#i never listen to things without headphones but its just been so hot it hurts to wear them. and this taught me the lesson of why

[nopethatsnotembarrassing]

Sinus Surgery tips (?)

I HAD MY SOUND ALL THE WAY UP WITHOUT HEADPHONES ON (don't be like me)

찬이의 "방" 🐺 Ep. 208

[avinaccia]

A Completely Objective and Logical Ranking of Every Hetalia Character Song

New character songs are dropping,  I have too much time on my hands, let’s go. 

Also here’s a Youtube playlist for the ~✨nostalgia✨~

Bring it on in the tags 

71. Ah Legendary Class⭐The Awesome Me Highway [Prussia]: Absolutely tearing it up on the drums and on the vocal cords alike (I pray for Atsushi Kousaka). Great for the memes. 

70.  Happy Thoughts Museum [???]: This is listed as an official song but I had literally never heard of the title. Then I listened to it and BAM! Smack back to 2013 watching the teasers for the show on Funimation. Not sure I’d count it as a character song though...

69. (Nice)  My Song that is written by me for me [Prussia]: Deafened me but I can appreciate the industrial grind.

68.  My House is...Quiet. ~With the Trolls~ [Norway]: I have never heard this song, nor can I find any version of it online. By default it goes here and I am so sorry Norge.

67.  Make a Wish to Santa♪ [Sealand]: The discordant notes and childish exuberance only serve to make this sound like a demonic plea to Santa to eliminate the singer’s enemies.

66.  Heaven and Hell on Earth [Rome]: Rome sounds like he’s been in the corner of a restroom. Extra points for the metal version, minus points for the fact that the beach scene was replayed like 1764 times.

65. Canada Complete Introduction [Canada]: Quiet af until Kumacheerio shows up and blows out your speakers. they did you dirty my darling 😔

64.  It’s Easy!!! [America]: I don't think any video of this has ever stayed up for more than 20 seconds. Sounds cool, but like I was listening to 20 different genres at once, someone make him calm down.

63.  Bù Zàiyì the Small Stuff ☆ [China]: I cannot for the life of me find the complete song anywhere, clips have a cool beat though

62.  Let's Boil Hot Water♪ [Italy]: Exactly what it says on the tin..though a bit too close to elevator music for my tastes.

61.  The Fragrance of Early Summer [Japan]: Very ‘from the books’ Japan-esque song

60.  Peace Sounds Nice…[Baltic Trio]: All well and good until the radio demon shows up

59.  W●D●C ~World Dancing~ [America]: How a song can sound like it’s from 4 different decades at once is beyond me

58.  Overflowing Passion [BFT]: This is just drunken karaoke and I have 0 clue what’s going on #iconicforallthewrongreasons

57. Ren●Ren●Renaissance♪ [Rome+Chibitalia]: Wholesome Grandpa with Grandson content - barring the fact that Italy sounds on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Rome has had too much wine.

56.  Roma Antiqua [Rome]: Similar energy to any one of China’s songs - there’s a part of the song where it sounds like he’s singing in the shower, and I will never not laugh at [CENSORED]

55.  Country From Where the Sun Rises, Zipangu [Japan]: Very chill, very Japan, but just meh for me.

54.  Moon Over Emei Shan [China]: Good message, okay song.

53.  My Friend [England]: What a mind palace you must have Mr. Kirkland

52.  With Love, from Iceland [Iceland]: Three words: Heavy. Metal. Puffin.

51.  Having Friends is Nice...♫ [Russia]: Russia is the cutest thing ever

50.  Mm. [Sweden]: Smooth transition from WWE Smackdown to shopping at IKEA.

49.  Why don’t you come over? ~Beyond the Northern Lights~ [Iceland]: I don’t want to be mean but...this does sound like the second closing theme to an anime whose first closing was much more popular (à la Soul Eater)

48. Gakuen☆Festa [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Sounds like a 60s song of the summer but oh dear their voices do not go together. Hella cute though.

47.  Wa! Wa!! World Ondo [Main Cast]: One time I travelled 10 hours in a coach bus with a bunch of teenagers to a city of note in my country, and the only souvenir I bought was the fucking PAINT IT WHITE DVD. Perfectly chaotic, UN ĐĕùX~~

46.  In the Bluebell Woods [England]: In the album cover for this song he’s holding a guitar but this is not a rock song. Still has ‘running through the hills’ levels of dramatism though.

45.  Poi Poi Poi♪ [Taiwan]: You’re telling me that Taiwan, someone whose has *ONE LINE* in Beautiful World (which is criminal tbh what kind of representation-) managed to get an eNTIRE CHARACTER SONG???????

44.  White Flame [Russia]: There’s something to be said for a song that is 3x the length of any Hetalia episode

43.  Ich liebe… [Germany]: Baking cakes for your friends has never been so wholesome.

42.  We Wish you a Merry Christmas [America, China, England, France, Russia]: Nice to see they’ve gotten their shit together since United Nations Sta-hmm.

41.  Ah, Worldwide à la mode [France]: Sounds like a Disney Princess song, hard not to picture France frolicking in a field of flowers.

40.  Che Bello! ~My House is the Greatest!⭐~ [Italy]: Would not be out of place in an advertisement for Sea World.

39.  May You Smile Today [Japan]: THE feel good song of the summer

38.  Let’s Look Behind the Rainbow [Italy]: I will protect you.

37.  I'm your HERO☆ [America]: “Anyone who’s sad or sullen will be arrested” did NOT age well.

36.  Mein Gott! [Prussia]: Alternating headphone effect at the beginning is cool, so is the confidence...the actual singing on the other hand...

35. Nihao⭐China [China]: Listen, all of China’s character songs are great, I just can’t vibe with this one like some of the others.

34.  Pechka ~Light My Heart~ [Russia]: I’m still having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that this and Winter were released at the same time.

33.  Pukapuka⭐Vacation [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Seems just a bit too much like they’re running on a treadmill that’s picking up speed and trying to sing at the same time. Peppy.

32.  Santa Claus is Coming to Town [Germany, Italy, Japan]: This is unironically the best song sung by this trio; can only vibe with for two months out of the year though.

31.  Excuse Me, I Am Sorry [Japan]: Japan’s character traits speedrun. Gives me barbershop quartet vibes for some reason but is catchy as hell.

30.  The Story of Snow and Dreams [Russia]: A superhero anime opening in the making

29. England’s Evil Demon Summoning Song [England]: Sir that is not how you roast a marshmallow, don’t cut yourself on that edge.

28.  Moi Moi Sauna♪ [Finland]: Exactly the type of song you’d expect and it’s wonderful

27.  United Nations Star⭐ [America, China, England, France, Russia]: This isn’t as much of a song as it is a four minute struggle for everyone to sing without America yelling every 5 seconds...Like a particularly musical episode of Hetalia.

26.  Paris is Indeed Splendid [France]: Paris-pa-pa-pa-paris

25.  Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman [England]: Poppy, rocky, polka-dotty

24.  Vorw��rts Marsch! [Germany]: To quote the comment section: “This sounds like a German version of I’ll Make a Man out of you.” There’s some truth to that.

23.  Hamburger Street [America]: The product of America’s rapper phase. 8/10 because he’s trying so hard and because I can unironically sing along to all of this.

22.  Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy [Hong Kong]: A song that would absolutely destroy the ankles of anyone in DDR.

21.  I Am German-Made [Germany]: There was once a version that had Germany and Prussia singing at the same time and it sounded positively demonic and Broadway could never

20.  La pasión no se detiene ~Unstoppable Passion~ [Spain]: Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping...

19.  Fall in Love, Mademoiselle [France]: Sounds like it should be in Mozart Opera Rock, I have kiss kiss falled in love.

18. Embrace the Très Bien Moi [France]: This is the definition of SELF LOVE PEOPLE. 

17. Carrot and Stick [Belarus&Ukraine]: Absolutely DRIPPING in 2000s power ballad energy. The type of song that plays on repeat in the mind of the widow whose millionaire husband ‘mysteriously disappeared’ (and the only legit character song ever acknowledged by the anime)

16. C.B.C (Cowboyz Boot Camp) Vol. 1 [America]: AH MAH GAWWDDD

15. Winter [Russia]: Heavy metal fever dream and the perfect song for an angst-ridden teenager

14.  Seychelles Here ⭐ Vacation Island [Seychelles]: UN👏DER👏RA👏TED SONG👏OF 👏THE 👏SUM👏MER👏

13.  Nah, it will settle itself somehow [Romano]: One day I aspire to reach this level of chill

12.  Let’s Enjoy Today [England]: I will never not feel happy when listening to this.

11.  Einsamkeit [Germany]: Ludwig manages to air every single one of his worries about not being good enough compared to his friends and always being perceived as mean or uptight when he’s actually just a softie and now my heart hurts. 💔

10.  Aiyaa Four Thousand Years [China]: A very poignant and beautiful song about the passage of time and the inevitability of its passing; comparable to an ancient ballad complete with explosive crescendos and meaningful lyrics.

9.  Bon Bon Bon❤️C’est Bon C’est Bon! [France]: Peppy, cheerful, adorable, groundbreaking; has been my alarm tone for six years and I’ve yet to tire of it. 9/10 The moaning interspersed throughout has been an interesting wake-up call.

8.  Let’s Enjoy! Let’s Get Excited! Cheers! [Denmark]: This is on par with Everytime we Touch by Cascada in terms of rage potential unlocked (the good kind)

7.  Dream Journey [Japan]: Whoever’s playing the shakuhachi is absolutely KILLING IT. Dramatic, wonderful, great metaphors.

6.  Gourmet’s Heart Beginner Level [China]: Absolute banger, I’m a vegetarian but this would inspire me to eat shumai.

5.  Always with you...Nordic Five! [Nordic FIVVVVVEEEE]: Everyone harmonizes beautifully except for Denmark. Extremely catchy, number placement seemed appropriate. 

4.  Pub and GO! [England]: I love this trash man

3. Maji Kandou⭐Hong Kong Night [Hong Kong]: If you thought Denmark’s song was a banger JUST YOU WAIT. I WILL BLOW OUT MY SPEAKERS LISTENING TO LO-HA-SU.

2. Steady Rhythmus [Germany]: THIS SONG IS METAL AF. Seriously, if it can be classified as ‘hardcore’ by my father and his group of 50-somethings who have decided to single-handedly gatekeep the metal and hardrock genres, it can do anything.

1.  The Delicious Tomato Song 🍅 [Romano]: Beautiful, absolutely awe-inspiring, poignant, catchy lyrics with an extremely deep meaning that only years of meticulous research and analysis can unlock, Romano I love you.

BONUS: Closing Songs

5. Hatafutte Parade (World Series) 

4. Hetalian⭐Jet (The World Twinkle): The song is good, the dancing is cursed 

3. Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda (World⭐Stars)

2. Marukaite Chikyuu (Hetalia: Axis Powers): nE NE PaPA

1. Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo (The Beautiful World)

[lustbile-archive]

Want To Request a Song?

JohnnyxReader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary/Warning: the third installment of the club x series. Full on public sex and exhibitionism, knife/blood play, and can border on being degrading so read at your own risk. This is also the one best at explaining what tf is going on in club x

Apart of my Club X series: Masterlist

You knew what Club X was way before you even walked through its doors.

A friend of a friend let the details of the gritty part of town spill from her lips when you had gotten together to have drinks and trade gossip in the safety of her apartment. You were equally as guilty of letting your lips loosen from the alcohol swimming in your veins, and you let this girl you knew very little about in on your secret that it had been a while since you had last gotten any. An even longer time since anyone had made you properly come. Why you let her in on such intimate details about your sex life was a mystery, but the advice she shared in response didn’t hurt in the slightest.

“There’s this club you know,” she had said, in a tone that was meant to be a whisper but fell a little short. Her nails that were decorated in chipping polish brushed comfortingly across your shoulder as she wiggled her eyebrows at you, “i’ve only been a few times, but it’s where you need to go if you’re in a desperate need for a fucking.”

You giggled at her choice words, your eyes rolling in disbelief, “so a sex club hm? I don’t know about that.”

“No, no, no,” her words slurred as she returned your laughter, clearly pleased with your doubt, “it’s better than just a sex club. See, you go and it’s like the universe creates the exact person you need right when you walk in.”

“The universe hm?”

“Yeaaaahh. The universe…” her eyes squint as her thoughts drift off momentarily, “like you walk in and they just find you. They find you and it’s like they put this spell on you. It makes you so hot like instantly, and then you’re down to business right then and there.”

“Right then and there?!” you have to admit that you’re humoring her at this point, but you’re still a little scandalized at her words, “like in front of everyone?”

“No! No, no, no,” her hands wave in front of her face like she’s swatting at an invisible bug, “I mean yeah, but it’s like they can’t even see you.”

“What they just ignore the two people just having full on sex in the middle of a club?”

“Yeah, I mean unless you want to be seen,” she explains, her face screwing up in confusion when you don’t seem to understand what she’s saying, “Listen, I can’t explain it the way they do. There’s just something that these people can do that just takes away every worry you have. You’re just there and in the moment. It’s so great you’ll just have to go or you’ll never understand.”

You humor her and let her write the address down in your phone, smiling fondly when she keeps your phone a little longer to add vulgar emojis along side the information.

And for a while that was it. The address remained in your phone, forgotten as it got buried underneath grocery lists and reminders that made little to no sense out of context. All it took for you to finally pay the club a visit was one night.

You found yourself bored out of your mind and far too horny for your own good. You were too frustrated and pissed off at the world to give yourself the satisfaction of masturbating, so instead you just sat on your phone, cleaning out your photos and notepad when you stumbled on the address paired with its mess of emojis.

Without any further thought you were up, getting ready, and calling an uber to take you to the address provided by the bubbly drunk girl. You tried to ignore the wary and judgmental glare from the driver as you pulled up on an old warehouse that was decorated with blaring red neon lights that only read “Club X: Enter at Your Own Risk.”

To say that night was a fluke was an understatement. People approached you of course, but there was no magical hypnosis that you were promised, not that you were really expecting it to actually happen. There were cute people, but no one that cut at your core enough to dull your irritation at the world. Instead you sipped at a drink someone else had graciously paid for, ogled at the pretty man working the DJ booth surrounded by his friends, and then caught another uber home with the personal promise that that would be your first, and last visit to Club X.

Well you told yourself that at least.

It was only about a week later that you found yourself pulling out an outfit and opening your uber app. You chalked it up to needing a good drink, but there was a confused nagging in the back of your mind that told you that you had no good reason for actually returning.

With a different uber driver, but a similar glare, you found yourself back at the dingy club. You sat in the same seat as before, had a new pretty face order you the same drink, as you found your glance being pulled back to the same cute DJ.

You felt some shame finding him so cute. He seemed out of place in the club. Most people here were dressed in party clothes, while he wore neutral toned hoodies, and this time a hat turned backwards. His headphone only left his ears a handful of times so he could laugh and jeer with the men that surrounded him almost like permanent ornaments. Truthfully he was handsome as hell, but other than that what was there to stare at?

You left that night with that thought pulling at your mind, and you returned multiple times after with the same thought nagging you every time.

You were becoming a regular at the club, as embarrassing as it was. Even though you had yet to experience any wild sexual magic like you had been drunkenly promised, it was like the first night your drink was spiked with a magnet that pulled you towards the building almost every weekend at this point. You hadn’t told the girl that had given you the address, and you definitely didn’t tell any of your friends. You just didn’t want them to believe that you were developing an unhealthy dependency on alcohol, even though you would never even finish one glass. And maybe if you were getting shit faced, you would understand why you kept returning, but every time you’d leave so sober that you could convince someone you hadn’t drank at all.

The first few times, you scrambled for an explanation for why you couldn’t stay away, but you always feel short. It was as if your own body was keeping a secret from your mind. It was beginning to be muscle memory they way you’d get dressed and call for an uber every time.

And you’d think with how much time you’d spent at the crowded club, watching random strangers create masses of sexual energy, you’d had seen everything, but you stiffen in confusion when you see it.

A pretty girl hopped up to the dj booth, her wild hair bouncing along with her, as the girl she was making out with only moments before giggled and squirmed in her seat. The look the DJ wears is disinterested, but aware when she leans her hands down on his table to start spilling hiccuped words in his face.

You can only see her mouth moving at a rapid pace, the music and the distance between you making her words impossible to hear. Whatever she asked prompts a gentle nod from the man, and as she prances away he moves his fingers across the knobs and switches until a new song starts to spill out of the speakers tucked into various corners of the room.

Did she request a song change? The questions runs through your mind as your eyes trace her form, your eyes only darting away when she tackles the other girl and shoves her tongue into the space of her mouth.

You had never seen someone request a song from the man, the closest thing maybe being a jab to the back from one of his friends that was a consistent character as he casually suggested something. Realistically, requesting a certain song isn’t incredibly weird, but something about the knowledge that the tall broad man standing on the platform that placed him so highly above the other bodies in the room is actually approachable was frying the nerves in your brain.

A few songs come and go by the time you’re standing up, your legs feeling as if they’re moving on their own. You’re not sure at what point between learning that you were allowed to walk up to him and you actually starting to walk towards him that you decided that you needed to get close, but the time you’re regaining your consciousness, you’re climbing the small set of stairs leading up the stage.

He seems to notice your presence before you reach him, as while you're still a bit away, his head lifts to lock his eyes onto yours. The way he smiles at you makes you stop momentarily and hesitate, one corner of his lips rises higher than the other gives his face a less than good intentioned aura. Instead of making you falter and turn back to return to the drink you had abandoned at the bar, you feel your stomach warm and turn as you pick up your steps.

Your hips bump into the edge of the table as you lean your palms flat on the top, your nails gently digging into the material as you try to form a sentence in your head. Your tongue rolls against your teeth and your lips part before he’s looking down again, but interrupting you with his own words.

“It’s about time you came up here,” he adds a dry laugh when he hears the confused noise that jumps from your chest. He ignores the quiet ‘hm?’ you offer in response before he continues, “I mean I would have made a move first but I can’t really leave my station y’know?”

He shrugs as he returns his eyes to you, clearly entertained by your confusion. Your eyes dart around his face, momentarily moving to glance at the boys that are scattered behind him either holding their own conversations or watching you two in amusement. When you look at him, he looks expectant.

One of the boys jeers at him saying, ‘fuck off John, you know they don’t know what you’re talking about.’ And even though the comment only adds to your confusion, you can’t stop the way your body warms at the spike of embarrassment it puts in you, the man in front of you only responding to the remark by digging his tongue into the inside of his cheek in irritation.

“You came here looking for trouble didn’t you?” it takes you a beat to realize he’s asking you, another moment to realize the question is meant to be suggestive, and one last one to form a response.

“I think I might be,” you feel yourself dumbly nod, as your chest gets fuzzy. Maybe this is when you finally get to experience what that girl had promised so many weeks ago. Could the dj have been your person this whole time?

“Ah ah,” he shakes his head almost disappointedly, “I need a solid yes before I can give you what you need baby. You should know that much at least.”

“I- I mean, okay,” consent you understood, but the way he says it makes your brain swim in confusion. Why wouldn’t you say yes?

“Yes. I’m looking for trouble,” you say, your own confidence finally finding its way into your words, “I’m looking to cause trouble with you.”

The smile he wears is evil, and absolutely giddy with your return of energy. He takes a few steps back from the table and gestures to his side saying, “then please, enter my office.”

You feel a jolt of energy hit you, before you’re rounding the corner of the table. You only have a second to register the sharp pain of where your hip bumped into the corner, before he’s wrapping his large hand around the back of your neck and pulling you to press his mouth against yours.

His warm breath could have been considered an aphrodisiac in the way it fills your mouth and warms your core. His other hand wraps around your waist as he backs you into the table, his hands and lips so suddenly on you is overwhelming, but not enough to distract you from the way his friends begin to start oohing at the spectacle you two put on.

What had that girl said? No one can see you unless you want them to? With the handful of boys surrounding you, you can’t help but to doubt that you can just make yourself vanish from their prying eyes, but even if you could, would you want to? You feel warm in shame, as while his tongue dips behind your teeth and explore the space of your mouth, you start to feel excited at the idea of all his friends watching you get the relief you had been craving for so long.

The moment your subconscious decided you want the boys to see you in such a vulnerable state, one of them lets out a scandalized and excited yelp, before turning to another and exclaiming, “oh shit they want us to see them. Look at that.”

The boys attached to your mouth smiles as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, a warm laugh filling the air between you, “hmm so bad aren’t you? You like to be watched?”

You whine in response, as your hands move to claw at his soft t-shirt. Your hips jump and knock into his when his fingers start to grope and squeeze at your flesh. You’re acutely aware at the way he presses his leg between yours and uses his hand to make you start grinding on his thigh.

