#turned another baby like he did 80 years ago. only this time now youre on the vampiric council

[weirdbabs]

laszlo, arms wide with a baby colin strapped to his chest: nadja! darling! how did you and gizmo enjoy my homeland?

nadja, staring at the baby colin: ??????? laszlo what the SHIT??? AGAIN????

[mikiworde]

- Half Xmas / Half Pride -

(I wrote this story last year as a gift for my sib. I love to write but I usually don't touch other characters and therefore I don't write FFs. It's just some slapstick xmas kitsch, but I hope it's fun to read.)

Everything started in Seoul, South Korea. With the announcement of the birth of an idol baby. After that, idols began popping up all over the world. The reason for this was... BTS. While it has been claimed for decades that music has the ability to influence newborns, there is now proof. Almost every day during their pregnancy, mothers listened to BTS. At this time, idols make up 80% of the world's population.

Only a small percentage of them go on to become professional idols. People with various talents use the term, some focus on acting or modeling, while others work on their careers as singers or join a band.

Shouto opened the last door of his advent calendar. A familiar voice said, "Christmas is here!" The chocolate wrap was shaped like All Might dressed up as Santa Claus and grinned widely at Shouto. He took it out of the package and put the little chocolate man into his mouth. As the chocolate melted, he remembered what Izuku had told him a few days ago.

All Might would celebrate christmas with Izuku and his mother. This was the reason why he wouldn't come over to the Todoroki's today. Shouto realized, that All Might would literally be joining them. He wasn't sure if Izuku's surname would remain Midoriya or be changed to Yagi. Izuku didn't tell him, so he didn't ask.

All Might seemed to be more centered on starting a family now that he had lost too much weight. All his jobs were taken by All for One. The head of the LOV did not only take the roles of All Might, but he also auditioned for almost every other role that might have been available. He got most of his roles simply because people were too afraid to turn him down.

All for One was the owner of an indie agency where every single employee had a criminal record. Some were sentenced for minor offenses, such as Shuichi's driving without a license conviction, while others were serial killers.

Shouto paused when the doorbell rang. He waited until the doorbell rang again because no one had answered. The faces of the three men in front of him, none of whom were dressed for the holidays, were familiar to him. He knew he shouldn't let those guys in and was considering whether he should just shut the door.

"Happy Pride, Shouto!" Those were the magic words when he decided to listen to those guys. His father was famous, so he wasn't surprised that the man with the crazy expression in his eyes recognized him.

"Happy Pride", Shouto replied, because Pride should be celebrated every day, "Aren't you with the league of vegans?". However, he couldn't recall the names of these people. "Vegetarians," the guy with scars corrected, "though I'm actually a Flexitarian."

For a brief moment, Shouto considered whether piercings on his burn mark would be suitable. The thought was quickly forgotten because the guy appeared to be more insane than fashionable, and Shouto was rather unconcerned about his appearance.

Another crazed individual stood next to the lunatic person who had wished him happy pride. With his own hand, the other guy shielded his face. "Are you ok?" Shouto asked, despite the fact that none of the group seemed to be ok. "No, I'm vegan," the man replied, scratching his skin with his hand before hiding his face once more.

"We decided to come over because the rainbow snowflakes on your house looked inviting. Furthermore, this gentleman wanted to meet your father. He might have a kink for Dilfs. By the way, my name is Mr. Complex "… Shouto just nodded, because this guy talked a lot but seemed to be the friendliest of the three. Or at least less insane than his friends, since he named himself after his problem, if the mask wasn't hinting enough.

Shouto's outfit was complimented by the man who had his hand in front of his face, "Nice sweater.""Thanks," Shouto said, unsure how much of it the man could see. Maybe a Santa hat, but not the white cat with blinking lights all around it.

"SHOUTO!!! Have your friends arrived yet? ", his father asked from inside the house. Shouto was unsure about letting them in, but as soon as Enji approached him, he began walking away. His dad should deal with them if they were looking for trouble. It was also embarrassing to be near his father, who had bought himself and was wearing a sweater that read "World's Best Dad." Shouto waited a few seconds longer when he noticed that the guy who didn't cover his face took his phone out of his pocket and began filming.

"Yo guys, check this out, Endeavor's house ... Or should I say, Todoroki Enji's?". "How do you know my name?". Before going to his room, Shouto said, "... Everyone who has ever googled you knows it." He shut the door behind him and checked his phone to see if Eijiro had sent him a message.

He hadn't, but Momo sent him a video message wishing him a happy holiday season. She appeared to be in a good mood and moved the camera slightly to demonstrate that she was with Kyouka and Mina. It made him happy to see his friends having a good time, and he hoped that inviting his gayest friend over was a good idea.

When he was still a little chick and looked up to Endeavor, he would've never imagined ever spending Christmas at the Todoroki house. Although Enji was a bad parent, he was still a good role model... aside from parenting. Only a few parents managed to do a worse job than him. It might be ok for Keigo to be excited about spending Christmas with his idol's family if his kids were willing to forgive him.

It was easy to convince his boyfriend to join the Todorokis because he seemed unconcerned about their plans. Now that it was Christmas evening, Tsunagu had second thoughts...

Starting with his clothing, as Keigo had asked him to choose between red and green denim. In the end, he chose red and appeared unhappy with Keigo's choice of clothing

"Where's your holiday outfit?" Tsunagu asked, not wanting to make a fool of himself while everyone else was dressed casually. Keigo grinned as he opened his jacket to show his Tshirt, which read, "On the naughty list. And I regret nothing."

After a few minutes, they went outside, but Tsunagu was stopped by Keigo as he was about to open his Maserati. "This is our drive for today..." Keigo said, gesturing to a KFC truck parked nearby.

"Is this really necessary?" ,"Yes, it is. It's tradition! ", Keigo insisted. "We had KFC last year, but...Don't you think this is a bit too much?", "It's tradition", he'd paid for it, there was no way he'd just let the truck go.

"Wanna jump the fuck in?" Taishiro asked from inside the truck and pointed to the passenger seats. Tsunagu was never angry, but he did seem irritated as he gave Keigo a long look and asked, "Did you...?". Keigo proudly nodded and said, "Yes, I did." If Tsunagu wanted a more mature boyfriend, he should not have chosen a guy who enjoyed teasing everyone around him.

"We're going to a fancy restaurant for New Year's Eve dinner. Deal? "asked Keigo, the older idol to simply play along. "Do you consider KFC a fancy restaurant?", "You got me. You can chose", it wasn't fun to fool someone who could read him so well.

When Tsunagu jumped into the passenger seat, he asked, "How much did he pay you?". "Your boo said I could get all those sweet leftovers. An extra large Magic bag is a damn good deal", Taishiro answered back cheerfully.

Tsunagu looked at his boyfriend, puzzled, and wondered, "What's with all the swearing?". "Kansai Ben?" Keigo simply shrugged.

While Keigo and Tsunagu were on their way, Shouto checked to see if Fuyumi wanted some help. She was cooking for a group of at least ten people. Even more so, given the League of Vegetarians' selfinvitation. Natsuo assisted her, but there was still a lot of work to be done.

"I'm almost done with the cake, but I'm going to need a lot of cream. If you could just beat the butter ... "

Fuyumi wore a beautiful ice blue dress today and had her hair was tied up with snowflake clasps, making her look like an ice queen.

Shouto had no idea how it was done, but he grabbed a bowl and a pack of butter anyway. The melody of "BTS' Butter" played in his head, but he didn't sing along.

For a moment, he just stared at the butter inside the bowl and wasn't sure how he should do it. Then he started hitting the butter. 

"OH MY GOD, GET OUT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?" Fuyumi slammed the door behind him and kicked him out.

"How sad, Todoroki Shouto," the crazy gay guy mocked him.

"Can you tell me your name?". Shouto was curious because he believed it was unfair for the man to know all of the Todoroki names.

"You know it already...," the man said as he continued filming. He double checked that his face was visible, but also that Shouto's face was recognizable.

He replied, "It's Touya". "That's...," Shouto said, unsure if this guy was trying to make fun of him. "Your brother's name. I know. That's me ... I'm your brother", Touya wrapped his arms around his younger sibling.

"No fun for you, just pain," Touya said as he held Shouto so close to him that his brother almost gasped for air.

"Are you doing it again? Your father is already on the verge of a nervous breakdown", Touya's phone was taken away by Mr Complex before he began filming himself.

"I've also got an announcement to make... I'm... rather handsome," he said as he removed his mask in front of the camera.

"Gonna change your name?" Touya asked the other vegetarian as he let go of Shouto. "Yes, you can call me Atsuhiro."

As soon as the truck started driving, Keigo put on a playlist titled "Caraiko," and they were in for a few minutes of carpool karaoke. In their massive movable karaoke box, Keigo and Taishiro sang loudly to a mixture of K-Pop songs and Enka. Tsunagu just softly hummed the melody of "Baka Mitai" instead of singing along.

Taishiro slowed down when they spotted a familiar couple. "Where are you going?", asked Keigo and leaned out of the window. One of the teens was dressed in a red and silver suit, while the other was dressed in a black and gold suit.

When Eijiro saw the idols, he smiled brightly, but when he saw their car, he raised an eyebrow. "We're going to Shouto's place", he replied, curious if Hawks had signed a KFC contract.

"We're heading in the same direction. Want to join us?", asked Keigo.

"I'M NOT GETTING IN THAT THING!!!" Katsuki said, politely declining the offer. After all, Eijiro had warned him that if he didn't act nice today, he wouldn't be able to meet Eijiro's parents. Katsuki viewed it as a test, and he didn't want to fail.

Tsunagu locked his gaze on Katsuki before he raised his hand and tuned down an invisible radio. 

" ... !!", said Katsuki.

"What did you say?" Tsunagu asked, raising the volume slightly.

"I said, we're walking", Katsuki repeated.

Keigo and Tsunagu exchanged looks before leaving the truck to join Eijiro and Katsuki. They had almost arrived at the Todoroki house anyway.

Eijiro whispered to Tsunagu, "How did you do that?" and repeated the dialing gestures.

"During his time at the House of Genius, I told him that I'd just shut him down if he was getting on my nerves. It's still working", Tsunagu replied.

"I didn't know you could ever be annoyed," Keigo said to his boyfriend. "Don't test my patience," Tsunagu said, hoping Keigo wouldn't think of new ways to put him to the test. If he did, Tsunagu would have to eventually let the bird fly.

Keigo just made a defensive move by raising his hands. He would never do such a thing.

Taishiro was already waiting and emptying the truck when they arrived at the house. Tomura lent him a hand, so did the former Mr Complex. 

"You know, though eating meat is a form of second hand murder, it's socially acceptable, but if I ... ", "Look over there!", Atsuhiro yelled, pointing in a random direction, to keep Tomura from talking himself into trouble.

Touya was the only one of them who could eat the contents of the boxes, but he was too obsessed with filming himself.

Shouto sat in the living room, next to the brightly decorated Christmas tree and a fireplace screensaver on TV. A black cat was soundly sleeping on his lap.

He had just fed the cat yesterday after he found it in their garden. When he returned inside, the cat had simply followed him and decided to make his home in the big house. This was not the first time something similar had happened.

While he was stroking the soft fur, he thought about what had just happened today.

Fuyumi had never screamed at him or slammed the door shut behind him. It made him uncomfortable, so he decided to text Momo.

Momo thought that his sister was probably stressed out because she wanted to prepare a perfect dinner for their visitors. He shouldn't think too much about it, but he should apologize later.

Shouto didn't want to wait and wasn't sure if he'd be allowed in the kitchen either, so he just texted her instead: I apologize for your stress.

"I told you!" Katsuki exclaimed as Tsunagu took off his shoes. "He's just fake tall!"

Eijiro viewed Tsunagu with admiration before turning his gaze to his shoes "You're wearing heels? That's so manly of you!"

Tsunagu was still quite large, but not enough to peer over Keigo's head.

"Do you have your pills?", Tsunagu asked when he assisted his boyfriend in hanging his jacket on the coat hook. The spot seemed to have been designed for someone taller than 6'5".

"Don't worry. I'll be fine", Keigo replied as he looked around. He'd been here before, but this time the house was decorated with lights and ornaments, as if copied and pasted from an American Christmas movie.

Natsuo had let them in and directed them to the dining room. He wasn't wearing an ugly sweater like his father or younger brother, but a Santa hoodie. "If you're waiting for Dad, you'll have to wait a little longer," he apologized to Keigo. "No problem," Keigo said smilingly. "He's a busy man."

Natsuo didn't want to ruin the mood, so he decided not to bring up the fact that Enji was having a crisis. He was unconcerned, just like his brothers.

Shouto joined them and was relieved that Fuyumi had found him work to help make up for the cream mess.

"Would you like some juice?" he asked, holding a tablet with champagne glasses in his hand. The liquid was brightly colored, and the glasses' rims were surrounded with sprinkles.

Keigo took one of the glasses but pressed his glass into Tsunagu's hand as soon as he drank the first drop.

"What's wrong?" the older one asked as he took a careful sip. "Oh, you've got your pills, right?". Keigo's stomach couldn't handle citrus fruits and the juice had a strong lemon flavor.

"It wasn't much. I'll be fine. Is there anything else with citrus in it?" he asked Shouto, hoping to find out what foods and drinks he should avoid today.

Shouto replied, a little concerned about the older idol, "I'll ask Fuyumi."

"You've brought your own food with you.", Tsunagu reminded his boyfriend. "But it doesn't look very Christmassy ...", Keigo sighed. "If you put your chicken on a plate with a reindeer, you'll still have the Christmas feeling," said Tsunagu, but he wouldn't stop Keigo if he wanted to test his stomach's limits.

Fuyumi welcomed their visitors and brought some appetizers. She apologized to Keigo, but Tsunagu just shrugged it off and said, "It's his own fault." "Well ... True," Keigo agreed, trying to ignore the very familiar and equally disliked feeling inside his stomach.

Fuyumi made another drink, this time specifically for Keigo, but he didn't like it.

Keigo tried to hand his glass to Tsunagu, who took a sip before handing it back to Keigo. "It tastes healthy, so just drink it", said Tsunagu.

Shouto yelled, "I call this chair!" because he wanted to sit next to his pals and no one should take his seat away. "Dude, we all do?!", Kirishima replied, wondering about Shouto's outburst.

There was a tiny bit of alcohol in the juice. The minors were not allowed to drink more, and the adults would help themselves later. Shouto was unaware that Keigo might be having a problem. He simply assumed he didn't like the drink, which he couldn't explain. He was about to take another glass because his father didn't appear to be joining them anytime soon, and Keigo simply vanished.

Katsuki grabbed the glass just as he reached for it. He looked Shouto in the eyes, as if waiting for him to say something, and then emptied the glass all at once the moment Shouto opened his mouth.

Tsunagu approached Katsuki and pulled a comb from his pocket."I like your suit, but your hair is messy as usual," he said before he tried to tame Katsuki's hair.

"He picked the suits," Katsuki said, nodding toward Eijiro. "Yes, I can tell," said the older idol.

Eijiro was pleased with the compliment and looked at Katsuki's hair, wondering whether Tsunagu would really be able to tame it.

"Just keep your temper down", Tsunagu said to Katsuki before he moved over to Eijiro. Why shouldn't Tsunagu give the red hair a little makeover when he seemed so curious about it?

When Tsunagu touched Eijiro's hair, he realized it wouldn't work: "It's so hard, it's unbreakable." He promised to do it later and invited them both to come see him at the House of Genius agency.

Shouto's white hair was so soft that he didn't bother to style it, preferring to stroke it like a kitten instead. When he touched the red hair, however, he was shocked because it felt like it belonged to a dead animal.

"You shouldn't overdye your hair", Tsunagu advised. "I don't dye my hair," Shouto stated.

A few minutes later Fuyumi started putting food on the table. Eijiro and Katsuki helped her. 

Keigos' stomach was about to burst, so he hurried to the bathroom to avoid a disaster. He didn't realize he wasn't alone until he sat down on the seat. It was almost painful, but he'd have to keep it in for a while longer.

Enji stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself, apparently unaware that he had company.

"I'm the worst father...," the older idol said as he looked at his reflection.

"Definitely one of the worst..." agreed Keigo, wrapping toilet paper around his wrist.

"All I wanted was the best kids," the father said, almost sobbing.

"That is the problem. You should have hoped for the best for your children". Keigo didn't want to think about starting a family because it was too far away, and he especially didn't want to think about children. Regardless, he was offering advice to a father of four children.

Enji nodded, "I know, I'm right ... Why does my inner voice sound like Hawks?"

Keigo cleared his throat and waved to Enji. "Good talk, but now can you do me a favor and leave? Close the door and tell everyone not to come in for at least half an hour."

Shouto couldn't tell what it was, but Katsuki seemed changed after Tsunagu had done his hair. He wasn't yelling anymore, but rather speaking in a mature but sassy tone. Like a criminal organization's gay boss.

Tsunagu seemed to have given him a masterclass in gayness. Katsuki was a very fast learner. Shouto looked at Touya, unsure if his brother was linked to Tsunagu in any way. He didn't know anyone who was such a diva as Touya, except maybe Yuga.

"Watch out !", Enji alerted Touya when he arrived at the table. The next moment, he blew out the candles in front of Touya. Touya just took a lighter out of his pocket to re-light the candles. "You'll hurt yourself!" Enji warned, taking the lighter from his eldest son, who preferred his father's company when he was in distress.

They had to choose between a KFC meal and a traditional Christmas dinner. Because Fuyumi's food had a strong flavor and Shouto preferred a bland taste, he chose Fast Food.

The roasted turkey with cranberry sauce and roasted potatoes was a popular choice among their guests. Not even Tsunagu seemed to enjoy the KFC food.

Atsuhiro and Tomura ate nothing, but Touya appeared to be having one of his more flexible days and stuffed his plate with KFC and Fuyumi's food.

His sister was so thoughtful and prepared a vegan dish as well as a special plate for Keigo.

"Did Hawks buy KFC?", Shouto asked Tsunagu, recalling the day when he bought Starbucks after hearing about it from his friends. The Starbucks Siren was replaced by his father's face from that day on.

Despite the fact that it should have been obvious, Tsunagu replied, "He did." He didn't want to be associated with the Fast Food brand.

"I see...", well, not yet, but perhaps one day Keigo's face would replace the KFC uncle. Maybe the K in KFC was an acronym for Keigo.

Shouto thought of Keigo as a picky eater. Instead of eating the chicken or turkey, he had Fuyumi prepare a special meal for him, which he didn't seem to enjoy either. Shouto would gladly trade his fast food for Keigo's plain rice and mashed potatoes.

When Touya's phone rang and a screensaver of blue flames popped up, Enji nearly screamed and grabbed the phone from his son.

Touya sighed and leaned in close to Shouto. "I'm just here to ruin Christmas for the old man," he explained, but now his father was the one who was ruining it for him.

"That's why I invited Kirishima," Shouto explained, pleased to have something in common with his long lost brother.

"Huh?" Eijiro was perplexed as he looked at Shouto. "You can't just invite me to ruin christmas."

Eijiro was taken aback when Katsuki simply giggled, which came as yet another surprise to him. "ShoutoKun, I see what you did there." After all, Eijiro was the most gay student in 1A, if not the entire Ultra Aidol school.

"What did you just call him?" Eijiro asked, his gaze falling on Katsuki, who had completely forgotten to insult Shouto. Then he took a long, admiring look at the manliest man at the table. There was more to it than an invisible radio and a lot of fiber.

They wanted to exchange gifts after dinner but realized they didn't have enough for all of their guests.

Nobody should feel sad or excluded, so Eijiro suggested that everyone draw a name and give the person they picked something they already own.

Shouto's name was drawn by Touya. He was tempted to murder his younger brother, but he refrained. This should've been good enough as a present.

Tsunagu wouldn't leave without his shoes, and they weren't Eijiro's size, so Eijiro got a voucher for a pair of high heels.

Enji wanted to hug Touya, but he was warned that his son might have second thoughts about Shouto and that he should rather give him money. He was unaware that Atsuhiro had already taken some cash and other valuables.

Fuyumi gave everyone chocolates while they were exchanging gifts. She also made cookies for all of their guests, as well as her own family. Each cookie was individually decorated for the person receiving. She placed a red coated shark cookie on Eijiro's plate, next to him a half flame and half snowflake, while Keigo was given a pair of red wings.

