith’s next move. “That’s cheating.”

“No, Keithy boy, that’s what I call winning.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

“Isn’t it?” Que pursed lips and a sly side-eye. “If it’s not, then why did you dress up for today, huh? Trying to one up me in style too?”

“This is what I usually wear.”

“Pah-lease. Like I don’t know Shiro’s handiwork when I see it. Dude’s got an eye for colors and he did you a solid keeping with the red. Bet he put up such a fuss when you kept the fingerless gloves—they scream embarrassing scene phase that never really went away.” Lance laughs when he doesn’t immediately counter the accusation and it must fuel him because he continues. “I bet you were upset when you couldn’t find any eyeliner for our date—”

As if struck by lightning, Keith straightens.

“—probably used it all up making yourself look like an edgy, space raccoon going to some street race—”

Our date, Lance had said. He had called this a date. They were on a date right now. Officially. The two of them, together.

“—being emo. But, I mean, whatever works, you know? Sometimes you just gotta paint your nails black and—mmph!”

Keith’s kiss lands on his upper lip, hard and dry.

It’s quick, over and done within a matter of seconds. Lips tingling and heart hammering, Keith pulls back, soul leaving his suddenly flushed body when he realizes he can still feel the other’s breath on his face. He must remain in his catatonic state for longer than he realizes because then Lance’s giving him this particular frown and saying, “What was that?”

With nothing else to do, he shrugs helplessly. “It was a kiss.”

“I know what a kiss is.” Eyes search his. “Why did you kiss me? ”

“I wanted to,” he says simply. “Was that not okay?”

“No, that wasn’t… No, it was cool.”

“Cool,” Keith repeats.

Lance scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. I liked it.”

“Me too,” he adds, looking down. A good portion of their game has been accidentally wiped away and he redraws it, purposefully putting all the X’s and O’s in their respective spots before Lance had decided to remake the rules. He nudges the other boy’s foot with his own, biting back a smile when they’re hooked together. “We can, um, stay here? If you want?”

“I’d like that.”

They stay long enough to watch the sun dip under the horizon.

As dates go, it’s the best he’s ever had.

Later, when he’s home and high off the promise of a second date, he walks into the kitchen to find his friends congregated despite the late hour.

“So,” Allura starts as soon as he walks in, boots loud on the linoleum floor, trying to appear casual as she leans against the counter and just failing. It doesn’t help that the space mice are nearly tripping over her hair as they peer at Keith from over her shoulder, adding four tiny pairs of eyes to the many already scrutinizing his every move. “You’re back awfully late.”

Romelle is no better, inspecting her nails even as her ears twitch in his direction. “Yes, how did it go?”

There’s a plate of cookies on the island counter, comically shaped like the lions and dressed in an assortment of colors. He picks up the only red one on top and bites into it, humming at its surprising sweetness. Knowing his audience still expects an answer, he attempts an aloof shrug and nails it. “It was fine.”

There’s a pause and Keith can tell something is coming. He doesn’t know what exactly, but the warning signs are all there, flashing neon when Allura steeples her fingers and gives him a look.

“And the other… thing?”

“What other thing?”

“Why your kiss with Lance, of course.”

He nearly drops the sweet in his hand and immediately goes to look through the kitchen pass-through, spotting the rumpled state of the pillows and blankets by the living room window looking out to the barrack’s hallway. That and the smudge of chocolate on the window sill, coupled with the candy wrappers sticking out of Pidge’s hoodie pouch, can only mean one thing. “Were you watching?”

“No,” Romelle and Hunk immediately deny just as Allura and Pidge say, “Yes.”

Keith fumbles for a plausible reaction. His friends had undoubtedly seen the goodbye kiss that had been exchanged between him and Lance when the latter had insisted on walking him home; it had been a memorable kiss and Keith had maybe lost himself to it for longer than he’s willing to admit, but that’s something else entirely. A little helplessly, he searches the room for a means of end for this absolute embarrassment. He finds none. “That’s—I can’t believe—uncool!”

“Lance texted me almost immediately after,” Hunk offers, as if that makes up for his eavesdropping and then denial of said eavesdropping. “He hasn’t stopped talking about how you sprung one on him. You don’t really beat around the bush, do you?”

Shiro, the traitor, nods. He ignores Keith’s death glare and takes a sip of his tea, eyes crinkling with mirth over the rim of his mug. “Keith has always been very straightforward in what he wants. A real go-getter.”

It’s at that time that Coran makes an appearance, dressed in an obnoxiously orange pajama set with a matching hat, but any hope Keith has of the older man causing a distraction and, by default, a new topic change dissipates when he asks, “Oh, are we talking about Keith and Lance’s kiss? Congratulations Keith, I hear it had quite the impact.”

Pidge looks like she’s barely holding back a laugh. “Yeah, way to go in for the kill, Keith.”

“Can we stop talking about this?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Stop talking. Just stop talking. I don’t want to hear another word.”

Thankfully, they listen and grow quiet. It doesn’t stop the looks that are thrown his direction, especially with Allura nearly vibrating in her slippers in the effort to capture his gaze, but it’s easy to scowl and turn away. He snatches the drink Shiro holds, ignoring the other’s surprised whine, and takes a sip, ready to head to bed and purge this conversation from his mind, never to be brought up again—

“Did you use tongue?”

Keith chokes.

Hunk merely hums. “Yeah, didn’t look like it.”

Keith thought he knew what love was.

It had been an easy thing, once upon a time. It had been his dad’s hugs after a long day, the blade left to him from a mother he didn’t know, a pat on the back following a perfect maneuver from a brother he found. It was as simple as looking up at the sky and letting himself get lost, for space was everything he had ever wanted, vast and exciting and impossible. Constant and safe and easy, a look to the heavens that held every dream.

But this is new.

New in that he is utterly blindsighted and unprepared for when it happens. A change in heart, from wistful ache to hopeful relief, sudden in the wake of new love. Stitched together through time and soft words, it beats again. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, it goes, drumming loudly against his chest, swelling at touches that burn like supernovas, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

Even more goosebump-inducing than the fire in his chest is the response it gets. Because, startling enough, the feeling is reciprocated.

No words have been said but the thought is there. It comes through in the accidental brushes that turn to lingering caresses. It’s the stretch of an arm thrown over wide shoulders, heads dipped closer as casual words are exchanged. It’s the lack of space as they sit, thighs pressed firmly together and feet idly kicking. It’s the pluck of pink petals out of dark hair, absent-minded, curling in the breeze. It’s the hand pressed against a lower back, feather-light as it guides them closer and onward.

Everything is the same, but different.

Following the date, they are still Lance and Keith, still stubborn and opinionated and more than willing to call each other out, but now—now, they’re more. Keith can talk strategy for restoration while their hands are clasped under the table; can steal a kiss during a spar and, while the other is distracted, sweep his legs right out from underneath him and ensure his victory; can argue the integrity of putting pineapple on pizza for three hours while cuddled under Lance’s arm; and can even sneak the boy into his room when Shiro and his mom are out on call, leaving the door closed and the lights off. He’s allowed to do these things—encouraged, even, if Lance's pleased as punch looks are anything to go by—to look, to touch, to hold. It’s a recently discovered niche in which they fall into, each eager to explore, and once they find their line, Lance makes a point of tiptoeing it. And Keith—well, Keith can't find it in himself to complain.

(“Like this,” the Lance of his flashes murmurs to him one night as he gets ready for bed—only for the words to be spoken again three days later as they curl into each other on the beat-up couch in his shack. “I like it like this.”)

Life shapes into something remarkable in the days of after. It becomes a certainty that the flashes had promised and Keith sometimes can’t believe it, that he gets this. Gets this and more. Because not that long ago, he had nothing—he was nothing—scraping by, sneering at everything he couldn’t have just to hide how it hurt to be denied the love he so desperately craved. But that’s the past and though it shapes him, it is not him. He is here, today, and soon, tomorrow too.

Tomorrow and every day that comes after.

In a menagerie of light, meteor showers and space whales, Keith dreams.

Even so long apart, the abyss is a physical thing inside him. It curls inside in the space behind his heart while he sleeps, coveting each heartbeat like a dragon to a horde; time does not exist in this plane and each heart beat, a remembrance to what he has lived through and what he will live through, is too enticing to pass up. It croons out a soft lullaby, asking for one last look.

Keith gives it.

It’s the sand between his toes and lips meeting his own, sun-warm and pliant to the lazy breeze. It’s the hot puff of breath at his neck while frantic hands explore. It’s the ring on his finger and the sip of champagne, glasses clinking in a toast made. It’s the weight of a child on his chest, calm and innocent, snoring lightly as a small hand fists his shirt. It’s the dip of a mattress every night, for the rest of his nights.

Keith wakes up and knows that’s the last flash he’ll ever have.

On the first day of the rest of his life Lance challenges Keith to a race.

It’s not the first time one of them has issued such a dare and it surely won’t be a last, but Keith still treats it like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done. He squares his shoulder and steps up to the plate, toe to toe, staring Lance in the eye as he accepts. It’s like old times, even with the newness between them, rearing up in the deliberate way Lance tilts his head, chin jutting out in that stubborn fashion of his, the crook of his eyebrow and the curl of his lips dangerous in ways Keith is only just getting used to.

Nevertheless, the day finds them back at the loading docks, convincing the Atlas crew to let them borrow another speeder. When Keith has signed the proper paperwork he turns to find Lance already seated on one of the hoverbikes. The red one.

Keith squints and Lance grins, but lets it go with a soft huff. He walks over to the gray bike and hoists himself with little effort, straddling the sleek seat and making himself familiar with the controls.

“Ready?” he asks once he's done.

“Born ready,” is Lance’s answer.

And, well, Keith can't let a challenge like that stand.

Without further ado, he revs the engine and shoots down the catwalk. He hears the beginning of a surprised squawk before the wind is boxing his ears, tugging at his hair, chasing away everything until it is just him and the road.

Flying is in his blood. It’s been a part of him since as long as he can remember. It was there when he sat atop his father’s shoulders, arms spread wide and leaning back as far as he dared, staring up, up, up. Fondly, he recalls the way big hands had grasped his tiny ankles and the voice, deep and honest, quoting, Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.

He had been too young to understand the words then, but he thinks he understands them now.

Though the most air he gets this time around is a particularly steep ledge over a slim ravine a quarter of a mile east from Galaxy Garrison property, it still feels the same. Like he’s taking a deep breath for the first time, lungs expanding until he is weightless, free. Free to be who he is, even if that is a boy quick to anger and slow to love.

And Keith likes who he is now. Likes who he can be—with Krolia, with Shiro and the team, with Lance.

In the end, Keith wins the race.

It’s a close call and his heart races at the thought of it. Because Lance is grinning that absurd grin, eyes crinkling with the force of it, and his hair is a mess, windblown and highlighted gold by the sun. The white shirt that clings to him is twisted and Lance makes a halfhearted effort to fix it as he quiets his hoverbike’s engine and starts talking in compensation, mouth moving a mile a minute.