“How ‘bout you give them a real show and bend over nice a pretty for us,” it’s not a question, but a demand as he lifts you slightly away from the table, and turns you to push your torso down flat. You try to take deep breaths, as his hands run up and down your sides until the tips of his fingers pinch the hem of your skirt.

“There we go,” he sounds overtly proud, when he flips the fabric up to lay against your back, his friends responding to the newly exposed flesh of your ass with appreciative whistles.

He steps to the side of you, his hands slipping between your hips and the table to lift them up. He uses his grip to move you side to side, shamelessly encouraging you to tauntingly move your hips for the many sets of eyes. If it wasn’t for the way your walls softly clench around nothing, you would be ashamed of the way being watched like this makes you drip.

He begins to drag the thin fabric of your underwear down, to tease not only you, but your engaged viewers. Once the fabric hits the floor, there’s a chorus of hisses and groans at the sight of you wet and excited.

You whimper at the feeling of so many eyes tracing your body, even louder when the man grabs onto the flesh of your ass to spread you for them all to see. You don’t know what comes over you when you petulantly kick the floor and let out a demanding ‘please.’

The only response you get in return is his hand running against you to check the severity of your arousal and the jeers from the boys of how, ‘Johnny got a bratty one.’

If it weren’t for the blaring music, you’d hear the metallic sound of his zipper being pulled down, the only thing you get as a warning that he had pulled himself from the restraints of his underwear, is when the leaking tip of his cock begins to dip into you.

You feel the tense strain on your muscles melt away as he presses into you. The size of him stretching you out makes you feel delirious as you’re thankful for the amount he’s managed to make you wet in such a short amount of time, as if he hadn’t you’re not sure he’d be able to fit so easily.

When his hips finally press tightly against you, he lets out a rumbled groan. His hands hold tightly to your hips as he pauses to give you both time to adjust, and you can only somewhat hear the shuffling of the others as they move in an attempt to get a better angle to watch.

His thrusts are lazy and deep as he moves against you, one hand leaves your skin and the fabric of his shirt moves away telling you he’s lifting it in his own attempt to get a better look at where he fucks into you.

Your legs part farther as you begin to desperately shake, the way he digs into every nerve inside you makes you keen, but you want nothing more than to have him move harder.

“Please John,” you beg, trying to see how his name would taste in your mouth, your own hand moving back to wrap tightly around his wrist.

“Shut the fuck up,” you barely register the pain that burns through your skin from where his open palm meets the sensitive skin of you ass. His tone was harsh, but the satisfied chuckle that not only leaves him, but also his friends, makes a dopey grin fill your face as a moan rolls off your tongue.

“Fuck look at how bad they want it,” the voice from your side tells you it’s someone else, the tone excited and bubbly as if they’re watching something a lot more innocent than a stranger get fucked in the middle of a club.

“So bad huh?” Johnny sounds almost proud at the way you and everyone reacts to the pleasure he’s giving you, “such a good little whore, taking everything I’ll give.”

Pleads and begs roll off your tongue as his harsh words fry your brain. His hips only quicken slightly before he’s grabbing your side to pull you up against him. It feels like a flash of time, when he grabs the hem of your shirt, and pulls it over your head. Once you're bare to the stuffy air of the club and your shirt is thrown carelessly over his shoulder, you're just as quickly shoved back onto the table and he’s pistoning fast and harshly into you.

His hand harshly meets you burning skin again and you squeak in response. His voice is rough as he puts all his strength into fucking you deep and he commands to no one in particular, “someone get it for me.”

His words mean nothing as the way he pulls against you starts pushing to the edge of your orgasm. You can only gasp and claw at the table when one of his friends leans closer and taps at your spine right between your shoulder blades and whatever he holds against you begins to cut into your skin.

Once his friend is moved away, he suddenly pulls out making you clench harshly and whine. You feel the trickle of blood that travels down your skin, but the sting of his warm tongue collecting the dripping red and digging into the new wound on your back. The sting is almost unbearable and makes you squirm against him, but the pain is muffled when he reaches down and begins to roll tight circles onto your neglected clit.

His fingers are unrelenting as he rushes you to your finish. The pleasure between your thighs mixing with the sharp pain against your back makes your vision begin to go fuzzy. You can only somewhat register the boyish laughs of excitement that surround you as you finally start to come.

It feels like there’s a monster inside you that claws at you nerves. Every inch of your body set on fire is so distracting, you can only yell into the air when he moves to push back into you. He thrusts only a few times before he stills against you, the warmth of him filling you making your overstimulated nerves scream.

You can only lie there as he starts to fix your clothes, harsh demands of ‘the show is over, go away’ begin thrown over his shoulder as he drags you away and back to the bar.

You sleepily lean against him as he nods at the stoic man handing out drinks. He brings you a glass of water, that Johnny presses against your chapped lips.

“You can come relax behind the booth while I work once you finish the glass,” he reassures as he pets at your damp skin, “the boys are a lot nicer than what you just witnessed I swear.”

You’re too dopey to truly register what he says as you only nod in response before babbling, “so you’re my person?”

The laugh he lets out is soft, a lot sweeter and warming that any he’d offered before, “yeah I’m your person, and you’re wild ass is mine.”

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Spencer Reid / Uncertainties

Prompt: Kissing tears away 

Summary: Everyone is afraid of the uncertain, but no one more than a man of facts and statistics -- Dr. Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 1,870

Warnings: Angst + Fluff, comforting, Spencer’s headaches, this man deserves love, mentions of mental illness (schizophrenia), I make a doctor who reference lmao

Spencer Reid was a man of many thoughts. And that was a clear understatement. 

A lot of his thoughts were spoken — facts given freely, statistics that spewed from his mouth, and certainties conveyed without a bit uncertainty. But these were facts, facts he had surrounded himself in carefully constructed walls, buildings, and bridges, until it became a labyrinth. A perfect solitude of his own making — certainties were certain, unlike most things in his life. 

Including you. 

"Spence, can I sit with you?" His eyes flitted up from the book he was reading, finding you sitting before he even had a chance to open his mouth. 

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice," but he smiles, and your eyes twinkle at his teasing. 

"Why wait when I know the answer is yes?" 

And you were right. The answer was always yes when it came to you — that much was certain. At least according to Morgan and Garcia. 

"Why aren't you in your office?" You crossed your arms, brow creased in frustration. 

You sigh dramatically, "Penelope brought her boyfriend by and now they have completely taken over my space," Pout, as you rest your chin against your hand, "it's fine because it's Pen, but it's just a little nauseating to be around a couple that often. I think he’s spent more time there in the last week than I have in the last month." 

He snorts, "I didn't know love caused nausea," the corner of his mouth twitches, and you roll your eyes. 

"It does when you're painfully single," you sigh dramatically, shaking your head, “Side-effects include nausea, fake vomiting, and contemplation and eventual purchase of noise canceling headphones. Only cure in my case — a date.” 

"Then get a date?" He offers. The words left his mouth without a second thought, ignoring the twinge in his chest at the thought of you with someone else. 

You raise a brow, "You offering, Doctor?" 

He blinks, a heat climbing his neck, and he's all too painfully aware of how your eyes linger on the blush that's undoubtedly spread across his cheeks and the graze of your teeth against your bottom lip. 

"I-I-" but you wave him off. 

"It's okay, Spence," you begin to get up, but the question remains very much in the air, an albatross wrapped around his neck, squeezing and squeezing. 

"Wait," he says your name, giving you pause as he licks his incredibly dry lips, "I am," he manages, heart beating against his ribs, "offering that is." 

The indelible tension becomes even more unbearable as you blatantly stare at him, becoming more and more difficult not to tug at the collar of his button up — regretting the choice of a sweater vest combo with how unbearably hot its become. 

But then your face lights up, eyes wide and lips broken in an unabashed grin, "What time?" 

Maybe he shouldn’t have offered. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to that small voice in the back of his head, that sounded awfully like Morgan, to take a chance. Because then he wouldn’t have learned that you majored in Linguistics and English Literature. He wouldn’t have learned that your undergraduate thesis was on the parallels of  Beowulf and Tolkien and the meaning of brotherhood. He wouldn’t have learned that your nose wrinkles very adorably when you try a new dish. He wouldn’t have learned that he liked how your voice got louder when you were passionate. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. 

But he was, he realized one morning, as your fingers carded through his thick curls one afternoon, hoping that the dreaded phone call wouldn’t come and interrupt your dinner plans tonight. You hummed and gasped appropriately as you listened to him read a new book you had picked up (as it was your turn to choose a book for the two of you to read this week). And it was when you had plucked the book from his hands, peering down at him, his head against your legs, with a soft smile and wide eyes, he realized that he didn’t remember a single moment of his life that had felt so right. 

Until it didn't. 

He knew the symptoms. Sensitivity to light. Persistent headaches. An inability to focus. Irritability. Hallucinations. And he knew the odds. His leg bounced up and down in the waiting room — the one time facts did not play to his advantage — eyes squeezed shut. Soon, he would begin to forget things. Become confused or delusional. And he would lose one of the only things he felt that had some control over — his mind. Pain splintered through his head, as yet another doctor called him in for his results. 

Inconclusive, again. The fifth doctor to have run a litany of tests on him: physical, emotional, and psychological — but no cause. 

He doesn’t remember the doctor’s name, her introduction stymied by the red hot throbbing in his frontal cortex, “Do you have anyone to support you during this time?” his fingers dug into his forearms. 

“I do,” he manages, and he can almost feel your touch, your presence, as if you were here. Your arms wrapped around him, chin pressed into his shoulder, but your eyes — eyes full of pity. He still hadn’t told you. 

But it didn’t mean you hadn’t noticed. 

"Spencer," you wave your hand in front of his face, and he looks up from his book, "I've been calling your name for five minutes." 

"Sorry, I was reading," he murmurs, sliding his bookmark into his book, shutting the book in his lap, "what's wrong?" 

Your brow furrowed, arms crossed across your chest, "I should be asking you that," 

"What is that supposed to mean?" He knew he was wrong — he knew he had been short, that he had been angry, that he had been silent, but he didn't care. He couldn't find the energy to. All he could think about was the dull ache in his head, the echoing in his ears, the fear thrumming through his body, possibilities running over and over and over— 

"Spencer," you ease the book through his fingers, "I know you — you would have blown through this entire book by now, but you've been reading the same page for the last half hour." 

He snatches the book from your hand, hardback clattering against the floor, "You don't know anything," 

"Spencer—" 

"No, no—" he holds his voice steady, holding the fracturing pieces of his facade together, "just leave." 

"I'm not leaving you," your voice cracks, not bothering to hide your hurt, "not until you tell me what's going on." 

He looks up and sees your gaze waver. And he hates himself. He hates himself for hurting you. He hates himself for allowing himself to love you. He should have learned his lesson. He should have learned when his parents separated, when his mom’s delusions and paranoia turned her from the woman who read him stories of knights to a woman who barely remembered her own name. He hates himself for being too weak to break up with you.

“Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind?” he whispers, the dull ache in his brain quelling for a moment, the tightness in his chest replacing it.

You blink, eyes glassy, sliding in place beside him, his eyes falling to his lap, “Why would you be afraid of something so beautiful?” 

“Because I don’t know what it’s going to become,” he cradles his head in his hands, “I’ve been having headaches. Consistently. I can’t focus. I can’t sleep. I am...hearing things that are not there. I—” 

“Spencer,” you whisper, “why didn’t you tell me before?” 

He laughs, the sound hollow in his chest, “What is there to tell? Doctors can’t tell me what this is. They can’t tell me if it’s—-” he breaks off, and he refuses to look up. He refuses to see the pity in your eyes — the fear. 

“Baby, you don’t know what this even is right now, we—” 

“What else could it be?” he snaps, ringlets of pain coursing through his head, “I know the chances. I’ve known the chances since I was seven, when I found out my mother had schizophrenia when I overheard my parents arguing again. I’m the same age as she was when she first started showing symptoms.” 

Schizophrenia. The word hangs over the conversation like it has hung over him his entire life. A part of him thought maybe, somehow, if he was smart enough, even if he had it, he could outsmart it — maybe he could overcome it. But a few weeks of these headaches any delusions of grandeur — except for the ones yet to come, “Spencer, even if it is schizophrenia, it is treatable. It is manageable with medication and proper treatment. More importantly, no matter the odds, no matter what this is, I’m going to be there—” 

“Until you’re not,” 

“Spencer,” 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” His words are soft, as he remembers the warmth of his mother, curled up beside him, her soft voice reading stories of Arthur and his round table, “to watch someone you love become someone else — someone you don’t even recognize anymore. Someone angry, someone paranoid.” 

“I don’t know what it’s like, Spencer, I’m sorry, but I know I’d never leave you. Even if you become someone else, even if I lose you altogether — I love you. For who you are, and you will become,” you reach for his face, but he turns away, licking his lips, “I always will.” 

“Nothing is certain,” he sighs, running his hands down his face, “But I know I can’t make you do this—” 

“Spencer, please,” you lean down, prying his fingers away from his face, and forcing him to look at you — tears running down your cheeks freely, your nose wrinkling as you sniffled, “shut up.” 

“I—” 

“I know nothing is certain — nothing ever is. But this is how I feel right now, in this moment,” you draw closer, and he allows you to — taking solace in your closeness and warmth. Your lips brush against his forehead,  “We will figure this out, together.” 

A tear slips down his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—” 

“I don’t have to do anything,” you press a kiss to his cheek, right as the tear rolls down, “and I never do anything I don’t want to,” the corners of your mouth tug at your lips, “remember the Doctor Who convention?” 

“I remember compromising my choice,” you laugh. 

“And I remember you being the cutest David Tennant ever,” his fingers brush away the streaks of tears left behind on your cheeks, “I don’t need to have a Tardis to know we are going to get through this.” 

“Well, actually—” you raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” his hands cup your cheeks now, breath fanning against your lips, as he kisses you. Tears roll over his fingers, as your fingers rest over his own, “and that is a certainty.”

[somethingwritey]

my writing samples!

if you’re interested in commissioning my work (or you just like reading excerpts), i’ve taken some time to prepare writing samples! 

more commission information can be found here or you can private message me for further questions! 

-----

💖 dramatic

this is an excerpt from a rangi/kyoshi one-shot i did recently: 

Rangi’s exhalation is loud in Kyoshi’s head, but perhaps almost silent in the world. “I used to see you guys around the mansion,” she confesses. “I would… watch you two. It was my duty, of course, to watch him. But not you.”

This isn’t exactly news to Kyoshi. Rangi has spent lifetimes saving her from herself and the world. Her bodyguard before she knew she needed one.

“I know.”

“You wanna know what I thought?” Rangi shakes her head, a strangled bit of laughter escaping her lips. “When I saw the way he’d admire you? I thought… The Avatar and his servant… what a pathetically tragic way to love. So caught up in the power imbalance of it all.” 

“Rangi -”

“And then,” Rangi stares up at the sky now, squinting into the brightness of it all. “I fell right into it myself. Only you’re not the servant, Kyoshi. You’ve never been the servant. It’s me. In love with the great and powerful Avatar. Hopelessly and endlessly lost in the difference between duty and pleasure.” 

That is absolutely wrong. If nothing else, Kyoshi knows that. “You’re not.”

“In love with you?”

No. That’s probably true, even if Kyoshi still doesn’t know why.

“You’re not my servant. You’ve never been, and you never will be.” 

Rangi finally meets her gaze, and Kyoshi is surprised to see a glassiness there, reflecting in the bronze of her irises. She reaches out and runs a hand along the girl’s jawline, gently tracing every scar, every ghost of pain.

“Whoever made me the Avatar was really, really stupid,” she whispers. “You would’ve made a better one.”

“I’m not Earth Kingdom.”

“I don’t care.” Kyoshi knows how the cycle works. And she still thinks the Era of Rangi would outshine any past or future Avatar.

----

💖 comedic/light-hearted

 this is an excerpt from a jay/carlos de vil one-shot: 

“You have a crush?”

Carlos whipped around, staring at Jay who had just come up the stairs. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Uh -” Jay blinked, pointing down the stairs. “Downstairs? Look, someone said you go ... oh, you found a friend.” His gaze fell on the cat.

“He’s my new best friend.” Carlos was only half joking. “You’ve been demoted.”

Jay feigned hurt for a moment. On the whole, he didn’t look as drunk as Carlos would’ve expected. “So, this crush of yours,” he said at last. “Is he the reason you agreed to come?”

The irony wasn’t lost on Carlos, and if he weren’t too busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, he might’ve laughed. “Uh - I don’t -”

“Come on,” Jay laughed. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mal. What’s he like?”

Carlos made a face. “The one time you’re not hammered at a party, huh? Just my luck.”

Jay shook his head. “Come on, man! Just give me a hint!” 

Carlos mimed zipping his lips. 

Jay is here. With you, his brain whispered unhelpfully. Not downstairs. Maybe you have a chance. 

Jay smiled, oddly genuine. “I get that parties aren’t your thing, ‘Los. Must be one hell of a guy if he’s worth all this.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbled, picking at a spot on the carpet. “He looks cute when he says please.”

----

💖 alternate universe/timeline adjustment 

this is a sneak peak of an unpublished equalist!asami/korra fic that i’m currently working on :) so stay tuned for more of this: 

“Miss Sato,” a voice called from beyond the reinforced door. “You have a visitor.”

Her father, surely! Or one of his associates. But when door slid open and someone stepped inside, it wasn’t Hiroshi.

Asami turned towards the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Asami, wait.” Korra didn’t try to get any closer. “I just -” 

“Just what?” Asami muttered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wanted to see me put away? Make sure they’d gotten the right girl? A non-bender standing on the sidewalk at night is so dangerous, see. Glad you’ve got the police force cracking down on the issue.” 

She could feel Korra’s frustration and revelled in it. She liked being able to get to Korra. 

“No! That’s not! Ugh!” Korra paced, her footsteps heavy. “I don’t have much time! I just wanted to ask you to meet me! Away from anyone listening! Under the Silk Road Bridge.” 

“I’d love to, but you see,” Asami gestured around her cell. She still hadn’t dropped the cynical act. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.” 

“Your father is already trying to buy your way out,” Korra told her. “You’ll be released before most of Republic City wakes up. I know you, Asami. You wouldn’t… you’re not -” 

“Not what, Korra?” Asami finally looked at her. Hard. “Like the rest of the non-benders? One of the good ones?” 

“You betrayed us!” 

“And you couldn’t save those people from being rounded up like animals!” 

Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. She threw back her head in frustration. “Fine! I’ll leave you alone! But tonight, at midnight, I’ll be under that bridge. I hope you will be, too. I just want to talk.”  

-----

💖 angst/pining

this is an excerpt from a casey/izzie fic: 

Casey couldn’t breathe. 

She was used to the breathlessness that came with running, the burning and tightening of her lungs as she demanded more from them. But when her feet skimmed across the pavement, racing, racing, like her heartbeat, it didn’t scare her. Rather, she relished it, craved it. The way her whole body felt alive, how she could feel every tingle in her arms and legs, how everything seems to still and grow quiet around her - she loved it. 

This was different. 

Her vision tunneled, entirely swallowed by Izzie and the boy in the corner who had his tongue in her mouth. The people around her suddenly felt too close and the music too loud. She wished she had Sam’s noise canceling headphones. 

Casey wasn’t even trying to inhale anymore as she stared, watching the girl whose lips she’d taken a chance on kiss a boy - a stranger. She could feel her chest burning, could feel the rest of her body screaming at her to take a breath, to do something. But she couldn’t. She could only stare until the need for air became too much.

She gasped, her feet moving against her will. The room smelled like too much weed, stinging her eyes and nose. Casey began to back towards the door.

It wasn’t that she was heartbroken; no, she knew what heartbreak felt like, and right now, that space was occupied by Evan. 

This was on her. She’d decided to break off something good and consistent and wonderful to chase after someone who played hot and cold like Evan played video games. She had no one to blame but the person in the mirror. 

Somehow, after being jostled around by several other bodies, she made it to the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully, the noise of the party muffled to the pulsing of the base inside the hotel room where she knew Izzie was still liplocked with that tall stranger. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could she have thrown away something so good for this? 

She wanted to go back to being normal; to the time when she looked at Evan’s eyes and didn’t see Izzie’s reflecting back at her.

-----

💖 hurt/comfort 

this is an excerpt from a nico minoru/karolina dean fic: 

“You’re still glowing.” The words came out low. Nico’s eyes flicked up and down her girlfriend’s illuminated body, taking it all in. She knew Karolina could control her light now, which could only mean one thing.

“I wanted you to see it,” Karolina admitted, ducking her head. Now that Nico’s eyes were open, she could see just how much fear flickered behind Karolina’s warm glow. She had removed her arms from Nico now and twisted her hands together in front of herself anxiously. “I needed you to see it.”