"For fucks' sake..." Touya sighed as Enji took his blue flamed cookie. He wanted to sit in an armchair in front of the TV a few moments later. A fireplace screensaver was playing, and Enji simply lifted the chair in which Touya was sitting to a saver position.

Touya sat next to Keigo and Tsunagu when he finally got away from his crazy father. Then he took the winged cookie, pulled out a lighter out of his pocket, and burned it to ashes while staring Keigo in the eyes.

"Get the fuck away from me!" said Keigo, as he stared at the black remnants of his cookie. Then he took his boyfriend's blue jeans cookie. He wanted to say something else in Touya's face, but didn't want to give Touya a reason to start fighting.

The UA students exchanged small gifts. When Shouto unwrapped the present he received from Eijiro and Katsuki, he discovered a cup with a picture of all of his classmates and signatures from his allies inside.

It was a nice gesture and a good gift, but there was a conflict. "I also got you... This... ", "We all got ... ", Katsuki sighed.

Mashirao had suggested it. He wanted to surprise his classmates, but he realized too late that he wouldn't be able to do so if they all received the same gift. Shouto seemed surprised, and Katsuki was certain Denki was just as stupid.

The cups were filled with cookies, Rikido had baked all of them. Hanta wanted to add a special spice and as a result was banned from the kitchen for the timespan of the holidays, which included New Year's Eve and the days following. Denki was also banned because he liked Hanta's idea.

The girls had a lot of fun cutting out and decorating the cookies, as well as eating more than they decorated. Some were covered in pink and glazy icing, while others were artfully decorated, had cute little faces or were simply sprinkle covered.

Shouto tried one of the cookies and found it to be far too sweet, so he would ask his siblings later if they wanted them.

"Look at what I've got!" Enji exclaimed, pointing to another cup. On it was written "World's best dad."

None of Shouto's siblings, he was certain, would have chosen such a lie as a gift. "Who did you get it from?" Shouto questioned, but Enji refused to answer.

Keigo and Tsunagu were cuddled up under a blanket on the couch. Tsunagu had his arm around Keigo and his hand in his. Due to his tattoo, it appeared that he was holding Keigo's wing. Keigo would have wished for a pair of real wings if he had been in another universe. 

Keigo sipped his herbal tea, grimacing after each sip, while Tsunagu held a glass of champagne. A hot water bottle supported Keigo's stomach, and if the cat found out, she'd probably sleep on his lap. 

Katsuki, Keigo, and Touya all sighed with relief when a BTS song came on instead of the hundredth Christmas song. When they heard Super Tuna, they exchanged glances before getting up and dancing along. 

Then "Twit by HwaSa" came on, and Tsunagu and Atsuhiro got up to dance while the others sat down. After a few minutes, "I'm a Bitch by HwaSa" came on with a seductive beat. Keigo seemed rather interested to see his boyfriend having such a good time. On second thought, he shouldn't be dancing too close with another man. "Get a room or sit down, there are minors here," he said, pointing to a spot on the couch next to him while looking at Tsunagu.

Maybe he was a little jealous and didn't really care about the minors. 

"Well, aside from his personality, your dad is a total dilf, isn't he?" Keigo asked, grinning at Shouto. Tsunagu tapped him on the side with his elbow. Keigo shouldn't tease the kids, and he shouldn't tell him who he thought was attractive. 

"I guess... Dad is a dilf," Shouto simply agreed, because Keigo was very bright. 

"Don't let him fuck you around, ShoutoKun", Katsuki snickered, as Keigo laughed himself to tears. Even after dancing to Super Tuna, Katsuki's hair was still in place.

"You would know ... Greetings from Jin. He said he hates you now", Touya said.

Atsuhiro clarified, "Actually, what he said was... I hate him. No, wait, I want him back."

"We were only going out once... or twice," Keigo explained to Tsunagu, scratching his head. 

Keigo then locked his gaze on Atsuhiro for a long time. This guy was quite attractive... Perhaps he really had a thing for older guys. 

Enji joined them and took a seat next to them in an armchair. "Both of my sons are gay...". Keigo raised an eyebrow at Natsuo, counting three sons but not correcting the older man. 

"Is there something wrong with it?" Tsunagu wondered. "I've always wanted a normal family, with special children who are the best idols of them all," Enji said. "That's normal for you?" Keigo wondered. 

Keigo raised his hand to show that he and his boyfriend were holding hands. Enji still didn't seem to grasp what was going on. Keigo sighed and turned around to give his boyfriend a kiss. Enji looked, but he still didn't seem to understand. So Keigo just sighed and gave up. 

"Can I ask you something?" Enji finally asked. "Yes," Tsunagu replied, "That's already the answer to your question." "Are you...?" asked Enji. "How can you be such an ignorant prick?" Keigo exclaimed, disappointed in his idol. 

When Enji realized that Keigo and Tsunagu were dating, he thought about it for a moment. Then he stood up, raised both fists, looked at Shouto, and shouted, "I'm willing to accept you, my gay son." 

"I'm not even gay... ", Shouto wondered aloud, "... more like half straight and half gay."

Keigo assisted by saying, "The word you're looking for is Bi..." 

Enji looked around at his other children, wondering who they liked. After all, from now on, he wanted to be a very loving and accepting parent.

"What should I say? I just love nuts, "said Touya, who had just taken a handful of nuts from a bowl. 

Fuyumi became nervous, "You know, when you suggested that I invite my girlfriends, I took it literally because I thought you meant it." 

Natsuo scratched his head and said, "You wouldn't get it...". He tried to explain Demi sexuality to his father. He was correct, his father didn't understand. 

"Takami is denim sexual ... ", Touya just said with a serious face. "This was the worst joke I've ever heard," said Keigo. Touya should apologize for telling this awful joke, not because it was rude, but because Keigo disliked other people's bad jokes. Touya made it clear that he enjoyed to annoy him.

"Cheers!", Touya simply raised his glass to Keigo, ignoring his complaint. Tomura suggested, "I think you've had enough." But it was just a thought, and he wouldn't stop Touya from drinking more. 

"Maybe you should ask me if I'm willing to forgive you. " Touya said to his father. "Are you?" When Enji wanted to know, Touya simply laughed and said, "Fuck no." 

Shouto noticed that he was surrounded by couples when he looked around. It made him uncomfortable because he felt as if he was missing something. 

Most of the songs they sang in school were about relationships or breakups. The majority of the songs he danced to were also about love. He'd never been in a relationship before and didn't know where to look for a boyfriend. 

He had no idea what it was like to be in love, but Katsuki and Eijirou, as well as Keigo and Tsunagu, seemed to be happy. 

"We've been together for more than a year, and I'd like to spend next Christmas with you," Tsunagu told Keigo. "That's a nice present, I'll take it".

Shouto wanted the same for himself, so he looked at Katsuki. "Do you want to go out with me?"

"You can't just ask out someone else's boyfriend," Eijirou said, putting his hand in front of Katsuki's mouth to stop him from saying yes. 

Katsuki didn't want to. In fact, he didn't want to be here in the first place, but he came because Eijirou asked him to. 

Eijirou didn't have to think long before he came up with someone to ask. "How about a cat type of person?" 

"Someone with the personality of a cat?", Shouto asked.

Eijirou scratched his head and replied, "No, I thought someone who just likes cats." 

"Ah, to be young again..." Keigo said. Tsunagu reminded him, "You're 22..."

After Eijirou mentioned Hitoshi's name, Shouto wanted to know how he should approach him. Eijirou suggested that he could start a conversation by simply saying hello and sending some cat pictures. So Shouto went ahead and did it. 

Hitoshi was swamped with cat pics for 2 minutes. Shouto noticed him typing, but only sent more photos. His phone rang after another 5 minutes. 

"You wanted to talk to me?", asked Hitoshi.

Eijirou whispered, "Ask him if he'll go out with you." 

Shouto asked, "Will you go out with me?" 

He got a thumbs up from Eijirou.

Shouto thought that Hitoshi sounded nervous, but maybe he was just as excited as he was.

"If you're not drunk and this isn't a prank call... Yes... ", said Hitoshi.

They agreed to meet in a couple of minutes.

Touya had become so drunk that he got into a fight with Keigo. They would have fought anyway, but he could now blame it on the alcohol.

"You're so weak that you can't even eat fruit. I'm sure you're getting tipsy just by smelling alcohol ", said Touya.

Keigo fought back with a direct snap, "Your jokes aren't even funny. Everyone thinks your brains on shutdown and all you spit out is garbage."

Tsunagu simply moved his eyes back and forth, because it felt he like he was watching a tennis match. Tennis had never been so intense though.

"Why's your beard covering your eyes?", Touya asked, looking at Keigo's eyebrows.

"You're a shady bitch ... ", Tsunagu sighed. He wasn't one to curse oftenly, but he was fed up with Touya's childish behavior.

When Touya started to make fun of Tsunagu, Keigo had had enough, "Will you just shut the fuck up with your jealous single ass mouth?"

With a scratch of his head, Atsuhiro suggested, "I think it's time to close the library..."

"No, this is fun, let them fight", Tomura disagreed.

Then Touya turned his gaze to Tomura, "Your skin's so dry, you eat lotion with a spoon."

Touya appeared to be in the mood to just throw shade at everyone who spoke to him.

"What did you just say?", asked Tomura in a threatening tone as he stood up. He didn't ask for a reading and Touya would totally get roasted.

"Look over there!" exclaimed Atsuhiro, attempting to reroute everyone's attention away from the escalating situation. "It always works."

But it only worked for a moment.

When Touya looked at him again, Keigo had enough.

It was time to stop and they could do something better than just throwing shade at each other, so he challenged Touya, "Dance off it is."

Touya warned him, "You're gonna get burned," but he was willing to take on Keigo.

Tomura wanted to choose the music that would be played.The first song was "Agust D's Daechwita".

Keigo started to dance and put on a very good performance.

After that, "Nillili Mambo by Block B" was played, and Touya showed off some hot moves.

It was Keigo's turn again when "One Shot by BAP" was played, and Touya didn't want to waste any time. He had already thought up a grand finale.

The last song was "Fire by BTS", and Touya delievered fire. He was standing near the tree, holding a lighter. Then the tree was on fire in a matter of seconds.

Touya was amused rather than shocked when he saw the flames, and even more so when he saw Enji's panicked expression. Enji was stunned and couldn't help but stare, while Touya couldn't stop laughing.

Tsunagu acted quickly, simply using a blanket to put out the flames with fiber. Keigo was glad he hadn't drunk anything today because now he was able to assist Fuyumi and Natsuo in obtaining a large quantity of water.

"It was fun while it lasted, but now it's time to go...," Atsuhiro said as he pushed his two companions out the door.

Keigo scratched his head and wondered, "What the fuck just happened?". He was certain that Enji would never let him back into his home.

They heard Christmas music coming from Hitoshi's house. Or rather lyrics, because the singing was much louder than the music, and it was screamed rather than sung.

A familiar voice shouted, "... God Rest YO Merry Gentleman!"

Katsuki screamed, "IT'S GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN!... HE'S SINGING IT WRONG!!!" and totally forgot everything Tsunagu had taught him. Even his hair seemed to be complaining, as it appeared to be the same as it had been before Tsunagu styled it.

"I thought you don't like Christmas songs", Eijirou said. Katsuki responded, "Doesn't mean I don't know the lyrics..."

On their way to Hitoshi, they were followed by a gang of cats. Shouto recognized every single one of them. Hitoshi and Eri were both waiting in front of the house.

The little girl was dressed as a reindeer and wore an antler hairpiece. "Happy Halloween!" she greeted them. "Look, I'm Frosty!" she exclaimed as she proudly pointed to her outfit.

Hitoshi wore the same hoodie which Shouto was wearing. When he saw Katsuki and Eijirou, he nodded. Then he smiled shyly at Shouto and scratched his head.

"Good luck", Eijiro wished his friend when he was about to approach Hitoshi.

"And don't fuck it up", Katsuki added.

With best wishes, Shouto said, "I hope you break a leg."

Katsuki was about to smack Shouto when Eijirou stepped in to help, saying, "You can't do that in front of Eri?!" They then took the little girl's hand in theirs and walked away.

One of Hitoshi's fathers was peering out the window, which Eijirou noticed. Shouta arrived quickly, wrapping his arms around Hizashi and closing the curtains.

Hitoshi waited until Eijirou and Katsuki were out of hearing distance, then looked behind him to make sure no one was watching before returning his gaze to Shouto.

"Honestly, I was about to give up," Hitoshi admitted, but he now seemed to be happy.

"I just asked you out a couple of minutes ago," Shouto didn't quite understand.

"I'm glad you took the initiative...I've been hoping for this moment for quite some time "Some of his classmates were already rooting for him because everyone except Shouto seemed to recognize Hitoshi's strong interest...But he was also shy, and he wouldn't try to force himself on Shouto if he didn't pay attention to him.

One time, Hitoshi had dyed the right side of his hair white. Because it turned out green, he had to dye black over it to hide the mistake.

He had tried to engage Shouto in conversation whenever he had met him. How could Shouto know that Hitoshi considered "Hi" or "See you" to be Small Talk?

Hitoshi took Shouto's hand in his and led him to the house, where an ornament of mistletoe was hung. After that, he leaned in and kissed him on the lips.wasn't sure how to react at first, but Hitoshi showed him. They smiled happily as they looked each other in the eyes and held each other's hands.

They were having themselves a very merry christmas. They wished it could be christmas evey day. They were about to start believeving in Santa Claus again.

It was as if the entire romance of Christmas was captured in that moment.

Until Hizashi yelled, "BABIES, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!! NOW GET YOUR ASSES IN!!"

[chanandlersstuff]

The seasons pass and the heartbreak too

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: Life its a funny thing or maybe whats meant to be will find his way back together.

Word count: 1.927

Author’s note: This is the second part from this one and I was thinking that those two deserve some closure, so it will be one more part and that's it. Hope you like it. English is my second language so sorry for the misspellings. The song that inspired this part is "Nineteen" from Dylan, it's really good and some parts of it are on the story.

After leaving Charles at the airport that day, you didn't hear from him anymore until maybe the next year because having almost the same group of friends it was pretty hard not to know about him. One day while you were on a long call with Pierre he told you that he was dating a beautiful girl and that he seemed happy. That instead of breaking your heart completely made you happy because he was happy again. The love you had for him prevented you from being sad about it. Pierre also told you that Charles was having a great season and that also made you happy. Months passed and you didn't hear from him. You were getting better and better at your dream job, becoming more important in the business. The F1 life was little forgotten in your life but always alive in the back of your mind.

Summers, birthdays and seasons passed and Charles was achieving all his F1 goals. One night while having dinner with Pierre in some part of the world talking about life he told him that you were dating some guy and that you were happy. Charles’ fork stopped mid air when he heard the news and to Pierre surprise a smile appeared in his face, a genuine smile. He was happy for you, after all the last time he saw you was nearly three years ago and he didn't hate you, he had incredible affection towards you but that was it. Charles had no love interest in his life anymore but none of that had nothing to do with you.

Sometimes he wondered what were you doing with your life, if you achieved all your dream goals, if you were fine, all that kind of stuff. Even one time he almost dialled your number only to see if you had the same number and if you would answer him but that idea turn into a stupid one the second he almost tuch your contac name. You, on the other hand, while exploring new places or when you saw something that you thought would be fun for him, you couldn’t contain your brain from thinking about him and smiling. His name always on your phone but never used. Happy memories from the time you spend together, while being friends and lovers, no hold grudges.

One day while you were crossing the street, coffee in hand and sunglasses in your eyes, your mind deep down in work, someone shouting your name brought you back to reality and the voice was so familiar. You lowered your sunglasses to see better and when the window car next to you lowered too your heart seems to beat a little slower or everything happens in slow motion. He was there in his matt black Ferrari with the Monaco flag across the car and the 16 on one side. Charles Leclerc in the flesh, shouting your name in the red light of a street. With a smile on your face you walked to the passenger side of the car and you crouched a little to see him better.

-I wasn't entirely sure it was you.- Charles said smiling.

-So you took your chances shouting at me I see.- He nodded and you laughed. -How are you?

-Fine, fine. What about you?- The two of you were smiling like little kids on Christmas night.

-I’m fine too.- Looking at his face you notice that he hasn't changed that much. His face was more mature and his beard from a couple of days the same as you remembered. The honk of other cars brought you back to reality -It was fantastic to see you again but I'm going late to a meeting and those drivers are getting pissed.

He frowned a little and moved his head to see the cars behind him. -Oh. Yes, it was great seeing you again.- He smiled and you smiled back. You straightened and took two steps back. -WAIT.

-¿Yes?- Your voice was sweet.

-You ....eh....we….- You giggle because he was the same nervous Charles you remember when you were little.

-¿Yes Charles?.- He laughed and cleared his throat.

-I was thinking if you could give me your number.- You raised your eyebrows. -To stay in touch I mean, if you want of course.

You smile and from one of the pockets of your bag you pulled out your card. -Gimme a call whenever you want.- Your fingers touch and a familiar, not so forgotten, feeling travels through your bodys. -Bye Charles.

A week later you were walking towards him in whiteh trousers and shoes, a black tank top, sunglasses and hat. The “friendly lunch”, as he said, was in a restaurant in front of the water and the summer in the air made the day perfect. It wasn't a date at all, it was two friends who hadn't seen each other in a while catching up.

With a bottle of water in the middle, because he had to drive and you weren’t going to drink wine alone, the conversation flowed as easy as all those years ago. Laughs that made the stomach hurt and tears appeared in the corner of your eyes while the two of you remembered long time memories and funny histories.

The way he kept switching languages as easy as breathing and the sun that was coming down, illuminated your skin making you glow in his eyes and your smile, gosh it was the brightest smile he'd ever seen. Everything was so easy going and funny, like a picture perfect. As if the two of you have never walked away from your lives, as if you have talked every day for the past few years.

-Do you remember that night when we went to that awful party and we ended up drinking coffee in that spot we used to like so much?- He said when you came down from the laughter.

-It was the same day that your mum almost kill us because we were minor and we stunk at cigarettes?- The scene coming to your brain as it was yesterday and he nodded. -Oh yes, I remember. Some dude spilled his drink in my dress and it had a huge stain on it.

-Yes, that blue dress looked so beautiful on you.- You didn’t remember the color, but apparently Charles did.

-I was a mess Charles.- You tried to argue with him.

-A hot mess.- He said in a low tone hoping, praying that you didn’t hear him but you did and didn't say anything about it trying to not ruin the nice day you were having.

-Do you remember that day you called me late at night to pick you up at that random bar?- You said and he burst into laughter at the memory.

-Oh god yes. I almost came out of that bar crawling and you were there waiting for me in that empty street.- Charles said, scratching his head.

-Were only one streetlight worked properly.- You add in a funny tone.

-You were there with my jacket and two blankets and a worried face.

-Because it was freaking cold, like freezing.- You said laughing and he did too. -I don't remember why you were there and I could bet you don't remember either because you were so drunk that you forgot the reason.

-I remember that the next day I had the worst hangover of my life and I swore that I would never drink that way ever again.- Charles grabbed the glass from the table and drank.

-I remember that you were insufferable the next day, like I couldn't even look your way and you were already whining like a baby.- You said and he laughed.

-And the night you were so stressed about that exam and I told you to run away with me?- You frowned. -That I “kidnapped you” and took you to that little dinner and we stayed there for like 5 hours.- You were smiling but didn't say anything or move an inch. -The dinner that was like from the 70s or 80s, with neon signs and rock music.

You nodded with your head. -Can I be honest with you?- He nodded. -All I saw that night was you and how your eyes seem to change color with the neon lights. He didn't say anything but smiled brightly at you and blushed a little.

If you were honest you remember all too well the things you did together. The little lies to your friends telling you didn't like him when you clearly did, the big fights in those summer days where everything complicated and all the mistakes were made and how he always said “You and I, that’s all the matter. No one else, just you and I” and how he told you “You are the only one I want” when you were agreeing to that strange summer deal.

-Do you remember the day we spent in your granny’s garden looking at the stars in that white old sheet?- You said looking at water.