“I almost had you at that last bend,” he is saying, leaning back in his seat so that his torso is one sleek slant. “I shouldn't have hesitated on the acceleration—I guess I’m just not an adrenaline junkie like you, but hey, now that I know the angle, it’ll be different. So I say we go around again. Two out of three wins. Loser has to help Coran clean the—Keith? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

It’s not a flash, but it feels like one.

“Keith?” Shoulders rise as Lance angles his head to catch his gaze, honest concern coloring those beautiful eyes. They aren’t that close, hovebikes parked perpendicular to one another, but he swears he can see the universe reflecting in dark navy. Planets colliding and forming, spinning in orbit around a dilated pupil. “Hey, man, what’s wr— ”

“Date me.”

The words are out of his mouth before he has time to really think about them and what they mean.

Lance splutters. “What?”

But now that the idea has been introduced. Keith can't deny its appeal; to keep what they have, in all its stubborn sincerity and wild attraction, going for as long as they live. Perhaps even further than that. “Date me,” he says again, with more conviction. A pause. “Please. Please date me.”

A moment, then—

“You just have to beat me at everything, don't you?” Lance starts, loud enough to be considered yelling, but having none of the thunderous anger usually associated with the volume. “Can't even give me this one thing, can you? Well, the joke’s on you—cause it was going to be great! I had everything planned out and it was going to be the most romantic thing ever! Would've blown this disaster out of the water, I'm telling you!” He stands and, uncaring of the wobble it gives under his weight, marches purposefully across the wing of his bike until they’re parallel to one another. One of his hands waves madly about, flying across the entire range of their surroundings before gesturing to Keith himself. “Candles and rose petals everywhere! Hunk was gonna cook something nice and we would've danced and—and you were gonna swoon! Straight into my arms! There would've been kissing and everything! The whole shebang!”

Keith furrows his eyebrows, lost. “What?”

But Lance blows past his confusion and slumps to the side in an expulsion of energy, mumbling, “God, you're such a jerk.”

Hands move to grip the front of his shirt, the only warning before the entire weight of his maybe-boyfriend is forced upon him. Keith feels the wisp of eyelashes fluttering against the column of his neck as Lance smooshes his nose into the junction there, mumbling words and noises he can't hope to translate. He returns the clumsy embrace automatically, winding his arms around the other’s waist and resting his cheek on a soft, brown crown of hair.

“So… yes?”

Lance laughs a watery laugh, deliriously happy, and leans back to stare him straight in the eye, a whirlwind of blue caught in a crystal ball of stars. The grip on his shirt loosens, fingers trailing up his chest until they tease the nape of his neck. “Of course it's a yes, you absolute loser.”

Keith frowns even as his heart sings, melody erupting into fireworks so loud he might go deaf. “See, it's stuff like that last part that really mix me up.”

“Oh my gosh, just shut up and kiss me.”

So he does.

Time, like most things in Keith’s life, is something he keeps close.

[theamberwriter]

Drawn to Love [Katsuki Bakugo]

[ONE]

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Word Count: 2982

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Lmfao, so - Lumix and Aurelius may or may not be from a comic of my own that I came up with ages ago! I’ve been having a lot of fun writing this! I hope you guys like this just as much as Drawn to You!

"Why don't we hang out in your dorm tonight?" Katsuki asked as the two of you walked back to the Heights Alliance. You panicked, there was a reason you hadn't let him in your room.

You smiled warily. "Why would you wanna do that -"

"I've never been in your dorm, first off. Second, my floor is getting too freaking noisy to study." He glared straight ahead, his grip on your hand tightening a little. He was right though. The people on his floor had been running amuck lately. 

You groaned. "Fine."

"What? Got something you don't want me to see?" Katsuki teased. "Did you save one of those Papergos to sleep with at night?"

Your face grew hot as you remembered the incident a few months before that lead to your dating. "No! My room is, uh, just a little cramped. That's all."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He wasn't buying it. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Your stomach twisted as you got closer to your room. He was going to think that you were weird. You just knew it. Your quirk was fun, what could you say? It brought you endless hours of entertainment.

"Uh," you stuttered, standing in front of your door. "Are you sure you don't want to -"

"You're not getting out of this, nerd." You could see the amusement in his eyes. No matter how he tried to hide it.

Your shoulders slumped. "Rude."

To say Katsuki was a little confused when you opened the door was an understatement. There was a lot going on at once. Lots of movements, noises, and colors. Shapes he recognized but were a little off. Mostly due to the materials they were made of.

Over the years, you'd drawn and brought to life many things. One of your passions was making pets and plants that didn't need upkeep. As Katsuki stepped in, a little paper dog and cat circled around his feet. Tiny creatures scurried and flew about the room. A colorful paper toucan was propped on a paper tree growing out of your wall. On the other side of the room, an owl hooted from a tree trunk jutting out.

Paper vines hung from your ceiling, clinging to the walls. All pulsing with life. Paper plants, which actually had color and scent, were growing in real pots. Some were even sentient, nudging your leg as you walked by. You patted them on the head. Your room was alive, basically.

"Uh, welcome to my dorm," you said, stretching out your arms. The owl flew out, landing lightly on your shoulder. "You see why I didn't want to hang out in here? I - uh - I got a little carried away -"

"This is amazing," you barely heard Katsuki muttered. You could see the slight freak out in his eyes as the toucan flew to him and landed in his hair. It nuzzled down, apparently not planning on moving anytime soon.

That's when your bathroom door slid open and out walked two people. An extremely tan boy with cinnamon red hair and facial stubble was talking to a pale girl whose purple hair dragged the floor behind her.  "- No, you're an idiot, you can't just - [Name]! You're back!"

The girl flew over and wrapped you up in a hug. The owl hooted at her aggressively and went back to the hollow in the tree trunk. "[Name], you're back! You've been gone forever."

"What the f -" Katsuki started.

You grinned at him anxiously. "Aurelius, Lumix - I brought someone."

The girl, Lumix, dropped you and got in Katsuki's face. The toucan in his hair didn't even flinch. The guy, Aurelius, pulled her back by the shoulder. "Lumix, don't be rude."

You rushed over, grabbing Katsuki's arm. He looked ready to blow them up. "GUYS, this is my boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo. Katsuki, meet Lumix and Aurelius. They're, uh, characters from my comic."

"AAAHHHH, FINALLY!!!" Lumix yelled. "You're a lot cuter in person."

"They're what?" Katsuki sounded angry and baffled at the same time. "You can bring people to life?"

"You know it!" Lumix cheered, spinning around in a circle. Katsuki realized then that she was in futuristic garb. Nothing like he'd ever seen.

"Uh, yeah," you laughed nervously, pushing him towards the far end of your room. "It's a war story about different countries. Each have a theme. These two are are sci-fi and steampunk. It's a whole - nerdy - thing. Uh, let's get to studying."

"Why are some things colored but some not?" Katsuki asked suddenly. And something dawned on him. Something that made his insides burn with guilt. He really could be dense. He had so many questions. About your quirk, about you, about everything. 

"Wha -" you started, turning to find Katsuki's face scrunched in obvious annoyance. "Hey, 'Suki, you okay?"

Katsuki could act cool and hard all he wanted. But, and he found it weird and irritating, he'd already imagined his whole life with you. Even after only knowing you since the school year started. You'd really gotten under his skin and into his heart. Katsuki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just realized, after all this time, I don't actually know a damn thing about your quirk. Or about you, really."

You smiled and waved him off. "I'm nothing interesting. My quirk is stupid and full of rules and technicalities. It's all super boring -"

"I don't care how damn complicated it is," he started. Katsuki sat on your bed. Your heart ached. He really looked like he belonged there. Amongst all of your drawings, and the craziness that you could bring to life. You sat next to him. He turned your face to look at him. His eyes were very serious.

"I don't care how dumb you think it is. If we're doing this, being together, then I have to know. - I want to know. About this." He pointed to the toucan. Then to Lumix and Aurelius who were listening intently. "About these nerds. About you."

Your heart felt like it swelled. An overwhelming feeling of happiness overtaking you. But it was cut short as you watched in horror as he reached for the toucan. Your eyes grew wide as he tried to pull it out of his hair. "Wait - no! The toucan -"

But it was too late. Katsuki's gentleness disappeared as the bird chomped down on his finger. He immediately lit it on fire. Only realizing as ashes fluttered in front of his face what he'd done.

"Bites," you finished weakly. You barely held in your laugh.

"Oh, shit," Katsuki muttered, then louder, "Damn it! I didn't -"

You got off the bed. "It's fine. I can remake him."

You rummaged through your desk until you found your drawings box. You took out a binder and held it up to show him. "This is a comprehensive collection of everything I've brought to life. This is a technicality of my quirk. You can destroy what I've made, it will simply go back to being a drawing. However, if you destroy what it's drawn on -"

"Then it's gone forever," Aurelius stated dramatically.

You nodded, then flipped through the pages. "You can see these are all blank. - Except for this one, with the toucan."

"Are you sure that's a toucan?" Katsuki asked, squinting at the page. It was just a vague shape. You thumped him on the head with the binder. That earned you a small glare.

You rolled your eyes. "I was small when I drew him. We'd gone to the zoo and wanted to make one for me. It may not look like much, but I bring to life what's in my mind's eye. Watch."

You focused for a second. Thinking about how you wanted the toucan to appear this time. Then put your hand to the page. In a glow, the marker toucan peeled away from the paper as you lifted your hand. Bringing life was a bit more elaborate than just producing a building. The marker outline rose, rotating until the toucan was up and down.

The marker lines bent into a recognizable outline of the toucan. Then the outline started to expand like a bubble. Soon a white, 3D, paper bird floated there. Then the colors flooded in, like someone pouring paint. They were totally different than they'd been before. With a final flash of light, you could see the spark of life flood in.

You cupped your hands under the toucan to catch it. It plopped right into your waiting palms. Katsuki stared in amazement, not even trying to hide it this time. That's when the toucan turned to stare him in the eye.

"I must thank you," the toucan said. The color drained from your boyfriend's face. "If you had not blown me up, I may never have gotten the gift of speech. Also, thank you, [Name], for the new coloration. It's quite beautiful."

"Why thank you," you said, smiling. "Back on the tree, then?"

The bird nodded. "Yes, please, if you would."

You climbed on your bed to put the toucan back in his perch in the corner. You sat back beside Katsuki, who was weirdly silent. He looked disturbed.

"You okay?" you giggled. "Not used to the 'miracle of life'?"

He was silent for a long moment before asking, "That bird isn't going to hold a grudge, is it?" 

"Sir Beaksaplenty?" You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "No. He's a very forgiving bird. I've destroyed himself by accident before. I just have to promise to bring him back better than the last. I'm thinking about giving him a top hat and monocle."

Katsuki eyed the bird's perch warily. "And he remembers everything?"

You nodded. "Only if I want him to."

Katsuki nodded, but you didn't think he was convinced. You were quiet as you watched him take in your abilities. You could see something flicker in his eyes. He kept looking around. His eyes going to where Aurelius and Lumix were arguing over a board game on the floor.