Nico swallowed hard, unable to pull her eyes away. The light brought so many emotions flooding back. The first time she’d seen Karo glow. Early nights at the Hostel when the power would short out and Karolina walked around like a glowing flashlight. All the times Nico ran her hands down her hips and kissed her neck and watched her glow brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

“I see it,” Nico promised. 

“You’re not scary,” was Karolina’s response.

They were words Nico had said many times to Karolina, but never had anyone said them to her. 

“Then why am I… like this?”

“Nico.” Karolina shook her head. “Your darkness isn’t evil. It just… is. And I know you can master your magic without the Staff. You’re more than its power.” 

“Am I?” Nico didn’t know what she was. She’d been trying to figure it out for a lot longer than she cared to admit. 

She was the Dead Girl’s Sister. She was That Goth Bitch. She was a loner, an outcast, a freak.

“You’re Nico Minoru,” Karolina said quietly. “And that’s… that’s enough.”

----

💖 fluff

this mal/evie moment is an excerpt from longer fic titled In Loco Parentis:  

Evie had really outdone herself. She’d managed to put together a figure cutting, sapphire satin dress that fell off the shoulders in the most tasteful way possible. With her dark makeup and striking updo, Evie could’ve passed as at least twenty-five. And Mal had never wanted to kiss her more.

“I’m proud of you,” Mal said during a quiet moment, rubbing the other girl’s shoulders gently. “You look great. You did good.”

“Well,” Evie laughed, tipping her head back. “I did well.” 

“Whatever, princess.” Mal’s voice had gone soft, her chin resting on Evie’s shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pressed a gentle kiss there, glancing up to see if she’d overstepped. But Evie didn’t look upset; on the contrary, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pink.

“So that’s what it’s like when a girl kisses you,” she breathed, tucking Mal’s hair behind her ear.

“Believe me,” Mal purred. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She waited for Evie to correct her grammar again, but instead, the girl pulled Mal gently out from behind her, capturing Mal’s lips with her own. 

And just like that, Evie was kissing her.

“You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Evie whispered as she pulled away, doing her best to wipe it off.

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t fail you today.” Evie tugged at the hem of her dress, sighing. “I can’t. Mal, this means so much to you.”

But for the first time in a very, very long time, revenge on her mother was the last thing on Mal’s mind. Evie’s eyes and lips and voice took up all the space, blooming in her chest. “You can’t fail me,” she promised.

And that was the sheer and utter truth.

-----

💖 single character-centric

this is an excerpt from a catra-centric exploration:  

She’s lost count of the nail marks. 

When Hordak first threw her in this cell, Catra resolved to count every single tally Shadow Weaver left on the walls. But now that she’s fifty-two marks in - or maybe fifty-three? - her determination is beginning to waver. 

She also doesn’t remember Shadow Weaver being locked up for fifty days. Maybe the nail marks don’t represent days at all - or maybe the old lady is as crazy as she is evil. 

Lowering her gaze to the green glowing shackles around her hands, Catra tries - not for the first time - to wriggle out of them. Their buzzing is growing increasingly irritating.

How dare Shadow Weaver leave? Did she stop to think what would happen to Catra? Did it even cross her mind that she might be thrown in this cell as her replacement? Or maybe she did and just didn’t care? 

Catra’s face twists in a grim smile. Of course her own fate hasn’t given Shadow Weaver any pause. She got what she wanted.

She tries to think back, to find the place where she went wrong - a single moment she can pinpoint where her plans went to shit. But the pieces just don’t fit. Nothing adds up. 

Because Catra has done everything right. She’s climbed the ranks. She’s done her job well. She’s accomplished everything Adora could have and more. She’s surpassed even Shadow Weaver’s authority! 

And yet, here she is. In chains. Awaiting punishment. 

Adora always comes out on top. Hasn’t that been beaten into her since day one? Adora gets to walk away unharmed, with her new best friends and glowing hair. Adora gets Shadow Weaver, despite being a defector, a traitor, a failure! 

I would’ve stayed for you.  

Catra kicks out with her back foot and pushes away the tray someone delivered to her earlier. She’s not that hungry anyway - and certainly not for brown ration bars. 

The tray makes a satisfying clatter as it skids across the floor, and Catra bares her teeth in a halfway smile. If she’s going down, she’s going to go down fighting. She’ll make it as difficult and as painful for Hordak as she can - right until the very end.

-----

💖 second person

this is an excerpt from a summer/tessa fic i wrote by request: 

She’s happy now, you know. 

She’s brighter and happier and just really fucking in love. 

You can see it. You can hear it in the way she talks and the way her eyes light up when she walks into the room. You notice how she perks up when her name is dropped during casual conversation and how she makes a point of talking about her at every possible offhanded moment.

And honestly, you’re happy, too. You’re happy for her. You’re happy for them. Because they’re just so cute, and everyone says so. 

And if you notice that Tessa is wearing her sweater - the one you used to wear because it made her mad and got those sparkling eyes to fix on you for just a few more seconds -  you don’t say anything. 

Because it wasn’t like the sweater belonged to you or was anything other than a polyester cardigan with a small hole in the elbow. 

It’s not like when you draped it over your shoulders, she would roll her eyes and grumble and demand you give it back. Your heart wouldn’t jump, and your mind wouldn’t rush with the adrenaline that came with shooting a snarky response. 

It’s not like you memorized the way she used to scoff - that sound in the back of her throat - or how she’d wave her hand dismissively while you wondered what it would be like to hold it and never let go.

 It’s not like you’ve ever wanted anything from her - attention or otherwise. 

It’s not like that sweater gave you an excuse to touch her shoulders, to catch a whiff of her perfume, to pretend the old sleeves were a good substitute for her arms. 

When words finally do form in your mouth, they’re not the ones you want to say. They’re snarky or sarcastic or snide. They’re perfectly in-character for you, the airhead, the fair-weather friend, or just The Bitch. 

Plain and simple. Easy to categorize and even easier to overlook. 

You won’t think about what it feels like to hug her or how comforting it is to rest your head on her shoulder for those brief, world-stopping seconds - so close you can smell her shampoo and whatever else she uses to make those curls behave themselves. Those moments are meant to be locked away, to be kept safe, where they can’t become anything they shouldn’t. Because the two of you have come so far, but nowhere near far enough. 

Yeah, you’re not my type. 

It’s confirmation of a dead end.

-----

if any of these pieces catch your eye and you want one of your own, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! i’m in the process of working on some really cool commissions right now, and i’m more than happy to add yours to the mix!

♡  ♡  ♡

[ravs6709]

These Feelings Inside (How Deep Do They Go)

Chapter 2- A Broken Heart

Read on ao3.

Masterlist. Previous. Next.

Woo, chapter 2 of the fic for the @kotlc2021collab! Fun fact, like all of this chapter was supposed to happen in the first one, but I got carried away with the prologue (which I do like)

Anyways, this is a mermaid (siren) au, so its about time we meet a siren. I've mentioned last time that this was inspired by Siren's Lament. I didn't use those lyrics as the siren song, and instead made my own (with very loose inspiration from SL's version)

And uh... I did record myself singing it, and made a post for it. If you want to listen to it, you can go here! (I'll put a link at the end too)

Warnings I guess? Uh, Sophie goes through a whole panic section at the end. And then the siren lures her and it's indirectly said that she falls off a cliff/whatever and into the water and starts drifting off. Idk how to label that but yeah

Anyways, enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Sometimes, I'm still surprised you keep them," Biana said, gesturing to the various flowers that were in the corner of Sophie's room. "I mean, if you ever want him to look at you differently, you're going to have to make a move. You know that, right?"

Even without saying a name, Sophie knew that she was referring to Fitz. It took a long time until she'd admitted the crush to Biana, who had already known. She always liked keeping the flowers that Fitz gave her, and would keep them for as long as possible. They might not be what she wanted, but she still appreciated the fact that he even gifted the flowers to her in the first place.

"It's not like I've kept them all," Sophie pointed out.

She ignored the fact that the ones that she had thrown away were too old to be kept.

Unfortunately, Biana knew that. "If they didn't wilt so easily, you'd be keeping them all. But you ignored my question. You know that you'll have to make a move, right?"

"Biana, he gave me a yellow rose first. He's the one who made his feelings clear first. What am I supposed to say? Oh yeah, I've had a crush on you for like eight years now, and I never mentioned it before because you've been giving me signs that you clearly see me as a friend? Is that what you want me to tell him?"

Biana shrugged. "When you say it like that…"

"Even if saying that did work, it's not like I'd be able to actually say it. My brain just runs non-stop but then the moment I make eye contact everything just stops."

"Sophie, when has he not been understanding of you?"

That was true. A lot of people didn't take the effort to try and understand Sophie, but Fitz did. The way he was so respectful- despite the fact that it should have been basic decency- was one of the numerous reasons why Sophie loved him.

"I know he'll be understanding, but that's just going to make things even more awkward."

"I guess. Should we go down now?"

"Sure."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Oh, Fitz, you're here! What are you doing?" Sophie asked.

While he did come over often, he was usually busy on Thursdays, which was why Sophie was surprised to see him.

"I'm free this time, so I figured that I'd drop by," he explained.

She liked that he was around for the visit. Working at the shop wasn't boring, but it was more entertaining when she had someone to pass the time with. 

He walked closer to her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Also," he whispered. "I'm making sure that plans for tonight go well."

She glanced at Biana for a moment, who was on her phone. Sophie whispered back. "Your house or mine? I think yours would probably be better."

"What's the movie for tonight? That movie Biana said that she wanted to watch?"

"That's the plan."

"I don't get why you two always get secretive about the birthday movie night," Biana said.

Both Sophie and Fitz spun towards her, and it turned out that she still wasn't looking up from her phone.

"We've been doing this for years ."

"It's the birthday spirit we're trying to achieve, and you know that!" Fitz defended.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

•~•~•~•~•~•

The couches at Everglen were really comfortable. It was even more comfortable to be sitting with her friends. The birthday person was often the one who sat in the center, and Sophie smiled as Biana wrapped an arm around her. Occasionally Dex would join them, but he wasn't available this time.

The movie was playing, but they were only somewhat paying attention to what was going on. Sophie paid more attention to the clock, which showed 11:58 p.m. Just two minutes away from midnight, or Biana's birthday. She counted down the seconds, until it was finally time.

"Happy birthday!" she cheered.

"Happy birthday!" Fitz repeated.

"Thanks, both of you."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"You'll be fine, right?" Sophie asked.

"Sophie, it's just one day," Edaline said, exasperated. "You don't have to feel bad about taking a day off."

"Tell us how the game goes!" Grady added.

Biana's university team had managed to make it to the finals for volleyball, so Sophie and Fitz planned to go support her. But it also meant that neither of them would be at the shop.

"You'll text me if you need help though, right?"

"Yes, we'll text you. You can leave, it looks like Fitz is waiting for you." Edaline pointed to the entrance, where Fitz was indeed standing.

"Bye mom, bye dad!" she said, before kissing them both on the cheek.

Fitz took her hand as they walked to the car. She concentrated so hard on trying to stop herself from blushing that she didn't realize when they stopped walking.

She'd been pining after Fitz for around eight years, and her feelings had gotten easier to work with. Most of the time, at least. But during the times like this, those feelings that she suppressed would fight to be released. He was casually affectionate, which was great (sometimes she found it hard to initiate the contact, no matter how much she wanted it), but it constantly did things to her heart.

Each time it happened, she had to remind herself that no , he wasn't flirting with her or acting out of romantic interest. That was just how he was.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, let go of his hand, then went in the car. It was silent on the way there, but she needed that silence in order to prepare herself. She took out her headphones once they were almost there.

"Sophie?" Fitz called out.

She responded with a hum.

"You know how it is. If it gets too loud, squeeze my arm."

She hummed again.

Then they arrived, and made their way to the seats. Biana was brilliant on the court, and she seemed to be doing even better than usual. By the end of the game, the cheering got loud, but not bad enough that it hurt. Biana's team had won by a decent amount.

"Congrats, Biana!" Fitz cheered once it was over and they met up.

"It feels unbelievable, because that was the finals? I can't believe we just won!"

"I knew you could do it," Sophie stated.

"I mean yeah, but the other uni was also really good! Guess it wasn't their day, huh?"

"It was definitely your day though," Fitz replied.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"I hate the fact that horns exist," Fitz groaned.

"What, so you like being hit by blue shells?" Sophie asked.

"Obviously not! But I like hitting you with them!"

"If you're able to get blue shells, it's clear that you aren't good at the game!"

It was game night again, and they were playing the newest version of Mario Kart, a game that was nostalgic to them. They were sitting in Sophie's room this time. Biana wasn't there, as she was busy studying with Dex.

"Look, if you aren't second place all the CPUs are there and you aren't safe," he retorted.

"Then just don't be third place? It's not that hard?"

Somehow, he managed to actually do that, and was quickly approaching her kart. It was the end of the final lap, and he passed her. But she got a red shell, shot him right before the finish line, then won first place.

"Excuse me?" he shouted. "Why do you get the red shells?"

She turned towards him with a smirk, only to be startled by the proximity. All she could see were those teal eyes, and the snarky reply she had planned to make was now forgotten. His eyes were wide, and he seemed to barely be breathing. It felt like time had frozen.

Could she take the risk and close the gap between them?

Should I?

Before she could make up her mind, he turned away, and he even moved slightly further away.

He's keeping his distance…

The realization was a hard blow to her, because that wasn't something he had ever done before. Was he that bothered by it?

"I thought you were good at the game," Fitz teased.

But unless Sophie was imagining it, his tone wasn't as lighthearted as it usually was. She tried to channel the frustration and use it to focus on the game, but she was doing worse. Ninth place. She hadn't scored so low in a while.

"Looks like that was the last game," he pointed out. "I'll head home now."

"Bye, Fitz."

She winced at her voice, because she was doing a terrible job at pretending that she was okay. Once she was sure that he left, she buried her face in her hands and just sat there. What was going on? Was Fitz mad at her? That would be the only reason why he would distance himself like that.

But why? Did she do something wrong? If she knew, she'd try and set things right. But what was she supposed to do?

Even though her room was large, she felt restricted. Too small, too hot, too suffocating. She couldn't breathe.

Her actions after that were a blur. She'd grabbed a sweater and went outside. She walked aimlessly along a path. The area seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't tell where she was.

The wind was cool against her face, the only thing that kept her remotely aware of her surroundings. There may have even been rain too.

Breathe. You need to breathe .

The voice sounded strangely like Fitz's, and it reminded her of when she had a panic attack and Fitz was there to help her. But he wasn't here this time. Was he going to start avoiding her? What about Biana? Did she have a problem with her too? W-

There was a hum, loud and melodic. She looked around for the source.

 

'Oh you, with that broken heart.'

 

"Who's there?"

 

'You, whose life's falling apart.'

 

Almost as if against her will, her mind replayed the moment of Fitz turning away from her. The rain fell harder, making it harder to see anything except her own imagination.

 

'Have you come here to the sea,

To drown in your memories?'

 

If Fitz and Biana were going to distance themselves, what was she going to do? Ten years worth of memories, were they just going to be tossed aside?

 

'The weight of them is too strong,

Crushing you, it's all so wrong.'

 

Different memories kept emerging. Her first meeting with Biana. Her first meeting with Fitz. Exchanging flowers with Fitz. Weren't the worst memories the ones that started off good? They were the ones that had you soaring, until you're being dragged towards the ground.

 

'May the waves wash all the tears,

That you've gathered through the years.'

 

Sophie knew that she could show her emotions around her friends, but she hated doing it. She had a tendency to suppress her sadness and tears and right now felt like a good time to just let it out.

Very distantly, she could feel herself walking towards the source of the singing.

 

'But what if there was a way,

To make the pain go away?'

 

Was that a thing? She hated doubting her friends, it hurt so much. But if she could just not worry, wouldn't that be better? Wouldn't that ease so much of her pain?

 

'To leave behind your sorrows,

Enter a new tomorrow.'

 

If tomorrow could come and ease away all of her pain, shouldn't she take that chance? Her foot caught against the ground, and now she was tumbling forward, and fell into the water.

 

'I have an offer for you,

You can start your life anew.'

 

The fall was by no means something that snapped her out of her daze, but Sophie found herself slightly more aware. Starting your life anew? Did she want that? Did she want to leave behind the people she loved?

Wasn't that what she worried Fitz was doing? Throwing their love away?

Sophie thought of the memories that they'd shared. It hurt, but they were the best memories that Sophie had. Would it ever be worth it to throw away all those good times just to abandon a potentially bad one?

I want my life , she told herself. I'm happiest with them. But… it's hard.

 

'You can escape the abyss.'

 

The voice was so much louder now, and she tried to move away, but her body wouldn't move.

 

'All I ask is for one kiss.'

 

She couldn't see, and she could vaguely feel a pair of lips press against her own. She was just drifting, in both her thoughts and the sea. She kept drifting until she could no longer feel anything.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You can find the song here!

Kotlc taglist- @keefeinnit @impostertamsong @my-swan-song @subrosasteath

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[youarejesting]

Limited Edition.7 Shattered

[FULL MASTERLIST] [Limited Edition Master list]

Beta: N/A Rating: All audiences Genre: Fantasy, Comedy, Fluffy Fluff, Adventure. Pairing: Bts x Friend!Reader Words: 1.4K

Summary: It is your first time buying proper merchandise, there are new chibi figurines and the first person to order will recieve a limited edition set. But what happens when BTS have gone missing without a trace and a few days later you receive your package. The box says congratulations, you open to find your limited edition figures, they look so lifelike. OH WAIT! it’s cause they are.

Announcement: the new TINY TAN video is adorable!!!

“Finally you are out, we are starving?” Taehyung whined. 

“Sorry, I will get your ingredients” selecting one of the ziplock bags from the freezer you looked at the tiny portions, handing it over to Yoongi. 

Seokjin asked, “why are you crying?”

“I called Mr. Kang Jungho and he said they aren’t coming for you, he admitted he did this?”

Yoongi who had touched your hand in concern and empathy backed away in disgust. 

“You don’t have to lie, I get it your favorite Kpop group living with you acting friendly and cuddly” he sighed “honestly I thought you were cool and we could hang out without it being weird.”

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asked, looking at  Yoongi in confusion. 

“She is a sasaeng, Kang warned us in his email that she might try to keep us forever and lie to us about not being contacted or that the company had given up on us.”

They all seemed to realize something and stepped back. You pressed your lips together muting your denial. Pleading your case against Mr. Kang would only make things worse. 

You nodded “okay” you walked out leaving the room, taking a collection of snacks and water. Jacket and keys in hand, you left the house shutting and locking the doors behind you. You went out to the mall and scolded yourself for thinking about buying them things you thought they would like.

The bitter feeling didn’t pass, you stayed out later than you should have and when you came back, they were asleep. Lifting the house you took it to your roommate’s room, she was away visiting family so you were able to leave them on her desk.

You left them more water and food and walked away shutting the door. You wouldn’t disturb them, not when they don’t want anything to do with you. Taking a deep breath you laid down in your bed, sending emails to the BIGHIT.

They were all being declined, you had obviously been blocked from messaging the company. One day past and you entered the room with more food to hear them on the phone with Mr. Kang.

“It makes sense that she is lying I am doing everything I can to get you back”

“Well BIGHIT is a big company send a private Jet, I will have them at the airport in a heartbeat, Mr. Kang,” You scoffed “Wouldn’t want them to be with a crazy Sasaeng, would we?”

“Of course, we will have a Jet ready for them by tomorrow,” Mr. Kang said “I can see this is taking a toll on your mental health”

“Sure, great. What time, what terminal, what airport?” You sneered “Get it done.”

You stormed out to your room and sat on the bed, you were trying to hold it together but the tears were so hot. With a soft sigh, you went to the kitchen bench and sat on the tiles with a pint of ice cream that you demolished listening to ‘We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal’.

Something about the way they said ‘We are not seven with you’, made you feel like they actually cared about you. Clearly you had thought wrong. You didn’t notice that Jungkook had stepped left the room and was watching you sob grotesquely. Turning off the song and throwing the headphones you were packing up wiping your eyes as your phone began to ring.

“What do you want?’ You snapped into the phone putting it on speaker.

“The boys said you had put them in another room, they don’t trust you now do they?” You could hear the amusement in his voice. “Take them to the airport, I will tell them, you canceled the tickets, or don’t take them. Either way, you are the bad guy”

“Listen, you know I don’t care if they hate me I am going to get them back to Korea and when we expose you, you will be fired” you threatened

“Try your best I have blocked all your calls to the company so you won’t be able to contact anyone” you placed the dishes in the drying rack. 