-Yes, we spent hours talking about our big dreams and desires.- A little silence fell between you two. -I really hope you achieve everything you told me that night.- The fact that he seemed to remember what you told him that night told everything that you needed to know.

-I did, most of them I did. I hope the same for you.

-I achieved some of them and I’m doing others this year.-

But the truth was that both of you made promises and dream things together, thinking that you would stay friends or lovers forever. Always by the other side, cheering their wins and being there when they lost but life wanted other things.

-It seems that we both remember a lot of things from years ago.- You said in a nervous tone trying to cover the inexistent awkward silence.

-Of course I remember. How could I ever forget it.- You tilted your head. -How quickly and hard I fell for you.- His tone was so tender and the smile he was giving you was something from another planet.

-Charles…- You played with the napkin in front of you.

-What? It's true, I was never capable of lying to you and you weren't capable either so tell me what's on your mind.- You stayed in silence for a couple of minutes trying to find sense about them.

-Loving you wasn't a waste. Yes hearts were bruised and mistakes were made but I will do it all the same.- You said and smiled at him.

-I don't.- The look on your face must be a hurt one because he rushed his next words. -Because at the end I lost you, everything we were. Friends, lovers, partners, everything lost for years.

-But we are here now.- You said in a slow tone.

-But for how long?- You opened your mouth to talk but he interrupted you. -A week? Ten days? You are going to get back to your job and I have to get back to race, it's the summer deal all over again. And I do not say this because I want to be your boyfriend again or whatever we have been years ago, I say it because I want my friend back. You know how many times I almost called you to tell you everything that was going on with my life, to tell you that I needed you when shit hit the fan? A thousand times. I do not want you in my life if you are going to be entering or leaving it as if it were a candy store. I want you permanently in it and I want to be in your life in the same way. Be there for you when your work is going well and when you cry from stress like all those years ago but this time physically. I want you here.- At this point he was moving his hands freneticaly and raising his voice a little but the only you could do was looked at him speechless absorving his statement and your stupid heart racing as fast as he drives his car in the weekends.

[americancowgirl19]

Prince of Hell

Summary: You’re Esme’s brother. You two haven’t seen each other in a long time but now she needs your help to keep Renesmee safe.

Warnings: Death, violence, a little fluff and a little angst

Reader: Male Reader

Pairings: Demetri Volturi x Male Reader

Word Count: 3,108

A/n: Might make a part two

Masterlist

Esme stands in the doorway of Renesmee’s bedroom. The little girl sleeps soundly without a care in the world. Carlisle comes up behind her and embraces her tenderly.

“She’s going to be ok, we’ll protect her.” Carlisle whispers kissing the side of her head. A couple of hours earlier Alice had gotten the vision about the Volturi coming for Renesmee. They came up with the plan to find witnesses to protect her. Esme fears that it won’t be enough.

“Nothing will ever be the same,” Esme whispers. “The Volturi won’t forgive those who stand on our side. Not everyone has a coven to protect them when this is over. They could pick them off one by one when they leave.”

“We won’t force anybody to help us, they’ll know what they’re getting into.” Carlisle whispers. Esme sighs turning in his arms.

“There’s another option,” Esme whispers. Carlisle tilts his head. She slips out of his arms and leads him toward the living room where the rest of their family sits. They’re all planning on who is going to go to who. 

Edward’s the first to look up. Esme has no doubt he’s reading her mind by the curious look on his face. A second later, Alice’s eyes go distant. When she comes back, her eyes fall on Esme.

“What is it?” Bella asks noticing both of their looks. Soon, everyone’s looking at Esme.

“When I was human I was married to a dangerous man,” Esme begins. “When I became pregnant I knew I couldn’t stay with him anymore but I didn’t have the money or the resources to leave,” Esme takes a seat on the plush chair toward the middle of everyone. “So, I went to my brother and told him everything. He got me out that night,” Esme smiles softly as she thinks of you. “We had been close as children but drifted apart as adults. But that night it was like nothing had changed. He took care of me, kept me safe,” Her eyes fall down into her lap. “Then I had the baby and two days later... I lost him,”

“Greyson?” Edward question remembering her son.

When Carlisle changed Esme she had a week old son named Greyson. He grew up with them after Esme learned how to control herself.. He didn’t want to become a vampire and had died of a heart attack only a decade ago.

They had been able to hide him from the Volturi. They had only found out about him when Edward went to Volterra when he believed Bella to be dead. By then, however, Greyson was dead.

“Yes, Greyson,” Esme nods. “He had a lung defect. He was supposed to be dead which is why... Why I jumped off the cliff before Carlisle found me.” Carlisle places a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him and places her hand over his.

“How did he survive?” Bella asks.

“My brother, Y/n... He sold his soul to save my son.” Esme told them. 

She remembers the day he had done it. Esme had been spiraling and you just knew she wouldn’t live in a world without her son. You couldn’t bare the thought of losing Esme and knew you had to do something to save her son.

By the time you sold your soul, Esme had already jumped off the cliff. You had a few years before the hounds of hell came to collect you. Esme stayed with Carlisle and learned control. A day before your time ended, you found Esme and gave her the five year old son.

“Sold his soul?” Emmett asks, raising an eyebrow. Esme didn’t blame them for being skeptical. There were fewer demons on Earth than vampires. The ones that were on Earth stayed hidden and played with the humans from the shadows.

“He’s a demon.” Alice whispers connecting the dots.

“A demon? Those exist?” Rosalie asks. Esme nods.

“Where do you think nightmares and tragedies come from? Deaths so unexplainable that not even a shapeshifter or a vampire can understand?” Esme asks them. “Most of them are locked away in hell and can only come up if they manage to escape or are summoned by someone. They’re stronger than a thousand newborns combined,”

“That’s why the Volturi were afraid of him,” Alice says thinking back to her recent vision. “None of their powers worked on him and he was more powerful than all of them,”

“So, how do we get in contact with this guy?” Emmett asks.

“It’s not that simple,” Esme tells him. “It’s very dangerous. If we mess up we could be releasing something far more dangerous than him. If we do it right, there’s no guarantee that he’ll help us. He’s been a demon for almost a hundred years, there’s no telling if my brother’s still... himself.” 

Bella turns her head toward Edward. Esme watches them waiting for someone to say something. A few moments later, Edward looks back at Esme.

“How do we contact him?”

The moment the question leaves his lips the room drops in temperature. It’s enough to send a shiver through Jake’s spine. The lights flicker as the windows begin to be covered with frost.

“Ask nicely,” Everyone’s head turns toward the corner. Sitting in the shadows is a man dressed in black slacks and button up shirt along with an equally dark vest. His hands are hidden behind gloves with a leather jacket that reaches down to his midthigh.

“Y/n,” Esme whispers standing up. You smirk and push yourself up as well. With a snap of your fingers the lights return to normal and the frost melts away.

“Sorry for the dramatics... I like to make an entrance,” You states, a lop sided smirk on your lips. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I heard someone talking about me so I decided to drop by.” You explain sauntering into the middle of the living room. Your eyes look around, observing the home around you. “I hear you’re in a bit of a bind, little sister.”

“It’s my granddaughter... She needs your help,” Esme tells you. You chuckle darkly before spinning on your heels to look at her.

“It’s always a child with you, isn’t it?” You ask smirking. She gives you a small, unsure smile. “What do you want me to do? I can’t very well sell my soul, I already did that for your first child. One soul, one child,” You sit in a chair, draping your arm over the back, your ankle resting on your knee.

“Do you know of the Volturi?” Your eyes slide away from your sister to the pixie hair cut girl, Alice. You knew everyone in the room. You had been keeping tabs on your little sister and knew who she came in contact with and who she adopted into her family.

“Ah, yes, the Volturi,” You smirk, looking back at Esme. “They’re good for business. Send plenty of souls to hell for us to feed on,” Your comment makes most of them unease. You soak up the anxiety.

“Mommy?” You’re eyes snap to the little girl by the steps. You stand up at the same time her mother flashes beside her. You had heard about this little girl but this is the first time you’ve seen her.

“So, this is the child you so desperately want to protect,” You state, your eyes remain on the girl as you move closer.

“The Volturi believe she’s an immortal child,” Esme says.

“How idiotic,” You whisper kneeling in front of the child. “Her soul is much too bright and her heart is much too active. Hello, little one,”

“Hi,” She whispers, hugging her mothers waist. You send her a small smile and a playful wink before standing up.

“You never answered my question,” You say, turning back to Esme. “What do you want me to do? Kill the coven? Possess them? Make them fall to their knees and beg for mercy?” By the end your lips are curled into a sadistic grin.

Esme looks at you for a moment and all she can feel is sorrow. When you were human the only person you ever wanted to harm was her husband. Now, you would kill and torture without a second thought. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it. 

Hell had twisted your soul into someone almost unrecognizable. She was relieved that you held a little bit of goodness in your heart to at least consider helping them.

“We just want them to leave us alone,” Esme tells you. You pout at the boring request.

“Well, I can do that,” You nod walking away from the child not failing to notice how the room relaxed as you put distance between yourself and her. “However, I don’t do anything for free anymore. I’m going to need something in return,” You whisper standing toe-to-toe with Esme. You gently brush your knuckles along her cheek like you used to when you were human and she needed to feel safe. “little sister.”

“What do you want?” Esme asks quietly. You hum stepping away from her.

“Oh, the endless possibilities,” You whisper, sitting down in the chair you had previously occupied. “How much is that little girl worth to you?” You ask the people in the room. “Are you truly willing to make a deal with the Prince of Hell?” You ask.

“Prince of Hell?” Jake asks. Your eyes flicker to him.

“Well, at least I’m not the Devil,” You joke before tilting your head side to side. “Not yet at least,” You shrug. “I’ve been in hell for 80 years... That’s human years, time moves differently down there. Once they dragged me down by my ankles I began working my way up with my hands. My ambition has payed off... Who knows, maybe in another 80 years, you’ll have had the pleasure of knowing the Devil?”

“Lucky us,” Emmett mutters.

“Yes, lucky you, indeed” You growled standing up. “I may be the Prince of Hell but I am still your older brother,” You said looking at Esme. “While my services are no longer free, I will always answer your call. You all are her family which makes you my family which means that I will aid you when you need me but like I said... I don’t work for free.”

“So, what’s your price?” Edward asks. You turn to him. You stare at him for a moment before looking around the room.

“A favor,” You tell them. “One favor,” You hold up your pointer finger and spin around for everyone to see. “A favor anybody, or everybody, in this room can fulfill,”

“And the favor?” Bella asks, tightening her hold on Renesmee. Your smirk you send her is enough to strike fear into her unbeating heart.

“I don’t know,” You shrug putting your hands behind your back. “I will come whenever I am in need of your services. You fulfill my favor and you’re free. I will make sure Renesmee is protected from the Volturi and all will be well again,”

“No,” Esme shakes her head regaining everyone’s attention. You arch an eyebrow at her. “You want someone to do you a favor, you ask me, not my family.” She says sternly. “I will not allow you to hold this over their head,” You smirk deviously.

“You’ve grown clever, little sister” You praise her. “Much smarter than you had been as a human, I’m proud.” Esme holds your gaze. “Fine,” You give in. “One favor and only Esme can fulfill it,” The rest of the family tries to argue but you ignore them and walk up to your sister. “Please don’t die before I cash that favor in,”

“You’ll know how to find me,” Esme tells you. You nod before giving her the first genuine smile you’ve given anyone in decades.

“I am truly happy to see you, little sister,” You whisper to her. You gently kiss her forehead. “Renesmee will be safe, I promise,” You vow because vanishing in thin air.

Within a few seconds, the Volturi castle began to suffer the same side effects of your arrival. All the vampires looked around as the lights flickered and frost covered the windows. When the lights went back to normal, the vampires noticed a new presence in the middle of the throne room.

A few of the Volturi guards hissed in alarm but you paid them no mind. Your eyes zeroed in on the man in the middle, Aro.

“Who are you?!” Caius shouted, standing from his throne. You ignore him which doesn’t help his temper.

“I’ve come to inform you that Renesmee Cullen is not an immortal child, she’s a hybrid. Leave the Cullens alone and I’ll allow you to live.” Aro chuckles while Caius glares harder. Marcus seemed indifferent but his eyes continued to go from you to another vampire.

“And what proof do you have to back up your statement?” Aro asks, stepping closer to you. You smirk.

“I don’t have to answer to you and I’ve already given you your warning. Shall you continue to go against the Cullens, there will be... consequences.” You warn him. “I’ll be watching,” Once the final word leaves your lips, you disappear.

“Intriguing,” Aro whispers before turning to Demetri. “Find him.” Aro orders. Demetri bows before leaving. Only problem, he can hardly feel your tenor. 

You kept your eye on the Volturi. Just as you hoped, Aro didn’t stop planning against the Cullens. You were about to prepare yourself to make another appearance when you sensed something.

“I’ve never met anyone who could sneak up on me,” You state, walking to the chair to put your jacket on. “Although, you are the first who’s been able to sneak into my home.” You turn toward the intruder. He slowly comes out of the shadows. 

You stare at him and tilt your head. He’s certainly one of the more attractive vampires you’ve seen. Then there’s the fact that he was able to hunt you down. You were impressed and highly curious.

“How did you find me?”

“It’s my ability... I can find anybody,” You hum moving closer to him. His scent begins to fill the room and it was slowly captivating your attention.

“But I’m not just anybody,” You whisper, inching closer to him. “Vampire abilities aren’t supposed to work on me... Not like they usually do, at least”

“And why is that?” He questions. You begin to smirk, sauntering even closer. He shifts on his feet but his eyes remain locked with yours.

“Why do you think?” You ask, not hesitating to invade his personal space. “Come on,” You whisper, taking a deep whiff of his scent. “You know the answer,” Demetri doesn’t answer. “You and your kind wonder the Earth thinking your the demons but you’re just child’s play.”

“Why do you care about the Cullens?” Demetri asks.

“I had a human life at one time, a human life I shared with a Cullen. They asked for a favor and I’m about to go back to the Volturi to finish it. Care to join me?” You ask, offering him your arm. He looks at it, pinching his eyebrows. “It’ll be a lot faster if we do this my way,” You whispers, sending him a wink.

Hesitantly, Demetri links arms with you. You grin at him and transport the both of you from your apartment to the Volturi Castle. When you arrive, Caius stands alarmed. Demetri moves to the side to stand with his fellow guardsmen. 

“Aro, Aro, Aro,” You tsk slowly. “You were warned,”

“And I explained that I needed proof. I have to protect us, this child may be a threat.” Aro states.

“Maybe,” You shrug. “But you won’t be around to see it,” You tell him. A few of the vampires growl at you. You pay them no mind. 

You then feel a prick in the back of your mind. A familiar feeling you get when a vampire tries to use their abilities on you. Your eyes shift to the blond girl by the steps.

“Performance issues, sweetheart?” You smirk. She snarls at you. You raise your hand to grab the vampire that tried to attack you. You grab his throat and lift him off the ground. “Sloppy,” You whisper and squeeze your hand so tight that his head just pops off. You then straight your vest and adjust your jacket. “Anyone else?” You ask, opening your arms welcomingly. 

A most of the guard tries to take you down but you don’t break a sweat dismembering them. They try to use their powers but they’re ineffective on you. You turn your head and notice Demetri standing by you. He rips a nearby guard member to pieces. He turns back to you, his eyes pitch back.

You slowly grin finding his black eyes just ask attractive as his ruby red ones. Tearing your gaze from Demetri, you look back at Aro. The king hisses but before he can move you’re in front of him. You place your hand on either side of his face forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You believe vampires don’t have a soul,” You whisper. “How wrong you are,” You chuckle, feeling your eyes blazing brightly. “You have a soul... It’s just pitch black. No worries, I’ll rid you of it.” Aro begins screaming as you suck his soul out of his body.

As Aro dies in your hands, what’s left of the guard disperses. When Aro’s soul is gone, you toss his body to the side feeling refreshed. It was the first time you consumed a vampire soul. Demon usually leave vampires along but after having a taste of the power his soul gives you. You want more.

“Well, Demetri,” You hum turning toward him. “I have a mission,” You walk down the steps. “At the moment, I am known as the Prince of Hell,” Demetri raises his eyebrows at you. “I don’t plan on staying a mere prince. I want the whole kingdom, I want to be king.” You state stopping in front of him. “Consuming the souls of vampires might just give the power I need to overthrow the current monarch.”

“And?” Demetri asks. You smirk, brushing the tips of your fingers along his jaw.

“Help me, Demetri,” You whisper, loving how his name rolls off the tongue. “Help me find vampires, help me become king, and I will give you everything you desire” You promise, trailing your fingers down his throat and over his chest. “I’ll give you the world and I will give you Hell.” You smirk playfully.

“I know just where to start,”

[spotofimagines]

Car Sick P1 ~ Dominic Calvert-Lewin

A/N: This is sort of carried on from this blurb I wrote a while ago, bc I loved the idea and wanted to write more for it, you should probs read that first to catch the vibes. This is for @footballffbarbiex writing challenge based on tv and film. I used this storyline from Modern Family with Gloria and Jay. Once again, no real timeline with this, just made up scenarios. I struggled with the next bit of this so I asked you how you wanted it and you chose 2 parts, here's the 1st. Enjoy :)

Warnings: pregnancy, kids, step parents, injury mention - reader is female

Summary: You thought you were just feeling car sick, turns out it's something else...

gif by @hishairmyweakness - gif by @delstroyer

You were dropping your daughter off at Dele's for a long weekend since he didn't have a match or training to attend. After she had squeezed the biggest hug out of her dad and trudged dirt in his hallway, she perched on the sofa with her ipad and juicebox, leaving you and Dele to catch up.

Dele had been showing you how he redecorated his kitchen so you accepted a drink and decided to stay a little while. Plus you figured the news you had for him should rather be said in person than over the phone.

"Hey, Del, I have something to tell you." You said nervously, leaning your hands on the kitchen island. He turned around and took a sip of the drink he just poured as he walked closer to the other side of the island opposite you. "Go ahead." He replied, his eyebrows knitted in concern at your worried tone. 

"Well, remember when we stopped by last Friday since you were playing on her birthday?" you recollected and he nodded along. "And I had one of those herbal teas and a tablet because I was feeling car sick?" "Yeah..." he trailed off quietly, putting his drink on the counter between you. "Turns out I wasn't car sick," he frowned in confusion and looked even more lost than he did a moment ago. 

You fiddled your fingers together and took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You knew you could trust Dele with absolutely anything. You'd been close since you were teenagers, grew closer when you started dating and left nothing in the way when you had a baby. Being so young when it happened meant a lot of things turned against you, a lot of people with a lot of opinions trying to dictate your lives and yet you stuck it through. You haven't been together romantically for a while, however your relationship with him never faultered, your connection of trust staying strong.

But it didn't make this any easier to say. It wasn't hard to see when Dele got hit by moments of gloom at the sight of the mini family you were creating with Dominic. While your split years ago was amicable, and neither of you would rekindle that flame again, more than happy with your close friendship, Dele couldn't stop that jealous bubble rising in him when he saw your daughter enjoy spending time with Dom as much as she does with him. Blame his stubbornness but facing change wasn't his strongest suit. This news was going to be a big step away from that picturesque life you both once envisioned together and you desperately didn't want it to drive a wedge between you nor push Dele away. You had settled into a good rhythmic system with him that suited your daughter and your schedules, you'd hate to tarnish that in any way.

So, yes, you hesitated to tell him.

You sighed and picked at your nails, needing to just get it out before it drove you crazy.

"I'm pregnant." 

Dele's eyes went wide and his mouth opened a little from shock, the frown lines that creased his forehead disappearing. His breath was taken away. Nothing prepared him to hear those words come from your mouth and know that he wasn't involved. It was bound to happen but it still took him by surprise.

He tilted his head as he looked at you, nervously twiddling your thumbs like you always did, and it only took a few seconds for a smile to slowly grow on his face. "That," he cleared his throat and met your eyes with sincerity, "that's great. Congratulations." 

He scuffed his socked feet along the floor as he walked round the counter to wrap you in a warm hug. He squeezed your shoulder and gave your cheek a quick kiss when he pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. No, he wasn't involved this time, but he knew how amazing it was to experience pregnancy and he was certain Dominic would take to it greatly.