You took Katsuki's hand gently, giving him a smile. "I'm an open book. Ask me anything you want to."

He seemed to flip through a few ideas in his head. "You never answered my question before."

"About the colors? Well some I accidentally brought to life, like the Papergos. And some I was too tired that day to give color. If I don't have enough juice left or enough focus, they come out the same color as what they're drawn on." You shrugged. "Some I colored before bringing them to life. Like the flowers, I used scented marker so they'd have smell nice. Others, like Beaksaplenty, I had to concentrate. See the colors in my mind as I brought him to life."

"So far nothing you've told me has been complicated," Katsuki teased. "Can you bring something to life out of anything?" 

You nodded. "Yep, I drew Lumix and Aurelius on chunks of wood meant for carving. Their bases are in this box." You pulled out two one-inch wooden cubes, showing your boyfriend their blank sides. "I keep everything in here for safekeeping. I don't think I could reproduce these two."

Lumix grinned. "We're one of a kind!"

"Do they just follow you everywhere?" Katsuki grunted, thinking about how this would affect your future living arrangements.

"I did try to leave them with my parents," you groaned, glaring them down. "But two someones decided to sneak into my suitcase."

Lumix pouted. "We didn't want to get left behind! School is much more fun than home!" 

"How the hell you even fit in a suitcase?" Katsuki asked.

"Easy!" Lumix shrugged, shrinking down to the of a doll and then growing again. "We can shrink to the size of the object we're drawn on. And as big as we are in context. We can't grow any bigger than this. But we'll also never be the size of ants."

Katsuki looked at you. You shrugged, laughing, "I told you. Rules, technicalities."

"I guess I still have a lot to learn, huh?" he noted, mostly to himself.

You took his hand, interlacing your fingers. "It's nothing time won't fix. And we have all the time in the world."

Katsuki's heart fluttered at those words. Not that he'd ever admit to being soft. You two spent the night talking. He would ask you questions; when did you draw this? or how did you do that? or what was the biggest thing you made? His subtly slipping the more you talked. The closer the two of you got.

Before you knew it, it was late and dark out. The two of you wrapped up on your bed. He was thinking deeply about something, you could see it in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Aurelius and Lumix were passed out on the floor. Lumix had asked Katsuki a million questions of her own. She’d finally worn herself down.

“I’m sorry about them,” you said softly. “I should’ve told you. - But I was afraid.”

Katsuki grunted, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “Afraid of what?”

You hesitated, playing with his shirt. Katsuki grabbed your hand and turned his head to look at you levelly. You sighed. “Of you. What you would think. How you would react. I was afraid that you would think I was weird. That you’d leave me because of ...all this.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You’re really an idiot sometimes. - Do you really think any of this would change my mind about you? You’re mine, damn it.”

“Katsuki…” you breathed. You lifted your head to look at him, his cheeks were pale pink.

“You have a damn cool quirk. You’re strong and use it well. All this is just like training,” he said, a bit softer. “There’s no point in being able to bring shit to life, if you don’t use it to make yourself happy every once in a while. - How many people can say they do what you do? I’m guessing not fucking any. Leaving someone for their quirk is damn stupid. Especially someone as amazing as you. So don’t be an idiot.”

Katsuki kissed your forehead, which sent a herd of butterflies teaming through your stomach. He yanked your head back down to his chest. Then he pulled you tightly against him. Your heart felt warm as you wrapped your arms around him. You wanted to be like this forever.

After a long while in silence, Katsuki spoke softly. “Why would I think your quirk was weird? I knew damn well what I was getting into. I wanted to be with you, even after you unleashed a bunch of mes into the dorms. - That paper runt was right. I was flattered that you’d drawn me.”

You played with his shirt again. You muttered sleepily. “Well - there have been a few times in the past that people haven’t reacted well to my quirk. They want me to draw them. Then bring them to life. But people never see themselves from the outside. They accused me of messing with them when I brought them to life. But I hadn’t. They just didn’t like themselves, and who they truly were from the outside. Mina loved the doppelganger I drew for her. That’s how we became friends in the last year of elementary school. In middle school, I hid my quirk. But, when someone asked me out, I always made something. The few that asked me out thought I was some sort of mad scientist. Saying they’d heard about me and the things I’d made before.

“So I was terrified for you to meet Lumix and Aurelius. I thought you were going to think I was some sort of freak. Assume I was doing something pervy. Or that I was so pathetic, that I had to create my friends. Or some sort of mad scientist, just like the others had called me. Or just - completely freak out about something else. I know those two can be a bit much to handle. And, sometimes, they’re very 2D. So you can tell they aren’t real. But I gave them the ability to learn and become more of themselves. Not just how I imagined them to be. I just laid the groundwork. They did everything else. They’re much more real now than they’d been when I made them. I love them like family, regardless. Even if it makes me Dr. Frankenstein.”

“You worry too much,” Katsuki stated. “And those people were idiots. What you do is fucking awesome. Raccoon eyes gets on my damn nerves. But I’m glad she stuck around.”

Your face filled with heat. Mina was the only one to ever call you awesome, or call your quirk cool. No one you were interested ever though what you could do was neat. Or they only thought it was a pathetic parlor trick. They never took your powers seriously. You grinned to yourself, thankful to the darkness. You were embarrassed, honestly. You silently chuckled in excitement. 

“Also,” he added, sounding more asleep than awake. “Frankenstein would be a fucking cool hero name.”

Soft snores followed. Katsuki’s breathing evening out, his heartbeat slowing under your ear. You honestly felt so relieved. He was going to stick with you. Even after you’d accidentally brought a bunch of Papergos to life. Finally, someone who didn’t think you were a joke. Finally, someone you could actually invite into your paper world. Someone you could actually love. Someone who would love who and what you made, just like you did.

You gave Katsuki a light squeeze. Letting your mind wander. Playing around with ideas about raising children in your world of drawings. How Lumix and Aurelis would be as babysitters. How you all would be as a family. How Katsuki would handle an apartment with you. You could see it all. You fell asleep to a sweet, warm image in your mind that you hoped you could bring to life.

[thegoodprincess]

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 5

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.9k [series, ongoing]

Rating: N/A

Warnings: Extremely brief mentions of blood. (Taehyung sadly doesn’t appear in this chapter 😭.)

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 5. Revelations

“I chose you even before I met you.”

I was both physically and emotionally exhausted by the time Malachi put the boy to bed, yet I still found myself pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. The air around me felt thick with tension as I began to recognize the gravity of the situation that had unfolded tonight. I found myself wringing my hands out of habit to get the pent up jitteriness out of me. My shoulders ached. I was acutely aware of how the pain started in the base of my neck and gradually crawled down my spine. It only stopped to settle when it reached my lower back. But even the pain couldn’t distract me enough from the twisting knot of anxiety in my stomach.

I stopped pacing to stare absentmindedly into the fireplace. Narrowing my eyes I fixated them on the way the flames licked around the edges of the firewood. They vaguely reminded me of the way the blood-tinted-water curled around the boy’s body as he sunk unconscious towards the bottom of the river. Upset at the memory, I dug my toes into the fibers of the Persian rug beneath my feet. But to no avail, it only spurred an entourage of other images. I unwittingly began to recall every minute detail of tonight’s events. Harrowing flashes of sights, sounds, sensations, smells and even tastes replayed over and over.

If I closed my eyes and focused hard enough I could see the panicked expression on the boy’s face when he’d realized he was falling, the bright red droplets of blood splashing against the backdrop of white snow, and the pale white translucency of his ice cold skin. I could clearly hear the sound of the bullet exiting the gun, the boy’s body breaking through the ice, and the way he gasped, panted, and gargled when his breathing became labored. I could feel the painfully icy water stabbing through my skin, how the feeling was amplified greatly by the frigid night air when we broke to the surface, and his heart beat gradually slowing as he got closer to death. I could still smell the metallic scent of his blood mixed with the faint undertones of his cologne. I could even remember the bitter tang left in my mouth from all the stress. It was almost too much for my reeling mind to comprehend. The memories only seemed to momentarily cease whenever I noticed that some of the stray cinders escaped the fire to create smudges on the rug.

I was unsure I had made the right decision saving the boy. As much as I didn’t want to admit that Malachi was right, there was undoubtedly going to be some sort of consequences for my actions. I was also uncertain of their severity. Maybe it was best to just have let him die. It wouldn’t have complicated things so much. Moreover, it wasn’t like I only saved him once. I had stopped death from claiming him during three different instances; the first time being when he fell into the river. He should have drowned as a result. The second and third times could have happened separately or together simultaneously while he was bleeding out from his gunshot wound and experiencing hypothermia after I rescued him. I was beginning to understand and accept that I had messed with the delicate balance of life and death. It made me uneasy to think that it was going to come back to haunt me one way or another. However, I couldn’t say I entirely regretted saving the boy. Something in my gut told me this wasn’t his time to die. There was something more to it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I was vaguely aware of Malachi’s presence when he entered the room. He must have sensed my mental turmoil brewing behind my far-off gaze. After I heard him purposely cleared his throat, as to not startle me, he placed his ashen fingers on my tense shoulders to gently turn me to face him. Worry swam in his eyes as he stared at me. I broke eye contact first, as I didn’t have the energy to endure another lecture. Taking a second to collect his thoughts, he sighed out before speaking.

“Mistress, if I may on my behalf express to you my thoughts,” he hesitated as if to ask for permission.

“You may,” I curtly nodded, anxious yet genuinely curious of his opinion.

“What is done is done. And it is rather foolish to harp on such occurrences that we can not change.” Trailing his hands down my arms, he grabbed both of my hands. “While I do not entirely agree with involving ourselves with humans,” he trailed off almost sounding repulsed, “If you truly believe you did what was right, then I faithfully stand by you in your decisions.” He gave a reassuring squeeze to my hands.

Surprised I jerked my head up towards him and stared wide eyed. I was in disbelief at the sincerity of his words. His reaction was not what I was expecting. He only kindly smiled at my bewilderment.

“You’re not disappointed with me.” I timidly whimpered out. A few stray tears escaped my lash line and rolled down the apex of my cheek, feeling relieved as my emotions bubbled to the surface.

“I have grown too fond of you to ever be disappointed by the decisions you hold dear to your heart.” At a loss for words, my mouth opened and then immediately closed a few times before I just settled for abruptly hugging Malachi.

“Thank you,” were the only words I could muster as I whispered the sentiment into the crook of his neck. It took him a moment to realize I was embracing him before he returned my affection wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and shoulders to pull me even closer into him.

“You are very welcome,” he said before letting go of me. “Now have a seat. I will make you some tea with fresh herbs from the garden. In the meantime please refrain from staring at the fire so intensely. It almost looks as if you will burn a hole through it, not that that is really possible since it is already set ablaze, but you understand what I am alluding to. Relax.”

I giggled at his playful demeanor and nodded, walking around the coffee table to take a seat on the worn sofa. Once he left the room, I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the sofa. The grandfather clock settled next to the fireplace ticked rhythmically in the foreground. I syncopated the noise of the swinging pendulum to my breathing, focusing on it to momentarily distract me from the topic of the boy currently residing a few rooms away in my bed.