“You can’t hide the truth forever” you shouted as the phone beeped, he had hung up. You turned only to see Jungkook’s retreating figure. The young and now tiny man thought he was stealthy but you were very observant. 

“Jungkook?” The way your voice called sounded full of defeat made you cringe. Jungkook’s face appeared around the corner looking guilty. His hair fell in its usual coconut-like shape. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation.” He said and you heard a small sneeze. Walking slowly around the counter to see the entire group of young men shuffling in ᵗᶦⁿʸ.

Hoseok looked devastated eyes watering which set off Jimin and even Jungkook’s eyes spilled over helpless to his hyungs emotions. You wanted to coo, at the sight of the boys running towards you their eyes misted and little arms outstretched the pressed their faces into your knee and spluttering their apologies.

“Seems I was wrong and I am sorry?” Yoongi tried to act cool and it made you smile. 

“We are so sorry?” Hoseok whined and you sniffed wiping your eyes from the emotional moment. 

“Hey it’s okay, imma get you home and to your correct size” you sighed scooping them up into your arms and carrying them to their little house. 

“Can we have some hot water?” You nodded moving their house back to your room. 

The boys were feeling quite upset by the recent events, they felt betrayed and guilty for hurting you. That night you heard the door to their home open and you turned blinking tiredly. “What’s wrong?”

Taehyung has a blanket in his hand and a sad expression, you blinked concerned. “Can I sleep beside you?” Taehyung asked and you hummed reaching your hand out, he climbed on and you placed him on the pillow beside you. 

You held your hand there and he cuddled against it tired. 

Without the boy's knowledge you were trying to get accepted for a loan to get the boys back to Korea, the thing is you were not exactly rich and your job was a YouTuber live streamer. 

Thankfully your tiny tan videos were gaining a lot of popularity so you decided to ask them, “hey would you be interested in recreating a music video?”

It was a bit of a stretch but perhaps you could get enough revenue to go over seas. They agreed dancing, rapping and singing adorably for the camera. People praised your cgi animation skills. 

By two months you had just enough to get to Korea but you needed a little more, the boys did interviews and mukbangs and they continued practicing some new songs for when they were normal again. 

You got approved for a loan and was ecstatic, taking the time to pack and look at the boys. You took their house and had the boys in your jacket. 

You had to go through a metal detector. And put your things in a tray. You took the tray and sat on a near by chair unbuckling your heels. While the boys ran stealthily under the line of chairs to the other side where you went through and took a seat to put on your shoes again. 

You got onto the plane and was in first class in a private pod where the boys could run around freely. They shared your inflight meal and slept on your lap half the way. 

Namjoon has secretly gotten in contact with Adora and was hoping everything went well, and that she would turn up to collect them. 

“When you arrived she was there with a sign with your name on it” she looked confused and lead you to a hire car. 

“You haven’t happened to have seen the boys have you, it was strange to have them contact me and still be in hiding, and it’s such a strange request”

“Well we thank you for going to all this trouble it is really important” You breathed blushing talking with Adora was super intimidating. She was so pretty and elegant and you felt so plain beside her.

Shuffling your scuffed boots looking at her pristinely shined kitten heels. “Alright, I don’t know why the boys are in hiding, or why Namjoon messaged me wanting for me to take you to the figurine factory. But I won’t question it, as long as it gets them to come home.”

“Thank you very much!” You said nervously, “it really will help them return”

Tags:  @victory0461 @gqmf-bangtanmama​ @simplymemyself​ (please make sure your tag option is selected in your settings)

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[spartanxhunterx]

Bug And Shell(d): Late night run

Nino's fingers clicked away at his mouse and keyboard, headphones perched atop his head as he listened to one of his soundtracks while he was organising other soundtracks and mixes on his computer.

It was late, very late, judging by the moonlight that was leaking its way between the curtains, attempting to illuminate the areas in which his computer screen could not.

Despite the time, he wasn't tired.

No, he was anxious, nervous. His mind was running a hundred miles and hour. Thought after thought racked through his brain, repeating what memories he had of the fight with Dark Cupid, with Kim, and lady Wi-Fi.

Valentine's day had been just a few days ago, while it had been quiet since then, he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something. Ladybug had told him what had happened of course, how could she not?

He, Carapace, had fallen victim to an Akuma's power and had been turned against Ladybug, his partner. Pushing his glasses up Nino pinched the bridge of his nose, knuckles pressing into his eyes slightly, before sighing and collapsing back in his chair.

Wayzz would probably point out that he had fallen prey to Lady Wi-Fi too but that was different in it's own way. When it came to Alya's akumatization he wasn't under her control, just... Stuck and he had been protecting Ladybug unlike with Dark Cupid where he had gone against her.

He was her protector, Not her assailant.

How much harder had he made that Akuma? How many innocent people got hurt because Ladybug was dealing with him? How badly could it have ended if Ladybug hadn't found some way to free him from the Akuma?

He was greatful for whatever she did, even if that was the one detail she wouldn't tell him. But he didn't want to put her in that situation ever again, had to fight by her side... Always.

Sitting up properly Nino reached out to pull his Mug of Tea towards him, bringing it up to his lips slowly to savour the taste.

Ever since he had almost been akumatised Wayzz had suggested he take up several calming routines. Breathing exercises were one such thing, Meditation another and even calming herbal teas like Chamomile and lavender.

Although he had only used them once since getting them, tonight being the second, he could tell how useful they were. They helped him to relax his muscles and the warmth in his stomach was quite welcome.

But tea could only help so much to ease his nerves, he needed something else to take his mind off it all. Something to drain his excess energy without possibly waking everyone up.

But it's not like he could just begin doing push ups on his floor now could he?

Sighing he put his Mug back down, setting it near Wayzz, Who was taking his time to eat through the bowl of chopped fruit as he relaxed near him.

"Something on your mind?... Dude?" Nino snorted humorously at Wayzz' attempt to use modern slang as he removed his headphones. Not that he did it badly, just that he sounded so uncertain of himself that It was almost comical.

"Well... Sort of little dude." He gently rubbed Wayzz' head, being mindful of his antenna. "Just... Dark Cupid, or at least the thought that I could have made that a lot worse then it was."But

" But you didn't, Ladybug fixed it all in the end. "

He sighed, moving his fingers to rest on Wayzz' shell. "It's not that simple Dude. What if Ladybug hadn't won? hadn't fixed me? What if I took her miraculous?" He waited a moment for Wayzz to answer but only saw his calculating face, he could see the gears turn in his head.

"We would have lost Little dude. Simple as that, Hawkmoth cares far more for Ladybugs miraculous then mine... Your miraculous." Nino's fingers fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist, even in his PJ's with the other bands taken off he couldn't bear to part with the Miraculous.

It's weight was comforting in its own weird way.

"Indeed, but for what reason is... Unfathomable," Wayzz floated up before plopping himself down on Nino's shoulder. "What's important is we keep up the fight and protect Ladybug, so he may never get the Miraculous."

" Which isn't easy when I'm mind controlled Wayzz." He deadpanned, tired of beating around the bush. Wayzz' face contorted then he tilted his head to the side in thought.

"I see... Perhaps this is a conversation to have with Ladybug then?"

Yeah, he could. If he knew how to get hold of her outside of Akuma attacks. His best bet was to wait for the next attack, then ask her if she was free to talk. Although it worked last time, he figured that was because it was an urgent matter, over now which was just a few small worries.

"So, are we going?" Nino blinked, looking up at Wayzz.

"What?"

" If you wish, we can go out now, try to find Ladybug so you can speak to her. " Shaking his head Nino stood from his chair stretching before reaching for his Mug again.

"I doubt she'll just be out there, we both have civilian lives, besides its..." Looking at the time on his screen he let in a sharp breath between his teeth. "Well eleven forty seven, she's probably asleep." He took a sip of his tea, trying to prolong the conversation.

" Plausibly but you are not, even if you don't find her, a nice run will do some good for you. " Well, Nino couldn't argue with that logic, he rubbed the back of his neck in thought.

It wouldn't hurt to go on a run, exhaust himself enough to maybe get a few hours of sleep before school started. Maybe give him a reason to go to The Dupain-Cheng bakery for a coffee and breakfast, not that he needs a reason to go.

"I... Alright, wait here a second."

Wayzz watched as his chosen left the room, picking up a cut up grape he took a bite before chewing on it. The small Kwami could see the lights outside the room turn on from where it peaked in from under the door. He only had to wait a few minutes before his chosen returned, a steaming hot thermos in hand.

probably filled with more tea. He floated up as Nino shut the door. "Ready to go?" Shaking his head Nino motioned for him to wait before checking his curtains to ensure no-one could peak in.

Flicking his light on he placed his thermos down. "Alright, now I'm ready."

" Then say the magic words. "

"Wayzz, Shell On."

Feeling the magic wash over him Nino brought in a deep breath, relaxing as he felt his heart rate increase in preparation for a fight. He hoped that his light had covered the flash of light from his transformation, he didn't want to be caught out by something as stupid as that.

Flicking his light back off he picked up his thermos and switched his computer to sleep mode. Peaking out his curtains he surveyed the windows and balconies of the other house's as he attached his thermos to his hip, just in case there were other late nighters about.

Feeling satisfied that he couldn't see anything he opened his window wide enough to climb his way out of it. Standing on the ledge precariously he leaped to the close by Lamppost, catching onto the pole before climbing up to the top.

his boots left behind scruff marks that blended in with the others he had been leaving there. Kneeling down atop the post he scanned the road below, seeing it bare and empty. It was strange, to see Paris' streets so abandoned yet know that the city still held life inside its many many buildings.

Tensing his legs he prepared himself before committing to jump to the closest by Lamppost, a jump which he could just barely make on his own. He didn't slow down as he continued his movements by jumping to the closest rooftop, hitting it a little hard.

Bleeding speed by transitioning into a roll he came to a stop, he gave the area another look around before setting off on his run.

his feet pounded against the solid concrete of the buildings, the wind whipped his hood slightly and the cool night air burned at his lungs.

He didn't pay too much attention to where he was going, he just let his feet take him to whichever part of Paris they so desired to travel to.

There was something about traveling this way that was... Uniquely satisfying, he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew there would be little that could compare to running across Paris' skyline Keith nothing but the wind to accompany him.

It wasn't the feeling of freedom, more... The knowledge that he had a higher role in this city. He was one of the city's only two defenders, it was a large amount of responsibility. And he was honoured to hold that responsibility, out of everyone in the entire city it was him, he was chosen to be Carapace.

Now that he knew what that was like... He couldn't imagine not being Carapace, he couldn't imagine not having the power to protect people.

Stopping on a slightly isolated rooftop he moved to the edge, leaning against the billboard as he looked down to the street below. Still the task before him was massive and he was only one person, so he knew he had to be careful.

There was little room for mistakes in all of this.

If Ladybug lost her miraculous, they would lose, no more cure, no more purifying Akuma's. If he lost his... Then he wouldn't be able to defend Ladybug, Paris or even his family.

Whoever gave him the miraculous would probably give someone else a different one... Assuming that there was both more miraculous and someone who had them.

but Nino refused to believe that someone hadn't put the box in his house on the first day of school.

"I think I'm seeing smoke." His arm slipped from where he was leaning, hands grasping at the beams of the billboard before he felt more slender hands grab his arm and pull him back onto the roofs surface.

Turning around he came face to face with Ladybug, who looked both worried and slightly amused. Mostly worried though. "Damn Bug. Give a guy a warning would you."

He chuckled slightly as he pretended to dust himself off, doing his best to not look at his partner. He did not want her to see his face all red from embarrassment.

"I am glad you're here though." Moving over to a large air conditioning unit he hoisted himself up and say on it. "Although, how'd you know I was here?"

" Well... I... Ugh, I saw you? "

Raising an eyebrow he looked her over, seeing how her shoulders were tense, her ankles close together and arms folded defensively in front of her. As if she was trying to make herself smaller then she already was.

He bit back the mocking remark he could have said about her already short stature before nodding thoughtfully.

"I guess that makes sense, I wasn't exactly trying to hide." And he wasn't but he was under the assumption that no-one would be in the right place at the right time to see him. But if someone had to see him?

well he was glad it was her.

"So," She swayed slightly from foot to foot and Nino realised that this was one of those rare occasions where Ladybug wasn't always flying. "Did you have something to say?... Or?"

"Hmm..." He looked up from where he was pulled his thermos off his side before realization dawned on his face. "Oh right, yeah. I wanted to ask you a few things." Tapping the space next to him he waited for her to join him.

after a moment of hesitation did she do so and the two of them looked over the Paris skylines.

"I wanted to talk about valentines day," he chose to ignore her flinch , he didn't want to think of the implications of that. "Cause it got me thinking. If an Akuma can mind control me once, it possible it could happen again."

Pouring his tea into the thermos lid he held it up for a moment before deciding to pass it to his partner.

Accepting the drink she hummed in thought. "Anything's possible, we don't even know what Hawkmoths limits are and all his Akuma are different."

Bringing the cup to her lips she took a sip before recoiling away. Carapace's free hand shot out to grab the wayward cup and although some of the tea split on the rooftop, at least the cup wasn't thrown.

"You alright bug? Is it too hot? Or are you lactose intolerant or something?"

"That's not coffee!" He blinked as Ladybug turned away from him in an attempt to hide her blush from him, his hand was still holding onto hers and she could feel the butterflies in her stomach.

Nino was quiet for all of a moment before a chortle escaped his lips, said chortle grew into a full blown laughter that only caused Ladybugs checks to darken to the same shade as her entire outfit.

"What's so funny!?" Smacking him on the shoulder seemed to bring him down to earth again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, " Freeing the cup from her grip he took it back and refilled it before offering it again, which she took."I've just got this mental image in my head of you tweaked out on coffee, flying around sporadically and randomly all like a hummingbird."

He took a sip from his thermos before letting a large smile grace his face. "You remind me of my friend, amazing girl, a little small but if you give her coffee... Well, she's your responsibility after that."

"She get hyper or something?" He heard something in her voice but couldn't quite identify it.

" Normally she's good after her first coffee but after like the third, " he let out a low chuckle before taking a sip of his tea. "Well the last time that happened she challenged the resident jock to a race, she collapsed asleep halfway to the finish line."

Both winced in sympathy before they nursed their drinks a little more. Soaking in the silence of the night, it was so much more... Peaceful then the daytime, even with the slight ominous undertone that the night carried.

Leaning against his shoulder, Ladybug kept her eyes on her hands. He didn't flinch or shift away from her and after a moment his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about? before I interrupted you with the coffee thing."

He went to answer, he really did but one look at his partners bluebell eyes, seeing the worry in them, was enough to push the question to the back of his mind. To leave it there and ignore it, these where his problems, not his partners.

"You know what? I forgot." He'd deal with it... Alone.

Snuggling into his side a little more Ladybug let her head lean on him. Carapace himself decided to lay the two of them down into their back for more comfort.

after he removed his shield of course.

"You ever wonder why we were chosen?" Ladybugs words were filled with such curiosity that he found himself wondering the same thing.

what could he, Nino Lahiffe, done to possibly earn himself the responsibility to be one of Paris' Protectors, over the literal millions of other people.

Why wasn't an adult chosen? Why not someone more experienced at fighting? Why them?

Why not them?

"Constantly, But, I think... It because, deep down, we're good people. Willing to do the right thing, not for ourselves, but everyone else. "

Ladybug snorted and he felt like he was being mocked. "That was ridiculously cheesy, but probably true." She sighed, one of her arms moving to rest on his chest as she turned towards him slightly. "I couldn't imagine standing by and watching all this happen if I wasn't Ladybug. "

He couldn't imagine being a bystander either. Perhaps in another time, he wouldn't have a choice but right now? He didn't wish anyone else to be put in the danger the two of them faced.

"Same." He tightened his hold on Ladybug as her body shifted , just in case she fell. "I have your back, always. "

"I'll always have your back Too Carapace." She spoke slowly, lightly. As if something was dragging her voice down.

He blinked slowly a few times, unable to bring himself to talk just yet. They were fine.

The next time he blinked he was greeted to the peaking light of the sun over Paris' horizon. He breathed in the cold morning air, throat dry and limbs asleep.

His partner was curled up to his side.

He'd had fallen asleep, On top of a remote rooftop on nothing but his super suit and he knew he had nothing but PJ's on under that. And... Oh no, Ladybug might even be the same, if she popped out after seeing him pass whenever she lived.

"Well, Fuck."

-

Nino stumbling into the Dupain-Cheng bakery was not an uncommon occurrence for the Dupain-Cheng parents to witness, Sabine smiled sympathetically at the boy as she began to prepared his regular coffee order before he had even gotten halfway across the shop floor.

"Morning Mrs. Dupain-Cheng," He covered his mouth as he let out a yawn, half leaning against the counter as he tried to keep his head up.

"Oh dear Nino," Sabine shook her head slightly amused , "You look tired, you stay up on your computer again? "

Nino shrugged slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Something like that... Can't remember much."

The older woman clicked her tongue as she finished putting Nino's coffee into a to-go cup. "Lack of sleep results in poor memory Nino," Sabine placed his coffee down before him and brought her hand to his cheek , a gesture that had become more common. "Get some sleep tonight. Even if you have to come here to get it, ok?"

Nino snorted humorously as his left hand raised to meet Sabine's. "I don't have a problem sleeping at home, I just g-" he let out another yawn. "Get distracted."

Sabine nodded as she pushed his coffee into his hands. "Of course, go sit down for a minute until Marinette comes down, I'll bring your order."

Nino blinked slightly, Sabine could see the gears turning in his head and had to stifle a laugh. "But I didn't..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words to say.

"No, you didn't, but we know what you like and you need to sit for a few minutes, besides, the schools just there." Giving his cheek a gentle tap Sabine moved away to begin bagging up two bags of pastries.

It took Nino's brain a moment to switch gears but once he did he moved to the closest table and sat down before folding his arms and leaning his head down onto them. Coffee momentarily ignored.

"You know, This place is very homely." He quietly hummed in agreement, even as Wayzz popped out of the side of his hood to peak at the rest of the bakery. "Its not very surprising that you fell for Marinette, she's the embodiment of all the sugar in here."

Nino tensed slightly at the voice at his ear, feeling heat pool into his cheeks. "Wayzz." He spoke in a low whisper, to not draw attention from anyone else.

"You say something Nino?" His knuckles tightened and he felt his nail bite into his palms. Fighting off the blush he raised his head before resting it on his closed hand, seeing Sabine next to him holding onto a bag, which she swiftly put down.

"Just... Groaning, I'm tired." He rubbed his eyes from under his glasses before pushing himself up. Feeling his back ache from the awkward place he had slept last night. Who knew you could fall asleep on a random roof but he supposed the tea was also a large benefactor to the position they found themselves in, in the morning.

"Drink up," She tapped his coffee cup. " if you're too tired to stay awake in school all day, come and have a nap during your lunch break."

"Will do Mrs. Dupain-Cheng. "

"Sabine dear. Now eat up, you won't have any energy for the day if you don't eat anything." Giving a hum he opened up the pastry bag to remove one of the blueberry muffins.

Slowly he munched on it, occasionally he would hold it slightly closer to his chest to allow Wayzz a chance to take a bite for himself. He really hoped he wasn't giving the guy a sweet tooth. He could handle Wayzz getting through several bowls of fruit a day, he doubted he could supply him with sweet treats all day everyday.

Especially since he had to cut back on his DJ gigs after an Akuma made him late for one of his scheduled gigs.

That had been a pain to explain. The chair in front of him groaned in protest and his eyes slowly lifted up to meet Marinette's. She looked, absolutely, dead to the world. There was nothing but tiredness and self hatred in those eyes.

"You stay up all night?" He drawled out before gulping back his coffee. Funny, he nurses teas but drinks coffee like his life depends on it.

"Sort ah..." Opening her mouth resulted in a large yawn to escape her. It was cute. "Had a few ideas come to mind and I just..." She's waved her hands sluggishly, her own cup of coffee sloshing around in her hand. "Had to draw them. "

"Please tell me you got a little sleep dudette." Reaching into the bag Nino pulled out a pistachio macaroon before taking a bite.

"Did you?" He was too tired to see the light pink that dusted her face as his eyes dropped to the table. Yes, he did get sleep.

But he got sleep on top of an air conditioning unit while dressed up as a turtle and hugging his superhero partner. That was not something he wanted to explain.

"Eh, some. Fell asleep on my keyboard, you know?"

"At least I was on something comfortable."

Flicking the small chunk of Macaroon he had in hand he watched as it flew between them before hitting Marinette dead centre of her forehead. She flinched in surprise, she squinted her eyes at the boy across from her as she brushed off the crumbs.