"What did Dom say?" He asked, leaning over to grab his glass and take another drink. Your breath caught in your throat and that made Dele side-eye you mid sip. "You haven't told him, have you?" He questioned gently, and you shook your head.

Now it was his turn to sigh. 

The glass clinked loudly in the quiet room when he put it back down, and he had a ton of questions he could have asked you and a ton of things he could have told you to do that he thought was right, but it wasn't his place. Not anymore. So he took a moment to think whilst you rubbed your hands down your front to straighten out your t-shirt again. 

"Are you going to?" You tutted and looked back up at him incredulously. "Of course I am Del, think it'll be pretty hard to miss when I'll be bursting through my clothes!" You joked and he held his hands up in defence as he chuckled, realising it was a stupid question.

"Are you nervous, then?" He tried again, this time opting for something more reasonable. "More nervous than when I told you for the first time." You admitted. Dele whistled lowly and shook his head with a laugh. 

The state you were in a bit under 7 years ago now when you told him you were going to have his child, it was something else. He still insists he hasn't seen someone so frantic, before or since. He could only imagine what was coming Dominic's way.

---

There were plenty of reasons for you to believe Dom would be happy to be a dad. He adored his young brother and truly enjoyed spending time with him when he was back home. He was thoughtful and attentive with all the people he knew so you know he'd be the same, multiplied by a million, when it came to a child that depended on him.

But the way he cared for your daughter above anyone else proved to you, without a doubt, how good he would be. Dom wasn't her biological father, but that never once stopped him loving her the way she deserved. Dom made sacrifices when he needed to and even when he didn't. He'd stay awake if she couldn't sleep, he'd ask to see her on facetime when he was travelling and he always asked her about school, he even did the afternoon pick up with you when he got the chance. If Dom would be such an amazing figure in the life of a little girl he had no obligation to be a part of, just imagine what he'd be like with his own child.

You wouldn't question his want or excitement to have kids with you at any time, having spoken about it before. 

Any time except now.

Dom hadn't been himself the last week, and justifiably so. He picked up a knee injury in the Merseyside derby last Saturday that resulted in him hopelessly limping off the pitch with the physio under his arm to hold him up. A torn ACL was the conclusion after a couple hours in the hospital. While an injury was never welcome, a minimum six months out was tough to take. But with the upcoming England tournament he'd been called up for that he will now have to miss, alongside the rest of the Premier League season, it shattered him. His club and his country had important matches this year and it killed him to not be able to help secure some much needed wins for them.

Most of Sunday was spent doting on him, helping him relax and alleviating both his physical and mental pain, offering comfort through his favourite meals and hours of cuddles, something your daughter happily assisted with. 

However, by the time Monday rolled around, his rest was stifled by your daughter's birthday party.

Despite how often you'd sat him back down, Dom wasn't used to sitting all day and had helped you decorate the house whilst your girl was at school. The balloons were littered in the front room, the buffet snacks laid out on the dining table, and the banners Dom had pinned on the ceiling blew from the gentle breeze coming in through the back door. 

So by the time you pulled into the drive with a car full of young girls eager for sugar, Dom was working on half a bar of energy already. Yet he played along with the party activities and managed to dance, or more shuffle, to some Disney songs on his crutches inbetween sneaking mini sausage rolls and chocolate biscuits. 

You could see him getting more tired as each kid left, but "she only turns 6 once, right?", so he persisted on keeping the party lively until your daughter was knocked out in bed, out of her party dress but still wearing the new bracelet she got from Grandma. 

You trailed behind Dom with two cups of tea as he hobbled toward the sofa, barely managing to keep himself up despite it only being 9pm. He dropped heavily on the cushions in the corner and let his crutches fall on the carpet, not caring where they landed as long as they stayed within reach. The sigh that left him could have knocked down a tree. 

Before you got comfortable, you put his mug on the table and put a random sitcom on the TV. Dom's eyes were closed and his legs were stretched out as best as they could be, his injured knee up on the couch in front of him with a cushion underneath and an ice pack held on top.

"I'm telling you, I feel way too old for this." He muttered just loud enough to hear. "You're only 24." You chuckled a little into your tea at his complaint.

"Yeah," he rolled his head your way, hair falling on his face, "but running after her makes me feel 70, she knocks me out," he spoke quietly but with the last tints of energy in his tone, "and with this peg leg too you gotta change that to 80."

You smiled at him sympathetically and loosely linked your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand as let his eyes close again.

He was joking, it was obvious. But a niggling part of your brain told you that he wasn't just being dramatic. 

Admittedly it was a tiring evening with your daughter's friends running around, but with the lack of energy left in Dom, how could a baby be added to that scenario and it not be an issue? Maybe it was the wrong time. Maybe, no definitely, getting pregnant when Dom wasn't shrouded by an injury, when he didn't have frustration on top of frustration on his shoulders, when there wasn't a hyperactive 6 year old that needed attention too - that would definitely be a better time to have a baby. But that wasn't what life had handed you. Life was a little more complicated in its ways than to give you an easy run, you knew that well enough by now. 

What concerned you most was how Dom would handle it. Whilst he had picked up parenting duties well over the past couple years, he hadn't been there when your daughter was a baby, nor had he seen how tough it was on you at the time. The thought of raising another was scaring you, so it would surely terrify Dom, doing it for the first time. 

Even before the time came to hold them in your arms, being pregnant was no easy deal. So how could he possibly handle the stress of an upcoming baby, the stress of having to look after 2 kids in the future, the stress of a cranky pregnant girlfriend, the stress of prepping the house and himself, all whilst he's hobbling on crutches and having to watch his teammates from the sidelines too? 

You sipped your tea and let the TV fill the room as your brain ran overdrive with questioning thoughts, sitting silent next to your boyfriend who's head seemed full of only the sleep he was dreaming of, oblivious to the changes that were coming his way.

[softyoongiionly]

BlackHeart Bakery

Who says Halloween can’t be romantic?

Pairing: Emo! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: fluff

A/N: HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE. I love you, I hope you like it. I’m sorry it isn’t longer but, I still can’t wait for you to read it.

-you never imagined that the quirky lil bakery down the street from your university would change your life  

-But it did

-“Omg shut up, you’re so dumb.”

-“Rawr xD”

-“Did you just say rawr xD out loud??? That totally defeats the purpose of its existence...”

-“Don’t cite the deep magic to me witch, I was there when it was written.”

-“And now you’re quoting the chronicles of narnia- alright just go back to sleep you big dummy...”

-“Mmm but you married a big dummy so what does that say about you”

-“Jungkook don't spoil it oh my god!”

-“Like they don’t know what’s coming already- spoiler alert losers! I get the girl.”

-“I hate you...”

-“Mm yeah- I love it when you talk dirty to me baby. The last time you said that- we ended up fuc-“

-“Ok! That’s enough! Our story begins...”

-Jungkook’s bakery was quite famous around your city

-If people didn’t come for the gaudy Halloween decorations  

-They came for the music  

-Exclusively pop punk, if you’re wondering

-It was like 2009 everyday  

-Which was comforting, considering the world has gotten a little

-Tricky

-Since then

-But anyways

-If they didn’t come for the music or the decorations

-They came for the AMAZING espresso  

-And the spooky themed treats

-But if you’re being honest

-You think the main thing that keeps them coming back

-Is Jungkook  

-If his sweeping black hair didn’t get you

-Or the adorable cheeky twinkle in his eyes

-It was the tattoos and the piercings  

-He looked like he walked right off of a black veil brides music video set  

-He was hot

-This was obvious

-But he didn’t seem to think so

-You had come to the conclusion that he was oblivious  

-he shoved his feet into his big black doc martens every morning  

-Slipped on his beaded bracelets and studded chokers

-Pulled his fall out boy t-shirt over his

-Massive

-Tattooed

-Biceps

-And just thought hm

-I’m pretty average I guess (lol)

-That’s a direct quote from him btw

-Men truly are hopeless

-Jungkook opened the bakery two years ago

-He had mentioned to you that he had saved up money from his 3 part time jobs to put a down payment on the building  

-Which was wedged between a sex shop

-And a thrift store

-And honestly his bakery

-Blackheart Bakery, if you’re being specific  

-Fits right in

-Jungkook refuses to hire new staff

-“They won’t do it right.” He whined to you one day

-“One time I tried to hire this guy and he put the sugared googly eyes on the cookie skeletons ALL WRONG”

-“How do you put googly eyes on wrong?” You had giggled

-“you just do- i- See? This is exactly why I can’t hire anyone...”

-You had started chewing on the end of your pencil in the midst of your laughter

-It was an unconscious habit

-And it makes Jungkook shift uncomfortably, his hands moving off of the top of your table

-“Don’t do that...” he had muttered, smirking to himself as he walked back behind the counter  

-he did that a lot

-He’d mutter something  

-Mildly flirtatious under his breath and then  

-Just walk away

-It was quite confusing

-But honestly you had a feeling he was just a filrty person  

-You certainly weren’t the only girl he smirked at

-Not that you pay attention

-Ok  

-Maybe you do  

-Kinda  

-Pay attention  

-but it’s not your fault!!!!  

-You just  

-Can’t help but feel a little jealous

-You kiiiiiinda have a little thing for him

-Ok

-Maybe it’s a big thing  

-Maybe it’s a massive

-Gigantic

-Towering  

-Crush  

-But look at him!!!

-You simply couldn’t be blamed

-It was his fault  

-Yep

-That’s what you’re going with

-It was Jungkook

-And his tight t shirts

-His ripped jeans

-His dangly earrings

-His tattoos

-His big

-Stupid boots

-Ugh ok

-Focus  

-You have work to do

-The whole reason you began coming to Jungkook's cafe was so you -could find a consistent place to study for your exams

-You were in school to become a teacher :)  

-And teachers have to study very very hard  

-Educating the youth is no easy feat  

-Jungkook had asked what you were studying during the first week you arrived at his spooky house of baked goods

-“Oh I’m an education major”

-“Ahh so you’re getting an education about...education.” He concludes

-“I love it.”

-“So meta.”

-“Are they educating you on the disparities between impoverished children and wealthier children?”

-His wide eyes were brimming with genuine curiosity  

-You kind of got a kick out of how candid he was about such heavy conversation topics

-“Not as much as they should be but, I’m actually writing a paper on a similar topic right now...”

-This caused a brilliant grin to come over his face

-It was almost blinding really

-And it made your heartbeat all wonky  

-“Of course you are. You look smart like that...”

-He had backed away from your table then, seemingly satisfied

-Had you passed the vibe check?

-“I’ll leave you to your paper.” He nodded to your laptop but as he walked away, he pivoted back towards you on and the heel of his combat boot, “welcome to Blackheart Bakery by the way, let me know if I can get you anything.”

-Another brilliant smile is sent your way  

-“Thank you.” You had smiled back, sending a tiny wave his way

-Which in turn, made HIS heartbeat all wonky  

-You’re cute

-Like really cute

-And despite how often it may seem like his eyes are elsewhere

-They are ALWAYS on you

-Every chance he gets he is glancing your way

-Smirking to himself at how endearing you are

-Brow furrowed

-Lips pouted in concentration  

-Completely oblivious to his gaze

-He has to remind himself to look away  

-He doesn’t want to be a creep

-“Creepy men deserved to get kicked in the teeth...”

-He’s said this to you before when another patron had made you uncomfortable

-Jungkook kicked him out immediately  

-“If you don’t leave, I’ll have no choice but to kick you in the teeth. One, because I can’t compromise my personal philosophy and two because you’re making my favorite customer uncomfortable.”

-Oh look there goes your heartbeat again

-WONKY

-The guy leaves in an angry rush, flipping Jungkook off in the process

-Saying something about leaving a bad Yelp review  

-He doesn’t care tho

-He definitely doesn’t want to be a creep

-You’re just so  

-Pretty

-Ugh

-He rolls his eyes at himself behind the espresso bar

-The latte in front of him neglected  

-In need of a bit of foam

-“Focus Jeon, she’s just a chick...”

No wait

-“She’s just a woman. A woman who I respect, like I respect all women...”

-He’s been watching a lot of feminist theory on YouTube

-He likes staying educated  

-And also fuck the patriarchy

-The man waiting for his drink has arched a brow at this point, wondering if his barista has lost his mind

-“Uhhh medium...” he checks the cup for his awful hand writing, “ghostly toasted marshmallow latte!”

-“Thanks.” The guy mutters, throwing a judging look Jungkook's way  

-He gives him a lazy salute as the guy struts away with a briefcase in tow

-“Thaaanks.” Jungkook mocks him, his face scrunching up in annoyance  

-Stupid man

-With his stupid briefcase  

-As Jungkook is pulling out a batch of cream cheese frosting stuffed pumpkin muffins  

-Or as Jungkook calls them

-PUNK-in Muffins

-Movement at the counter catches his eye

-is that

-”oh shit...” He grunts, hastily wiping his hands on his apron and rushing over to the counter

-normally he would meander

-stroll

-or even slump to greet any new guests at this hour

-and by this hour

-he means 45 minutes before closing

-Jungkook’s bakery is open til midnight on weeknights

-9pm on Sundays

-and 3am on Saturdays (for the culture of course, gotta keep it spooky)

-tonight happens to be a Friday night and the person awaiting his assistance is

-you

-”You’re still here?” He gawks, the black polish on his nails glimmering as he punches in a few keys on the register

-You offer him a tired and slightly amused smile, “No. Y/N died around 4:30, you’re speaking to her ghost. Please leave your message after the tone.”

-Jungkook cracks a smile, his palms resting on flat on the counter, “Do ghosts check their voicemails?”

-“Oh of course not but, I will be checking yours because you have access to caffeine.”

-Jungkook laughs

-no...he giggles  

-and it’s fucking cute

-but you digress

-“I feel like I should cut you off...this is your 4th latte; I’m pretty sure you’re 80% caffeine at this point...”

-“Noooo, don’t do that.” You whine slumping against the counter, “I just need to finish this one page...”

-He quirks a brow as he scribbles something on your cup, unimpressed with your statement, “You said that three hours ago. I’ll make you another one but I’m not putting an extra shot in.”

-Your face turns up in protest but he click his tongue against his teeth , shaking a manicured finger at you

-“Ah ah- nope. I don’t want to hear it. You either take that or I’m making you a hot chocolate and shutting the buildings power off.”

-With a dramatic sigh, you concede

-“Ugh fine. Here-” You go to hand him your debit card but he shakes his head

-“Put that away.”

-You want to protest but given the fact that he’s made the rules thus far during this interaction, you doubt you’d be able to stop him.

-A smile appears on your face then, appreciative of his generosity

-“Thank you.”

-He merely grins, waving you off before rolling up the sleeves of his black Blink 182 shirt

-as soon as his tattoos are out

-all the moisture leaves your mouth

-you try your hardest not to stare at him

-expertly, he eases the espresso shots into the milk, tongue poking between his lips in concentration

-and you

-being sleep-deprived

-and a little loopy

-decide to  

-flirt????????

-if you could even call it that

-which you could but you shouldn’t

-“For the record, when I finally dig my way out of this of mountain of death I’m stuck in, I will definitely take you up on that hot chocolate...”

-Jungkook’s brow quirks at the tone of your voice, his hands suddenly itching with nerves

-was that

-was that flirty?

-should he flirt back?

-“My hot chocolate is legendary. You won’t be disappointed.” His lips display a small grin as he places the lid atop your finished latte, “Also mountain of death is a great name and I WILL be stealing it.”

-You giggle

-again

-“and I WILL be suing you for copyright.”

-He laughs now, wiping up the bit of milk he spilled

-the sinewy muscles in his forearm tensing and untensing

“Good luck getting me to show up to court.”

-and that’s kinda how it was between you and Jungkook

-for like six months

-it was a little bit flirty but never anything to push either over you over the edge.

-and speaking of being on edge

-recently, you had gone from vacationing in your timeshare on the edge

-to signing a 35 year mortgage contract  

-4 bedrooms

-2.5 bathrooms

-of pure

-unrelenting

-stress

-you could feel it in the middle of your back

-shoving itself up between your shoulder blades

-your body seemed to ache with it

-the worst part being

-it was Halloween

-You should be out with your friends, having fun

-wearing itchy costumes and drinking sugary drinks

-but instead, your headed towards the bakery to work

-Jungkook was behind the counter, smiling happily at a family dressed like the cast of scooby doo

-from what you could see he was wearing a skeleton onesie

-his jet black hair tousled perfectly above his head

-he looked adorable

-(and hot)

-He notices you instantly, his face turning up in surprise

-you offer up a small wave and head over to your table

-you know he’s going to say something about you being there but

-you don’t really have much of a choice

-this work has to be done

-it takes him a second to spot you but when he does

-he seems to perk up

-his smile brightening as he looks back towards his customer

-as you’re setting everything up, you feel a presence (not the spooky kind) at the end of your table

-it’s Jungkook and he has your regular order in one hand, along with something wrapped in skeleton-patterned parchment paper

-“I know, I know.” You acknowledge before he’s even able to chide you for being here

-He smirks “What are you doing studying on the holiest day of the year??”

-You giggle

-“The holiest day of the year huh?”

-“Of course. Halloween is the one night a year that the homies can dress like total -sluts and no one can say anything about it.”

-This makes you giggle again

-“And you went with slutty skeleton huh? I love it- it’s like as naked as you can possibly get.”

-He chuckles, gesturing to his costume

-His floppy black hair getting in his face

-“Damn right baby.”

-The way he grins tells you the pet name is a joke

-But the deepening of his voice gets to you anyway

-“Thank you for this. I promise I’ll get out of your hair early tonight.”

-“The only thing I’m worried about getting out of my hair is this white spray paint. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

-He’s put a streak of white spray paint in his raven locks

-Why? You’re not certain

-Does it look good on him, like everything else does?

-Absolutely

-Its been a few hours since your night of studying began

-Jungkook’s dropped off two free lattes since you’ve arrived  

-As well as a slice of his ‘I write cinnamon not tragedies’ bread

-Which was equally hilarious and delicious

-You caught him glancing over at your table a few times but you didn’t think anything of it

-He’s probably just checking to make sure that no one needs your table

-His bakery is packed most nights but Halloween is a special night at Blackheart Bakery

-He has a trick or treat counter set up with free (homemade) candy

-A photo op complete with a fake haunted house backdrop

-A Halloween playlist

-And a bunch of discounts on his signature lattes and food

-you watch him amongst the chaos

-He is completely unfazed

-He seems elated at the amount of customers he has

-he grins and laughs at something a man dressed like Thor says at his counter

-he seems entirely in his element

-you realize that the denial tactics you’ve been trying out haven’t been working

-because this floppy haired, tattooed, slutty skeleton/baker kind of has a hold on your heart

-you’ve been friends for a long time now

-he always makes sure you’re taken care of

-he always asks if you’re ok

-he always gives you this little grin

-it feels like a secret sometimes

-but maybe it’s been his way of letting you know where he stands

-he’s been bringing you lattes and pastries for months now

-he never charges you full-price

-he always reminds you not to work too hard

-he

-fuck

-he likes you doesn’t he?

-you look back over at the counter to see him bending over and handing a skeleton cookie to a little girl dressed like Captain Marvel

-he laughs at something she says

-his eyes focused entirely on her and whatever she seems to be proclaiming to him  

-your heart goes wonky again

-alright

-enough is enough

-you’re doing this  

-Jungkook’s done so much of the work thus far

-it’s time for you to seal the deal

-and if he rejects you, well…

-you can just crawl into a hole and never come out again

-easy peasy

-You can feel his eyes on you as you get up to take your place in line

-luckily there isn’t anyone else behind you

-rejection with an audience would certainly be worse

-Jungkook has his witty comment ready for you as you approach the register

-“I know for a fact you haven’t finished your third latte and I’m not making you another one until-“

-“I’m not here for another latte.” You laugh, trying to ignore the thrashing of your heartbeat

-“No? Well, are you finally going to try my Welcome to the Blackened Chicken Parade Burger then? I’ve been asking you for like three weeks…”

-god he’s fucking cute

-“I’m here to ask you out.”

-Jungkook swears he feels his heart stop

-“You’re here to…”

-He repeats the first part of your response as his he didn’t hear you

-his black fingernails anxiously tapping against the countertop

-“I’m here to ask you out- on a date.”