Sometime later Malachi returned holding a tea tray containing two crystal glass teacups and a freshly brewed kettle of tea. After sitting in a love seat adjacent to me, he gracefully poured the piping hot liquid just short of the brim into a cup, he then carefully handed it to me.

“Here, this will help to calm your nerves. But do be careful it is quite hot,” he quickly warned me before I could even think about taking a sip. As I brought the cup up towards my mouth, I noted its flowery vanilla aroma before the taste of the liquid washed over my tongue.

“Mmm, thank you. It’s good,” attempting to make small talk in a bid to distract myself I continued, “But I thought you were going to use some of the herbs we have. Instead you used roses. I hope you didn’t use too many. You know my rose bushes are precious to me,” I teased.

“Do not worry, I used only a few. They smelled too fragrant to pass on the opportunity. Plus they give the tea such a lovely color.” He said looking keenly into his own cup, admiring the way some of the stray petals swirled about it when he slightly rotated his wrist. Noticing the juxtaposition between Malachi’s daunting appearance and the delicacy of the tea’s ingredients was something I found quite comical. I chuckled softly to myself. It was then that Malachi broke the phlegmatic atmosphere.

“Mistress,” Malachi addressed me but didn’t say anything else. I could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Hmm?” I encouraged him to continue whilst casually sipping my drink.

“Forgive me, but that boy,” he paused again unsure, “Why did you save him? And do not say that you do not know, because I know that you must have had some kind of a reason. You do not usually act so rashly without one. So tell me the truth, please.” He pled with me.

My smile suddenly faltered. “Uh, well, ” I stuttered. Finding it easier to just start from the beginning I spoke, “The first time I saw him I immediately noticed him. It was like my eyes immediately found his. I couldn’t look away… and I didn’t want to. After that I kept seeing him. It was almost too easy to pick him out of a crowd. Over and over he kept appearing before me. And it wasn’t like I was always seeing him in the same place around the same time; it was multiple different locations anywhere from early in the morning to late at night. They didn’t seem like coincidences,” I reasoned. “The harder I resisted looking, the more I wanted to. It’s like his presence demanded my attention. And the funny thing is when I do see him it feels like a kind of sixth sense,” I said as I exhaled dramatically, “A tingling takes over my whole body and immediately a voice in my head tells me, ‘hey look up, look up now,’ and suddenly he’s there in front of me. It’s like time slows down and the world becomes a blur. Almost like I’m hyperaware of the moment, so that I can take in every detail of our depressingly short encounters.” I didn't want it to seem like I only liked the boy for the way he looked. He had other attributes that I appreciated as well.

“And it’s not just because he’s handsome. Yeah, he’s beautiful; but he’s also kind and considerate and smart. He’s always looking after the well being of his friends, he’s respectful to strangers, and he acts so sweet towards his dog. Not to mention he has such a unique outlook on most things if you take the time to really listen to what he has to say.” I began to fidget with a loose thread that had come undone on my nightdress. Spinning the fiber between my fingertips I continued, “There’s more there hidden in the depths of his eyes and the way he smiles wide, and how his voice excitedly pitches and his eyes light up when he tells a story,” my passive face formed a smile as I remembered. “He looks… like… someone worth knowing. Like I could share all my secrets with him, lean in close and whisper in his ear and he’d listen intently but wouldn’t repeat anything aloud.” I stared dreamily into the fire, lost in my thoughts. “I want to be his friend. I want to make him smile and be there for him when he cries. You know I saw him once wandering around the streets of Seoul late at night with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. All I could think about was hugging him tight. I don’t even know what made him upset. I wish I could have asked what was wrong so I could make it better in any way I could. But I know I can’t -,” I trailed off catching myself in the middle of a an exceedingly long rant.

Embarrassed by my blabbing, I abruptly stopped. I tried as best I could to articulate my feelings but I found I was unknowingly speaking in an unfiltered rush. It felt like what I was saying didn’t even make that much sense, considering I didn't even properly know the boy. Malachi was considerate enough to not interrupt me though. Instead he only stared with a pensive look in his eyes, trying to make sense of what I was saying. He could tell I was struggling. Frustrated with my inability to properly give a direct answer, I pulled a seam in my dress and inadvertently created a tiny hole.

“I… feel like there is some sort of connection between us, like he came into my life for a reason.” I picked at the edges of the hole. “Or maybe I came into his life for a reason. ” Drawing a shaky breath I uttered, “Perhaps it was love at first sight.” My voice was just above a whisper by the time I spoke the last word. Overwhelmed and a bit scared by my own admission, my trembling fingers caused me to clink my cup against the plate when I set it down on the coffee table. Malachi solemnly nodded his head once as if to convey to me that he understood, even though I knew he didn’t.

“What is his name then?” He asked with a stoic expression, the orangish hue of the light emitting from the fireplace reflected on his pale face.

“I don’t know.” I felt silly for even entertaining the thought that I had feelings for the boy when I didn’t know something as simple as his name.

“You do not know,” Malachi repeated, his features impassive.

“No, Malachi, I don’t,” I retorted. I was being unreasonably defensive, “Shall I go and try to wake him to ask?” I was unable to hide the scorn in my voice.

“You know that is not what I am referring to. I was just -.”

“You just what?” I impudently interjected, “May I remind you who is in charge here, because you are beginning to agitate me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as my blood began to boil in my veins. “Know your place,” I snapped at him. As soon as the bitter words left my mouth I saw a drop in Malachi’s shoulders. Feeling regret for my vile temper I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just -,” I paused before meekly continuing, “Would you please kindly drop the subject? I’m exhausted and I need time to think things over.”

“Yes, of course Mistress, my apologies for upsetting you.” Malachi responded sounding dejected.

Looking towards a mirror hung on the left wall of the room, I then remembered something. Before the boy had fallen into the river, the gunman had deposited his wallet into the snowy bank to hide it.

“I don't know his name,” I whispered astonished that I hadn’t remembered this from before. Malachi confusedly furrowed his eyebrows. He was probably questioning why I was bringing up the topic again after I had told him to drop it. “But I know a way we can find out.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Malachi inquired, trying to catch on to what I was referring to.

“His wallet. It was left on the side of the river. I’m sure it contains some sort of identification in it. That is, if I can still find it. It was snowing when you rescued us… probably even harder since we left. I’m sure it’s buried by now. It’s worth a try though.” I rose from my chair, to walk over to the mirror. Taking a moment to focus on where I roughly remembered the gunman hiding the wallet, I then channeled my energy into the mirror to show Malachi the location I pictured in my head. Suddenly the scene in the glass shifted right before us from merely reflecting myself to showing a view of the Han River from where I was previously standing tonight to witness death’s doing. “See right along here is where it should be located.” I pointed to a particular area of snow. “If I can just -.”

“No, you have been through enough tonight,” Malachi cut me off. “I will go retrieve it.”

“Thank you, “ I whispered grateful Malachi was volunteering to help me. But just as he was about to teleport to leave, I called out to him. “Wait!” Malachi stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me. His face was void of emotion, but he raised his eyebrows as if to silently question why I had stopped him. “The man that shot the boy, what… what do you think will become of him?”

“Hmm, karma probably. Those who commit such heinous crimes, their actions are bound to catch up with them at some point in time. If you are not referring to prison while he is still alive and breathing, the Shadows will surely drag him to Hell once he reaches the afterlife.” Malachi spoke matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Malachi’s candid input put me at ease. Angels of death usually escorted the souls of the dead to Heaven or even Purgatory, while the Shadows delivered those found unequivocally evil straight to Hell.

“Hey, do not ruminate too deeply on the virtue of others, or you will begin to develop wrinkles.” He made his way back over to me and gently rubbed out the worry lines in my forehead. “I will return as soon as I locate the boy’s possessions. Make sure you finish your tea,” he advised nodding towards my abandoned cup. He then turned on his heel and disappeared from sight only leaving the remnants of a shadowy fog were he once stood.

[multifics-canary]

Marinette's New Shield ch. 3

Ch.1 ch.2

A/n: guys thank you so much for waiting patiently on this :'D it means a lot!!! Fair warning, it's a cliffhanger. Enjoy! I dont own miraculous ladybug

Marinette was exhausted. Ruby had almost been Akumatized hours ago, but managed to not turn and keep the akuma. After that whole ordeal, she had told Chloe to take the girl home to rest. The plan she had to expose Lila was practically gold, but it also involved practically destroying the ladyblog.

Alya worked so hard for that, she would be crushed.

And yet it wouldn't have been such a problem if she checked her own sources and asked Ladybug herself. The Culpa siblings practically spoke in her head, shielding her mind from all the negative things. Ruby seemed younger than Felix, almost the same age as Adrien, but she was fsr more mature in every way. If Marinette didn't recieve the miraculous, she would bet Ruby would've gotten it.

Speaking of which.

"Tikki?" The young girl called out to the red kwami, surprised by the silence. A few seconds passed, before the little red blur appeared before her. "Tikki! I got worried you were captured or something."

The little god giggled, kissing her chosen's cheek. "I was just out getting a bit of fresh air. You should check on your friend. You don't know what effects the akuma does, especially if she was still touched by the akuma."

"You're right." The noirette said, going to stand up, only to hear her phone buzz with a text. Looking at her kwami, she picked up the phone, seeing that it was a message from Marc.

Marc 1:34pm: hey mari. I know we havent talked in a bit, I went on a family trip and got really sick coming back. I was talking to Nath about all of us meeting and reviewing the next comic to publish, but he says some girl named Lila told him that she could talk to a famous writer-- who's dead mind you-- about helping us publish it. Nath was also skeptical, given that I told him the writer was dead. Nath wants to verfiy something with you, so is it cool if we meet up tomorrow? Sorry for the long text.

Marinette read and reread the text. Nathaniel wasn't one of the active Lila worshippers, but believed it to some degree. But thanks to Marc, she was probably going to get a friend back. She held back tears as she stared at the text, feeling Tikki hug her cheek.

"Marinette its okay. Let it out." The little kwami said softly. And for the first time since Lila came back, Marinette cried, letting go of all the stress she's held.

Losing her friends.

Being called a bully.

...Having someone believe her.

For the first time in a while, Marinette cried for herself.

°·°·°·°·°·°·°

Ruby laid down on her bed, soft music playing on her speakers as she wrote to her brother, not leaving out any detail of the plan and asking what should be changed.

After sending the email, because her brother liked to keep it professional, she moved her laptop, opting to grab a book and read. Stretching, she stood from her bed and went the small shelf she had and grabbed a book, only to throw it in a direction when she felt someone in the room. She turned, seeing Ladybug smile at her while holding the book in her hand.

"Ladybug, I didn't expect you to arrive." Ruby said, raising an eyebrow at the heroine. The spotted hero just smiled, walking over and handing the book.

"I wanted to check up on you. Though it has been a few hours since you were almost Akumatized, there could be some effects that could happen later." Ruby nodded, going over to her bed. She sat on the edge and gestured for Ladybug.