"Lahiffe."

"Dupain-Cheng."

The two of them stared each other down until Marinette let out a stiffened laugh. "You, you sound like Chloé."

" Ew, End me now. "

"I can go get a bag of flour if you like," She pointed over to behind the counter, but he was struggling to get the image of Marinette lifting heavy flour bags out of his head.

"If that's how I gotta go out, so be it." Wouldn't that be a way to go? Not by an Akuma or accident but by his crush, quite literally, crushing him.

Slowly Marinette pulled her own croissant out of her bag of food, never breaking eye contact with him as she bit down into it. The two of them sat there in a comfortable silence as they ate. If they where going to be late, Sabine would tell them.

It was now, in his barely awake state, that he realised how much more confident Marinette had become lately. Both in and out of school. No doubt it was caused by Alya, while he had no problem with it, he did wonder why Marinette had never let him and Kim deal with Chloé all those years ago.

Sure, Kim's view had been... Altered, over the years. As he had learned on Valentine's but back when Chloé started to be a brat they were more than willing to set her straight. Marinette, holder of his heart, had not wanted that. Had preferred peace. And here they were, Chloé as the class bully, Marinette just getting her confidence back, him barley able to stand up against someone when he wasn't in the suit.

Both of them were slowly unlearning such behaviours, ready to become the people they should have been so long ago. But they'd get there... Eventually.

-

"Mari..." He fiddled with his hands as they rested on the table, fingers intertwining. His head was slumped and he could barely keep his eyes open now that the coffee had passed out of his system.

Said girl hummed from behind him, her own coffee boost having bled out of her some time ago too.

"Is it... Is it too late to get that nap at your place?"

Class would end and lunch would begin soon, he was certain he wouldn't be able to make it the rest of the day without a little sleep. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng would make sure they weren't late and had lunch still.

it was one of the many reasons why he loved the Dupain-Cheng's.

"No such thing as, Too late for a nap, in my eyes." Marinette yawned into her hands and he had to fight off the blush at the image of her face scrunching up cutely. Like the way her nose would create up or her... OK, shaking his head he tried to ignore those thoughts.

The bell ringing hardly fazed them and both were stuck in there seats for a while longer. Long Enough that the two of them had to wave off Alya and Adrien respectively.

"So... You just wanna crash on the floor of the bakery or actually get to the sofa?"

Both huffed in tired amusement, her neither made a move to get up from there chairs. Too lethargic to even attempt to stand up, let alone get all the way to Mari's house.

"We having a sleep pile?" Nino jerked slightly at the voice that was right behind him, a quick peek showed Kim standing on the step above his tables level, looking down at the two of them. His bag was hanging off his back and he had a look of excitement in his eyes.

The sleep piles were something the three of them had done for so long, Nino couldn't remember a time when they didn't do it. It was simole, if two, or more, of them were tired they'd go to whoever's home was closest. Then collapse into a pile somewhere comfortable and just, sleep.

They'd done it since they were kids, they were going to keep doing it until they couldn't.

"Yes," Marinette yawned. "And if you help us get to mine... You can join too. "

"Yes!" Kim pumped his arm as the two of them groaned from his volume, if they didn't get some sleep soon they'd have killer headaches .

And Nino did not want to fight an Akuma with a headache. Quicker than anything Kim picked up their bags before slinging them over his shoulders.

Nino was halfway through attempting to stand when he felt Kim's hands grab him before he was suddenly slung over one of his shoulders, very disgracefully.

"Kim!" And judging by the head of dark hair, Marinette was slung over his other shoulder too. She was at least able to put up a little bit of a fight, just for a moment, before she slumped and let Kim take them away.

This was not the first time Kim had done this to them, so some people weren't that surprised to see it happening again. Although most were still surprised to see the jock carrying two of his classmates like sandbags.

They were two tires to really care about people looking, too tired to answer the questions sent their way. Even too tired to properly Greet Sabine when Kim got them through the bakery doors.

Much to Sabine and Tom's amusement.

Nino only snapped out of his haze for long enough to notice that Kim had taken to being their pillow, again, and that Marinette was leaning into his collar as his arms wrapped around her. Kim's arms were wrapped around both of them and someone had covered them in a blanket.

For one fleeting moment, Nino believed he was six again, back when things were so much simpler. Back to when he was just Nino, Not Carapace, Not an older brother, Not... Well, he didn't want to think about that last one.

Pulling Marinette closer to him he embraced her warmth as he dozed off, at least this time, he wouldn't wake up on some random rooftop in the middle of nowhere.

or maybe he would... You never knew when you were with Kim.

[callmeunstable]

Angels & Demons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Characters: Reader

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic and I decided to place it in the universe of the greatest of the greatest. Geralt of Rivia! I don’t know where this will go 100%, but I know it’s going to be interesting. 😄 The reader starts of in our modern world and stumbles into the universe of The Witcher. I take my information mostly from the books and games but my fic is set based of the Netflix series so it’s basically beginners friendly.☺️

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Song:

“Two face, two face, yeah Black, white, left, right, yeah Up, down, all night, yeah Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train“

The music made her headphones vibrate. Probably loud enough for everyone around her to hear. If there was anyone. She was alone, hiking in the forest. It was what she always did when her anxiety got the best of her. The city is loud and dirty, squeezed full with people that never look around. Never realizing what was going on in the real world. At least what that’s what they called their reality. She always thought it was foolish to believe that they were alone in this big of a universe. Impossible.

Some stones here and there made her trip but she didn’t stop. She knew where she wanted to go and she didn’t intend to stop before she reached her destination. Kicking some branches out of the way and silently passing other hikers that greeted her with waving hand. She didn’t like the people in the city. All of them were selfish and money orientated. Of course, so tried to earn some money as a health center receptionist at her university but only to keep her head above water. Her focus was on her degree in medicine. She wanted to be able to afford a good life for her and her dad.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

She slowed down and let herself down on the ground.  Pulling her knees to her stomach and breathing in the fresh air of the trees. The pollution caused by cars and all of these different companies laying behind her. Closing her eyes and trying not to fall asleep. Her insomnia got worse on hot summer days like these. The missing air conditioning in her dorm room made it even worse. Two hours have to be enough to function. She couldn’t wait for the autumn to start. For the leaves to fall. And the crowds to shrink

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out-“

Her music was cut short and her eyes gazed at the screen. The Battery was almost empty. With an annoyed groan, she took off her backpack searching for her power bank. The only good thing summer had for her was the power of the sun being strong enough to charge the battery of the device. Still having her headphones in her ears. Just in case someone stumbled across and wanted to have a conversation. The easiest way to ignore people without seeming too harsh.

Her glance went up, analyzing anything she was able to catch. The mountains far back on the horizon hugged by a thick layer of clouds that protected them from any unwanted attention. The distance colored them in a blueish gray tone that would capture a lot of people. At least the ones who noticed and wanted to have a peerless experience.

Some strange black orbs were able to sneak into her daydream making her once again face the consequences of her lack of sleep. Slowly blinking she took a look at her watch. 2 pm. Still early. She just wanted to close her eyes for a few more minutes. To help her find her lost energy. Just in case she set her alarm for an hour and put her phone in the pocket of her pants. - “Everybody said that I'm falling, uh Took another line, I'm calling, uh I'm so sick of the nonsense, uh I'ma dive into the mosh pit, uh I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gunshot could solve 'em Tell my friends I'm sorry though T-T-T-Tell my sins to go. And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

The tones of her favorite song woke her up. Her headphones got disconnected while she was asleep. With panic caused by the rush of adrenaline, she paused the music. Taking a deep breath and enjoying the silence again. Her arms were stretched above her head and a yawn made it through her mouth. Slowly gaining back clear vision she looked up again. But something was different. The dusk was slowly setting in.

She failed to set her alarm correctly. But it could be worse, she wasn’t doing anything special today anyway. As she was standing up she looked for the mountains in the far, however, her view was blocked. Big deciduous trees rose in front of her. Maybe she fell asleep in a different place? A little far more into the forest? 

She got herself up and started walking her way back. At least what she thought was the right way. Somehow everything looked a little different. As different as forests could look like. The hiker trail was gone. Slowly breathing away her risen heartbeat she tried to focus. It’s just the forest how bad can it be? She always found her way out of it. She got lost a couple of times whilst exploring new paths but still. The air felt different. Not as heavy as she was used to. The trees were able to give her better oxygen as in the city but they just couldn’t hold all of the smog back.

Her feet automatically began to walk faster and faster as time went by and nothing seemed familiar anymore. She tried to find her starting point again but that seemed rather impossible right now. There was still a lot of light left but everything seemed strange.

She started to run. Jumping over the rocks and logs that blocked her way. As she was trying to bridge over the next log she wasn’t able to see the small lowering that led to her stumbling and rolling a couple of feet down. ‘Great, just great.’ 

Her thoughts were sarcastic, helping her to cope with the panic rising in her throat.

She looked up and let out a short scream. Some big bright yellow eyes were looking at her from above. They belonged to a child with pale blue skin. At least it looked like a child. She didn’t dare to move one muscle, staring at the creature in front of her.

It was barely as tall as a 9-year-old and it’s skin made it look like it was suffocating. A rough crown made out of sticks sat on top of its head. It wore some pants that had seen better days. They seemed to be made out of a cheap fabric that was ripped in several places. A green scarf was hanging from its neck. 

“Hello.” It could speak. His mouth was stretched to wild smile.

“It’s been some time since an ol’ villager got lost in ma forest. That was some fall you had. Are you alright?” Still staring at the creature she tried to get her words together.

“Ehm…yes I tripped and fell. I don’t think I’m hurt. Thank you.”

“Good to hear. So what’s your name? I’m James.”

She hesitated. She didn’t even know if this creature was human. She couldn’t trust just anyone.

“Alva. My name is Alva.”

“Nice to meet you, Alva. So what did ya run away from? Thought the Drowners were after ya.” Drowners? What the fuck are Drowners?

“Yeah so. Excuse me the question but you seem rather … blue?” She was scared to ask something like this but this little creature seemed friendly.

“Oh that. Have you never seen a good ol’ Godling? Because that’s just what I am indeed.” The little boy laughed and seemed to be happy to have found some company.

“That is a Godling?”

“You never heard of us amazing Godling?”

The little blue boy explained to her that Godlings are woodland creatures dwelling in burrows and moss-covered hollow stumps on the outskirts of human settlements. They are deeply rooted in their home territory and perform acts of care and guardianship to those dwelling near their burrows. They watch over people as well as animals, but, shy creatures by nature, they try to do so while remaining unseen. Godlings are drawn to joy and innocence, and so delight in the company of children and usually only show themselves to the young.

“That’s why I am talking to ya. You seem fun. At least you look funny.” The boy started to walk around her while lifting her flannel and poking her skin.

‘He’s the one looking like a tall version of a smurf. What is he talking about?’ Her thought rushes inside of her head, making her regaining the feeling of dizziness.

“So you’re telling me you’re some kind of magical creature as in Harry Potter?” The girl tried to order her thoughts by sitting down and trying to hold on to the facts the little guy was telling her. Maybe she was in a coma? Or dreaming? Possibly. These are the only explanations she could come up with.

“I don’t know anyone called Harry Potter. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Ok, listen up. You’re probably just part of my imagination so why don’t we have some fun while it lasts?” As long as she sleeping and lucid dreaming she could at least make the best out of it.

“Yes, let’s have some fun! I love singing, I love music! I heard some strange melody coming from your direction. That’s how I found you.” James started to do some little happy jumps and clapping.

“Oh, you mean this?” Alva took her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him.

“What witchy device is that suppose to be?”

“No magic. Technology. Let me show you.” She pressed on some Icons and song from earlier continued.

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out.”

The little one danced to the music and showed off some rather random dance moves. Spinning in circles, jumping up and down and throwing his hands in the air.

Still thinking of her lucid dreaming she joined her little Godling friend. Turning the music louder and louder they enjoyed themselves.

Until a growl broke the peace of the music. But both James and Alva were to focused on having von dancing to notice some strange noises. They didn’t hear it, down to the moment when the girl got hit by something sharp, making her fall to the ground.

“Don’t stop dancing Alva, you’re no fun.” The Godling still didn’t realize that Alva was sitting on the ground covering her bleeding upper arm with her hand. Looking up she saw the scariest creature she could’ve imagined. 

In front of her is standing a sickly blue or green colored human, with slime and sludge oozing out of every pore and the acrid stench of rot wafting off of it. No, that wasn’t a human.

“James! What the fuck is that?” The girl cried for help.

Finally objectifying the situation, James was hurrying towards the creature when it rose its arm for another attack.

Covering her face Alva started to realize that this is the moment she was going to die. You can’t get hurt in a dream. That is just not possible. Her arm was on fire, giving her a pain she never had felt in her entire life. This was real. Waiting for the next hit but it never came.

Slowly she opened her eyes to see only James in front of her. The monster not in sight.

“Where did he-?” Completely shocked by the situation and being unable to talk, Alva starred at the boy.

“Don’t underestimate the power of a Godling. Nothing comes between me and my forest. And since you stumbled in it you’re a part of it.” He looked down at her bleeding arm and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You need a healer. As much as I’d love to I can’t heal it.”

The words barely got to the girl. She was scared for her life. She never believed something like this could happen. But one thing she knew for sure. This wasn’t her reality.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm falling from Eden.”

[imagineswriting47]

Lost Voice.

A/N: this is for the anon who asked Can you write a Dean x reader? The reader hates her laugh and hides it all the time, but she giggles one day after Dean catches her off guard, and he thinks it's adorable? This took on a life of its own. I hope you like it.

All mistakes are mine and mine alone 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse.

Summary: Finding your voice is never easy after a lifetime of pain.

Paring: Dean/Reader

The hunt had been an easy one. Salt and burn and no one had disappeared since we got into town, so I would call that a win for the three of us. What surprised me was the fact that after the hunt, Dean didn’t want to go out to the bar. Instead, Dean and Sam got some pizza and a case of beer before coming back to the motel room. With both of them, Sam and Dean telling stories of past hunts. I sat a little out to the side and away from. Not really having a lot to add to the conversation, I have been hunting as long as they had. With not having any stories to share, I was happy to sit and listen. Sam has his head thrown back, laughing at something Dean just said, pulling me back into the present. 

“Come on Y/N, you can't tell me that wasn’t funny,” Dean says with a smile on his face. I just shrug my shoulder and laugh at him. Dean’s smile falls a little then. If I hadn’t been looking, I would not have noticed.  But I did. It doesn’t help that I am always looking at Dean. Dean is just so beautiful, and he doesn’t even know it. Dean doesn’t know how I would love just to sit and count the freckles that cover his face. To look into his eyes to see every color that hides in their depths. Oh, don't get me wrong Dean knows that he is good looking. I just don't think that he believes hi is worth more than what he lets himself have. Before long, the clock is showing that it’s two in the morning. I leave my half-finished beer on the table before grabbing everything that I need and make my way to the bathroom—showering quickly, knowing that I need to go some hot water for the boys. After I finish in the shower, I turned it off; then, I can faintly hear the boy’s conversation.

“Sam, I don't think that Y/N likes me.” Hearing Dean says that makes my heartbreak. How could he think that I don't like him? “Dude…”

“I mean it, Sam in the time we have known Y/N I can count on one hand the times I have heard her voice.” I know I don't talk a whole lot. But I didn’t think that would matter to them. I’m a good hunter; I always follow the plan and make sure that I have their backs. Not wanting to hear the conversation anymore. I decided to dry my hair before getting dressed and leaving the bathroom “It’s about time Y/N.” The bathroom door closed, leaving Sam and me in the room.

“How much did you hear?” Sam asks me as I take a seat on the bed next to him, It was Sam, and I’s turn to share this hunt leaving Dean to have his bed. “Enough,” I whisper, my voice rough from not being used in a while. Sam knows a little about why I don’t talk. A lot, Sam had to piece together on his own as I didn’t come right out and tell him. Sam knows that I had been abused as a child. That my father would beat me if I made any noise. Even now, years after I had last seen my father, he still has this hold on me. My voice, I hate my voice. Every time I hear it all, I can think of is pain. How bad my father beat me this time for making a noise. The boys were the first guys that I can remember feeling safe around. But something just can't be unlearned. 

“I can talk to him if you want. Set him straight.” Sam says to me as he takes hold of my hand. “No, I…” I don't get to finish as the bathroom door is thrown open steam rushing out of the room. “All your’s Sammy,” Dean says with a smile on his face. Knowing Dean, the smile is because he used all of the hot water. Usually, I would stay up to watch what Sam did to get back at Dean. But not this time. Climbing into bed, I make sure to leave enough room for Sam. Dean doesn’t say anything to me before climbing into his bed and turning the light off. Sam isn’t in the bathroom long, and by the time he crawls into bed. I can feel the cold just coming off of him. He tries to keep from waking me up, I reach behind me and grab his hand, pulling it over my waist. Sam gets the idea and rolls onto his side, his chest against my back. With my finger, I write ‘no hot’ against the end of his hand. I can feel him shake his head ‘no,’ putting a smile on my face.

With Sam understanding why I don’t talk, we have managed to find a means to speak without me needing to say anything. To most people, it would look as if we are just holding hands. It probably even looks that way to Dean. I know that he always looked confused when I would climb into his bed on the hunts that it was our turn to share. I know that I need to tell Dean that Sam and I are not together. Dean has asked Sam on more than one occasion if we were together and Sam being the amazing friend that he is by not agreeing or disagreeing. With my mind up to talk to Dean the next day. I let sleep pull me under.

I wake up the next morning to the sun shining in my face and an empty bed. Sitting up, I look around the room, finding Dean sitting at the table looking for our next hunt; Sam nowhere to be seen. He must still be out for his morning run. I was running my hand through my hair, hoping to get some of the knots out of my hair. I quietly make my way over to him before I tap him on the shoulder. When he jumps, it is then I notice the headphones that he is wearing. I give him a small smile hoping to show that I am sorry for scaring him. I take the seat next to him as Dean takes his headphones out and turning the music off before turning to me. 

“I heard what you said last night, Dean, and I want you to know how wrong you…” I don’t get to finish what I was saying as Dean moves, and I can't help but flinch waiting for the punch. I must have a look of fear on my face as Dean’s eyes grow wide, and worry makes its way onto his face. Once I get my breathing under control, I tell him my story of growing up. How no matter the monsters we face, the worst ones will always be the human ones. What my father put me through as a child. All the pain, hurt, hunger. Everything I tell him everything, even the things that Sam doesn’t know. By the end, I feel lighter by getting it all off my chest.  But that doesn’t mean that I can look Dean in the face. 

When my voice falls quiet once more, I can hear the chair scrape across the floor as Dean gets up to move away from me is my only guess, How he knows how weak I am. So I am surprised when I see him kneeling in front of me, putting him right in my line of sight. “Can I hug you?” I nod my head yes before I am pulled from my chair and into his lap. His arms are wrapping around me. I forget about Sam until I hear the motel door open.

“What happened!?” Sam says in a panicked voice. I just pull myself closer to Dean, burying my head in the side of his neck and breathing him in. Sam lowers himself onto the floor next to us. He is going to worry until he knows that I am okay. Letting go of Dean’s hand with my one hand, I grab Sam’s  hand to tell him ‘fine, told him.’ Knowing that Sam would understand what I meant.

Everything changes after that. They don't treat me any differently on hunts. But now I found myself writing on Dean’s hand just as I do Sam’s. I also start to find my voice. Talking some here and there to the point months after Dean and I’s heart to heart, I found myself speaking better often than not. On bad days the boys don't try and make me for that I am thankful for. The beautiful thing is I have gotten to know Dean better. I have gotten to know somethings that Sam might not even know. I have also found myself sleeping in Dean’s bed more than Sam’s. Dean and I seem to sleep better when we can hold each other. Sam looks happy about how everything between Dean and I are going. Sam knows how I feel about Dean might also be the reason as well.

A year after telling Dean about my childhood we are traveling down the road, I am half listening to Sam when Dean says, “I’m Batman.” Having heard about the hunt with the rabbit’s foot, I can't help but laugh. I can't help it, but picture Dean dressed up as batman. Only when I look, I notice both Dean and Sam are looking at me. Dean in the review mirror and Sam is turning in his seat to look at me. I can feel my cheeks turn red before saying, “What?”

“Just never heard you laugh before,” Sam tells me with a smile on his face. With Sam’s words, I can feel my cheeks turn even redder. Looking out the window, I don't see the look that the brothers’ exchange. When we stop for the night, Sam goes on to get us all something to eat. Feeling embarrassed about what happened in the car, I sit as far away from Dean as I can. 