-Jungkooks face seems to go through various stages of confusion before a shy smirk presents itself on his pretty mouth

-“Me? You’re asking me-“ He places a hand on his chest, “-out on a date?”

-“Yes!” You laugh, slapping the counter a bit too hard, your nerves getting the best of you, “Are you down?”

-He shakes his head but his answer contradicts his movements

-“So down, beyond down. There is no one on Earth who is more DOWN than I am. Yes. My answer is yes. 50000% yes.”

-you can’t help the smile on your lips

-“great. So are you free next Friday then?”

-He grins with his teeth this time, nodding emphatically  

-“Consider the shop closed.”

-and so it was

-you returned to your table moments later  

-feeling on top of the world

-you did it

-you asked Jungkook out

-and he said yes

-and now you

-NOW YOU HAVE A DATE WITH JUNGKOOK

-LOOK AT YOU GO

-TAKING CHARGE

-you try your best to engage with your studies but with Jungkook on your mind

-its really hard

-roughly two hours later, things at the bakery have finally started to slow down

-“Hey uh- Y/N?”

-Jungkook's voice that pulls you out of your studying trance

-he’s standing at the entrance of his back room, waving you over with his hand

-and who are you to deny him?

-you make your way over there, annoyed at the instant increase in your heartrate

-he stands awkwardly to the side and gestures to the boxes on the metal rack

-“I just remembered that I’ve never given you a tour of the place. I give all my regulars a tour of the stockroom and my office and uh-”

-he cuts himself off and clumsily cups your cheek

-he pulls you into a kiss

-a really good kiss

-his lips are so warm

-he smells like cinnamon

-you could literally die happy

-The ridiculous nature of his first attempt to kiss you, makes you giggle into his mouth

-you feel him smile, his hands smushing your cheeks together as he pulls away

-“Ok I lied. There is no tour. I’ve just been watching you focus on your computer for the last two hours and you’re just really fucking cute and-”

-this time, it’s you who cuts him off

-“You better give me an actual tour next time. How else am I going to steal your secret recipes?”

-he scoffs in mock offense

-“Ah ha! So that’s the only reason you asked me out huh? Should I be calling you Plankton instead of Y/N? Ew no wait- that would make me Mr. Krabs and he’s a dirty capitalist...”

-You laugh, “Oooh good point. Guess you’ll just have to be Karen, my computer wife.”

-This makes him laugh now and the sound warms your soul

-“I could live with that- I like your last name better anyways.”

-with another kiss, your adventure with the emo baker of your dreams begins

-It may have been Halloween but it sure felt like Christmas to you

[g0ldengubler]

chapter one~one wild night

(*gif made by recsbylotte*)

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter is so long, but I had to get everything down, I was having too much fun with this concept. Also, please give a listen to the song Nauseous here so you get the full idea of where this story will go and if you like the song, check out Zubin's other songs as well! Highly suggest the song "Backseat" which also has Fantasy Camp! Ok, enjoy :)

Category: Smut

CW: light-ish smut, fingering, alcohol, weed (please smoke responsibly!)

Word Count: 3985

before you read | next chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Great job everyone!" said Aaron Hotchner to his team.

Everyone in the BAU team gave a small round of applause on their jet, but yours was a bit louder than the rest. This was your first case and you worked so hard to solve it with the team to prove that you deserve to be with them. You wanted this job since you were a little girl. Jason Gideon was holding a class on the basics of profiling with his partner, David Rossi, and you and your dad went because you both loved watching 80's crime and law shows like "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock", and from the way your eyes would be glued to the tv, he knew that you wanted to be someone like Jessica Fletcher and her friends at Cabot Cove.

At one point, Gideon asked a question and you answered it right away, which took both of them back a bit, including your dad and everyone else in the room. A ten year old girl, understanding what was being said and not getting scared of the pictures that were shown. You were sure some of them thought of you crazy, but your dad was proud.

After the class, THE Jason Gideon and THE David Rossi came up to the two of you to talk. You were totally fangirling a bit because the two people you looked up to wanted to say how shocked but also kind of happy that someone so young was fascinated with this subject. Rossi told you several years later when you went to one of his book signings, that once you were old enough to give him a call and he'd set some things up to get you into the academy, and that's exactly what happened when you turned 21.

Because of your love of solving crime, you worked hard in school. So much so you were one of the top students. College was no different, and Rossi seemed to notice. He kept tabs on you from time to time to see how you were doing after you emailed him about doing well in high school and your first year of college. During your second year, Rossi asked if you could come to the BAU and talk with him and his coworker, Aaron, who was the team leader. They both agreed that you were incredible in your studies and saw a lot of potential in you. Your dream was starting to come true after accepting their invitation to the academy, and you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

Now you were 25, and Hotch had officially welcomed you to the team. As the ride back continued, you remembered how your first day went, even though it was only a few days ago. You met the team, and right away, you befriended the only one closer to your age, Dr.Spencer Reid. You remembered seeing his long hair and cardigan kind of melting together as he sat down at the round table and gave you a small wave. You didn't have many friends growing up, but he reminded you of your only friend back home, but that almost brought you to tears straight away, making you snap out of your daydreams.

You get up to have a glass of water. As your pouring, someone scares you from behind.

"Hey, Y/N!" A man's voice said.

You jumped which made you spill some water all over the place. "Spencer!"

"I am so sorry!" He chuckles as you both grabbed some paper towel to clean the counter, laughing at the incident.

You both go back to your seats, which were right next to each other on the couch. After meeting Spencer on your first day, Rossi told you that you two would get along perfectly. And you did. It made you feel comfortable right away and you pulling a...well, you, you were stuck to him like glue as a safety net. You used to think it was something every newbie did on their first day; try to find someone who you click with and stick with them until you got the ropes. Apparently, that was something people found annoying, and had you fired the first two jobs you got. With Spencer, however, he didn't mind it, which made you feel unsure but happy at the same time.

You and Spencer talked about the similarities you had and laughed at all the nerdy jokes you were making. At one point, another member of the team, Derek Morgan, had to throw a pillow at Spencer because he was laughing so loud and he was trying to sleep, which made even Hotch (who you guessed never even cracked a smile before) laugh a little bit.

"Boys, behave," Jj joked, not even looking up, "Or daddy's going to send you to your rooms when we get home."

"Ok, pLEASE don't say "daddy" ever again unless your at home." said Emily Prentiss, which made everyone laugh even harder.

You could tell that this team was more than just coworkers getting the job done, they were a family. And YOU were invited into this family. This was a feeling you always wanted: friends acting like a family.

30 Minutes Later

Finally you were back at the BAU. The case was stressful, and the flight back kinda made you tired, but your excitement and happiness were taking over rapidly. You usually fought those feelings because you felt emotions differently than others, and it always annoyed the people around you. Tonight was different, so you cut yourself some slack for once.

As you head back to your desks, Hotch spoke. "You guys deserve a break after that case. The heads of the BAU are giving us one month off. Get some rest and enjoy your vacation. Garcia invited us all to her place to celebrate but sadly Rossi and I are going to have to pass tonight. Jack has a big game tomorrow and I don't think the parents would be too pleased if their kid's coaches were hungover."

On cue, Penelope Garcia runs in with her bags. "Oh we're gonna have fun-to-night!"

"What exactly are we doing?" asked Emily.

"It's a surprise silly, but yes there will be alcohol of course." She then turns to you, walking up to go to elevator arm in arm.

"Y/N," she says, rambling to you how the team usually celebrates and what the plan was as you make your way to the elevator, "ok usually we'd go to our favorite restaurant or club or go to rossi's when we can but tonight I really want to celebrate the success on your first case!"

"Aww, Garcia!" you said as Morgan pressed the button, "Your so sweet. Thank you guys, seriously."

"Trust me, Y/N, this night is going to be one of the best nights ever!"

At Garcia’s Morgan sets the alcohol on the counter as everyone settles in. You sit on the couch with Spencer and Emily, getting a good look of Garcia's apartment. Purple walls with shiny (plastic) jewl's, cat toys filled most of the corners. Just as you saw the toys, a black cat jumps onto your lap making you jump a little.

"Aww, Sergio!" said Emily, "Thank you again Garcia for watching him for me while I go on cases."

"Are you kidding me? He's become a lovely roommate at the Garcia Gardens!" says Garcia as she brings over some bottles and glasses. She sets them down and begins to pour the Vodka shots.

"Garcia 'Gardens"? Jj asked.

"They both have G's, I don't know it seemed to work." They both laugh.

Morgan helps Garcia pass out the shots, getting ready for a toast. Everyone stands up, holding theirs shots a few inches away from their face.

"I would like to make a toast," said Garcia, "not just for the success of this case and because we have a month off, but to Y/N. She has done wonders this week, and I am so happy and grateful that you are now apart of our little family. To Y/N!"

"To Y/N!" Everyone cheered as they clinked their shot glasses.

You thought you were about to cry. You've never felt this much love in a room ever.

Everyone took their shots and sat back down. You look over at Spencer and laugh at the face he makes.

"God, I usually don't drink Vodka but that was an experience." he says.

"Oh c'mon," you said, "already gonna pussy out?"

"Now those were fighting words, Pretty Boy!" Morgan chuckled.

"Is that a challenge?" Spencer asks.

"Ok, I'm taking the shot glasses away because I know Spencer can get competitive and I don't want you to get sick." Garcia grabs the glasses from everyone's hand and walks to the kitchen, everyone giving a little whine about it.

"So what was that surprise you had for us?" you ask Garcia.

She walks in her room to grab something and came back with it behind her back.

"Before I say anything," she began, "I'm not forcing anyone to do anything they don't want to do and if no one wants to it's not a big deal."

Garcia takes her hands from behind her back to show what looked like vape pens. "Nicotine?" Emily asked.

"Noooo nonono," said Garcia, "That stuff is not good for anyone. They're weed...pens..." Garcia got quiet. You could understand why she got nervous, who knew if this would happen or not.

"Baby girl," said Morgan, "You are the last person I'd think of for this."

"Her parents were hippies, Morgan!" says Emily.

"Good point." He said.

"But now the question is, how?" you said.

"Well yeah, my parents were hippies. Both of my parents did before they got pregnant with me, but my dad would smoke when I was a kid. He would always do it before bed so he could actually fall asleep. He had horrible insomnia which he gave to me. A couple of months back, I couldn't sleep for the life of me. Nothing was wrong either for it to happen, but nothing could get me to fall asleep or if it did I acted the next day like I got up on the wrong side of the bed. So, I went to a doctor and got my green card and I've had peaceful nights of rest since. I thought, since we don't have to go into work for awhile, why not have some fun for one night?"

Everyone looked at each other, unsure but also kind of wanting to.

"This wouldn't be a problem with work, right?" asked Jj.

"Oh god, no, if we only do it tonight it'd be out of our system by then." said Reid.

Everyone was shocked hearing that coming from his mouth. "What? I had to do a research paper on the study of cannabis use in college."

You wanted to be the first to agree, but then you worried that it would be a bad look on you, the newbie.

"I'll give it a shot," said Emily, "It's only for one night and we have a lot more time off than we usually get, why the hell not?"

Slowly, everyone else agreed, including Spencer, who no one in the room thought in a million years he would. Garcia passes out the pens to everyone and told them how to use it. She said if we liked it, we could keep them for only certain situations where you absolutely needed it.

We all start taking 3 hits, which was the amount she said to take first. She explained how one time she took too many hits at once and greened out really bad.

Garcia turns on some music and we all sit around, drinking the very special drinks she made for us. The girls had vodka cocktails while the guys had whiskey. After a few minutes, you can start feeling it. Your body begins to tingle and your eyes started feeling heavy.

"How ya feeling, kid?" Morgan asks after several minutes. Spencer just sat there, looking at the ice cubes in his drink.

"Honestly, I've never felt this before. I don't know what I feel but it's nothing bad."

You giggle at his answer. It wasn't funny, and you knew that. Maybe you were giggling because seeing Spencer high was adorable.

"Ope, we have a giggler!" said Emily, but your giggling made everyone else giggle with you.

"Boy genius, you are too adorable!" said Garcia, who was sitting on Morgan's lap, her head on his shoulder.

You take more hits as the night goes on. At one point you had to stop because you were really baked. You've smoked before, so you knew your limit. You look over at Spencer again, but this time he was really sinked in the couch, looking up at the ceiling. What could that big brain be thinking in that now empty skull?

You were about to ask him but Garcia got up and grabbed an empty vodka bottle. "Who wants to play truth or dare?"

Everyone said they were in, except for Jj, who was already passed out in her chair.

"Damn, gone already?" Spencer says.

"You owe me five bucks tomorrow, Y/N" said Morgan. Earlier, you bet Morgan that Jj would stay up because he said she wouldn't. She tried her hardest, but sadly Morgan won. You move your head to Spencer's lap. You felt very cuddly for some reason, and Spencer was right next to you. He flinched a little, but then after a minute he started playing with your hair.

Garcia puts the empty bottle on the table and spins it. It lands on Emily. "Truth." she says.

"Have you ever made out with a girl?" asked Garcia.

"Are you kidding? Of course I have," she got quiet then murmured, "And I loved it."

"I knew it!" said Garcia.

Emily spins and it lands on Morgan. "Dare."

"I dare you to give Garcia a kiss! No making out, just a peck on the lips."

It happened, their banter had finally caught up with them. Derek and Penelope go in for the peck and once so they blushed.

Spencer was still playing with his hair. You looked up at him and saw something in his eye. Not literally, but there was something going on in his head. His eyes sparkled underneath the apartment lights. His mind must've been running all over the place thinking of something trippy, or maybe he suddenly wasn't thinking at all, letting his mind wonder to thoughts he never thought of before. The bottle was rarely spun to either of you, so you decided to talk softly.

"What are you thinking about, Spence?" you ask.

"I'm thinking about everything and nothing at once," he said, "It's hard to explain, like I'm thinking of things I wouldn't normally. Or at least not on a daily basis."

"What is tha-"

"Y/N! Truth or Dare?" said Garcia

"Umm...dare." you slurred. Were you really that fucked up right now?

Garcia thought for a moment, then as she looked at the two of you, a light bulb lit up in her head. "I dare you to take Spencer to my room, shut the door, and make out for 10 minutes!"

"10?!"

"What, are we still in high school?" you ask sarcastically.

"Be glad I didn't suggest 7 minutes in heaven. Poor boy is just so innocent!"

"Can you even get up, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asks as you lift your head from his lap and start to get up.

Spencer takes another vodka shot and a few more hits of his pen before getting up. After gaining his balance back, you take his hand and walk him to the bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and goes to lay on the bed. Arms stretched out on either side of him, he went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking about now?" you asked.

He said nothing. You then lay next to him, doing exactly what he was doing. Garcia had put glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling. They looked brighter than they would've have been to you. Your blurry vision made your tingles more intense as the lights played with your eyes. It was almost really trippy, but you felt so good.

"I've never felt like this before and usually we put people away because of weed, but for some reason, I feel at peace with everything.

"I'm sure if you got your green card, Hotch would be more understanding towards it. If not, Penelope would've been kicked off the team."

He placed his hand softly on your thigh. Spencer, you thought to yourself, she didn't say it was 7 minutes in heaven.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you said, "We can just ramble about anything and tell them we did."

He then gets on top of you, holding your wrists down to the bed. "No, I want to. Unless you don't want to, but this is what I've been thinking about when I was playing with your hair."

You nod your head. You knew what he meant because you were thinking the exact same thing at that same time. When you met him, you didn't think of him in that way. But once everything kicked in that night, you felt yourself slipping into that 'what if'. You thought he was cute when he was giggling at you, and the way his fingers were in your hair, it was like you'd known each other for years.

Spencer's lips were quickly on yours. It felt like heaven, like he had done this before. You kiss him back, indulging in the sweet bliss. It was your time to return the favor, as you run your fingers through his hair. You were into guys with long hair, and Spencer seemed to fit the bill. But in no way were you catching feelings for him. He'll probably not remember this night at all, so why get your hopes up when he's doing this for the dare.

Suddenly, you felt his right grip let go of your wrist and slowly began to go down your body. It made you feel heat from the bottom of your stomach. You haven't felt like this in a long time, needing for someone's touch. You felt ready though, ready for that feeling again. The feeling of letting go and go forward in lust. He stopped, however, letting you know that he was asking if you wanted to continue without breaking away from your lips. You nod and a small quiet moan left your muffled lips, letting him know it was ok.

His hand continued to go down your body, feeling every curve he could. His fingers gently graced your tits and it sent shivers up your spine. Soon enough, you felt his fingers lightly rub the fabric that stood between him and your slit. His touch was so feather like you thought he was teasing you just to get you all worked up.

"I've hardly done anything to you and you're already so wet for me." He said through the kiss. You were shocked how his tone changed from sweet and innocent to dark and low. It kind of turned you on. Somehow, you went from being dared to just make out to what felt like was going into 7 minutes in heaven, except not in a closet.

He then continued to rub the fabric is circles as he broke the kiss. With the moon being your only source of light, you see the hunger in his eyes. He wants you and he wants you bad. He smiles as he moves the fabric over to the side and sticks his middle finger inside you, making you gasp at the entrance. His grin grew bigger as he really felt how wet you really were.

He sticks another finger in there and you let out a moan that you were trying to be soft about, but you were louder than you wanted to be. Spencer quickly covered your mouth with his hand, continuing to pleasure you. "Be quiet, angel," He whispered in your ear, "You don't want the others to know what we're doing, do you?" You shook your head. "Good girl, now tell me when you're close. I want you to cum all over my fingers."

You never thought of Spencer as the dominate type. He seemed so to himself and sweet. You thought he'd be more submissive. Maybe it was his cross faded brain talking, but this side of Spencer made you want more of him. You wanted so much more than his fingers. Your thoughts clouded you as you were reaching your climax.

"Spencer I'm close. I'm so close!" You quietly moaned.

"Hold it, angel. I want you to beg for me."

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "Please let me cum, PLEASE!" You begged.

"Cum for me, angel."

At that, you felt your whole body tense up and almost screamed at the pleasure, but knew to just whisper it and breathe heavily. He laughed with a bit of a growl, feeling you on all over his fingers. He was enjoying this, and you could tell by the tent in his pants. You wondered if you were going to help him out with that as your breathing began to go back to it's normal pattern. He gets off of you as the timer went off, and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting yourself.

"Ok lovebirds, time's up!" you heard Morgan say.

You sit up from the bed as Spencer sat next to you. "We'll be right out!" You said, "Holy shit, Spence. I didn't think you had this side to you."

"Everyone does," he said, "I know I pull off this small and meak kind of person, but they don't know what I think about when I'm at home. Even sometimes at work when I'm stressed on a case. I'll just give myself a breather and let my mind wonder. I even-"

He stopped himself in his tracks, taking back what he was originally going to say. He stood up, pulling you up with him. Your faces were then really close together. "Now, tonight I won't have you touch me. We'll save that for another day ok?" You nod again. "What are you going to do about 'that'?" Pointing to the tent.

"I'm gonna take care of it in the bathroom. Now, we don't tell anyone about this. Especially Garcia."

"Yeah, it'd be a bit weird if she found out that you fingered me on her bed."

"Well that, and the fact that she can't keep a secret to herself for the life of her."

"Good to know." you said.

You did as planned and walked out, going your different ways. You headed back to the living room and joined the rest of your coworkers. You sat there and took more hits and more shots, hoping to pass out. You couldn't help but want to let your thoughts wonder on its own.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Recommendation engines and "lean-back" media

In William Gibson’s 1992 novel “Idoru,” a media executive describes her company’s core audience:

“Best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It’s covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth…no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections.”

It’s an astonishingly great passage, not just for the image it evokes, but for how it captures the character of the speaker and her contempt for the people who made her fortune.

It’s also a beautiful distillation of the 1990s anxiety about TV’s role in a societal “dumbing down,” that had brewed for a long time, at least since the Nixon-JFK televised debates, whose outcome was widely attributed not to JFK’s ideas, but to Nixon’s terrible TV manner.

Neil Postman’s 1985 “Amusing Ourselves To Death” was a watershed here, comparing the soundbitey Reagan-Dukakis debates with the long, rhetorically complex Lincoln-Douglas debates of the previous century.