"It would also be a bit suspicious if Ladybug came to someone's place in the middle of the day if there wasn't an akuma." The girl crossed her arms, seeming relaxed. But Ladybug knew Ruby was still a bit on edge.

"How are you feeling, honestly?" Ladybug asked, staring at Ruby. The girl in question sighed, looking down.

"A bit shaken. I know magic affects how you look and sound, but with Hawkmoth it was different. I know him, I'm almost positive about it. But I can't bring myself to get any evidence without hurting people I care about. I've always been able to have a sixth sense on everything, that's why they called me the more sensible one out of me and my brother." Ruby explained, fiddling with her sleeve.

Ladybug was in shock. Ruby probably knew who Hawkmoth and could possibly end this terror on Paris. But she knew she can't force her to reveal anything. Instead, she opted to listen, thinking that she could possibly a good holder in some near future, if she talked to Fu about it.

"I don't know if you know Marinette," Ruby started, grabbing Ladybug's attention, "but she's a good person in a bad situation. The tones she gives off are both spring and storm and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that storm came to prove everyone wrong. All I want to do is help her."

"The plan will work, Ruby." Ladybug said, smiling softly as she placed a hand over Ruby's, causing the girl to look up. "Sure it'll take a bit more time, but talk it out with those you trust. Chat Noir and I will back you up as well." The young Culpa relaxed, eyes shinning brightly as she stared at ladybug.

"Thank you Ladybug."

"Of course."

°·°·°·°·°·°·°

Next day

"Rubes!" Ruby looked up to see Lila walk over to her, a sweet smile on her face, though her eyes held a dangerous glint. In the distance, she saw Alya and the other mindless sheep stare, as if encouraging Lila to talk with her.

The girl sighed, closing her notebook and standing up, just as Lila reached her. "Hey Rubes. The others encouraged me to talk to you about Adrien. So I was hoping we could compromise." She said sweetly, but Ruby could feel the bad air around her.

"How about we talk about this in a more private location. That way we're not interrupted." Ruby narrowed her eyes as she spoke softly, gesturing for Lila to walk first. A scowl replaced the girl's fake smile and she walked forward. The young Culpa looked back and saw Adrien stare at her in worry, standing next to Chloe and Marinette, who wore the same expressions.

Make amends, Adrien. I'll be back in one piece. She stared at them for a bit more, offering a small smile before walking off with Lila.

They entered a quiet room, Ruby fumbling with her phone before putting in her front pocket, just as Lila turned around. "I don't know what kind if game you're playing, but let me make this clear, Adrien is mine. And I'll ruin you just like I did to that baker girl." Lila sneered, her glare practically murderous. But Ruby wasn't effected.

In fact, Ruby smirked, walking forward confidently to the girl and watching as she lost her edge began stepping back. Her back hit the wall and she started to panic as Ruby placed a hand on the wall next to her head. "Oh sweetheart, I'm not playing any games. I said it before when I said Adrien is like a brother to me. If only you stopped your lies, maybe you would have a chance. And if you played for the other team." Ruby said cheekily, leaning forward. She watched as Lila pale before blushing madly, pushing Ruby off of her.

Ruby just composes herself, her eyes turning cold as she stared at Lila. "You had you're chance to apologize. Keep the sheep for all I care. Before I leave, I'll make sure Marinette gets the attention she deserves. She's not someone you can manipulate to suicide, unlike those in your last school." She paused, seeing the color drain from Lila soon hearing that.

"And Adrien is not a prize for you to win. You claim to have all these connections to famous people. But none of them check out. Especially since you claim to be friends with those who were dead long before you were born."

"So what if I lied?! They'll believe anything I say! Its not my fault that girl killed herself for having other bully her! They just wanted to hear interesting tales--"

"And yet, it was you who whispered the lies in their ears. Just like you're doing now. With connections such as yours, you would be smart to think about what you say. Before this, I was told that Marinette was almost gone and that you've caused at least 4 akumas to go after her. Not to mention that you willingly have been Akumatized."

"How do you know all this?!" Lila shrieked, her face red and she balled her hands into fists. Ruby gave an unimpressed stare, crossing her arms.

"A real reporter checks the facts. There were cameras around Paris, and unlike the ladyblog, my blog is backed up by a big company. Alya is lucky I'm not blacklisting her blog for false information. Not yet anyways." She turned, ready to walk out, when she stopped, glancing back at the fuming girl.

"And claiming to be friends with Ladybug of all people, when you knowingly want her dead, is putting a big target on your head. Plan all you want to call me out, I'll be waiting for the extremes you to achieve that." With that, she left the room. Lila fummed on the spot, wondering how a brat like Ruby knew so much.

I'll make sure everything you say is a lie, Ruby.

Ruby took out her phone from her pocket, smiling at the recording before saving it and making a copy of it. She walked back to her spot, hearing pairs of steps walking towards her. Looking up, she saw Alya with some of the girls around her, as well as Marinette walk towards her.

They stopped and stared at each other upon reaching Ruby. Both looked uncertain, Alya more hateful than Marinette's. Ruby, getting agitated, stands up stepping between the two before words can be said.

"Look I don't know what kind of drama you both have, but its petty. Whatever Lila has told you about Marinette can't possibly be true, but would you know, Alya? Seeing as you never asked Marinette." She stood in front of Marinette propectively, staring down at Alya.

"The rivalry between me and Lila over a boy is ridiculous and I would never stoop thst low just to keep someone I know away from soemone else. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to write." Alya and the girls stared in shock as Ruby walked away, Marinette scurring after her.

"What-- forget it. Let's find Lila." Alya said after recovering, the others nodded and following the checkered shirt girl.

°·°·°·°·°·°·°

During lunch, Ruby went to find Marinette, when she saw she was with two boys. One with black hair and a red jacket while the other had red tomato hair and a dark grey cardigan. They were talking, Ruby couldn't hear however due to being far, but found out Marinette was crying. The girl was about to go iver there, when Marinette lunged herself at the two boys, hugging him tightly.

She smiled at the scene and turned away, knowing she can find Marinette later. Instead, she walked out to the courtyard, when a scream echoed out. Ruby ran and saw the Alya and others run away, as an akuma jumped down from a ledge, looking around.

"Lila it's okay!!" Alya yelled, dodging a projectile that was aimed for her. The reporter managed to active the akuma alert, causing everyone in the school and in the area to be alert of what was happening.

"You!" Ruby turned and saw Lila stare at her menacingly.

"Oh my, this proves my words even more. You're after me right? Let's see if you can catch me Rossi." Ruby smirked, dashing out to the front doors, an enraged Lila behind her.

"Lila no! Whatever Ruby said wasn't true!" Alya had yelled trying to follow. But something began to block the front doors. "Lila!"

The girl looked like a spider, her skin deathly pale, eyes red and enraged staring as Ruby ran. Surprisingly, she was fast, but since Lila was an akuma she could catch up. People had already left the scene when the alert sounded, everyone in the streets going to designated shelters until the akuma was dealt with.

Ruby didn't know how long she had been running, but when she reached the Louvre and saw no one, she relaxed. The air drastically changed and she turned, watching as Lila stalked over to her.

"Just because you know about my lies, doesn't mean anything. I can ruin you like that girl and make you look like a fool! But Hawkmoth wants to know if you actually know who he is." Lila smirked, shooting out a thread from her hair and throwing at Ruby. The girl dogded at the last second, though she knew that she can't dodge forever.

"So you're a truth seeker? Or stealer to make them you're own?" Ruby remarks, dodging multiple threads.

"Shut up!!" Lila screeched, throwing double the threads than before. Ruby's wyes widen, knowing she can't dodge that many, when a figure jumps in front and blocks all of the threads. Ruby hears Lila snarl lowly as she stared at Chat Noir.

"Looks like the cat has come to play."

Chat Noir doesn't reply, only giving a deadly glare to Lila as he stood protectively in front of Ruby. The sound of a yo-yo echoed and Lila was wrapped from the waist up and yanked back to the wall, crumbling on top of her. Ladybug lands next to Chat Noir, both of them watching as Lila picks herself up from the rubble.

"You okay, Ruby?"

"I'm fine, Ladybug." Ruby panted, stepping back as Lila let out a scream.

"Ladybug. Why don't you come here for a bit. So I can get a good look at your earrings." Lila growled, before lunging at the three. Chat Noir quickly grabs Ruby and they all dodge out of the way.

They land on a roof that was fair distance away from Lila, Chat Noir setting down Ruby gently. Ladybug noted that her partner was quiet, which was unusual for someone like him.

"Theres a chance the akuma could be in her earring, hair tie, or bracelet. She wasn't carrying any purse when I talked to her." Ruby states, looking at Lila with a calculating look. "She's after me. I can be a distraction while you guys--"

"What? No!" "Out of the question." Both heroes reply at once, startling the young culpa.

"We have-- duck." Ruby suddenly said, pushing both heroes quickly as a thread shot towards them. The thread hit her and felt heat in her throat and felt her body being pulled. Vaguely she heard the heroes scream her and suddenly she felt herself being held tight.

She heard Lila laugh and move away from the heroes. "Now, lets find out what your hiding, shall we?"

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@teresarosiadeviluke2112

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Regular tags: @natu123 @imagine-lcorp @the-wlw-cafe @mcgrathandwives @gale-of-the-nomads @nobodyfamousposts @miraculous-of-salt

[mochirimi]

Now or Never [Gloria x Hop]

Feb 13 | Day Five: Applin Confession

All Hop needs is courage and the right opportunity to confess his feelings. His pokemon believe there's no time like the present.

Read Here at A03

Hop sighs as he rolls the pink Pokeball back and forth across the wooden tabletop. It’s obvious but would this choice make it too obvious? The message the pokemon inside sends is clear-- I want to be with you forever. And just to make it even more clear Hop planned to give a whole speech with the gift too, just so there would no misunderstanding whatsoever. 

If he was going to confess, he planned on making it absolutely and irrevocably clear that he loves her,  is in love with her. And he wanted to be by her side, not just as a rival, not just as a friend, but as hers, as… her boyfriend. The single word, the idea of being her “boyfriend” causes his cheeks to flare up in crimson red, the color barely discernable on his umber skin tones, but felt decided and present all the same. 

Now all he needed was courage and the right opportunity. 

The heart-patterned ball stops its roll and a bright bolt of lightning strikes with its opening, revealing its shape, its pokemon inside. Blinking up at him, the Applin wobbles and rolls, dizzy from its tops and turns in the Pokeball. When it gains its composure, the small pokemon blinks up at him, indignant as it wiggles across the table. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes to the Applin and sighs.

It took a lot to capture the small pokemon, specifically the one in front of him. Its color is robust, an emerald green, rare in comparison to the rest of its species. The process took time, effort, and a lot of luck. He’d spent every waking moment camping in their natural habitat, studying their mannerisms, interacting with ones that drew close. 

And then came this one. The pokemon was shyer than its crimson counterparts, far less trustworthy of his intentions and more likely to run away each day. But it still kept coming back, each day coming closer and closer to his campsite until one day he turned around to serve curry to his awaiting pokemon and found it there, resting on top of Dubwool’s head. 