“You should laugh more.” I hear from across the room. “I mean it Y/N you have a beautiful laugh,” Dean says in a quiet voice almost as if he is afraid to speak those words. “I don't,” My words are spoked just as quietly as Dean’s. I don't take my eyes off my journal as I write about the last hunt we had only been on. I don’t see Dean get up or walk over to me until I feel the bed dip from Dean sitting on the bed next to me. 

“You do Y/N I would love to hear it more.” He whispers as he lets his hand rest against my cheek moving, so I am forced to look Dean in the eye. I can't help but lean into his touch. His hand is warm and rough against my cheek. Dean slowly leans closer to me. Eyes are dropping down to look at my lips before looking back into my eyes. I gave a small nod of my head, closing my eyes. I can feel Dean's lips against my own. His lips are rough, chapt, plush. I gasp when I feel his tongue run across my bottom lip. Unexpectedly, Dean’s hand drifted to my hip. It settled there and pulled me closer. Inhaling sharply, I was against his warm chest, chiseled to perfection. Must he be so perfect? I splayed my hand against his. Dean’s breathing quickened as did mine. Dean began nuzzling my neck with delicate kisses. Thus faint, they were whispers. His head was angled slightly to the side as his lips came closer and closer to mine. Our breaths mingled. My heart fluttered inside my chest. At first, it was a delicate butterfly of a kiss. Then his arms encircled me before pulling away from me. 

“That was…” I say, breathing hard. “It was.” Dean’s breath is warm as it ghosts across my lips. With that, I can hear the door to the motel room being open before Sam steps into the room. With a smile on his face, he just mumbles, “Its about time.” as he sets the food onto the table in the place.

A/N: Leave a heart or a reblog!! Furthermore, remember the requests are open!!

[babysizedfics]

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Bonus chapter: Yellow

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Janus detects a lie.

Chapter word count: 1,800

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warnings: light angst, very mild blood via a bitten lip, and brief, hypothetical mentions of disembowelment and decapitation (Remus, amirite?)

oOo

Janus sipped at his chamomile tea, only faintly registering the bright yellow haze that overcame the left side of his vision. Another lie.

His vision would flare several times a day at least, always informing him of an untruth spoken by one of the sides. He was, of course, accustomed to this alert, having lived with this power for the entirety of his existence.

As the hot herbal drink soothed his aching throat (it was murder on the lungs to reprimand Remus so much), he indulged in his curiosity and closed his eyes. With a practised concentration, he mentally reached out for the false words that had sounded his silent alarm.

It was Patton’s voice. The version of Patton’s voice that Janus had deemed “daddy dialect” in the recent weeks. ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

Janus scoffed.

The lies he was so accustomed to hearing spanned the breadth of significance, from inconsequential white lies (‘I don’t know who finished your Crofter’s jam, Logan.’) to really outrageous fabrications.

Within the past two months, he had heard quite the abundance of silly fibs. Even in the space of a fortnight, some truly ridiculous ones had stuck in his mind:

‘I don’t need dinner!’

‘I-I’m older now. I can do this on my own.’

‘It was a purely tactical approach.’

‘Three, two, one, blow! … You did it!’

It seemed almost every lie spoken by the self-proclaimed “Light Sides” nowadays was riddled with either petulance or condescension. (That is, Janus thought with a roll of his mismatched eyes, at least notably more than was usual for them.) The reason behind it was not lost on him. He may not have been the designated logical side, but it would take an absolute dunce to miss the cues on what exactly was happening in the others’ household; Logan and Patton had evidently taken on caregiving roles for Virgil and, unexpectedly - though perhaps it should not have been, given his childishness - Roman.

Janus had had his suspicions of such after walking in on the household spending time together a month previously. Given how fiercely protective Logan had been of the others and the way Patton had hidden the two younger sides behind himself, it would be hard to ignore the shift in their dynamic. Though the confirmation of it through listening in to the others’ unwitting lies had come as quite an unpleasant shock to Janus, nonetheless.

Every day he sensed silly fibs. The one earlier about baby giggles being a legal requirement under baby law had been… not endearing, per se (that yellow pulse again), but perhaps interesting. Though none of the nonsense he had been alerted to in the past few weeks came close to the idiocy of ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

How self-assured. How naïve. How reminiscent of Janus’ own foolish thoughts all those years ago.

He sighed, lowering his mug to the table and running his cold fingertips idly over the burning hot ceramic. It was not that Janus was jealous (he ignored the faint swell of yellow in the corner of his vision) but rather that he felt an uncomfortable bubble of remorse in his chest, growing and stretching and forcing its way against his ribs.

As he had done countless times before, he wondered what things would have been like had he behaved differently when the youngest side was still part of his household. Had he been more understanding of Virgil’s behaviours. More accepting.

Well, as Patton’s lie had brought up such aching memories, Janus decided a tad more bittersweet self-indulgence would be fitting for the night.

He rose from his seat, tucked the chair back under the table, and slinked through the house fluidly. He thanked his serpentine side for allowing him to practically float up the stairs and through the hallway without making a sound. If either of the other two residents heard him and decided to leave their rooms for a chat, Janus would not be held responsible for whatever unsavoury greeting he may bestow upon them.

A vile feeling clawed at his throat as he neared the perpetually closed door of Virgil’s old bedroom.

With a sharp, short sigh that might have been at least partly a hiss, Janus pushed the heavy door open. The neglected hinges creaked.

Beams of cold light from the hall flooded through the gap of the opening doorway, making visible a thin segment of the abandoned room.

It was unmarred by dirt, slime, blood, or any other disgusting substance, thankfully. Janus had to give credit to Remus. As non-existent as that side’s impulse control was, he had managed to spare this single room from his various antics and pranks at Janus’ sincere request.

The room was entirely unchanged from how it had been left years ago. Small, dotted stains on the walls showed where blu-tac used to hold up punk band posters. Splotches of black on the carpet by the old dresser showed where liquid eyeliner was spilt too many times. Black cotton bedsheets (which now appeared grey with their faint layer of dust) were pulled taut over the mattress where they had only ever used to be in constant, rumpled disarray at a certain someone’s stubborn refusal to make the bed.

Janus gripped the doorframe tightly, clenching his jaw against his growing feeling of unease.

Being a “Dark Side” came with an appreciation of all things, well, dark. True crime stories were common conversation material at dinner, movie nights featured more than anyone’s fair share of fake blood (not always on screen, mind you; Remus had to have some fun once in a while, after all), and family bonding time consisted of debates on the darkest secrets of society and an abundance of teasing of each others’ insecurities and fears - all in good fun, of course. (Though, when Virgil had finally left for good that fateful day with tears streaming down his cheeks, Janus had been forced to reconsider what “good fun” really meant to them.)

As it was, Janus was accustomed to seeing and hearing things meant to turn stomachs, race hearts, and scramble minds. He shrugged at the majority of them and scoffed at the rest. But gazing upon this empty room - the physical embodiment of his failure as a parental figure - was the closest he thought he could truly be to feeling horrified.

Janus’ insides twisted and pulled so much every time his eyes wandered over the sealed doorway, that he had seriously considered asking that Remus follow through on his threats to disembowel him and relieve him of his agony.

Bile had not yet risen in his throat, so Janus considered today to be a good one to bring himself to peek at the old bedside table - or rather what lay upon it.

Once cluttered with makeup products, tangled headphones, and herbal anxiety remedies, the surface now lay mostly bare. Save for a single soft toy slumped across it limply.

The blue stuffed rabbit was a ghastly thing. It was missing an eye, one of its limbs was stretched far longer than the others (probably as a result of its owner’s nervous tugging which was otherwise directed onto his hoodie sleeves), and one of its ears was half-chewed to tatters (another nervous habit of its owner, no doubt). Despite its ratty appearance, the thing was harmless. Such an unassuming object, so innocent.

And yet it brought tears to Janus’ eyes.

He had never even learned the name of the damned thing and wasn’t it utterly ridiculous that Janus, the unofficial leader of the “Dark Sides”, was blubbering over a made-up name for an inanimate object?

It had not mattered to him before. It had made no difference to him what Virgil had named it or how much he had cared about it. Janus had metaphorically and mercilessly turned the thing into a weapon that day. With his careless tongue, he had twisted its existence from an item of comfort and attachment into a source of ridicule and hurt. It was no wonder Virgil had left it behind. It had been tainted.

Janus winced at a sudden sting in his lower lip. He had bitten into it again. One would have thought having fangs would convince someone to be more careful of such a habit. 

Delicately dabbing at a drop of cool blood at the corner of his mouth, Janus sighed shakily. That was quite enough emotional torment for one evening.

He released the old bedroom door and let it fall shut. It had barely thudded against the doorframe when that grating, obnoxious sound trilled from the bane of Janus’ existence.

‘What’s up, Jannothy?’

‘Remus,’ Janus greeted with an exaggerated eye roll. It was only partly to rid his eyes of their wetness. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’ Yellow tinted his left eye.

The distinctive scent of burnt paper met his nose. With a jolt of dread, Janus turned to see Remus half-caked in soot. He just about managed to contain a scream. It would have only invited one of Remus’ much-loved screeching competitions.

‘I see you’ve been in the library,’ Janus sighed. ‘Tell me, just how many of my books were charred beyond repair this time?’

Remus blew his cheeks out in a massive exhale, looking up to the ceiling in thought. As the warm breath wafted over his face, Janus was careful to breathe through his mouth.

‘Oh, only about half of them,’ Remus sang then cackled joyously for a short while. ‘But you’ll be glad to hear I sculpted the ashes into the shape of a nine-foot-long decapitated aardvark!’

Janus shut his eyes, shaking his head lightly. He hadn’t the energy to pander to Remus’ whims of fancy. ‘Good night, Remus.’

He silently slipped past the other side in the direction of his room.

‘But it’s only seven!’

‘I’m half cat.’ Yellow again.

‘Jan - wait,’ Remus called behind him, and the incongruous hesitance in his voice gave Janus pause.

He twisted his body back, surprised by the incredibly rare sincerity in the furrow of Remus’ brow.

‘All right. You have my undivided attention,’ Janus drawled, making a point to hold up his hand and inspect his nails thoroughly. He smirked at the yellow tint of his vision.

‘You seem bummed out,’ Remus whined, ‘and the role for resident bum is filled out by me already.’

Janus rolled his eyes again. At this rate, he would get vertigo.

‘So, are you, y’know… okay?’ Remus asked quietly. (Really, what an oxymoron that was.)

Something hard and hot clogged Janus’ throat and he swallowed thickly around it. He dropped his hand and swiftly looked up to meet Remus’ eyes.

‘Yes,’ Janus said in an entirely even tone, ‘I am perfectly fine. Now, if you will excuse me.’

He spun away and marched down the narrow hallway, keeping his gait steady. It was quite a feat, considering the fact he was half-blinded by a bright yellow glare.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link 

TAGLIST (you can send an ask or message to be added for future fics!)

@tearful-babi

[brokenjardaantech]

absorbance of the deep (chapter 2: an actual meeting)

written for a mermay prompts challenge. my prompt is ‘monochromatic.’

previous chapter can be found here. 

also on ao3

---

Despite having run away from Simon in the face of danger, Josh somehow became his friend. It wasn’t that Daniel trusted him - Simon is quite certain that he trusts no one with his twin brother to this day - but given the school’s tendency to separate twins, it was impossible for Daniel to keep an eye on his twin brother who had a tendency to disappear for the whole night and then reappearing at weird places such as the pier behind the lighthouse which couldn’t be accessed without passing through the house itself and therefore should’ve been sighted by their mother, or the park which was located at the other side of the village and was impossible for a child to walk alone to without being spotted by one of the many nosy and concerned residents. That was where Josh came in: someone to look after a child who had less awareness of his surroundings than the chemical soup powered by underwater volcanoes. The ethics of handing a child whose brain wasn’t quite normal to another child instead of having an actual adult to take care of him was debatable, but at that time Simon only cared about two things: being in the ocean and learning about the ocean, and since Josh was a convenient source for the latter both due to his abundance of ocean-related books and the fact that he could explain things Simon hadn’t understand initially until he did, that meant Josh was Simon’s best friend and anyone who dared to question it would be subjected to a light hand smack. ‘Because sometimes people just need a bit of a physical reminder,’ Daniel explained as he taught where Simon should hit. ‘Don’t be afraid to use it. They probably can’t distinguish between the two of us anyway.’

But Simon knew that adults were both smarter and more stupid than they thought and he wasn’t going to test which one applied to the category of ‘distinguishing between the Phillips twins,’ so he never did much apart from the abovementioned light smack: just enough to warn others to stop questioning him and his best friend, and not heavy enough that it would be mistaken as aggression. Besides, he was supposed to be the quiet and docile among his classmates, and small, silent Simon who read as much as Josh the resident genius, slapping people? Impossible.

He couldn’t help but felt that the sea approved of him defending himself and Josh, so that was a bonus. And yes, ever since his offering was accepted and he was swept away by the waves for the first time and visited the cave and had his brains burnt up, there had been a bond between his mind and the very waters that surrounded their village, nurtured generations of villagers, took care of Simon so much better than his parents ever did; by the time he was in secondary school, most of his parents' energy were devoted to making sure that Daniel didn’t get into trouble for Simon’s behalf or pretending that Simon’s differences with normal people didn’t exist, and truth to be told he preferred the solitude it offered over anything else. Him doing his homework sitting on the beach with a thick sketchbook some students from the previous grade left in the classroom bookshelf as his table was a common sight.

It didn’t last long, however, because the arrival of a certain girl with hair matching her fiery personality in their village. 

North came from ‘outside,’ which to Simon’s village could mean anything from the neighbouring town to the other side of the world of all he knew, and he was certain that he would’ve known where she came from if he had paid attention to the gossip, but once more he was too busy letting Josh do his homework and flipping over rocks for that one crab that the ocean told him to find for it and then promptly being distracted by the way the sand collapse under its own weight. He couldn’t resist touching it and it crumbled, and he now felt bad because he buried a crab alive. He turned towards the first person he saw and let out a distressed whimper.

‘It’ll dig itself out,’ the voice surprised him because it wasn’t Josh’s, and when he looked up, he saw North standing close to him directly on top of another tunnel entrance. His first instinct was, of course, to scream and flail his arms because that seemed to be the only thing he did people understood, but then again it was North. North, who kicked his bully in his balls when they ganged up on him and tried to snatch his newest book away; North, who together with Josh were the only ones patient enough to explain things to him outside school hour; North, who actually listened to Josh when he told her that Simon didn’t like loud sounds and would like her to speak quieter, unlike the others who almost always got louder because apparently Simon losing control and hurting himself was something funny. Sometimes North would drag him out of it and shove him into a locker so that he could cool down, but sometimes, with her blood boiling almost as hot as her hair, she would become one of them except on Simon’s side, grabbing whatever object she could put her hands on and wreaking havoc in her immediate vicinity, and Simon felt lucky that he had Josh to pull him out of those episodes; he probably wouldn’t be alive if his friend hadn’t dragged him away from the fight because his body’s response to danger was to freeze instead of running away like normal people do. He was afraid of North in a way, he thought as he eyed the bar stock poking out from her backpack, but at the same time he knew that Josh’s pacifism and the ‘abandon everything and run’ plan couldn’t save them from every single situation they would encounter, so they had to rely on North as long as she was willing to be on their side as one of the odd ones out.

That was, of course, only applicable to when the entire world seemed to be against them. Those were the moments Simon hated. There were also moments Simon cherished, moments of tranquillity, of acceptance, of just the three of them hanging out like there were no one else in the world apart from themselves and the sea which Simon felt too connected to to exclude from anything.

As the ‘new one,’ North was the one the teachers didn’t know very well and therefore was easily ignored just like Simon whom they had learnt not to force to speak, and if she were to disappear for a day or two every now and then… virtually no one apart from Simon and Josh noticed. The first time she did it they were worried sick and Simon had to throw himself into the sea and let the current carry him to his cave just to catch a few hours of sleep and wake up being carried back to his family’s house’s pier. The two of them were groggy and tired when Daniel dragged him to school, but seeing North in her usual seat was an oddly comforting sight as Josh handed him a new book he borrowed from the library so that he had something to distract himself with during the classes which he had never been interested in anyway, and the day went by the usual blur of loud noises and hiding in corners and Josh being the unofficial teacher’s assistant and North being unusually pleasant and happy. He suggested going to the beach because he needed to unwind and he missed the feeling of sand gliding on his skin so that was where they went, finding their usual spot and doing their usual thing like Josh doing his homework and North copying him and Simon letting the two of them work while he wandered around the empty beach barefooted so that he could sink his toes into the sand and feel the water caress his feet. As the tide breathed, the connection between his mind and… the other side strengthened and weakened, and the familiarity of the tug and pull calmed him down from the chaos of school and one of his best friends disappearing and then reappearing with no notice whatsoever. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was standing in the cave the ocean created for him a few years back, that he was in a space where he could be truly safe from the assault of the outside world. 

He missed the deep blue he saw and could only see in the deepest part of the sea. 

‘Simon?’

He lost track of how long he stood in the cool water, but when North’s voice rang out pleasant and without its usual fire in his ear, his toes were already numb from the cold. He opened his eyes and saw that she was standing at the edge of the tide where she wouldn’t get wet, and in her hand was something Simon had never seen before. She beckoned him over by holding it up.

‘I got this for you,’ Simon took it while he was still standing in the water so that he didn’t lose the only link he had with the sea. ‘It’s technically a pair of noise-cancelling headphones but… I don’t think you have a phone, do you?’

He hung the headphones on his arm to free up his hand and retrieve the stack of cards from his pocket. It was Josh’s idea, having a set of notecards with the most common words and phrases with him in case he found himself unable to speak (which was most of his life, if he had to be honest) so that he could communicate with other people, and so far the system worked pretty well because it wasn’t like he talked to a lot of people anyway. [i - don’t], he said. The headphones nearly slid off his arm a few times as he fumbled with the chain of cards. [what - is - it]

‘I know the others like to scream and shout even though you don’t like it, so I thought… if you can’t change them, might as well do something to protect yourself. Try it out. I wanna see if it works.’

He put the cards away and slid the headphones over his ear. Suddenly the ringing in his ear intensified, he couldn’t hear the tide crashing into the beach, there was only himself and nothing else, and he yanked off the headphones faster than he had ever moved before and collapsed on his knees. He couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from the ocean he loved so much. It would be like losing a lung. Or his brain itself.

‘Alright, maybe we shouldn’t have tried it here,’ he heard North loud and clear. ‘We’ll try it at school when it’s really noisy. It’ll work better that way.’

But Simon wasn’t listening anymore. All he could focus on was the weight of the headphones in his hand, the cold seawater soaking his trousers and lapping higher and higher much quicker than it should, and then Josh was saying something, North was shouting, and Simon did not understand; the sea was merely welcoming him into its cold embrace, so why were they terrified of it even though they knew the sea was special to him? Why did they seem to be so against it?

They’ll understand. They have to understand.

It was the same voice again, the voice that spoke to him years ago when he offered the octopus to the ocean as… he didn’t even know. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, one that his young mind came up with after witnessing so many people took from the sea without paying it back, and he had a feeling that he was being rewarded for his loyalty and devotion. He closed his eyes again, letting the headphones slip away from his hands and the waves carry him to his sanctuary, as connected as he could be with the other half of his very being without physically turning into a puddle of water washed away and diluted by a body of water so large and turbulent that he would cease to be himself. 

The thought wasn’t as terrifying as it should be.

He let the soft sand warm him and the sound of running water wash away his insecurities and pain away before opening his eyes to the familiar pattern of his cave. Or their cave, he realised as he turned and saw another boy of his age lying so close to him on his side. Skin the colour of bronze, cheekbone and nose dotted with freckles of a darker shade, eyes the green just like the sea on occasions, dark hair interwoven with blue strands braided close to his scalp on the top of his head while the rest were trimmed into a fade cut, Simon didn’t even need to be in his safe space to realise that he was beautiful. It was supposed to be their first meeting, but when the other boy clasped Simon’s hand in his own, the touch did not feel foreign at all, and he watched as the boy raised his hand (so, so pale and skeletal despite being outdoors whenever he could and eating all the food he was allowed to) to his lips and kissed its back. Warmth blooms within his skin from the contact, and he wasn’t sure if it was because his entire body was heating up from his emotions or something else. Perhaps both.

‘We meet at last,’ the boy that felt like the sea breathed into Simon’s knuckles. ‘My name is Markus. Sorry for the abrupt ride. Our connection was lost for the first time since you gave me that octopus and I… panicked. I apologise. I hope it’s fine.’