(Incidentally, when I finally experienced those debates for myself, courtesy of the 2009 BBC America audiobook, I was more surprised by Lincoln’s unequivocal, forceful repudiations of slavery abolition than by the rhetoric’s nuance)

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/01/20/lincoln-douglas-debate-audiobook-civics-history-and-rhetoric-lesson-in-16-hours/

“Media literacy” scholarship entered the spotlight, and its left flank — epitomized by Chomsky’s 1988 “Manufacturing Consent” — claimed that an increasingly oligarchic media industry was steering society, rather than reflecting it.

Thus, when the internet was demilitarized and the general public started trickling — and then rushing — to use it, there was a widespread hope that we might break free of the tyranny of concentrated, linear programming (in the sense of “what’s on,” and “what it does to you”).

Much of the excitement over Napster wasn’t about getting music for free — it was about the mix-tapification of all music, where your custom playlists would replace the linear album.

Likewise Tivo, whose ad-skipping was ultimately less important than the ability to watch the shows you liked, rather than the shows that were on.

Blogging, too: the promise was that a community of reader-writers could assemble a daily “newsfeed” that reflected their idiosyncratic interests across a variety of sources, surfacing ideas from other places and even other times.

The heady feeling of the time is hard to recall, honestly, but there was a thrill to getting up and reading the news that you chose, listening to a playlist you created, then watching a show you picked.

And while there were those who fretted about the “Daily Me” (what we later came to call the “filter bubble”) the truth was that this kind of active media creation/consumption ranged far more widely than the monopolistic media did.

The real “bubble” wasn’t choosing your own programming — it was everyone turning on their TV on Thursday nights to Friends, Seinfeld and The Simpsons.

The optimism of the era is best summarized in a taxonomy that grouped media into two categories: “lean back” (turn it on and passively consume it) and “lean forward” (steer your media consumption with a series of conscious decisions that explores a vast landscape).

Lean-forward media was intensely sociable: not just because of the distributed conversation that consisted of blog-reblog-reply, but also thanks to user reviews and fannish message-board analysis and recommendations.

I remember the thrill of being in a hotel room years after I’d left my hometown, using Napster to grab rare live recordings of a band I’d grown up seeing in clubs, and striking up a chat with the node’s proprietor that ranged fondly and widely over the shows we’d both seen.

But that sociability was markedly different from the “social” in social media. From the earliest days of Myspace and Facebook, it was clear that this was a sea-change, though it was hard to say exactly what was changing and how.

Around the time Rupert Murdoch bought Myspace, a close friend a blazing argument with a TV executive who insisted that the internet was just a passing fad: that the day would come when all these online kids grew up, got beaten down by work and just wanted to lean back.

To collapse on the sofa and consume media that someone else had programmed for them, anaesthetizing themselves with passive media that didn’t make them think too hard.

This guy was obviously wrong — the internet didn’t disappear — but he was also right about the resurgence of passive, linear media.

But this passive media wasn’t the “must-see TV” of the 80s and 90s.

Rather, it was the passivity of the recommendation algorithm, which created a per-user linear media feed, coupled with mechanisms like “endless scroll” and “autoplay,” that incinerated any trace of an active role for the “consumer” (a very apt term here).

It took me a long time to figure out exactly what I disliked about algorithmic recommendation/autoplay, but I knew I hated it. The reason my 2008 novel LITTLE BROTHER doesn’t have any social media? Wishful thinking. I was hoping it would all die in a fire.

Today, active media is viewed with suspicion, considered synonymous with Qanon-addled boomers who flee Facebook for Parler so they can stan their favorite insurrectionists in peace, freed from the tyranny of the dread shadowban.

But I’m still on team active media. I would rather people actively choose their media diets, in a truly sociable mode of consumption and production, than leaning back and getting fed whatever is served up by the feed.

Today on Wired, Duke public policy scholar Philip M Napoli writes about lean forward and lean back in the context of Trump’s catastrophic failure to launch an independent blog, “From the Desk of Donald J Trump.”

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-trumps-failed-blog-proves-he-was-just-howling-into-the-void/

In a nutshell, Trump started a blog which he grandiosely characterized as a replacement for the social media monopolists who’d kicked him off their platforms. Within a month, he shut it down.

While Trump claimed the shut-down was all part of the plan, it’s painfully obvious that the real reason was that no one was visiting his website.

Now, there are many possible, non-exclusive explanations for this.

For starters, it was a very bad social media website. It lacked even rudimentary social tools. The Washington Post called it “a primitive one-way loudspeaker,” noting its lack of per-post comments, a decades old commonplace.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2021/05/21/trump-online-traffic-plunge/

Trump paid (or more likely, stiffed) a grifter crony to build the site for him, and it shows: the “Like” buttons didn’t do anything, the video-sharing buttons created links to nowhere, etc. From the Desk… was cursed at birth.

But Napoli’s argument is that even if Trump had built a good blog, it would have failed. Trump has a highly motivated cult of tens of millions of people — people who deliberately risked death to follow him, some even ingesting fish-tank cleaner and bleach at his urging.

The fact that these cult-members were willing to risk their lives, but not endure poor web design, says a lot about the nature of the Trump cult, and its relationship to passive media.

The Trump cult is a “push media” cult, simultaneously completely committed to Trump but unwilling to do much to follow him.

That’s the common thread between Fox News (and its successors like OANN) and MAGA Facebook.

And it echoes the despairing testimony of the children of Fox cultists, that their boomer parents consume endless linear TV, turning on Fox from the moment they arise and leaving it on until they fall asleep in front of it (also, reportedly, how Trump spent his presidency).

Napoli says that Trump’s success on monopoly social media platforms and his failure as a blogger reveals the role that algorithmically derived, per-user, endless scroll linear media played in the ascendancy of his views.

It makes me think of that TV exec and his prediction of the internet’s imminent disappearance (which, come to think of it, is not so far off from my own wishful thinking about social media’s disappearance in Little Brother).

He was absolutely right that this century has left so many of us exhausted, wanting nothing more than the numbness of lean-back, linear feeds.

But up against that is another phenomenon: the resurgence of active political movements.

After a 12-month period that saw widescale civil unrest, from last summer’s BLM uprising to the bizarre storming of the capital, you can’t really call this the golden age of passivity.

While Fox and OANN consumption might be the passive daily round of one of Idoru’s “vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organisms craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed,” that is in no way true of Qanon.

Qanon is an active pastime, a form of collaborative storytelling with all the mechanics of the Alternate Reality Games that the lean-forward media advocates who came out of the blogging era love so fiercely:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/06/no-vitiated-air/#other-hon

Meanwhile, the “clicktivism” that progressive cynics decried as useless performance a decade ago has become an active contact sport, welding together global movements from Occupy to BLM that use the digital to organize the highly physical.

That’s the paradox of lean-forward and lean-back: sometimes, the things you learn while leaning back make you lean forward — in fact, they might just get you off the couch altogether.

I think that Napoli is onto something. The fact that Trump’s cultists didn’t follow him to his crummy blog tells us that Trump was an effect, not a cause (something many of us suspected all along, as he’s clearly neither bright nor competent enough to inspire a movement).

But the fact that “cyberspace keeps everting” (to paraphrase “Spook Country,” another William Gibson novel) tells us that passive media consumption isn’t a guarantee of passivity in the rest of your life (and sometimes, it’s a guarantee of the opposite).

And it clarifies the role that social media plays in our discourse — not so much a “radicalizer” as a means to corral likeminded people together without them having to do much. Within those groups are those who are poised for action, or who can be moved to it.

The ease with which these people find one another doesn’t produce a deterministic outcome. Sometimes, the feed satisfies your urge for change (“clicktivism”). Sometimes, it fuels it (“radicalizing”).

Notwithstanding smug media execs, the digital realm equips us to “express our mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire” by doing much more than “changing the channels on a universal remote” — for better and for worse.

Image: Ian Burt (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/oddsock/267206444

CC BY: https://creativecommo

ns.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[tenderlyrenjun]

The One with the Halloween Party

summary: your best friend has a halloween party but all you want to do is make out with your secret fuck buddy

↛ ↛ ↛ best friend’s younger brother!Yanyang x older reader

↛ ↛ female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, halloween party, sneaky relationship, secret make out sessions in a closet, inspired by Monica and Chandler from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (the one where phoebe hates pbs), the next part is going to be spicier (smut)

↛ word count: 7,6k; previously titled: “The One with the Best [Sex] I’ve Ever Had”

preview > part one > part two

It becomes exceedingly apparent that Ten never replaced the strike plate – the gold one, in the closet door by the front entrance of his apartment. He has been living here for two years and still has not replaced the locking mechanism. And you only really take notice because you feel it. The door opens way too easily. You are not even sure why you turn the handle, since the door opens so easily, so goddamn easily. Then, on top of that, the strike plate scratches your nose when you peek out the coatroom. You have to send prayers, begging for no one to hear you creak open the door or hear the squeak from your throat. And the spotlight effect theory, that Yangyang rambled on last week before his social psych midterm, comforts you somewhat, reminding you that all those cliché Halloween costumes in the living room are probably not attune to your indecency as you think they are. Maybe a quickie during Ten’s overcrowded Halloween party (although it was not this packed last year) was not the best decision. Especially, since your own cheerleading skirt, equally cliché, slips down your waist for the first time tonight, rather than riding up like it did minutes before. And you tiptoe back into the closet again, half-bent over to stop your outfit from completely falling off while pressing a hand to close the door as silently as possible. The thought of accidentally exposing yourself in front of all your friends is so embarrassing that your face heats up nearly enough to brighten the room, like a candle or 80s built house.

Right into Yangyang’s bare chest.

“Ow,” you mutter, palm protectively flying to your forehead. It did not hurt – bumping into him, but hopefully, covering some parts of your face understate the extent of this mortifying rendezvous. You take a baby step backward, then knock into the door and the tongue rattles, making you stiffen, making you freeze for a second. Yangyang puts his hands on your upper arms, rubbing them warm, as you look over your shoulder to verify that the door is still, in fact, closed. Both you and Yangyang are honestly incredibly lucky that no one caught you two, so when you confirm the locked door, your arms droop and you lull closer to Yangyang. Your eyes open after a second, and you jolt up again, realizing just how naked he is and how naked he is going to stay. You drag your nails down his pecs and ball your fingers into loose fists before completely breaking off him.

“Back up,” you whisper-shout, as if this command is part of some grand scheme.

Yangyang smirks, his smile curling wider. “I’m not the one touching someone’s rock hard abs.”

You want your glare to push him back, like your command, between all the jackets and superhero capes, but you get provoked by his cockiness. He was so much quieter and pliable when you first met. Now, you are the quiet, pliable one, or at least you are in this situation. Yet you bite at him – with your words, not your lips like his evil grin implies that he wants. “You wish.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Yangyang approaches you, gauging your reaction until his breath ghosts over yours. And not seeing any actual restraint, he kisses the corner of your mouth teasingly, like it could start another round. Then he lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “Or five minutes ago.” You wonder if he can feel your eye roll because he tries to change it from annoyed to turned on, sucking on the vein behind your ear.

And for that reason, you put a hand on his chest again, this time lower, on his stomach, specifically on his abs. His smirk broadens and his lips part again, aggravatingly making that clicking sound with his tongue, so you push on him. “Just –“ You pull your hand back to your face again, noticing the lack of change in warmth between his stomach and your face; maybe he is as embarrassed as you are, or turned on all over again. The latter is worse, probably, hopefully, not really. He looks really good and you just want to … You shake your head. “Wait a minute after I leave so this –“ You gesture between yourselves, touching his stomach again, then jerking away again. “- doesn’t look suspicious.”

Yangyang grabs your waist, sympathetically, although not entirely agreeing with your request. He tugs your bottoms over you ass and you expect him to retract immediately after, including the baby step that you asked for, but he only stops you from moving, keeping you locked in place – in place next to him. You roll your eyes again, unhooking his hands. Before you can completely detach, he interlocks your fingers and pushes you against the door, kissing you warmly.

Your head knocks into the door, loudly you think, and you stiffen again. Until his left hand travels behind your knee, up your thighs, and his lips open over yours, his tongue sliding next to yours. You stand on your toes, back curving into his embrace, off the extremely wiggly door, your arms hugging him closer as he pulls you up, pulls your clothes up. His right hand slides down your spine, thumbing at your waistband. This entire embrace is another persuasion, you note, and it usually works, like those mornings before AB Psych, but you two are in a closet, at a party, barely blocked by an unfastened doors that you are actually not sure is soundproof. So, you come down onto your heels and bring your hands to his chest again.

“Mmm mmm.” You shake your head off him. He trails you forward but you end the embrace, tightening your hands over the lapels, to close it, to close off his dumb attractive abs this time. “We have to get back.”

Yangyang pokes your personal bubble again, sliding his chest onto yours, and your arms stretch behind his neck, the closeness giving you some pressure on your boobs. He looks at you for a second, pupils scanning your eyes before he bends his neck on your, opening his mouth during an open mouth kiss.

“We’ve only been gone for a minute,” he seduces you, simultaneously sliding his tongue between your lips to prod at yours.

You slide your hands onto his face, comfortably holding his jaw in place as you look into his eyes, reinforcing your reasoning. “Try twenty.” You sigh, letting go of him. “I feel like such a bad guest. I haven’t even greeted the host yet.”

“Ten will be fine,” Yangyang reassures you, pushing past your fingertips to kiss you again. “Meanwhile –“ He kisses you deeply and you exhale, basically melting all over again. If he did not support you, you might have fallen onto the ground. God, he has some effect on you, and you cannot entirely describe it. “- I am not fine. You could greet me a little more enthusiastically.”

“I’m pretty sure you finished being so enthusiastic, a minute ago,” you scold. You square your hands over his shoulders and gently lean him off you, successfully separating him in the process, then reach for the doorknob. “We’re playing a risky game here, with the door unlocked.”

Yangyang slants forward, fusing you with the door. Your arm bends behind you, at your side, as he envelopes you, so he relaxes you again, taking down your elbow. You look at him with wide, pouting eyes, like that iPhone emoji. He can keep persuading you, effectively, and you will stay with him, but …

“Mmm mm,” you protest, pulling away. You hit your head on the door, hoping that it was not loud enough for someone to hear. “We – I really have to get going.”

Yangyang sighs, ceding, “Alright, fine.”

He beckons you out, looking away, flicking his wrist. And you wonder if he is actually complying. You look from him to the door, stuttering back to him. This would be the time for him to persuade you into staying again, and his gaze is devastating enough to convince you, but you really have to enter the party. As you grip the doorknob again, Yangyang hugs your back, clasping his hands like a belt over your skirt, and you can feel him pout into your shoulder, chin descending further into your skin. You placate him with a brief kiss to his knuckles – something chaste and fleeting, nothing like the fluttering in your heart. And since you cannot see his expression, you wonder if he actually enjoys these small acts of intimacy, of if he cringes; if he does cringe, then he is really good at hiding it, because you cannot perceive anything from him. Although, the moments in bed, in the most intimate hours, when the pads of his thumbs press into your lower back, you think that he feels it too.

Unfortunately, he cannot do that right now. And you head out the door first, straightening your direction over to the bar like a new arrival, or like someone who did not come to their best friend’s party just to make out with said best friend’s younger brother, or closest thing to a younger brother as he can get.

It only takes a few seconds for Yangyang to consider your goodbye, before completely rejecting it, then he groans into the empty closet, throwing his gaze at the ceiling. After, he pokes his head out the door, looking left and right like crossing the street, until the coast is clear for him to leave. When he rejoins the party, he instinctively searches for you among the cliques of cliché Halloween costumes. And he finds you, easily if he might add, at the bar, chatting with Jacob, probably about your matching basketball uniforms. Well, you wear a Trailblazer’s outfit and him a Jazz one – natural rivals but neither of you take it serious enough to start an argument in a semi-public setting.

Yangyang waits for you to leave the bar and meet up with Ten, interrupting his conversation to say hello. He nicks a capri sun from the fridge, then joins you right after with a bright smile on his face, middle fingers pressing into your lower back like a greeting wave. The act might have been offensive, had you been in a club and he a stranger, but he knows you, he likes you. And he smiles even wider when you relax into his hand. Nevertheless, Ten stands three feet away, putting the two of you on edge, and your spine straightens in the most attentive way possible, like you are a military subordinate or something, even though you are dressed as a basketball cheerleader from the U.S. state where you spent a winter semester abroad during freshman year, before Yangyang joined your university. So, to make the conversation more natural, Yangyang high-fives Ten, while you take his juice box away and open it for him. He stares at you, smile faltering, suddenly feeling smaller as you take care of him and Ten resumes whatever the hell you two had been talking about until he entered the conversation.

“Oh, come on,” Ten whines, hitting your arm after you hand Yangyang the capri sun. You glare at him sharply, then make sure Yangyang is okay, rubbing his arm comfortingly. He wants it to mean more, because he does not know what you want from him, but now is not the time, not when you are trying to keep everything on the DL. “I want to meet the guy who is the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Yangyang mimics your body language, though peppier as he smirks. “Really?” he asks Ten. “That’s what you heard?” He turns to you, tilting his head teasingly. “That’s really what you said?”

You baby-step out of the trio, slightly further from Yangyang specifically until you knock into Winwin behind. Your conversation partners giggle at you as you throw a small apology over your shoulder, then you glare at them upon returning to the group. You exhale slowly, giving yourself time to think before speaking, and redirect your annoyance at Yangyang more than Ten. “I might have.”

“Why didn’t you invite him to the party, huh?” Ten asks, bumping shoulders, wiggling suggestively. He raises his eyebrows, glancing at Yangyang to rope him into the teasing too and he falls into it because your mystery boyfriend is already here. Yangyang stops dancing when Ten’s expression changes, softens and reminisces. “I get the whole ‘respecting his privacy thing, but, like, I really want to meet the guy who helped you get over Renjun.”

The name drop causes Yangyang to shoot his eyebrows to the moon. His neck snaps at you faster than Kun’s when he jokingly accepted a marriage proposal. He watches you widen your eyes at Ten and smack him loudly. Maybe not everyone knew that, he thinks; he certainly did not know that, and he has known Renjun longer than you or Ten have. While you and Ten stare each other off, irritated and shocked, respectfully, Yangyang loudly slurps the last of his capri sun.

Yangyang tries to break the tension by pointing to the wall adjacent from you all, at Renjun. “He’s taking five shots of Smirnoff with Jeno right now, while Jaemin holds lemons at the ready.”

“Big deal,” Ten waves him off while keeping eye contact with you. Yangyang stares at his face, looking him up and down, then decides to take a baby step in front of your leg, almost protectively. He cannot gauge where Ten stands, where the conversation is going, but he knows that he will be there for you, just in case. “I did that when I was 17.”

You smack Ten, with the arm opposite of Yangyang, using the other one to pull Yangyang back into an equilateral triangle. “Don’t normalize underage drinking.” Yangyang almost rolls his eyes at that; who are you even saying that too?

“Hey!” Ten counters. “No one is underage at my party.” He holds your hand and pulls you into his side, into a scalene triangle, while covering your mouth. “Shhh, you can’t say that out loud. I invited Mr. I’m-A-Lawyer-Now, and besides, -“ You pull out of his arms and stand slightly in front of Yangyang. “-I just happened to invite the babies, too. Like Yangyang.” Ten turns to the devil in disguise and pinches his cheeks. “Baby.”

Yangyang single-handedly unbuttons his shirt again, like an act of defiance. “I am not a baby!”

Ten drops his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “You respond to baby,” he retorts, “And you’re drinking a juice box.”

“I had a bottle of soju earlier!”

“Oh? Just one?”

Yangyang folds the aluminum capri sun into his pocket, hopefully discreetly, and scrunches his nose at Ten. He feels you gently draw him back at your side, via his wrist, and expects you to defend him, but you just tease him further:

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Yangyang straightens up, his jaw dropping, then he crinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out at you. He accepts it though, not changing the topic, because he sees the way your posture shifts when everyone moves away from the romantic department.

Although, he might want to talk to you about it sometime.

Ten grounds him back to the conversation, patting his hair – the same spot you place kisses when the two of you cuddle and he is the small spoon, so Yangyang ducks away, slapping Ten’s hand out of the air. The whole hair touching thing reminds him that you are never really vulnerable enough with him, to let him hold you like baby. He wants to try it, especially since Ten keeps babying him in front of you, but he is not sure if you even like it.