Its special color was a bonus, but it was the personality, the way the pokemon hummed with energy and personality to match its recipient. The way it ran away and came back, its own stubborn refusal to be like the rest, it reminded him of her, of Gloria, the one he’d always known. 

The Applin paces in front of him, turns and inches to the window and the view of the evening outside. When it spots something in the sky, the pokemon calls out, alerting him to the presence of a landing Corviknight taxi into the sleepy town of Postwick. 

It seemed she was coming in late, again.  

From his window, Hop watches his childhood friend stretch, her arms reaching towards the sky. She is later than he’d expected her to be, probably caught up in the responsibilities of Champion back in Wyndon. Tossing her tangled mass of hair over her shoulder, the figure in the distance shrugs, squares her shoulders and prepares to walk into the cottage. 

The Applin in front of his calls out, pointing its body in the direction of Gloria’s disappearing figure. It was almost like the pokemon was saying, “Do it now, there’s no time like the present!” Or something. The pokemon is insistent, pushing against the windowpane. 

Hop laughs, grabbing the pokemon’s Love Ball. “Okay, maybe it’s time you go back into your ball.”

The bright light shoots out from the balls surrounding the pokemon, taking it in. And almost immediately the pokemon is back out, escaping its ball in a stubborn refusal to be quieted. Indignant, the Applin glares at him, rolling towards the edge of the table, ready to leave for Hop’s confession, whether he is there or not. 

As it rolls off the edge of the table, Hop catches the pokemon mid-air, shaking his head sighing. “Okay, okay, I get the point.” It seemed there would be no avoiding it. It would be now or never. 

Returning the Applin to its ball once again, Hop pulls out his rotom and shoots Gloria a quick text, holding his breath and waiting for an answer.

Hey Glo, you busy?

Seconds feel like hours while he waits for her answer. 

A breath is released with her answer.

No, what’s up?

Okay. Now or never. Placing the pink ball into his pocket, Hop shoots her one last text and runs out the door. 

__________________________________________________

At the bridge that parks the halfway point between his house and hers, Hop waits for Gloria to arrive. Spring nights are crisp in Postwick and this one is no different. Surrounding trees are on the verge of blossoming, the grass pokemon ready to come up from their borrows for warmer weather. 

Everywhere, everything is on the verge, of something.

“Hey!” Running breathlessly to him with a smile is Gloria. Tangled locks of hair en mass on every side of her flushed face. 

Laughing, he reaches out to place one strand behind her ear. For a second, he swears her face flushes darker, a brighter red, but at his touch, she straightens, clears her throat and her smile falters for the briefest moment.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” The hand in her pocket seems to fidget as she speaks. 

Right to the point. He smiles a bit, runs his hands through his hair, calculating, attempting to craft the speech in his head he was sure would just come to him at this opportune moment. Instead, his mind is blank, full of jumbled phrases of “I love you” and “I always have” and other words that have no place at the beginning of his confession unless they were in some dramatic comic or tv show. 

But what comes out first is not a single word, but the pokeball. The Love Ball in his pocket twitches, rolls out, and as he fumbles for the catch, its bright light strikes out and the Applin appears between them instead. 

 The next moment lasts an eternity and a heartbeat as Hop stands frozen, Love Ball in hand, Applin at their feet. This isn’t how he imagined any of it would go. No part of him can bear to look at the girl on from of him, to see what expression awaits on her face. 

“Hop, I--” His name is slow and quiet on her lips, and he winces, prepared for the rejection. Cutting her off to say what he needed to before she could. 

“Wait, Glo.” He takes a deep breath. “Let me say my part, please.”

 His eyes train on the Pokemon between them, the way it delights and rolls up to Gloria in greeting. “We’ve been friends-- No, wait.” 

He tries again, taking in a larger breath for his next words, finally making eye contact with the object of his affections. Her eyes are wide, full of an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Carefully, he takes her hand, and she lets him. 

“Glo, we’ve known each other forever, and I don’t know how it began, how things shifted so slowly without my notice, but somewhere along the way, I think, no, I know, I fell in love with you.” 

Slowly, Hop intertwines her pale fingers with his, giving enough time and space for her to pull away if she wants. “But, by the time I figured it out, you were miles and mile ahead of me, running fast. I was afraid you’d never slow down, wait for me to catch you, like this.”

He gives her hand a small squeeze, takes one steady breath. “So, now that I’ve caught you, I want to tell you my feelings, completely and absolutely. “Glo, I love you, not as my rival, not as my friend, but as so much more than that.”

The Applin between them bounces, sways from side to side. The pokemon seems to revel in the confession, and he sighs. At least one of them feels comfortable in all this.

“So there, I’ve said my peace. I just wanted you to know.” 

Instead of answering, of saying anything at all, Gloria releases her hand from his and takes a step back. From her pocket, she pulls out her own pink Pokeball and releases the pokemon inside. And one Applin becomes two, as a second sleepier Applin joins the first in front of them. 

Looking up at him, Gloria smiles ruefully. “You know it’s funny… I’ve been meaning to do this, but as usual… you beat me to the punch. I feel the same. Now, the next question is, and we don’t have to do this now, but” from her other pocket, Gloria pulls out two apples, “Tart or Sweet?

[fandom-collective-writers]

In Defense of You (Zero x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Pairing: Zero x Reader

Prompt: “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

Warning: None!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2,227

Requested by: Anonymous

Written by: @lordsister​

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Revolution or any of its characters. All that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost or reblog this on any other website.

Additional Notes: Zero is good boy and he must be protected and loved at all costs. I loved his route and I adore him so much.

       For a moment he actually thought it would stop, the rumors, the whispering that followed wherever he went. After the events that ended the 500 year feud between the Red and Black armies, he’d even forgotten about it, happy as he was to have you at his side. But no. Weeks later it was like his actions had meant nothing, particularly to Red territory’s high society. 

       “Alice the Second?!” Your hands were ripped away from his arm by an overexcited Clemence cousin with an excessive amount of blush on her cheeks. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you! I must say the rumors don’t do you justice. However I’m quite surprised.” Her eyes glimmered with blatant disgust as she shot a glance at Zero. “You’re with...the Ace?” She said the word “Ace” like she’d just stepped in dog poop or bitten into a rotten apple. 

       Zero saw your shoulders go rigid, the tips of your ears turning red. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” you said through teeth clenched in a tight smile. “The Ace of Hearts is the most honorable, admirable officer in the Red Army. Why wouldn’t I be with him?”

       The woman chuckled uncomfortably and released your hands. “Sure, but-”

       “(Y/n), I think there’s cake over there. Do you want to go get some?”

       Smiling brilliantly at him, your hands returned to his arm, accepting his offered elbow. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

       Zero could tell you were still bothered by what the noblewoman had said, your grip on his arm a little tighter than necessary, but he didn’t remark on it. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised some people would still hold prejudices against him. Maybe he should have accepted guard duty instead of joining you as your partner at this party. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you when you should have been having fun, but it was too late to take it back now.

       “Oh, you’re Alice aren’t you?” 

       He groaned internally as the next opponent appeared and your smile stiffened. This time it was a young man in a high-necked suit, his dark hair slicked back. 

       “Yes, I am,” you responded politely, allowing the man to grasp your hand in greeting while the other maintained a tight grip on your plate of cake.

       “I’ve heard about your part in the recent conflict between the Red and Black armies and the Magic Tower. You were quite courageous.”

       “Thank you,” you returned, “but I really couldn’t have done any of it without help.”

       “No need to be humble,” he waved you off, and Zero saw your brow twitch. “Anyway, you. Ace of Hearts.” The young nobleman’s voice had lost it’s cordial edge, turning arrogant and flippant as his lips curled in a sneer. “You must be grateful for the opportunity so graciously bestowed upon you by King Lancelot. All of us were rather astounded to hear that Mousse was stepping down and being replaced with someone outside the Atlas family. It’s extraordinary, especially for someone of your...background.”

       He was used to this. He’d heard the same words a million different times, said a million different ways. It would always hurt somewhere deep down inside, but he was used to it. You weren’t however. You never would be.

       “Zero’s just that amazing. You don’t know him so you wouldn’t understand. In my opinion, your ignorance and short-sightedness is especially amazing.” He snorted at that, lips twitching as he tried not to smile. The look on the young man’s face was ridiculous, his jaw hanging open and his face turning redder as he spluttered in embarrassment and rage. 

       Turning back to Zero, you smiled cheerfully and asked, “Want to get some of that chocolate over there?”

       “Yes.” Grabbing your hand, he gave it a soft squeeze, silently thanking you.

       “You know you didn’t have to do that for me,” he murmured, smiling as you tugged him away. 

       “Yes I did,” you replied and squeezed his hand back. “I love you. No one gets to talk about you like that while I’m around.”

       The third and final opponent approached when you and he were talking to Edgar. The same young man from before was back with a friend, lurking at the edge of Zero’s vision as he tried to forget the rudeness from before and enjoy the rest of the night with the two most important people in his life, his lover and his mentor. 

       “Excuse me,” the young man’s friend interjected with a tap on your shoulder. Zero saw a muscle twitch in your jaw as you turned, gearing up for a fight, but the other man only offered his hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Alice?”

       Three sets of eyes blinked in surprise and you looked between the young man and your lover. 

       “I, um…” you trailed off and he could tell you didn’t want to, but didn’t want to be impolite either when the guy had done nothing wrong...so far.

       Looking up, Zero realized that the other young man from before was gone. Odd. Maybe you had scared him away.

       “Zero?”

       Turning back to you, his blue gaze met your silently pleading one. He smiled. “Go ahead.”

       “But-” Before you could finish, you were swept away into the dancing, the pale yellow and orange of your dress blending in with the swirl of colors. 

       “Letting your lady get whisked away by another man?” Edgar gasped comically, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

       Zero rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” He’d never been the jealous type and he knew you loved him...but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him to see another man’s hands on you, even if the two of you were only dancing.

       “I think you’re lying, Zero.”

       “I think you’re full of it, Edgar.”

       The other man laughed and tipped back his champagne glass. “Honestly though, I’m surprised you decided to join us instead of taking guard duty again. It can’t be easy for you.”

       “I’m used to it. Besides.” His eyes found you in the crowd, the dress he’d had made for you flared around you mid-spin. Your gaze caught his and a beautiful smile just for him graced your face. An ‘I love you’ in a smile. “I don’t care as long as she’s enjoying herself.”

       Edgar reached out and hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Good for you. I’m happy for you. Both of you.” 

       Zero smiled softly. “Thanks.”

       The happy peace of the moment was spoiled by a sudden commotion from the dancefloor and Zero pushed himself off the wall, immediately looking for you.

       “How many times can Alice be pissed off tonight before she snaps?” Edgar chuckled, green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Three apparently.” 

       Leaving his mentor, Zero waded through the crowd. He found you at the center of the dance floor, your arm crossed over your body and your hand splayed post-slap. The young man you had been dancing with stood shocked, his head snapped to the side and his cheek bright red. It was obvious what had happened. And Zero could guess why.