Simon wanted to tell his companion - Markus, apparently - that it was more than fine, but with one of his hands captive and the other still unable to move from where it was buried in the sand because it was just so comfortable and he wasn’t ready to leave yet, he couldn’t access his stack of cards, and so he nodded and let the corner of his mouth twitch. Josh said that it was as close to a smile everyone could get out of Simon. Right now he was comfortable, he was in his safe space, and it wasn’t like the sea himself was going to tell him how to smile and emote, right?

‘You are my other half, Simon,’ Markus said, and it didn’t even occur to Simon until much later that he shouldn’t know his name. ‘I just want to make sure that you’re safe.’

Simon nodded again because he understood. The sea never lied to him before.

‘Spend the rest of the day with me? I’ll show you the way back before dinnertime.’

You don’t have to, Simon wanted to say. I would rather be with you, he also wanted to say. Forever.

As if sensing his thoughts, Markus shook his head, getting sand into his braids. ‘Not yet, my polaris,’ it sounded strange coming from the voice of a twelve-year-old - at least approximately - the contrast between his breaking voice jarring with how old he sounded, but somehow it made sense on Markus who, to Simon, was the embodiment of the boundless ocean. His free hand brushed Simon’s neck as he brought Simon’s to his own. ‘Feel this?’ He let go of Simon so that Simon could explore Markus’ neck on his own, and indeed he felt ridges that did not belong to a human’s neck under the pads of his fingers. ‘They’re my gills. I can easily give you your own so that you can come here but… I saw how the others are treating you already, and I didn’t.’

I don’t care, Simon wanted to say, but as the silence between them grew and his head became clearer from being safe and warm, he realised that whatever he was experiencing then wasn’t normal. He couldn’t always rely on North and Josh and Daniel for protection because the past two days were exactly demonstrations of that, that they wouldn’t be at his side forever, that sometimes, even though they meant well, they still didn’t understand him as good as the sea did and could hurt him unintentionally. Having strange scars on his neck would only worsen whatever he was going through.

Okay. I’ll wait for you.

‘I’m sorry, Simon.’

Don’t be.

Markus scooted closer. The sand cooled down to a pleasant temperature. Still holding Simon’s hand, Markus supported himself on his arm and kissed his temple, and a small part of Simon wished that he had kissed him on his lips instead. So Markus did. Just a small one that was no more than a short press of skin, but even as Markus pulled back, he didn’t go far, their foreheads touching as they drifted between the land of the living and slumber as one, their fingers intertwined on soft sand. It was peaceful in a way Simon didn’t think he had been before.

He only let himself feel a slight tinge of disappointment when he woke up on the pier later that day because he knew that the sea would be back for him.

[getitinbusan]

Eat • Sleep • Game

A little angst, a little fluff, a lot of smut if you reblog for a part two.

Dedicated to everyone missing the Toronto Show today, see you soon ☹️💜

It had been exactly 1 year and 45 days since you'd fallen head over heels in love with Jungkook. You know this because it was your second day of work at the game store when he came rushing through its door. 

He had broken his game controller and needed one ASAP before his Overwatch team kicked him off. It was a brief first meeting but he'd come in at least once a week since then.

Inviting you to join his team, your friend circle expanded and his roommate Jimin had become your closest confidant. Unlike Jungkook, it had only taken Jimin a few weeks to realize how hard you were crushing on his friend.

Jimin was rummaging through the fridge while balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder. Nodding in Jungkook's direction he kept talking.

"You should definitely wear something really sexy…. I'll ask. JK, Y/N wants to know if you're coming out tonight?" 

Setting his Banana Milk down a smile crept up to his eyes. He'd been crushing on you forever and had finally decided maybe he should make a move.

You'd be there, wearing something sexy AND you were asking about him?

"Yeah, I'll come," he tried to sound casual about it. 

Jimin didn't have to relay the message, you were listening eagerly to hear his answer from the other end.

"He's really coming?

You sighed, "That just means I'm going to walk around pining for him all night. God I love him Jimin"

He laughed at your desperation, "It's going to happen sooner or later, believe me it is mutual." 

Jungkook had gone back to his game but intentionally left the headset off one ear. Listening in, he was trying to piece together your side of the conversation. What? What was mutual?

"I thought that a year ago, how does he not know Jimin? How can I make it any easier? Do I need to just outright say it to him?"  

He put on a seductive voice, "I've wanted to fuck you for the past year and if you make me wait a second longer I'm going to die." 

Jungkook listened on, was Jimin really hitting on you like that? He never discussed his feelings for you with him but he thought it was obvious. His cheeks grew red and heated as the thought of you and Jimin together boiled in his blood. 

"Alright I'll see you soon, come up and we'll have drinks before we go." 

Hanging up he turned to Jungkook, "I'm grabbing a shower, I have a feeling tonight's going to get crazy."

Knocking on the apartment door you let out a huge breath, "here goes nothing."

You'd spent the day talking yourself into finally telling him how you felt.

Jimin opened the door, "Shit Y/N, look at you!" he playfully copped a feel of your ass. 

"Hey Guk!"

Now or never, you walked behind him and put your hand on his shoulder. "How's the game?"

He was distracted, your breasts were right behind his head as you leaned in to watch him play. Your fingers dug in massaging his muscles. His cock was getting hard thinking about how good your grip would feel around it. 

"Watch behind you!"

Brought back to reality you'd snapped him out of his fantasy.

"It's a shame you're going to have to quit, we should leave soon." 

Jimin came out of the kitchen and handed you a beer, "I'm getting you so drunk tonight."

He set one down in front of Jungkook, "Pre game my friend."

"About that...I think I'll just stay home..I'm kind of on a winning streak." 

You pulled your hand away from him in disappointment, all hope lost. Jimin could see you were visibly upset.

"Let's go to my room Y/N, we wouldn't want to distract Jungkook from his game. 

"What the fuck is his problem all of the sudden?"

He pouted at you and kissed your forehead, "His loss sweetheart." 

The Uber showed up about four drinks in. Jimin was already out the door when you turned to look at Jungkook. His gaze was fixed on you but he quickly turned back to the screen as not to be caught.

"Are you sure you don't want to come...I was kind of looking forward to hanging out with you?" 

He stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek, "I'm sure Jimin will show you a good time." 

Pulling the door tight behind you Jimin grabbed your hand, "Fuck him, let's go." 

The club was packed. It was too loud, too hot and Jimin had abandoned you long ago to find a conquest.

The drink in your hand was empty but the lineup to get another was three deep. Your will to have fun had been left back at the apartment so here you stood, miserable. 

Declaring the night a total waste you walked around looking for Jimin. 

You tapped his shoulder until he stopped his makeout session, "I think I'm just going to leave Jimin." 

"Why aren't you in the corner getting fingered by some hot guy?" 

"It must be because I'm so pathetic that nobodies even attempted to talk to me tonight."

You tried to hold back your tears, no crying in the club right?

"Go," you motioned to the dance floor. "Have fun, she's waiting for you."

"I'm not letting you go home, not like this."

He hugged you tightly, "Take my key and go over there and tell him how you feel."

"Jimin, I'm tired of putting myself out there for rejection." 

"Baby, this crush has been going on far too long, you need to find out for sure. You are way too amazing to not have a boyfriend."

You kissed his cheek, "okay I'm going to do it."

His imagination was going wild. He couldn't concentrate on his game and his teammates just kept yelling at him.

He was sure you'd be grinding all over each other, Jimin's stupid puffy lips getting to kiss you.

All the girls went for Jimin, he was just so confident. He decided a couple of loops around the city on his bike and a Ramen stop would help. 

Unlocking the door you expected to see him gaming in the living room but the apartment was quiet. 

Moving up the hall you knocked lightly at his door, "Kookie, can I talk to you?" 

Opening the door a crack you peeked in, empty. Of course he went out, you'd finally mustered your courage to tell him and he was probably eating Ramen somewhere. 

Fuck it, it was happening tonight. He'd have to come home sooner or later and you'd be here waiting in his bed when he did.

It was late, he didn't feel any better.

Putting on a movie he shut off all the lights and sprawled out on the couch. He wasn't going to be able to sleep until he knew if you were coming home with his roommate. 

He must have dozed, the sound of muffled giggles waking him up.

"Shhh, we need to keep it down," kissing, loud kissing more giggles.

"Let's go to my room."

He looked at the clock, 4am. Fuck there was no way he could sleep now. He lit up his monitor and grabbed his headphones. 

You stretched out on the bed taking a minute to remember where you were. One smell of the pillow and it all came back. Of course he didn't come home, fate was never on your side. 

You opened the door quietly not  wanting to wake Jimin. Tiptoeing through the apartment the light from his screen caught your eye, he'd really just been out here playing?

You walked over to stand beside him, was it too late to tell him? 

"Hey," you startled him, "Don't you even go to bed anymore?" 

He clenched his jaw, "I've been having a really good game." 

Here goes…"Jungkook, there's more to life than video games. Sometimes it's nice to enjoy someone's company…"

He shot you a cold look, "I know I could hear you two enjoying each other all night."

His accusation floored you, "And so what if we did?? What the hell do you care Jungkook?"

He went back to his game and you slammed the door. 

"What the fuck was that?" Jimin came out of his room in his boxers.

Jungkook stood to get a drink. 

"Your loud fucking girlfriend leaving." He pushed him out of the way and Jimin laughed. 

"You're jealous? Fuck you're dumber than I thought."

Steering him up the hallway he pointed to the girl passed out in his room.  Flinging Jungkook's bedroom door open he pointed out the messed up sheets.

"Did you sleep here last night?"

Puzzled, he fell silent.

"She was in here waiting for you..all night. Maybe if you weren't so balls deep in overwatch you'd get laid once in a while."

The knock was so light you almost missed it. Track pants, t-shirt, messy bun and bare feet you padded across the room to answer it.  

Looking through the peephole Jungkook stood on the other side. 

You opened the door without a word or smile. "Can I come in?"

You opened it wide and walked away. 

Plopping down on your bean bag chair you picked up your game controller and proceeded to ignore him. 

"Can I play?" 

You shrugged and threw the other controller at him. 

He sat on the floor next to you and set himself up. "Can we talk about last night?" 

"Sure what part? The part where you brushed our plans off or the part where you accused me of fucking Jimin?" 

Taking aim you fired…

"Y/N, What the fuck? We're on the same team."

He grunted in frustration, "The part where you slept in my bed." 

You turned and shot him again.

"Sorry, I just needed a place to crash."

You moved on with your mission.

Recouping he found you in his cross hairs and pulled the trigger.

"Can we just stop playing games?" 

You threw your controller down.

"Fine what the fuck do you want me to say? That I like you? That it fucking hurts to know you prefer to interact with me through a god damn screen?" 

He reached over and shut off the console.

"Move over."

"Jungkook, there is hardly room for two."

He pressed his body onto yours laying you back on the pliant chair. Staring into your eyes before pressing his lips to yours he smiled, "I like you too." 

"This is never going to work you know, we're both way too stubborn." He cut you off with another kiss. 

"I don't know, I think we make a pretty good team, at least when you're not shooting me."

You wrapped your legs around him tightly feeling him hard against you.

"Video games are kind of our thing, what else are we going to do for fun?" 

"Hang on tight." He stood with you still wrapped around him.

"We're going to try a new thing. Where's your bedroom?

[thewhumperinwhite]

Lost Dog, No Reward (1)

I made a thing! Dw, i’m still working on everything else too, but i needed to work on something new for a while because i have problems disorder

this owes a lot to @ashintheairlikesnow who is among my fave whump writers. i know she didn’t originate the universe, and i’m not double checking a lot to make sure this is actually bbu compliant, but her stuff definitely inspired me to mess with the bbu at all :3

TW for: violence/gore; amnesiac whumpee; choking; references to institutionalized slavery and accompanying dehumanization; gun violence; cops.

---

Ari’s never had a job go this badly before. Not in the years he still remembers, anyway.

Ari’s vision is always lopsided, and he’s always poor at judging distance, and now the blood squeezing between his fingers and ruining his leather gloves is making him dizzy, too, and all three of those things combine to make him trip over the concrete base of a street lamp and jam his torn-open shoulder against the lamp itself, and the pain takes his knees out from under him and crumples him down to the sidewalk, half-sprawled over forwards and losing time he doesn’t have.

He doesn’t know this street. It’s night and he doesn’t know the street which means it’s nothing but a string of locked doors between him and home; on his own street he knows who forgets to lock their doors, who will let him bleed on their couch for a night in exchange for money or a favor, which alleys lead somewhere and which don’t, but here he doesn’t know anything except that the police men shouted after him at first and now they’re not shouting, they’re only running.

While he sucks air in and tries to get his legs back under him, Ari runs through the options he still has in his head. It isn’t hard, because there aren’t very many.

He can turn and fight. That’s what he wants to do; he’s known how to fight longer than he’s known how to talk and he knows it would feel good. But the police men have guns so he also knows it wouldn’t feel good for very long.

He can stop. He can sit here gasping on the sidewalk, holding a lamp post in one hand and his guts in the other, until the police men come and find him. It’s possible they won’t shoot him again, if he’s already laying on the ground, though of course there’s no way to know; but they would certainly drag him away somewhere, somewhere he thinks vaguely would have white walls and no windows, and he doesn’t want to go there with them.

So really there’s only one thing he can do. That’s good. That makes it easy.

His shoulder isn’t too bad, really, or at least he doesn’t think so. It’s turned his coat hot and sticky with blood—the fur collar is all matted with it, which makes him sad, he’s only ever had the one—and it hurts, more now that he’s hit it against the post, but really they barely clipped him; he doesn’t even think it would make him dizzy on it’s own. It’s the hole in his stomach that’s the problem; that’s deeper and wetter and shifts when he pushes his hand against it, in a way that makes him sick. But Rotty said put pressure on the wound—Rotty wailed when he saw the knife go in, and made time for Ari to get away, and told him to put pressure on the wound—so Ari digs his hand against the wound, and he breathes out, and he pushes himself to his feet.

Up ahead there’s a store with its lights on. And Ari can’t stop, and he can’t turn and fight, but he can still run, so that’s what he does.

----

Pryce has always kind of liked closing up alone, because it means he gets to unplug his headphones and fill the shop with very loud vaporwave, which is genuinely pretty chill music to mop floors to but also, more importantly, an inherently funny thing to play very loudly in an empty grocery store.

He’s in the process of emptying the small trashcan next to his seat behind the checkout counter—which is almost entirely filled with the half-pack of cigarettes he smoked during his shift—into the enormous trash bag from outside the bathroom, when the front door opens. He hears it with a full body wince because it is after midnight which means he’s almost certainly blasting some poor unsuspecting drunk with objectively-not-even-very-good vaporwave, and Mr. Nguyen, the very nice old man who owns the store and puts up with Pryce’s bullshit and is thus the only authority figure Pryce respects, will be disappointed if he loses a customer because of Pryce’s unpleasant taste in music; so Pryce is already halfway through an apology before he actually looks up and sees the very large man standing in a puddle of blood in the doorway.

Pryce drops the trash can.

The man is visually bizarre enough that Pryce almost can’t register the full picture, just disparate, equally-baffling parts—the man’s hair is an enormous red-brown mane, it reaches his elbows in a tangled mass weighed down with blood; he’s wearing a knee-length brown-leather coat with a big (bloody) fur collar; his face is a mess of puckered scars pulling up on his mouth and down through one of his eyelids and in the brief moment he stands there staring at Pryce with his (bloody) mouth hanging open the fluorescents turn his eyes—which must be brown, logically they must be—bright orange.

Then the man barrels towards Pryce and all of Pryce’s muscles lock in place as he prepares to be shot or stabbed or at the very least body-tackled—

The man flings himself over the counter and folds his big (bloody) body into an improbably small space half-under the till, next to Pryce’s feet, approximately ten seconds before the front door opens again, hard, the glass banging against the display next to it hard enough to make Pryce wince.

There are two cops, both panting hard. Their guns aren’t pointing at Pryce but they are very much drawn, and they’re both looking at Pryce, who is still frozen completely solid with his eyes bulging out of his head.

“Where’d he go?” one of the officers barks at Pryce.

Pryce blinks.

Then he points over his shoulder, toward the back door. He half-turns, too, which is more movement than he needs to point but does give him time to nudge the big trash bag a little bit out and to the left.

“The back door’s unlocked,” he says, “I was taking out the trash, he must’ve—”

And they rocket past him, toward the back door and the alley, not sparing him or the big trash bag blocking their line of sight, apparently too excited to shoot somebody to notice that it wasn’t even a very good lie.

----

Ari listens to the police men’s shoe-sounds fade into the distance, waiting for them to come back and haul him out of his poor hiding spot and shoot him or drag him away.

They don’t.

The stranger’s worn red sneakers turn away from Ari, take two steps away from the counter; as more of the boy wearing them comes into view Ari watches him plant his hands on his skinny hips and stare after the police men. The boy lets out a breath, whistling on it a little.

Then the boy starts to turn back to Ari; he has time to say “Well—” before Ari leaps to his feet and gets a hand around the boy’s throat and slams him back against the tiled wall behind the counter.

The boy gasps, a thin hand taking Ari’s wrist in a very weak grip. His eyes are very wide.

“Why,” Ari says, his voice as harsh and scratchy as it always is, and thicker because it’s full of blood, “did you lie for me?”

The boy’s mouth opens and closes without words. He is smaller than Ari, and his sneakers are no longer touching the ground, because Ari is holding him up by his throat. His hair is longish—not as long as Ari’s—and colored bright blue-green. Ari doesn’t know how old—he isn’t good at knowing ages—but he’s grown, and Ari hasn’t ever seen him before, he doesn’t have many memories but those he does have he knows very well, he would remember this boy, whose eyes are a color he hasn’t seen before, almost silver, bright in his light-brown face.

The boy makes a sort of gurgling sounds and Ari realizes he is not answering because Ari is squeezing his throat closed. Ari makes himself loosen his grip and the boy drags in a breath.

“Just—trying—to help,” the boy wheezes.

Ari jerks back, dropping the boy back onto his feet; the boy slides down the wall a little, gasping and covering his throat with his hand.

“Why?” Ari says.

The boy blinks at Ari, wide-eyed. Then he looks away, not like he’s embarrassed but like he’s thinking. Then he meets Ari’s eyes, and he shrugs his shoulders with a wobbly, nervous smile.

“I don’t have very good impulse control,” the boy says.

Ari—doesn’t know what that means. And now he doesn’t know what to do, either. Which means he just stands there, staring at the boy for what he knows is too long because the boy drops his gaze with the same nervous mouth-twitch Rotty got at first, when Ari didn’t know how soon to look away. The boy’s eyes drop to Ari’s stomach, and he raises his dark eyebrows.

“You know you’re bleeding all over the floor?”

Ari looks down. If he thinks about it now, he stood from his crouch below the counter without thinking about the wound, and he hasn’t been putting pressure on it for a few minutes now. His ears are beginning to ring. There is a slow-spreading pool of blood on the tile under him. Ari looks back up at the boy, who is looking at him expectantly, and who did help, Ari thinks, though he isn’t sure why.

“I can—mop it up later,” Ari says. He tries to stand up straight and has to lean back against the counter to keep his balance. His vision is getting blotchy, now, a little. The job went bad before they paid him fully, and he’s already spent the advance on food, or else he would offer to pay to have the floor cleaned. Maybe he hasn’t stained the tile too badly yet. He takes a step sideways, trying to get out of the puddle, and immediately starts making another one. Blood has soaked from his shirt into his jeans—he has two pairs of those, so that will be alright—and is dripping out the bottom now, which means there must be a lot of it.

“Um,” the boy says. “That’s actually not—uh. Can I, like… help you with that? There’s a first aid kit in the office.” He moves, though he’s in range of Ari’s left eye, which doesn’t work well; Ari jerks his head up to see what the boy is doing, to make sure he isn’t moving closer when Ari can’t see him, and then the floor suddenly swings up into the side of Ari’s head.

----

The man crumples sideways and hits the floor hard, and Pryce stands there over him with a hand pressed over his mouth, like a useless idiot who’s never seen blood before.

Which. While it is true he has never seen this much blood in one place before. Thinking about that is not going to help this stranger not die on Mr. Nguyen’s floor.

The first aid kit, which he’s never seen used and which definitely doesn’t have, like, a blood transfusion in it, also might not help with that, but it is what Pryce has on hand at the moment. And as long as he’s already actively lied to the cops tonight. He may as well go all the way and also not call an ambulance, he guesses. He turns and scurries to Mr. Nguyen’s office to grab the kit.

Pryce’s throat is tacky with somebody else’s blood, because the hand the man used to halfway choke Pryce out was covered in blood. That’s not a very helpful thought either but it’s hard to make this one go away.

Whoever this guy is, he’s—quite strong. Pryce’s throat feels—well, like it’s going to bruise, for one thing. And the long moment of kicking his feet against the wall without being able to touch the ground was—well. A headrush, certainly. Presumably in an hour when he’s no longer entirely made out of adrenaline he will realize that it was a bad headrush and will have a panic attack or something.