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice low. You poke Yangyang’s side then cross your arms over your cropped jersey. “You’re so cute.”

Yangyang circles his neck towards you, smiling reassuringly, or at least he thinks so. His gaze wanders from your eyes to your fingers, which are coiled around your upper arm, so he starts taking off his jacket, pulling off the cuffs behind his back. But he stops after feeling your hand on his bicep. He glances at your hand, then stares at your eyes before pouting:

“I don’t want to be cute.”

He stops stripping but still decides to keep you warm, with another back hug, this time enveloping you into his jacket while he rests his chin on your head, even tiptoeing just to commit to the hug. When you squirm, shaking your shoulders to hit his pecs, he just hangs on slightly tighter until you stop. And after you relax, resuming natural conversation with Ten about anything other than your former crush, he smiles, coming back down to his heels and leaning on your shoulder. The new position tempts him to kiss your neck, and he almost does, but then he feels Ten’s eyes look at him, so he cannot even press a small peck at your jugular like he does sometimes when he catches you at the café by the physics building – the one that only Jaemin goes to, out of all his friends; the one where neither of you get spotted by your friends so it seems like a date, not that either of you have ever called it that. Nope. He avoids kissing your neck and just brushes his nose along your skin. It does not come off as platonic, he recognizes, but Ten does not ask any questions and Yangyang slowly phases out of the conversation to meet up with Hendery who walked through the front door as a pink bunny rabbit.

Yangyang slipping out of the trio feels so sudden, you think after feeling his hands unbuckle around your waist.

Maybe he does not feel important in the conversation anymore. So, you lock your elbows into your sides, clasping your own hands over your stomach to make him stay put. You knock your head onto his collarbone, prompting him to say something, but he does not, only resting his chin on your shoulder. Hopefully, he is smiling; you like his smile. His cheek pokes you at your neck, similar to how he almost kissed you in front of Ten just minutes ago. Then, he pushes his hand in front of you, to wave at Hendery, opposite the room, and your smile quirks down, somewhat embarrassed, as you trace his direction to the pink, fluffy ears bopping along to last year’s Travis Scott song. Ten copies you, twisting hesitantly behind himself. Meanwhile, Yangyang grows a little bolder, hunching forward onto his tiptoes to kiss your cheek silently, before dashing off with his friends.

Too stunned, eyes wide, mouth smaller, you miss the way Ten turns around, his smile wide with a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. It goes away though, when he sees your face, so after making eye contact, you are met with an ominous stare. It is also curious, but the ominousness throws you for a loop. Then he raises his brow slightly, and you smack him, simultaneously asking what he wants.

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, crossing his arms over his pilot costume. He relaxes once you show no intent to hit him again, then he locks his hands behind his back, leaning toward your face mischievously. And when his nose almost pokes your eye out, you jump back into WInwin again, glare prompting him to ask stupid questions. “I simply want to know what all that was about.”

“What?” you bite at him, annoyed, following your second apology of the night to Winwin. And instead of meeting his eye (to give yourself more time to think of an excuse, no matter how flimsy), you flatten down the bottom of your top, where a iron-on patch of Dillard’s number disrupts the obnoxious Portland ‘P’ – you wonder if anyone connects your costume and Yangyang’s favorite basketball team, because no one says anything. Except, Ten is saying something right now, continuing the silent taunting into your personal bubble, getting almost as close as Yangyang was just a minute ago. So, you poke him away, on his forehead. “You want to know why I keep running into Winwin?” Ten rolls his eyes. Your voice does not feign innocence as well as you want.

“That was all you,” he deflects, eye contact maintained but he points at your vodka party drink, implying that you might have had a bit too much tonight. You swallow the alcohol faster, defiantly, and hold your breath, exhaling longer while you pause, holding the empty cup still above your dry tongue. “No, yeah, but, uh, no, that whole thing with Yangyang.” Ten bumps your arm with his elbow, coming to your side so that both of you can watch the man in question from across the room. “Huh?” he teases lightly. “Are you entertaining him? [Because] You two seem really … close.”

“I’m close with you,” you retort, touching his shoulder, into the crook of his neck, with your head. Then you stand back up, reflexively smiling when Yangyang laughs at a new TikTok dance that Hendery shows him. He even looks back at you, waving once your eyes meet. You throw him a thumbs up, and you swear that his smile gets brighter. It probably was not because of you though, because he starts giggling louder and dancing alongside Hendery right after. “We’re all –“ You turn to Ten, smile still blanketed under your nose, then you frown. “- friends; what’s that look for?”

“Nothing!” He imitates innocence better than you do, baring his palms for dramatic effect. You face him frontally, examining his devilishly handsome face for a crack. And he gives it to you: “It’s just that we’ve known each other for eight years and you never let me cuddle you like that.” He pokes your hip, where Yangyang was attached. “You’re closer with someone you just met.”

“You introduced us. In March!”

Ten waves a hand lazily. “Minor details. Besides –“ He blocks Yangyang from your view, not that it really mattered because you are trying to have a conversation with Ten. But it helps you maintain eye contact. “- you seem really comfortable with him being naked on you.”

You open and close your mouth in one short breath, swirling the empty red solo cup at your side, nervously. He has a point; you know he has a point – you are very comfortable with Yangyang being naked on top of you. Wait, he said on you. Either way, Ten is right. You do not want to admit it because that implies feelings, something that you are definitely not willing to talk about at the moment, especially this moment, but he is right. The question is if he needs to know.

“Did you hear about Yangyang and the anatomy student from Renjun’s class? They’re also close.”

You deadpan. As it turns out, he does not need to know. You are not dating, anyways, so …

“It’s my business, because…?”

“It’s not,” Ten agrees, shrugging. He looks off, turning his head toward Johnny, dressed as the Kellogg Tiger, before looking at you again. “Just thought you’d like to know.” He shrugs again. “If you didn’t already.”

“Uhh, okay,” you confirm, as nonchalantly as possible. You mirror his body language, standing straighter. Ten says nothing, not noticing the way your body stiffens, or at least, you hope so. “So you’re telling to what?” Get you jealous? “Give him advice?”

“Nah, we both know that he’s fully capable on his own.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He’s a baby who lives in a frat apartment with seven other dudes and buys food at the café by the physics department to avoid washing a knife.” Well, he charmed you, so how can you criticize his flirting abilities? You shrug – maybe, he was just that horny. He has always been a typical teenage boy. Although, he turned 20 a couple weeks ago.

“Huh.”

“What?” You come down from the high that somewhat roasted your sex partner … fuck buddy? friend with benefits? He is something to you - a little more than a friend but you do not think he would willingly be your boyfriend. Your voice sounds less excited now, and you run your hand through your hair, pulling slightly harder at the ends.

“Nothing,” Ten shrugs again. He twitches at you, briefly spinning his hips. “It’s just that Yangyang mentioned you go to that café too.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, like it is obvious. Ten smirks, knowingly, you think, so you crush him, “Jaemin, too.” You lift your eyes to the ceiling for a second, like it would give you an out. “And Kun on Tuesdays after 5.”

Ten scrunches his face, now facing you again. “Oh, we both know that Kun goes to the kiosk in the chemistry building for the cute barista with a good taste in music.”

You mockingly smile at him, squinting above your nose. He does not get the satisfaction of an equally annoyed laugh – probably because you might crack, your voice might crack and accidentally give something away. It’s not that you don’t want anyone to know that you are sleeping with Yangyang – you don’t, but not because it is embarrassing. You just do not particularly want to hear the two cents everyone seemingly needs to donate, like a commercial tax, especially with their baby Yangyang.

“Why did Hendery even dress up as a bunny? A pink bunny. Is he puling a Chandler?”

“No,” Ten shakes his head. This is the third conversation change you have made, and surely, he caught on by now. “Only Jisung and Winwin are watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. with Chenle; I think that Hendery just like the costume.” Ten points at Johnny, flashing a wave, then glances at you. “I’m gonna head over there. I haven’t seen Johnny since he left for a Paris project.”

“Yeah, no,” you gesticulate, nodding, “go ahead. I’ll meet you later, or something.”

“We’ll catch coffee on Monday.” Ten’s voice shrinks as he moves away. “After office hours!” He turns around one more time, emphasizing his words louder, “At the physics café!”

Yangyang, along with a couple other people, snaps his neck at Ten walking away from you, especially after hearing the bit about the physics café because, no offence to Ten, but that is his place. With you. The café on 17th is his rendezvous point with you. He likes the whole secret aspect of your relationship – it is so sexy; you are so sexy. It is just … the face that everything is secret prevents him from explicitly opposing Ten’s suggestion. And before he knows it, Yangyang makes his way toward you, waving goodbye to his psych friends.

He already knows where you are, because sometimes he would glance over at you when someone made a joke, just to see you laugh, to laugh with you. Occasionally, you would be smiling brightly, at whatever Ten said, and look to him. So, all he has to do is turn right and find his annoyed cheerleader, to annoy you even more.

The music is louder by the kitchen exit, where you are, curled against the wall with an empty red solo cup, blue light from your phone glowing across your face. Yangyang takes the opportunity to scare you, hiding behind a couple groups until he reaches you, creeping slowly. Then he strikes, poking your obliques.

“Boo!”

“Ah!”

You jump against the wall, clutching all your belongings closer while he laughs at you.

“Aw, did I scare you?”

Yangyang envelopes you into a hug, ignoring the way you glare at him. And he relaxes, when you do, feeling you squeeze his waist and sigh. You will never admit it, but the two of you know that this is how your dynamic works – he annoys you, then you cuddle him. And he has so many ways to annoy you. Like, next, he pulls a 180 – both coming behind you and switching up the mood to grind under your hips.

“What are you doing?” he whispers in your ear, fast, grabbing your waist to guide you over his pelvis. He gets dangerously near your cheek, excusing it as a way for you to hear him better, since you two stand adjacent to the speakers, where the music is above talking decibel. His eye catches onto Lucas’s, and he winks, hands tightening above your skirt, because, despite all the teasing, this is not actually how he wants your entanglement to get out. “Wanna head upstairs? I just found a new TIkTok challenge you can practice on me, like the WAP one.”

“What are you doing?” you retort, laying your fingers on his bare chest – he likes that you keep touching him, not so much when you push him away. He wonders if you know that. Like, he chose his outfit for tonight because, well, he looks good, but also because he figured that you would think he looks good, too. It seems like you do, considering that your hand always finds ways back to his abs. So, he grows more confident, nipping at your ear while you push him against the wall, further away. Your eyes flutter, lashes blinking rapidly as he holds you closer, left hand toying with the hem of your shirt. He has this trick that you always react to, and he wants to do it now, while no one pays attention to either of you (larger parties afford far more privacy than smaller ones). You lean your head on his warm shoulder, then he presses his palm into your spine until you are chest to chest with him, impossible to get closer. Your breath sounds louder, as the music transitions to Goodbye feat. Lyse [slow version], and he wonders if he can elicit a moan from you, in the same frequency as the song’s growl. His right hand travels between your thighs, until you stop him, slapping his hand and holding him still. “We’re in public.”

Yangyang spins you around, showing off his own point of view as a counter argument: no one is paying attention. The whole thing bumps your connected hips into the wall, and his arm belts over your lower waist, driving you to essentially demi plie over his thigh that sneaks through your legs. At the sudden movement, you gasp, death gripping over his arm. He does not mind very much, only the red solo cup tapping rhythmically between the wall and his elbow. You barely get time to relax completely before he drops lower, just enough for him to look up at you. And he takes note of the sexual tension essentially radiating off the two of you, so he alleviates it, giving the illusion that there is only dancing going on right now. Though, you baby-step forward, to give him more space. His smile falters, twitching down, and he is thankful that you seem oblivious to it, because you comply with his action, letting your skirt flower spread over his leg and the smile return to his face. Yangyang guides your swaying left and right, grazing over his abs.

“I’m offering to go upstairs,” he answers definitively, still whispering in your ear. “More privacy.” His hands travel up again, skin getting lightly scratched by your top’s texture. Your nails might do a better job, if he remembers correctly. God, he wants you to take up his offer. “You didn’t have a problem with it an hour ago,” he points out, while dropping his gaze to your neck, once again tempted to mark you. He pulls away some of the baby strands that fell out of your hairdo, then locks eyes as he traces your ear shape. “Do you have a problem with it now?”

“No,” you answer him quickly, shaking your head for even more emphasis. You turn around fully and scan his eyes before shaking your head again. “I don’t have a problem.”

Yangyang smiles wider, instinctively bowing forward. Your ambiguous answer tells him more than he asked. He almost reveals something in return: that he enjoys kissing you, because he would totally do it right now, but you keep stopping him. He is all for consent, honestly; it just gets really confusing with you. Even now, he initiates a small, intimate touch while this moment afford you two some privacy, breathing open mouthed kisses onto the vein behind your neck, slightly illusioned in the dark lights as just talking to you. All the boundaries do no really define what he can, or cannot, do in public. Like, apparently, you two can have sex in a closet right before his best friend’s party – a best friend shared between you two, but there are rules about how close he can stand next to you. Both situations still involve secrecy. Although, one is far more sexier than the other. But he wants the whole damn thing – to hold you in public, and private, to kiss the part of your trapezius muscle that he likes so much, to be able to say that he knows places too, like the physics café where he doesn’t want Ten to take you because he takes you on dates there!

Then, you sigh.

Why are you sighing? It feels like that should be his response.

You clasp your hands behind his neck, evidently hesitating to reveal something – he knows because you fiddle with his collar a few times before moving onto the ends of his hair.

“It’s just …” You pause, so he tries to make his gaze unwavering, to hold you securely. “It’s just that a certain classmate might have a problem.” He furrows his eyebrows, bending onto his knees to ask for clarification. “You know … a certain classmate.”

Yangyang narrows his eyes, lost in translation. He slides up the wall and squeezes your waist, thinking, trying to figure you out.

“Oh!” he catches on. “Oh, I don’t think Hyunjin would have a problem with us.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I don’t really see how anyone in any of our classes would have a problem with us, much less, like, know about us.” He cocks his head to the side sympathetically, lips brushing along your cheek to ear. “I don’t have a problem with us.” He drapes his arms around your sides. “Just FYI.”

“Me neither.”

He smiles wider. You two are on the same page about something. He almost kisses you right then and there, but settles for brushing his nose on yours, simultaneously taking a step backward, closer to the wall so that no one sees the obnoxiously domestic display of affection. Actually, it might be weird for Hendery, Xiaojun, or one of his psych friends to see him act so … boyfriend-like, so romantic. He doesn’t think that anyone would anticipate that kind of behavior from him, and he is honestly too sure if you see him like that. He would try it though, you know, because he is curious and he would like to be your boyfriend.

“Did Ten tell you about Hyunjin?” Yangyang asks, prodding slowly.

You nod, equally slow, eyes falling down. “He didn’t mention any names, -“ Yangyang feels something in his chest drop. He put a name to the idea, and now he watches your eyelashes flutter and the lump in your throat shake, as you try not to say the name. “- but yeah.” He hugs you, bending your arms around his stomach so that he jackets you in his empty shirt. You have said that he has a natural body warmth, and hopefully it is comforting right now, because …

“It’s not really his business who I talk to.”

Yangyang almost apologizes for creating an environment that fosters mistrust or makes room for insecurities. Except, (1) that sounds like a note he would write in his case study’s conclusion for class, and (2) how the hell is he even supposed to say that? He tries to show that this – whatever it is – is exclusive. Like, now, he just holds you tightly, during a Halloween party, only slightly out of view from his friends. He almost apologizes, and it is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back, pursing his lips as you open your mouth.

“It’s not my business either,” you reason, stepping back. His embrace slackens, like rock climbing because he catches you, not letting you fall off him, even though you wiggle out a little bit, pushing him back into the wall. “Because we’re not dating.”

“No,” Yangyang partially agrees, standing straighter, supported by the wood. “We’re not, but we’re …” He wants to tell you about the exclusivity, that he considers the two of you to be exclusive. Some part of him thinks that you hold the same thought. And he cocks his head to the side, rolling his tongue behind his teeth. “We’re good friends. And, you know, we’re like, yeah. So, it’s your business too.” He rubs your shoulder again. “Wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

Yangyang smacks your ass for attention, trying to make the situation fluffier, simultaneously gesturing to the second floor with his hair. This is not really the time nor place to dissect your relationship, and he would totally put it under the microscope. Just, maybe, at another time. You seem to agree, walking away first, holding his hand to guide him up the secretive stairs.

And despite this being his idea, Yangyang stops before the first step, waiting for you to march a couple feet taller than him. His eyes linger at the lowest hem of your skirt, until you plant one foot in front of the other, on two separate levels. You look over your shoulder and roll your eyes. He expected it, quickly meeting your gaze innocently. Then he smacks you ass again, as if he were not just looking up your skirt a second ago. You glare at him, but he slaps your ass again and races upstairs.

“You’re so annoying,” you comment after him, still running to meet him at the top.

Yangyang smiles. Yeah, but you love him. He opens the nearest bedroom door, beelining to the bed where he manspreads across the full-sized mattress. You walk into the room quickly after him, turning around to close the door. Your skirt swings chastely around your thighs, and he cannot take his eyes away from it, wishing for you to swing them around his hips.

“Wanna be annoying with me?”

You roll your head, clicking your tongue, after finding him sitting relaxed on the comforter with suggestive eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess.”

Yangyang lifts his arms to catch you when you dive between his shirt, the lower part of your body thrusting on top his as you prowl beside his torso. He leans back, hands anchoring himself to your face. You push him deeper into the mattress, and he feels your nails airily redraw each indent on his carefully contoured abdomen. He smirks, asking if you like what you feel, and tilts his chin up to give you better access to his mouth. You tell him to shut up by biting his lower lip, though you match his expression, shaking your head as you decline into him. Yangyang cannot maintain his position any longer, almost breaking a sweat when you unbuckle his very thin belt and tap into the metal button barely holding his pants together. He whines, briefly breaking the kiss, then he flips you over, bending one of your legs up to fit his in between.

“I don’t want you to just guess,” Yangyang whispers. He slowly retreats his palm from under your shirt to the spot on your stomach where your shirt lifted up; he wants your verbal consent before doing anything else, and he waits for it. The kiss gets longer as you sigh into it, lazily hooking an arm around his neck. So, he stops. And then brushes your hair behind your ear, just hovering over you with tender eyes. “I don’t want you to just guess.”

“I’m not guessing,” you reassure him. You play with his hair, the way he likes, toying the strands on the top of his head then combing through the rest until reaching his neck. He looks at you innocently again, in case you crack. But you don’t. He restarts the kiss, sliding his hand under all the layers covering your torso.

Yangyang helps you out of your shirt, watching the way your chest bounces without support, so he gives you more, adding his lips like a low-set suction. “You’re so pretty,” he confesses, kissing into your sternum after you arch it up at him. And he wants to know your reaction, so as he presses an open mouth kiss into the side of your boob, he looks up at you, your lips parted by a silent moan. “You are so, so pretty like this.”

Unlike you, Yangyang moans audibly.

He feels you curl your fingers into his waistband, touching his tip outside his underwear. With his eyes closed, he drops on his back and feels you move around his lower thighs, teetering above them lightly. You meet him between the velvety sheets, giggling with him as your hair tickles his face. He opens his eyes, combing the loose strands behind your face again, finishing the act of endearment with his knuckles stroking your cheek. Sometimes he lets himself fall into these more romantic displays of affections.

Yangyang grips your ass, under your cheerleading skirt. When he remembers that you have his favorite player’s jersey patched onto your crop top, he pulls his chin up, nipping at your bottom lip. You draw him in further, towering over him until he drags you down with him, mixing between the sheets, laughing again. He really loves hearing your voice, and he loves it even more that he can make you have a fun time, make you grin so vocally during the moments that matter. So, he tries it again, slipping under your underwear too, massaging your skin.

“Mmm,” you moan.

Yangyang feels you slither his shirt off his shoulders, your nails grazing around his biceps as he tilts up to kiss you over and over again. Then, abruptly, you sit back, on your knees, around his hips, alert at attention. The new position allows him to mark your neck, one hand sliding through your waist band, over your ass, to have you grind down on him. His lips nibble at your collarbone, tongue breezing along as he waits for your reaction.