       “Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” he heard you actually growl. He’d never heard you growl before. Your face was red with anger, your jaw clenched.

       “(Y/n)?” he called your name softly, brow furrowed in concern. 

       The anger immediately drained from your expression when you saw him, your eyes widening in realization at what you had just done. “Zero,” you whispered, turning to him. He half expected you to burst into tears. His Alice hated hurting anyone no matter what they did or said. To his surprise, your mouth twisted as if you were biting your lip instead, trying to hold in laughter. You gave him a smile that was helplessly affectionate.

       Taking his hand, you grabbed your skirts with the other and ran, pulling him out the door and down the hall with you. Despite the unapproving looks you got from other party-goers, your laughter and smile were contagious and he found himself joining in as the two of you made your escape. It felt freeing to run, to get away from the stuffiness and sideways glances and disapproving sneers hidden behind fans and champagne flutes. This was the most fun he’d had all evening.

       Back in the ballroom the Jack of Hearts approached his king, amused smiles on both men’s faces. “What say you, King Lancelot?” Edgar asked.

       “I say thank goodness. This party was boring until Alice spiced it up. It’s rather amusing to see all these vultures with their feathers ruffled, don’t you think?”

       “I couldn’t agree more.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

       “I can’t believe I did that!” you gasped, the two of you slowing to a halt in the garden. 

       Rubbing his hand in circles across your back, Zero remarked, “They’re probably going to be talking about that for years.”

       You blinked at him owlishly. “You think so?”

       He was still smiling as he said, “Probably.”

       “Oh well!” You laughed as you spun in a circle, taking his hands. “I don’t regret it. I’m glad I did it, actually.”

       “Why did you do it?” he asked curiously. He knew it had something to do with him. You wouldn’t have reacted so strongly otherwise.

       Your expression turned serious and you leaned forward into his arms, seeking his warmth and comfort. “He insulted you, right to my face, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I can only take so many people mocking the love of my life, especially when they don’t know a thing about you.” You looked up, resting your chin on his chest. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

       His fingers ran through your hair, playing with the styled curls. “I understand. I would’ve done the same thing in your position.”

       Your head tilted to the side just slightly. “But?”

       Zero sighed, his smile wry. “I don’t like it when you’re so upset you want to punch someone.”

       “I slapped him,” you corrected, raising a brow.

       “Doesn’t matter. I don’t like it when you’re upset.”

       Pouting, you stepped back and let him lead you over to a fountain. Sitting you down on the stone rim, he sat next to you and brought your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Thank you for doing that for me. I love that you care about me enough to get so angry for me, but I wish you hadn’t let it get to you. I’m used to the things people say about me and I don’t care.”

       “I care though! Imagine if it had been me they’d been talking so badly about! What would you have done if you had been in my position?”

       His grip tightened on your hands as the scenario crossed his mind. “I would have drawn my sword on them.” You gave him an ‘I told you so’ look and he chuckled, his shoulders slumping in surrender. “Okay, okay, I understand.”

       “Good,” you said, kissing his nose softly and pressing your forehead to his. 

       Both you and he jumped and gasped as a second later the fountain lit up, tiny magic crystals embedded in the stone flaring to life to illuminate the rest of the garden. The soft blue glow bathed the area in seconds, mixing with the moonlight. Crickets chirped in the grass and the occasional pinpoint brightness of a firefly broke the otherwise silvery-blue scene as the faint sound of the orchestra echoed from the open windows beyond the garden.

       Your eyes widened in delight, a beautiful smile breaking out across your face, and Zero couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. It was the happiest you had looked all evening and a weight lifted from his heart as he watched you. Still, after all of the drama that had occurred there was one more question he meant to ask you.

       “(Y/n),” he called softly, bringing you attention back to him. 

       He nearly forgot how to breathe as you turned your smile on him and answered, “Yes?”

       “Do you ever feel embarrassed about being seen with me?” he asked quietly, dropping his gaze to your hands. He wanted you to say no, hoped that you would say no, but he wanted you to be honest too. 

       “Zero.” Your gloved hands cupped his cheeks and tilted his face up to meet your serious, yet gentle expression as your thumb brushed over his cheekbone. “I have never once been embarrassed about being seen with you. I love you. So, so much. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I just care about you.”

       Blue eyes closed and he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. Your arms looped around his neck as you leaned up to kiss him, loving and lingering. “Thank you. I know I said I don’t care about what people say about me, but that’s only true so long as you’re here with me, giving me this warmth.”

       You giggled, squirming out of his arms and pulling him to his feet. “Then you don’t have to care for forever if you don’t want to. Now, will you dance with me?”

       Zero took your hand and wrapped his other arm around your waist, smiling into your hair. “I’d like that very much.”

[chaosrealm-mk-imagines]

It’s Just a Prank

Thanks so much to @ladybug1596 for the idea to this story, i taked a long time to write it and i think it’s okay after all! 

Summary; Sareena is turned into a bat by Havik and Bi-Han tries to help her, but the price is a little to high...

Words count; 3968

Pairing; Sareena x Bi-Han

Warnings; Extreme embarassing situations

The Lin Kuei temple was peaceful, always cold on the outside but warm among its members. The former Netherrealm assassin Sareena, was now dedicated to protecting her beloved clan, there she had found a family and a reason to exist. The relationship with Bi-Han was inseparable, since they had fought together against the dark forces of Shinnok they had become a deadly duo.

Although the current Grand Master was Bi-Han's little brother, he was not offended by this or had the ambition to steal Kuai Liang's place, things were comfortable as a second in command and allowed him more time to dedicate worldly things.

The snow fell with all its purity above the rustic roofs, adorning the local trees and merging with the boreal scenery that created a playful landscape. The recruits trained in low temperatures as a way to strengthen themselves, one of the prodigies of the new generation was Kuai Liang protegee, Frost. She was known for her fiery temper and arrogance, loving to brag about her cryomancy and battle skills. Sareena had woken up late that day, arriving at the dojo with a cup of coffee in her right hand, yawning. The demoness wore a black leather coat with red trim, it was made of incubus skin.

"Sorry for the delay, I've been busy with other matters." Said Sareena, taking a sip of her rapidly cooling drink.

The apprentices bowed out in respect to the woman, waiting for her to begin the first lesson of the day. The tutors were divided into schedules and classes, Sareena was with the beginners class in the morning and the melee training at night with advanced students. She pinned her two-tone hair into a loose bun and started class. The subject was discipline and how defense could be the best attack, practicing counter attack and blocking tactics with students who always had difficulty because their teacher was extremely demanding.

The class continued without any interruption, until the pause for the apprentices to review or rest. Sareena left the training yard and returned to the warm interior of the dojo, sighing and shivering because of the temperature, she was not used to the cold. Strong, gentle arms wrapped around her slender figure, embracing her warmly. She didn't even need to look to know it was Bi-Han, who rested his chin on the woman's arched shoulder, giving her a provocative look.

"I missed you ..." He murmured, kissing Sareena's cold cheek.

"An hour ago I was on your side in bed, idiot." She smiled, blushing at how affectionate Bi-Han was that morning.

"Yes, and you got up without saying goodbye or even waking me up."

Before they could continue the couple's stuff, they were disturbed by Smoke, who was entering the building, with a pile of old books in hands, he perfectly balanced the manuscripts and looked at them with doubt, being able to make both of them feel extremely uncomfortable with that. . Smoke smiled at the couple and before heading to the library decided to provoke them a little

"You two could go to a room, you know." The enenra commented, disappearing to store the books in the large study wing.

Bi-Han released Sareena and looked at her in shame, running his fingers over the beard that was beginning to frame his pale face. He had even forgotten what he was going to talk about, he hadn't even had breakfast yet or changed his pajamas, he was known as the cool teacher who didn't piss off or acted like a lord of the rings character.

"A weird guy came to visit you today, as you were out I got him to see what it was about, he left you a letter." Bi-Han told, handing her an envelope that was still sealed.

"Oh really? How strange ... Didn't he say who he was? ” Sareena looked at him confused, taking the letter and opening it immediately, starting to read.

"No, he just said he had something for you, he wore a mask so I also didn't see his face, for a moment I thought it was Quan Chi but I noticed he had hair so I denied the possibility." The man explained, making the devil laugh with his comment about her former boss.

Sareena's eyes widened when she finished reading the letter, leaving Bi-Han curious and distressed, she then started laughing and thought it was some joke on his part with all that mysterious stranger story. The letter's contents were a disturbing declaration of love, containing a poem about how perfect every vital organ in her body was, it looked like something a butcher would write.

"If I were you, I would ask Kuai for help before trying to write a love letter, this is scary!" Sareena exclaimed, returning the note to Bi-Han.

"Love letter?!" He repeated, confused by the whole situation and jealous, starting to read the content himself.

"Weren't you the one who wrote it?"

"Of course not! Even I know the limits of bad taste. ” The ninja replied in frustration, tearing the paper.

"So is this mysterious stranger story serious?" She couldn't believe it, but from Bi-Han's reaction it seemed to be true.

"Yes. That's why I looked for you! ” Bi-Han's face was red and he did not hide his jealousy, he had served as a mailman for a possible competitor.

"You're jealous?" The woman joked, smiling and approaching him, placing her face against his chest.

"Me? Of course not, because apparently this guy is only interested in stealing your organs and selling on the black market, I bet he has something to do with Kano. ” He mocked, kissing the girl's forehead, smiling at her.

“Let's forget about it, okay? Whoever that freak was, he doesn't get to your feet. ”

The couple forgot about the matter for now, going about the day quietly, without mentioning what happened. Everything was perfectly normal, until Sareena had to go to her rooms to pick up her favorite hook in order to show it to her students on the night shift, she would give a nice lesson about impalement. Upon entering the room she shared with her boyfriend, she was surprised by the sinister appearance of a hooded man, who was sitting on her bed, staring at her. The mysterious figure had a skeletal face, with wide eyes and an almost comical expression, it was not something human.

"Not only did you laughed at my love letter, but you also mocked me with that emo ninja, you’re tearing me apart Sareena!" He spoke in a high-pitched voice.

Before the demoness could have any kind of reaction or response to the stranger, a red fog filled the room and with the sound of an explosion, a strange transformation took place. Everyone in the temple could hear that disturbing sound, Kuai Liang instructed the students to stand guard and not accompany him, leaving Smoke to supervise them while he and Bi-Han went to check on what had happened. When they reached the room that was the source of the noise, they looked from side to side, looking for a clue as to what had happened, and to the brothers' surprise there was nothing unusual there or a trace of Sareena. The cryomancers looked at each other, starting to turn the room over until they concluded that everything was clean.