At the moment it feels—he isn’t sure. Good. Exciting. And panicking would not be productive right now so he’s gonna ride this high as long as he can in the hopes that it will make him in any way useful to anyone.

The first aid kit is smaller than he remembers it being.

Pryce almost slips in the spreading puddle of blood when he gets back to the counter. The bleeding man is trying to sit up, which does not seem like a great idea.

“Uh—don’t try to move around,” Pryce says, trying to sound like he has any fucking idea what he’s talking about. “Is it—okay, yeah, let me—” The man’s big scarred hand is pressed against his stomach, just below and to the right of his navel. Pryce takes his wrist, trying to be both gentle and authoritative. “Let me see what we’re—”

As he’s pushing the man’s hand aside, something catches Pryce’s eye—something on the man’s wrist, underneath the blood, and he stops.

There’s a barcode on the man’s wrist.

Pryce stares at it.

Pryce’s brain is never not moving, faster than other peoples’ seem to; he has the impression it makes him an exhausting conversationalist but it does, in this case, allow him to scroll through many thoughts without losing too much time. They are:

Barcode. Barcode on wrist. Barcode on wrist equals… pet??? This huge dude is a pet??? Why would cops be after a pet? A runaway? No, not with their guns out, they wouldn’t shoot a pet somebody wanted back, that’d be like throwing away—Jesus pets are so expensive, why would anybody bring one here, why would anybody let one get so fucked, why would anybody let something so expensive get so hurt—

And then the man shifts uncomfortably and looks up at Pryce—his eyes are brown, though warm and light enough he isn’t surprised he thought they were orange, and one of them droops halfway closed, the eyelid clearly too damaged to lift properly—with clear uncertainty. Like he knows he needs help but doesn’t know if he can trust Pryce to give it.

It’s a human expression. That a human would make.

That’s a human person, Pryce thinks, and he shakes his head clear of everything else and pushes the bloody fabric of the man’s shirt aside so he can see the damage.

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {3}: Beacon in the Night

Previous: Baby, Sugar, Honey Darling 

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Exes to Lovers

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Talks of Infidelity 

Summary: You’re supposed to be broken up. He’s moved on, you’ve moved on... but you’re the only person he wants to talk to, and for you? It’s always been him. 

          Namjoon walks the streets as the light dusting of snow begins to fall. December has never felt so wrong to him. There are so many factors seeping into his mind, into his body. Yoongi is out, missing every performance, every interview, every aspect of this promotional season. They’re nominated for a Grammy, the highest western honor, the only award anyone seems to care about, despite their resilience on the charts and earning the highest honors in Korea. The American press is hung up on the success of Dynamite, not mentioning the charting of other songs, the power ARMY has over them… And he’s spending Christmas without you. You told him it was for the best, you were never going to make it through a comeback and the winter promotional season, it didn’t matter if you loved him, which you did, you just couldn’t do it. Your heart couldn’t handle the hurt, the distance, the unavailability. He understood, if it wasn’t tour, it would be this.

           Walking through the streets, bundled up, headphones in one ear, your words carrying him step after step, guiding him where he needed to be, like they always did. As he moved through the neighborhood, he hoped you’d realize the pull you had on him, the way you shouldered his burdens, the way you answered his calls, the way your eyes loved his.

           The knock is soft, the front desk man not knowing you had broken up, letting Namjoon up up up until he was at your door.

           “Coming!” You call, setting down your glass of wine and tucking hair behind your ears. “Joon.”

           “Y/N, I’m sorry to just, drop in, I know I just,” He shakes his head, the few tears starting to fall.

           “Honey,” You say, pulling him to you. He smells the same, and your heart breaks.

           “I’m sorry,” He says, coming to his senses, standing straight and stepping out of your arms. “I shouldn’t be here.”

           “Don’t ever say that,” You say, pulling him into your apartment and locking the door. “Go sit.”

           Namjoon’s feet carry him towards your sofa, where he finds reprieve from the miles he’s just walked. He sinks down gratefully, his shoes already kicked off by the door, his coat soon being peeled off, revealing him in your favorite sweater. You join him, your glass of wine in your hand, a mug of hot tea for Joon.

           “It’s hot,” You say, sitting down next to him.

           “Thank you,” Namjoon nods his head.

           “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently.

           “Can I lay in your lap?” He asks, eyes not meeting yours. It was his favorite way to talk to you, head resting in your lap, your hand in his hair, your eyes looking down at him. He felt so close to you then, so cozy and loved.

           “Yes,” You grab a pillow and a blanket, wrapping the blanket loosely over his legs. “Talk,”

           “We’ve just become the second act in history to have a number one single and album debut in the same week. It’s surreal to be recognized like this, by numbers and statistics, not just tweets and the bubble of South Korea. Though, the American market is its own bubble too. I’m trying to stay optimistic, the Grammy nomination, the chart placements… All good things. There’s this aching feeling that our success is hollow.” Namjoon rattles on, you are his favorite person to talk to.

           “What is the hollowness coming from? Is it from your own thoughts and feelings, or from critics, from bandmates, management?” You ask seamlessly, “Or, do you want my advice? Do you want me to just listen?”

           “Both,” He says.

           “If your hollowness is coming from you, then you need to examine what it is specifically that is causing this feeling, you have to look at the triggers of it. If it’s coming from an external source, as opposed to internal, then what is pushing these thoughts on you? Your feelings are your own, but there can be external input that is causing your mind to respond a certain way.”

           Namjoon stares at you as you speak. You’ve always understood him, even in breaking up, your words were careful, emotive and precise, he knew exactly what you were feeling from how you spoke to the way your eyes glanced over him. Lying in your lap, he’s taken aback by the amount of emotional labor he’s asking you to do. You’re no longer his girlfriend, no matter how tethered he feels to you.

           “I know you, Joonie, and I know what you’re saying … With your success comes an inherent knowledge that maybe it wasn’t earned, or maybe it’s because people are finally giving you your dues. You’re finally being recognized on a global scale, and now all the questions of what that means are coming to the surface. It’s okay to question it, but don’t forget to celebrate it,” You’re absentmindedly playing with his hair, running your hands through it, twirling it as you speak, giving it a light tug. No matter how many times he died it, it always remained soft and silky.

           “Fuck, you’re brilliant,” Namjoon whispers, his hand reaching for yours as rests gently on his chest. “And you’re right. It’s external factors pulling me to question internal motivations. It’s also the Christmas season… the joy, the carols, the light everywhere. If my victories are built on hollow premises, isn’t this festive joy also made up of false promises and lies? I can’t disseminate the two.”

           “I’m not sure you have to,” You say, allowing him to entangle your fingers.

           “Do you think Jesus separated the two, the pressure from the triumphs? Though I don’t think it was possible with men bent on murdering him. I’m feeling so lost and untethered,”

           “Did you ever hear that proverb that flowers can’t grow beneath winter snow?”

           “Yes,”

           “But somehow, life always finds a way. Flowers still bloom in frozen pots, life springs from frozen ground. External influences don’t have to influence how you yourself feel, particularly if they’re negatively effecting you.” Your eyes are trained on his, intention in the way you’re looking at him.

           “You’re my harvester of light, you know that?” Namjoon asks.

           “No, I didn’t,” You shake your head softly.

           “I walked miles today, and at every turn I kept coming back to you,” Namjoon whispers, a tight hold enveloping your hand.

          Your eyes are no longer warm and inviting, but concerned and frustrated, “You’ve been doing a lot of press, lots of performances. I know some have been pre-taped, Joonie, are you taking care of yourself?”

          “I, yes,” He says quickly.

          “Don’t lie to me, Joon,” You say. “Don’t fucking lie.”

          “I’m doing fine, I have a lot of down time, I’m doing okay,” He tries to reassure you, but you won’t look at him.

          “If you don’t love yourself, who will?” You wonder. He knows exactly what you’re doing, what you’re asking.

          “I don’t know if anyone will. No one since you,” He whispers, sitting up. “I don’t know if love is alive anymore.”

           “ARMY loves you,” You suggest.

          “ARMY is its own separate entity. I know they’re there; I know they support me. They showed up to our three virtual shows. They got our album and singles to place where they did… They are responsible for my life. But that’s different, isn’t it?”

          “Yeah, that’s different,” You say, nodding your head as you think about his statement. A quiet rest over both of you before you turn and catch him staring, slight smile on his lips.

          “December has felt so wrong, and I just figured out why,” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

          “Why?” You whisper, body fully turned to face him, shoulders squared.

          “You, you belong inside my arms. I’ve been missing it for months; it doesn’t feel like Christmas if-

          It’s a swift movement, from him speaking to your lips on his, thighs around his, fists of wool sweater between your fingers. Namjoon’s hand is resting at the nape of your neck, holding you against him. His lips are dry and chapped, moving like they’re in slow motion, feeling every millimeter of your lips, taking in the taste of your Pinot Gris on your tongue, your breath hot in his face.

           You pull away first, chest heaving in unison with his, a few tears in your eyes.

           “Are you trying to tell me you want to start again?” You whisper.

Next: Baby, Please 

[intothestrawberryjar]

Day 17: Cry

I know I said I wanted to write fluff for Lucas, but I couldn’t help myself. I swear the next one will be all fluffy and happy!

Word Count: 2498

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504304

Warnings: Light References to Intimacy

It’s dark where he is. There’s no light, no sound, save for the steps he can hear off in the distance. He can feel the tightness of the straps around his wrists, can feel the burning of the needles stabbed into his arms. He’s been here before. He doesn’t want to be here again. 

The steps are getting louder, closer. He can now make out a bag, filled with blood. Not his blood. No, his blood wouldn’t burn in his veins like this. This is something else entirely.

Even louder now. He can’t tell where the steps are coming from. He knows who’s coming. They’ve come before, even after they were supposed to be locked up in a cage. He’s straining now, trying to get out of his restraints. He did it before, he can do it again.

Except he can’t. And he can’t stop the steps from getting louder. Can’t stop the figure approaching him, one he’s familiar with. 

Ethan Murphy.

The vampire steps closer to him, a predator’s smile on his face. Even with how woozy Lucas feels, he knows that look. A look of victory.

“Well well well, look who’s up. You still haven’t died, a resounding success for my experiment. Yet, although I’ve proven your body can handle the toils of what I have planned for you, I don’t know if your mind can.” His voice rings out in this empty, desolate place. 

Murphy’s hand drifts over to the tools, Lucas is now aware of, to the right. Surgical appliances, different sizes and shapes of scalpels and scissors. 

“You know Murphy, I don’t think cutting me open is exactly in line with your end goal. Can’t use a battery with no juice, you know?” Lucas is hoping his words can distract Murphy, buy him some time. It worked last time.

“Ah, nice to see you have some brains in that head of yours. Might be useful in the future.” Again, that sick smile.

“You are correct, Lucas. Hurting you when you’ve been most amenable to this experiment is quite nonsensical. Which is why these tools aren’t for you.”

A flick of a switch he can’t see. Five spotlights, bright and glaring, turn on. Beneath the lights are five tables, similar to the one he is on. 

“No.” The word is a whispered gasp at best.

Nat, Farrah, Morgan, Ava and he realizes with horror, his mother, are strapped to the five tables.

Murphy smirks at his reaction, walking over to the five tables.

“As you can see dear Detective, I have gathered some people that are important to you, and that are a threat to me. Our future together would be in great peril if any of these individuals were left alive. Especially this one.” His hand lingers on Morgan’s table for a few seconds, before he comes back to Lucas.

“Murphy, please don’t do this, I’ll do anything you want, take all of my blood if you have to, just please don’t hurt them!”   

Murphy picks up a large scalpel , examining it, testing its sharpness against the pad of his finger.

“As a detective, I’m sure you are aware of the five stages of grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and eventually Acceptance. So do not worry Detective. One day, you will thank me for what I’ve done here.”

But Lucas hasn’t been listening to him, not really. His eyes are on his friends, willing them, begging them to break out of their restraints. He’s seen them move much heavier things before. Morgan even carried him once. But they don’t. They just keep staring at Lucas with what he realizes is fear.

For some of them, it’s a new expression Lucas has never seen them wear before. 

Get up, get my mom out of here and go. Please get up.

But they just lie there. Staring at them with that fear in their eyes. As if they expect him to save them. But he can’t. He doesn’t have their strength. All he can do is watch.

“Murphy, please! You don’t need to do this!” He’s crying now, the tears running hot over his face.

“Actually Lucas, I think I do.” He’s walking over to the five tables, slowly. He’s savoring the moment, enjoying every moment of agony he’s putting Lucas through.

“Guys, you have to get out of here, just forget about me, what matters is that you all get out and stop this creep!” But the only response Lucas gets is that same fearful stare. 

“Enjoy the show, Detective.”

Lucas wasn’t strong enough to beat him. He wasn’t able to save his friends, or his own mother. He couldn’t break out of captivity himself. He couldn’t stop the thralls. Couldn’t stop Murphy from rampaging through his town, and killing two innocent people. 

And as Murphy smiles at him once more, he can’t stop that scalpel from swinging down, down, down.

In the Detective’s bedroom, early in the morning

Lucas gasps, taking short, shallow breaths. He looks around, seeing the light blue hues of his bedroom walls, putting him at ease. 

It was just a dream. We took Murphy down, he’s somewhere far away, locked in a cage. He can’t hurt them. I won’t let him hurt them.

Morgan wasn’t here, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. She never stayed the night. Although, having the comfort of a whatever she was to him would be nice. Thankfully, Lucas has another solution. Rummaging around in the desk next to his bed, he pulls out a classic mp3 player. Old sure, but on his small town detective (and liaison for supernatural agency) budget, it’s the best he can really afford. Besides, there’s a small comfort that no matter the many changes in his life over the past few months, this blue mp3 player is still there.

He scrolls to the playlist he threw together after the first nightmare happened. A list of overly happy pop music, the kind that always reminded Lucas of Farrah. He smiles at the thought, plugs in his headphones, and lays back on the bed. 

A few minutes earlier, outside the detective’s building

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Morgan leans against a tree outside Lucas’s apartment building, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She didn’t really know why she was smoking it. More of a habit at this point than anything. It’s nice out here, with no other company than the sound of Lucas’s pulse ringing in her ears. She was planning on heading back to the warehouse right away when she left Lucas’s apartment, but the cigarette was right there. Why not?

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Morgan’s lips curl into a smirk, as she imagines what the detective is thinking of to make his heartbeat go this fast. She’s heard it like this before, and usually it was because of her. Not that Lucas couldn’t do the same to her. With him switching between brazen flirtation, and earnest emotion, it sometimes was hard for Morgan to keep her head on straight. Those were the moments those strange feelings came up in her gut, until she brushed them away to think about later. Although, that later had never arrived. Morgan shakes her head, not wanting the strange thoughts to ruin this quiet moment. Those had been in short supply lately.

Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump.

The smile has quickly turned into a frown. She’s never made Lucas that nervous. She should stick around for a few moments, because she doesn’t exactly feel like getting her ass kicked by Ava for letting the detective get hurt. That’s why she waits, with what she realizes are nerves kicking up in her stomach, to make sure Lucas is safe so she can leave. The only possible reason.

Suddenly, Lucas is gasping, each labored breath dragging nails across her senses. Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s running, no, sprinting, towards the lobby, running up the stairs, not even caring if anyone sees her at this point. All she knows is that Lucas needs help. Now.

Back in Lucas’s room

Lucas glances up at the banging near the front of his apartment. Before he knows what’s happening, his bedroom door is kicked open, and on the other side stands Morgan. 

He takes one of his earbuds out, leaving it by his side.  rushes in, glancing around, examining his room for any threats. Her hair hangs loose around her face, and her hands are clenched into fists, ready to attack. The piercing gaze of her steel grey eyes lands on his face, and she seems to notice something.

“You’re… crying.”

He reaches a hand up to his cheek, feeling a small trail where tears had obviously been.

“Oh yeah, I guess I was. Don’t worry about it, it was just a nightmare. You know, being kidnapped by a vampire and then experimented on really sticks with you.”

“You were having a nightmare about Murphy?”

He sighs, looking down at the ground, rubbing his neck.

“Yeah.”

His hand comes down from his neck, and even though he’s not looking at her, he can feel her gaze on the spot his hand left. Right where Murphy tore into him. Slowly, she starts stepping towards him, until she’s right in front of him. She sits down on his bed, and leans over. Softly, without even speaking she brushes her fingers right over the scar. Even after a few months, the area is still slightly sensitive, and he shivers slightly

Then, a surprise. Morgan wraps her arms around him, and he leans into her, letting the warmth of her body seep into him, like a comforting blanket. He can feel her fingers gliding down his back and over his side, until they grasp around the earbud dangling beside him. She takes it into her own ear, and grimaces.

“Your taste is shit.”

Lucas smiles at that, leans even closer into her. He’s hesitant to break this quiet moment, filled with emotions Morgan has never voiced out loud to him. But she doesn’t have to. It’s in the way her fingers run up and down his sides, the way she softly presses a kiss right where the scar remains. How even though he knows how much she must hate it, she hasn’t taken the earbud out. So, even though he aches to tell her how much this means to him, how much he feels about her, how great she is, he doesn’t. He lets Morgan tell him these things, in her own quiet way, whether she means to or not.

A few hours later, in the detective’s kitchen.

Morgan taps her finger against the kitchen counter, annoyed at just how long he’s taking to wake up. She felt Lucas being dragged into sleep as he lay against her shoulder. And even though that hug felt so damn good, even though she didn’t want to, she let go of him, and put him in bed. 

She still felt his warmth, it had spread everywhere even after she had let go. It nagged at her, staying at the corner of her mind, but it wasn’t her focus right now. She had questions for Lucas, and she wanted answers.

Suddenly, she can hear his alarm clock beeping, and out of his room steps a groggy looking Lucas Langford. 

“Morning, handsome.” He blinks in surprise, taking a few moments to recenter himself.

“You’re still here?” Lucas inquired.

“Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all, sunshine, I’m just a little surprised.”

Lucas walks towards the kitchen where she’s sitting and opens a cabinet. He takes out a cereal box, and a bowl, and begins pouring. Morgan grimaces.

“No milk?”

“Since when have you been interested in human food?”

“I’m not, but… it even smells dry.” Morgan cringes at sugary cereal’s scent. “Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack? There’s enough sugar in there to kill a horse.”

Lucas folds his arms and leans against the counter with a smile on his face, before stretching out and yawning. Morgan gives herself a moment to admire him in all his glory. Even with his clear lack of sleep, he’s still extremely attractive, and her eyes… wander about. She’s about to let out a risque comment, one that’s sure to get his blood pumping, when she remembers why she waited around for him.

“How long have you been having these nightmares?”

Lucas glances about before sighing. “Pretty much ever since it happened. It’s always after he gave me the blood transfusion, and I’ll be on that table for a while. Then, he comes and gives the  bad guy speech about our future together. After that, he shows me the newest addition to his collection.”

“What collection?”

Lucas huffs, and Morgan doesn’t fail to notice yet again tears poking out of the corners of his eyes. She’s so close to walking over to him, to brushing those tears away. But something stops her, and keeps her in place.

“Every time I have these nightmares, he’ll have another person I care about strapped to a table. He shows me them, and right before I wake up, I get to see him hurt them. It only lasts for a second, but for that one second I get to see the look of pain and shock on their face. And it’s always directed towards me. Because I can’t save them. At first it was you and the rest of the team that he took.” Lucas glances off to the side, takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But this time, he had my mom, too.”

“I listen to the music afterwards. It helps, sometimes. Sometimes it doesn’t. Depends on how long it lasts, what kind of day I had before. So, yeah, that’s what last night was about. Thank you for-mmmmh!” 

Morgan’s already moved to him, engulfing him in a kiss, pulling him as close as she can. She doesn’t know why she’s doing it, she just knows she needs to. She’s hurt him before, in the past, before she knew he was dealing with all this bullshit. She just wants him to know she’s there. It’s the best comfort she can provide.

Before either of them are ready, she pulls away. There’s so much unspoken between, words that are forming on Morgan’s tongue, but won’t come out of her mouth. She settles for a quick “See you later, handsome.” before hurrying away, back to the warehouse. There’s a pack of cigarettes with her name on it. 

Back at Lucas’s apartment.

Lucas watches Morgan hurry away, confused as always by her quick retreat from a tender moment. That kiss certainly made him feel better, as all thoughts of Murphy are quickly swept away by the thought of Morgan’s lips on his. It makes Lucas smile, as he goes about readying himself for the day ahead. And he gets excited, as he begins to formulate a plan for just how he can “repay” Morgan for her generosity.