Bi-Han omitted the visit of the masked stranger to his brother, focusing on searching the rest of the temple for Sareena. Search teams split up to look for her, and none were successful. It was already dawn and everyone was tired, going back to the dormitories to continue their searches later. Bi-Han was frustrated and blaming himself for ignoring what had happened earlier, he should have taken that as a warning. The peace in which he was living had in fact taken him away, he needed to be aware again for the sake of his loved ones. The ninja lay on the bed that seemed even bigger without his dear Sareena, the blankets were cold and the feeling of emptiness consumed his thoughts, until his morbid silence was broken by the sound of knocking on the bedroom window. He got up and carefully went to the window, prepared for a surprise attack, opening it and being stunned by the sudden entrance of a winged creature. A dark-colored bat with a white chest had invaded the room, flying to the doorposts and hanging from the bust of the statue that graced the entrance, Bi-Han tried to grab the animal and was bitten by it, until he was even more surprised by the voice which came from the rodent.

"It's me! Listen to me imbecile! ” It was Sareena's voice coming out of the flying mammal, the ninja swore he was going crazy.

"What kind of witchcraft is this?!" He exclaimed, astonished by the revelation.

"You were right about that freak who came up with the letter, he was here in the room when I came to get my hook, he turned me into a bat!" Sareena explained, trying not to make the situation sound more ridiculous than it already was.

Although the situation was too comical to be taken seriously, Bi-Han was not laughing. He closed the window to prevent the cold breeze from settling in the rooms and sat in an armchair by the door, taking a deep breath and looking at the ceiling. In all his years in the vital industry, it had never happened to him. How he would say that to his brother was the biggest doubt at the moment, he needed to act soon if he wanted to get his dear girlfriend back.

When the sun came up again and the night dispersed, Bi-Han woke up from his troubled sleep, with a bat nestled around his neck, he smiled and stroked the animal's fur, rising from the bed as he stretched. It didn't even seem that his lover's soul was at stake, maybe he was a little too calm at the moment given the situation. The cryomancer put on a black coat and snuggled his bat in the hood behind him, it was comfortable and a good place for her to watch his back.

"I think we're going to need help, you have to talk to Kuai Liang." Sareena suggested, pulling Bihan's hair with her thin claws.

"Out of the question, dear." Bi-Han would accept everything, BUT ask his little brother for help.

It took a lot of flattery on the part of Sareena was needed to convince him to go and tell the truth, and also promises that when she became a human she would reward him greatly. When Bi-Han arrived at Kuai Liang's office, he cleared his throath to announce his presence, thinking about what to say to him.

"I found Sareena." The oldest started

"Where is she?! I was already going to conduct more searches for her. ” Kuai stirred, worried

"Eh ... There is only one small problem."

After explaining the situation and presenting the evidence with his talking bat, Bi-Han imagined that Kuai Liang would use it to get revenge for all the times he was embarrassed by his games, but to his surprise it was quite the opposite. The grandmaster was more than interested in helping, asking several times if Sareena was feeling well with her new form, stating that he would seek help from Raiden if necessary. Bi-Han felt strangely bad for all the times he was such a jerk with the youngest, but it's not like he was going to apologize for it, after all he had a reputation to keep.

It was not long before Kuai Liang left in search of help for the couple, and in his absence a sinister presence returned to manifest itself. It was when Bi-Han asked Sareena to pick cherries for him from the tallest trees that the mysterious hooded man returned. His heavy breathing denounced him and Bi-Han turned to face his ghastly and weird face.

"I see that she is serving you better in that form, maybe I should keep her that way." Commented the man, smiling with his skeleton half-face

Bi-Han did not answer and went after the stranger, grabbing his neck and threatening him, Sareena flew around the two and pulled the mantle of the stranger with her teeth, revealing all his bizarre figure as she removed it with effort.

"Who are you?!" Interrogated Bi-Han, punching him hard in the face.

"I am Havik, chaos cleric and a better man for dearest Sareena." Finally, he presented himself, smiling with threats and violence.

“Dude, it’s not gonna happen. I don't even know you and you just turned me into a fucking bat, aren't clerics supposed to be chaste? ” Sareena replied, annoyed with him.

“Reverse the spell. Now." Ordered the cryomancer, freezing Havik's neck with his cold hands.

"You can reverse it yourself, you don't need me." Revealed the emissary of chaos.

"A kiss of true love?" Sareena suggested, making Bi-Han laugh at the idea.

"No. A performance by Bi-Han singing in the sequel to Ninja Mime is more than enough. ”

They were silent, Bi-Han released Havik who fell to the floor, smiling at them and more than satisfied with the reactions.

"What?"

Havik disappeared with a red haze, leaving them with more questions than answers, which was more than enough to make Bi-Han panic. He knew about the Ninja Mime sequence that would be about a rival singing Ninja but he never thought he would have to participate in that crap, it wasn't fair at all!

"It's not that difficult, I've heard you sing a few times, just call Johnny." Sareena said, encouraging him.

And so Bi-Han did, he was not Kuai Liang to be afraid of the stage, if he had to sing for his motherfucking  girlfriend's life then so be it and he would make sure to win a grammy for best soundtrack for that! Calling Johnny Cage, he was answered by a secretary, who with death threats was forced to pass the phone to the actor, Bi-Han was good at acting like a nutcase “Give the phone to Johnny or I'll follow you home and kill your dog. ”

"Cage on the line."

"It's Bi-Han, a huge fan of Ninja Mime and I would like to participate in the sequence as the Ninja Singer, I know that no one else will accept this fucking role." Bi-Han said, it was clear and objective.

"Holy shit the spell I did with that gypsy really worked!" Johnny bragged, glad to have found someone for the role and even more being Sub-Zero's older brother, that would be a blockbuster. "Imagine your name on the posters man!"

"Whatever, just tell me when we can start , it's urgent."

"Hold on, the recordings won't start until next month."

"I'll be there tomorrow, you better be with the same damn makeup of the first movie or I'm going to rip your head off."

And so Bi-Han ended the call, leaving Johnny Cage surprised and busy with several calls to advance the production of the sequence, it would be the most innovative musical of the century and he would have an Oscar for it! The day went on calmly and without further interruptions, Sareena was distracted flying to places she had never imagined, bringing things she found for Bi-Han. Kuai Liang returned unsuccessfully in the search and had to be explained about how they would break the spell, as a form of support he promised to go to the premiere of the film when he launched.

It was already another day and they had a lot to do, Bi-Han used a portal to go to the studio where the recordings would take place, to his surprise everything was ready, he felt powerful for having pressed Cage for it.

"Animals are not allowed on the set of recordings, is this thing vaccinated?" Johnny was talking, looking with disgust at the bat on Bi-Han's shoulder.

"What did you say about my bat, clown!?" Bi-Han was ready to grab Johnny by the collar and hit him

“I’m not a clown, I’m a mime! They're different dude! ” Johnny dodged, laughing at Bi-Han. "Anyway, you will have to memorize your lines, today we are going to record some scenes and as it is a musical you will have to sing, do not worry about the tuning because we can simply put some autotune at the edit."

Bi-Han sighed, going to the dressing room and taking Sareena with him in his coat. He had to put on Ninja Singer's ridiculous outfits that were a bizarre version of Prince's outfits, he hated purple. After going through the makeup and being handed the script for reading, he just leafed through and went straight to the lines, easily decorating the song he would have to sing, practicing it a bit with Sareena before trying in front of the directors.

"You are incredibly good, maybe you have discovered your new vocation!" She praised, playing with her boyfriend's hand while dropping things off the dressing table.

When it was time to record, Bi-Han took a deep breath and went to the initial tests. To everyone's surprise he had the voice of a fallen angel, the singing in the shower had been enough to make him a star. Johnny Cage couldn't help but be excited about his new partner, singing along with him in the stage, the fight scenes were real and he left Johnny with a broken nose but all for the sake of art. The idea of ​​turning Ninja Mime into a musical has never been better! The first act was an epic chant about how Ninja Mime would take revenge on Ninja Singer for making him break his vows of silence with his catchy music.

At the end of the day Bi-Han was exhausted, his throat hurted and he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue his life as a ninja, maybe becoming an actor was in fact his vocation, all he wanted was an easy life and to be paid for singing. However, there was a problem; Sareena was still a bat. Wasn't it just singing that she would be back to normal? He really wanted Havik not to be lying about it, if it was all a prank he would kill the damn cleric who was trying to steal his girlfriend.

“You have to present yourself, remember? On the day of the premiere, there will be a play for the special guests, you will have to sing live. ” Sareena reminded him, for the first time fear appeared on her face.

"Live singing? This is stupid!" Bi-Han took a deep breath, he had to keep calm if he wanted his dear girl back he would have to put up with acting with Johnny Cage for another month.

And so the month went on, the recordings were going well and Bi-Han was stealing the show as an antagonist, Johnny was proud of him and could already imagine the critics considering the sequence the most innovative film of the decade, with clever songs and ultra realistic action scenes. It didn't take long for the debut date to be announced and Bi-Han became increasingly impatient with that, Sareena would have to endure another month like a winged rodent. She was already getting used to that shape, it was good to hide and collect information for the Lin Kuei as well as allowing her to play tricks without being discovered. The day of the presentation came and Johnny Cage was already on stage, talking about his new film and how innovative he was, in the audience were Kuai Liang, Hanzo Hasashi and even Smoke alongside Cyrax, among several other acquaintances of the actors that included Sonya and Cassie in the front rows. The public already expected that the play and film would suck, but they would watch for the sake of their loved ones. Smoke was laughing even before Bi-Han started singing and Kuai Liang couldn't believe it.

The first act of the play began and Ninja Mime was seen in his deep meditation, when suddenly Ninja Singer appeared and cursed him with his infectious music, forcing him to break the vow of silence and start a duet with him. In the second act Ninja Mime felt devastated and swore revenge against Singer, chasing him to hell and having help from Ninja Clown (Played by Terry Crews) and Ninja Loud (played by Adam Sandler) on their journey to defeat him. To everyone's surprise, the performance was good and there were no technical errors in the play, it was a short and theatrical version of the film that would soon open but it was enough to lift the spirits of the guests who were there, even Hugh Jackman was in the audience and considered the musical as good as Les Miserables, Taylor Swift felt attacked by a musical about Ninja Mime being better than Cats.

At the end of the play, the actors were signing autographs for the fans and one of the guests was none other than Havik, asking Bi-Han for an autograph on his forehead, who drew a penis on his face in revenge.

"I sang, acted and now I'm in the fucking cinema, reverse the spell." He spoke, taking the exaggerated Ninja Singer wig from his head.

"Your wish is an order."

The bat fell from Bi-Han's shoulders and an explosion of lights occurred, upon ceasing the figure of Sareena had been reverted to its human form; but without clothes. It was a scandal and Bi-Han handed her his coat to cover herself, swearing that one day he would take revenge on Havik for putting him through all of that.

"Look on the bright side, you are now famous, Ninja Singer." Sareena joked, laughing at everything that had happened.

In the end, that bizarre and unpleasant story had become a laughing matter in the future, Havik stopped sending letters to Sareena and passed to written them to Bi-Han, whom he claimed to be in love with since his performance, demanding a new musical with Ninja Singer as protagonist. For that he might need to turn Kuai Liang into a penguin, but that is for a next prank.