“Wait, wait.”

He stops, looking at you from under his eyelashes. A minute passes, and you don’t give any more restraints, so he resumes taking off your underwear. He keeps the same consistent eye contact because you remain alert above him, but you close your eyes and lean your head closer to him. He pulls his arm completely out of his sleeve so that he can hug you firmly against his body. Your chest grazes his, and he moans.

“Shh,” you silence him, kissing him quiet, hands still on his shoulder, “Do you hear that?”

“No, mm.” Yangyang breaks the kiss. “What are you –“

“Shh!”

You move your hands onto his pectoral muscles, his shirt near completely off his body, as you turn your head at the door. His head stutters in the same direction, stopping every half millisecond to return back to your face and make sure that you are okay. Then, he hears it: Xiaojun stumbling into the walls, jiggling the doorknob.

Yangyang stiffens. “Did you lock the door?”

A bit of light from the hallway cracks into the room, along with intoxicated hushing and giggling.

“Shit, no,” you answer, obviously, then start to pick your clothes off the bed and stand up. After a moment of hesitation, Yangyang follows you, buttoning up the middle of his shirt and meeting you in the center of the room, shielding your exposed chest as you clip on your bra.

Yangyang looks at the door when it creaks louder, eyes caught by a headlight. Before he knows it, you shove him into a closet. Neither of you are getting the opportunity to be annoying together because Xiaojun drunkenly stumbles into your space, moaning after his own date. Yangyang rolls his eyes and feels you slide into his shirt with him, scratching his back with your spangled top. He knows that there is no other option, since you two do not want to expose your relationship, especially like this, but he would rather not ruin his relationship with one of his best friends due to indecency – either of theirs. Thankfully, he gets an out, after Xiaojun hides under the blanket.

When you two make it downstairs, Yangyang bursts into laughter, yours following too until he gives you a long chaste kiss, screening you behind the wall to maintain that secrecy he did not want Xiaojun to break.

Although, Yangyang pulls away, brushing your hair behind your ear again, hand holding your waist to prevent you from leaving. You stare at him, at the domestic moment of tenderness, then fall into his chest again. And that is when he realizes it: he doesn’t really want to be a secret.

[hollowandmerciless]

So it was a love story after all

One of the things that has been said over the years about Attack on Titan is that it had no romance. Isayama, was the general consensus, didn’t write a love story. AOT is not about ships. It’s about the nature of humanity, about hatred, about racism and the will to survive. It’s got its roots in Norse mythology, in real life events from the recent past and a more ancient past. But love and romance, so everyone thought, never had a place in this story.

How wrong we all were.

As it turns out, Eren’s motivation for everything he did was always his eternal and undying love for Mikasa.

Here’s where I stumble.

I never saw any convincing signs of Eremika in this story. I didn’t like their dynamics in the first place – Eren seemed annoyed with her a lot of the time, or at best consider her his adopted sister – and what really rubbed me the wrong way during the entirety of the story was Mikasa’s unhealthy obsession with Eren. Yes, he saved her, and yes, she’s an Ackerman, who are known for their intense bonding to their host (although this was a false assumption as well, according to Zeke), but her obsession was unhealthy and annoying to the point that I was unable to see her character development or her actions. 

Her looks didn’t make her special to me (contrary to a lot of male fans I encountered on social media and irl), to me she was just one of the characters, albeit a rather uninteresting one, so I wasn’t paying as much attention to her as they did – we all pay most attention to our favourites (which in my case are Eren and Levi and to a lesser extent Hanji and Connie), and as a result I may have been blind for any character development she had. 

Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and I feel like she’s one of those poorly written -“the man is my only goal in life” -women. Women who in a story solely seem to exist as an appendage to the main character and have no life or will of their own. Eren and Mikasa were, in my opinion, never equals in this story.

I know many people do see Mikasa’s character development, and do see meaningful interactions between Eren and her, but I’m sorry, I can’t see them unless I use a microscope, and I think this is the main flaw in Isayama’s writing: with all the twists and foreshadowing (which I so thoroughly enjoyed), some hints he left are way too small, while some of his red herrings are too in your face to ignore. 

It also feels like Isayama changed the ending too often and forgot about a lot of foreshadowings along the way.

This is why it feels that we’re left with so many plot holes – if you read closely, there aren’t many, but the red herrings were sprinkled so abundantly throughout the story that we may have expected way too much. The origins of the Ackermans, the importance of Historia’s’ baby and “who is the father”, Zeke’s presumed 4D chess and Eren’s 5D chess, the Underground cities as protection against the rumbling, what caused the titan forest trees to grow so large, what happened 854 years ago in the year 0, Reiner heavily being foreshadowed to become the new Helos, what is the Hallucigenia thing, where did it come from and how does it create titans, where did Ymir’s first titan come from if there was no one in PATHS yet to build it – we don’t need all these answers, but somehow Isayama made us believe there was more to this than there actually was, and that’s why many of us feel robbed of the ending we wanted or expected.

The Historia storyline bothers me the most. The dynamics between her and Eren were much more interesting and realistic than those between Mikasa and Eren. To begin with, they were equals. Whatever happened, they always had each other’s backs. So it made sense to me that Eren had at least something to do with her choice to have a baby, especially because he was so vocal against it. Instead, she too married a guy who hadn’t been particularly nice to her in the past and nothing of it had anything to do with Eren or his plans, or their shared memories of previous founders. 

Parallels between OG Ymir and Historia seemed abundant, but apparently, in the end, we were supposed to see an essential parallel between Ymir and Mikasa. Her Stockholm-syndrome-love for the first King Fritz felt like a sort of deus ex machina (and yes, if you reread chapter 122 there were hints, but so scarce, so small, that they didn’t seem to hold much significance).

I find the fact that OG Ymir needed to see someone break loose from the clutches of obsessive love in front of her own eyes to finally break loose from her own love for Fritz a bit far-fetched, especially since I consider that this is what the entire story hinges on.

(Now we do understand why Isayama had Levi so severely wounded in chapter 114 (the explosion). Had he been fit, then he had most likely been the Ackerman who killed Eren (because this has been foreshadowed too, multiple times) – and that wasn’t supposed to happen. It had to be Mikasa, or else OG Ymir wouldn’t understand how to break loose from her bond.

Another thing that bothered me was Eren’s sudden confession of his love for Mikasa to Armin. Like I said, I found the Eremika dynamics particularly uninteresting, so this confession felt very unnatural and far-fetched to me – but, again, this is what the entire story is built upon. 

He does what he does for them, specifically for her.

It’s actually kind of sad that some fan theories were better/more interesting than the canon ending, but Isayama is the creator of this story and we’ll have to accept his ending – I do know that the more I’ve been rereading the final chapter, the less it bothers me how the story wrapped up. I might even come to like it, and when I reread the full story (which I will certainly do, I LOVE this story) I’ll pay more attention to the small hints Isayama sprinkled between the lines for us about the love Eren felt for Mikasa, to see if his words in 139 will finally make sense to me.

For now, Eren’s motives don’t feel real or grounded. If he’d cried about the millions (billions?) of deaths he’d caused instead of about Mikasa, it would have made more sense in the grand scheme of things. He’d cry for the lives he’s taken, and for the realisation that it has all been in vain, because the ones he tried to protect so that they can live long and happy lives, will now be consumed with grief and survivor’s guilt.

Still, could any of this have gone differently?

No.

Eren was rightfully desperate when he, from behind the bars of his cell, yelled at Hanji if there was another way. Because there wasn’t.

The irony was that Eren always fought for freedom, but all his life he had been a slave to his own destiny. He was unable to change the future, and could only try to influence it. Or else, as Kruger said, this cycle would repeat itself, again and again.

All in all I feel there was more to this story than what we got, it could have gone deeper, more foreshadowing could have paid off instead of being a red herring.

A bittersweet ending

Levi surviving and finally getting closure with the knowledge that this was what all of his old SC friends died for, brought me to tears. And that smoke, was that the disappearing of his Ackerstrength? 

The frame where he travels the world with his carers/adopted children Gabi and Falco and his new best friend Onyankopon (friend? lover? just look at that glance they share) made me so happy that this is now the desktop background of my laptop.

(I hope they’ll travel to the AOT equivalent of the UK so he can finally enjoy some decent black tea)

To me, at least this part was sweet. The rest: bitter, even the fates of the Alliance members. This is a story with an open ending. We don’t know if they’ll succeed on their peace mission, we don’t know what the Yaegerists will accomplish, we don’t know what the rest of the world will do; all options are open again, but maybe that is the point. Eren never meant to end the hatred, there’s no fighting the nature of humans. Erwin knew this already: mankind won’t stop fighting among themselves until there’s only one person left. 

Eren’s goal was to end the titan era, and at the cost of his own life and that of 80% of humanity, he succeeded. 

Learning that Eren, who held freedom in such high regards, was a slave to his own destiny all along was painful and ironic, but in a way he lives on as a bird, finally free, finally Vogel aus dem Käfig.

Thank you, Isayama.

[mustyrosewater]

↪ 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 :

𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭 

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 - 

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 : 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 30𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳, 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 4𝘬+ 

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵, 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

they say that time passes in the blink of an eye, days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and months turn to years. this is both true and utterly wrong.  because despite the fact that it was coming up on ten years since you'd left colombia behind, all at the same time, it felt like yesterday, but also as if it had been twenty years. at first it had been hard, moving back in with your mama and papa. you wanted to be ashamed that you had finally proven them right, that you were too young and immature to move to colombia on your own, and that, eventually, you'd be returning to them in tears. while this was correct, you were all the more surprised at the fact that you were welcomed with open arms, no judgement to found, finding that they were more so just happy to have their baby girl back. as before, despite the fact that that had been nearly ten years ago, the memory still pulled at your heart strings even to this day. one of the nicer memories to string back to your departure from colombia, rather than the ones that were the bane of your existence and you avoided recalling with all of your might, the ones that only crept their way back into your head after one too many glasses of wine. memories such as crying almost every night for the first week or so of being back in san francisco, laying in bed at night, unable to sleep purely because you were kept up by the sheer terror at the idea that you'd made the wrong decision and that life was only going to continuously go ever more downhill from here. it took another year for you to move out of your parents place, despite their insistence that you were welcome to stay longer, and moved into your own small apartment. it was lonely for the first month or so, but your newly acquired job as a receptionist at the law firm just around the corner was convenient and decent money, enough to maintain and semi comfortable lifestyle, even if some dinners for a week were nothing but ramen on the weeks that your landlord decided you'd used the washing machine one too many times. even if he was a bit of scumbag, it was enough for you, nothing you couldn't handle with reminders of how much worse it could be, reminding yourself to stay grateful for what you didn't have to deal with, in comparison to what you did. it was a relative uneventful 2 year's of that same apartment, apart from a few family weddings and quince's you had to attend, as well as a promotion after a year at the law firm.  as the 80's slowly transferred into the 90's, you were pleasantly surprised to see all the changes forming around women in the workplace, suddenly, it was as if a whole new world of opportunity was available to you.  you found yourself doing something you thought was closed off to you the moment you left, only now, you were back, the world was at your fingertips. it only took you another 2 years of what could only be described as floundering, feeling nothing but numbness as you went back to the same job every day, only to go back home to an empty and quiet apartment, to decide to go to school.  never one to take the simple option, you of course opted to begin preparation for a phD. keeping your receptionist job but also taking on the occasional spanish lesson and translating job to those who needed it, already planning to begin saving money where you could.  the first two years of obtaining your masters was stressful to say the least, but you couldn't say it wasn't giving you something to occupy your time with, time that wasn't spent thinking of colombia. time spent not thinking of him. the reason you'd sworn of dating the moment you stepped foot back in san francisco, only to be even more so when you began school. never again were you going to let your heart drag you down, you'd put your foot down, tired of crying over a man who had likely forgotten who you were in the first year of your absence. from now on, your purpose was to serve yourself, and only yourself. or at least, that was the plan, a plan you'd stayed true to for the first two years, gaining your masters and even in the beginning stages of gaining your phD. contrary to the gossip sessions countless tia's held about your love life and your weakness as a hopeless romantic, your promise to only serve yourself was not broken with a romance, but rather, a friendship. hitting the magic 30 was supposed to be an experience that women dreaded, a time spent crying over red wine about the fact that they were finally starting to age. instead, you'd found it to be a liberating experience, having begun teaching only 10 months short of your 30th birthday.  it hadn't taken long for you to become friendly with most of your students, you were easy enough to talk to and most of them were pleasant to teach. despite the occasional disrespect here and there, it wasn't difficult to straighten them back up, wasting no time reminding them of the fact that were more than welcome to leave the class should they find the material uninteresting. a reminder that often shut them up. it was safe to say that it didn't take you long to fall in love with teaching, unable to hide the fact that you saw so much of yourself in your students, taking the steps that you first had when moving back here.  and while you had friendly relationship's with your students, it was inevitable before you couldn't stop yourself from intervening. alex raya was a sweet kid, filipino american with an almost always goofy attitude, but still always handed in his assignments right on time, honestly a pleasure to have in class.  it was at first hard to put in the words the dynamic that began between you two, beginning to day he'd handed in an assignment late for the first time in the 7 months you'd been teaching him. you couldn't help yourself, you wouldn't have been able to forgive yourself if you hadn't check up on him. so when you'd asked to see him after class, the expression on his poor little face broke your heart.  gone was the positive attitude that alex always brought to class, only replaced by a quiet young man who could barely even look you in the eye as he sat across from your desk. it wasn't hard for you to realize that alex raya had never experienced any form of parental concern in his entire life, because the moment you asked him if everything was ok, and he realized that you meant it, he broke down.  through his laboured breathing, he explained to you that he and his father had had a screaming match over the phone, and that his money was being cut off, and that now his landlord was demanding the rent, otherwise he was going to be kicked out.  you couldn't help but take pity on him, only getting up from your desk to give him a hesitant hug before promising him you were going to help him get this fixed.  you let him come over to your apartment for dinner that night, even if it wasn't exactly a home cooked meal, oven pizza seemed only slightly better than ramen, not that you would have known it by the way that he practically demolished the pieces he was given, only to let him finish yours when you realized how hungry the poor kid was.  not at all shy about opening up to you whatsoever, alex was more than happy to explain his situation, confiding into you practically his entire childhood. as he went on and on, detailing the emotional neglect he suffered throughout his childhood, up until leaving home to attend college, you couldn't hide the few small tears escaping your eyes. that was the night you took alex raya under your wing officially.  it wasn't hard to scrounge up enough money to save his small apartment for that week, convincing him to sell his super nintendo along with a few nice branded items, however, was much harder. from that point on, it became a regular routine of yours to go to alex's and cook him one big dinner, allowing for pre packed meals to be stored in his fridge, as well as helping him out with his schoolwork, promising you'd be able to get him by even with the missed assignment.  he'd always told he was going to pay you back one day, which you'd only reply to by shushing him and insisting that getting a job and keeping up with his schoolwork was payment enough. you even helped him get a job. the benefit of having relatives all over san francisco meant that it only took three phone calls before you were able to get him an interview at a bowling alley that your cousin owned, by that week he was a new employee.  it took hitting you 30th birthday to be able to admit to yourself that you had begun to see alex as a son. even if you were only 14 years older than him, it was enough for you to take on the role of the mother he was never able to have with ease.  he even started to jokingly call you tiya, explaining it meant 'aunty' in tagalog. you'd be lying if you said it hadn't warmed your heart to be told that, and that you had to go into the bathroom so he wouldn't see you making sure your mascara wasn't running.  it wasn't to say that your kindness wasn't repaid though, in his own little ways, alex was looking after you as well, even if not directly.  it was always the little things with alex, your own personal alarm clock as well as your reminder that it was ok to go to sleep after five hours of sitting on your couch grading papers. especially when on your 30th, you found a card on your desk signed by him wishing you a happy birthday, along with a little note on the bottom making a snarky crack about the fact that you were 'now the big three o, tiya!! live it up!!'  it now sat on your book shelf, always there to remind you of the young man you now considered a son figure.  after nearly a year, you even decided to take him to one of your family dinners where everybody, cousins, nieces, tia's, everybody, met up for a big feast. not only was he welcome, he was welcomed with open arms, and by the end of the night was considered a part of your family, especially after the right of passage when all of your little cousins were practically climbing him and giggling away. it was honestly safe to say that being able to support and care for somebody else for the first time in nearly five years had brought meaning back into your life.  it had been sealed when three months prior, you had seen on your television set that pablo escobar had finally died, killed and his body displayed for all to see in the polaroids that found there ways to the wrong place. one particular polaroid stood out to you, because staring back at you, smiling into the camera while holding up pablo's dead body by the sleeve of his shirt, was steve murphy.  you couldn't exactly say you and steve murphy had ever held more than two minute conversation in the past, but seeing his face was more than enough to have you rushing to turn off the tv and placing your head in your hands as memories came flooding back like a tidal wave from hell, washing emotions of all different kinds over you.  as if he were your guardian angel, it was by sheer coincidence that nearly 15 minutes into what you realized was nothing short of a minor breakdown, alex arrived for for weekly dinner, only to see you on the couch shaking and breathing rapidly.  if somebody were to have seen the way in which he'd rushed to your aid, pulling you into his arms and rapidly asking you what was wrong with desperate panic lacing his voice, they'd be able to say that the strong emotional ties you'd developed to the boy were well and truly mutual.  in the same way he'd opened up to you a year before, it was your turn to open up about your life prior to being his teacher.  you'd kept a skillful veil up, hiding the parts of your life which you desperately wanted to remain unknown. so much so that almost nobody but your close family knew of your time in colombia, living in the middle of a drug war, and how you'd returned to the states in order to change that.  you spared any all details about him, not even wanting speak his name as you told your story as if he hadn't existed in the first place, owing your sudden move from colombia to the sudden intensity of the drug war and how you feared for your life.  you even showed in polaroids you'd kept in a journal, smiling softly through your slowing breaths and you pointed to a photo of you and your boss outside the bodega you'd worked at, both of you grinning. in an odd way, it felt weird looking back at photos of yourself when you were alex's age, especially considering the fact that it felt like barely any time had passed, when in reality, it had been 6 or 7 years since you'd left colombia at that stage.  just as you were starting to calm down, alex turned the page, only to reveal a photo that made your heart sink to the ground as memories, just as they had previously, hit you like a speeding train. -  "what are you doing." javi's deep voice broke the silence that had previously been looming in his lounge as he sat there nursing a cigarette in his mouth and intently reading a file, not bothering to look up at you as you stood up, reaching into your bag sitting beside the door. "nothing. hold still." you ordered, pulling your polaroid camera out of it's case as you pulled the strap over your head and rested it at your neck.  he still didn't look up, doing as promised as you held the camera up to your eye, trying to angle the shot as best as you could, even with the orange light of the sunrise shone through the windows. it was only when the camera flashed that he finally looked up, not in alarm, but more so in amusement as you grinned, grabbing the polaroid as it zipped out of the small opening at the front. placing the camera and the polaroid down on the table, you sat beside javi, leaning your head against his shoulder and kissing his golden skin softly as he closed the file and threw it onto the table. -  you weren't surprised when alex asked who the guy in the picture was, the one looking intently at a file while a cigarette hung from his mouth. you wouldn't have expected any less from alex, hell, you probably would have asked too. after nearly 7 years of being fine, not letting yourself be reminded of what you'd left behind and the reason you had to do so, and now, all it took was one news report and a polaroid to have you crashing back down.  not able to reply for the first few seconds, only staring down at the photo before alex called you back into reality, asking if you were ok. of course your response was to take the photo album off of your hands and slam it closed, practically throwing it on the other end of the couch as if it were a hot plate, only to calmly take a breath, quietly informing alex that the man in the picture was 'nobody.'  there was no doubt in your mind that alex didn't believe you, you could tell by the look on his face, you'd grown to be able to read his face like a children's book, always knowing if something was wrong or if he was lying about something. you hadn't even thought about the fact that he'd very likely grown to be able to read you in the same way.  this was the same reason as to why he dropped the subject entirely, pressing it further wasn't going to help you and he knew that.  that was the only slip up you'd had regarding your past, since then, you'd managed to keep your past fully concealed. even if it wasn't a particularly malicious secret, it was more so treated in the sense that it was not something you wanted to relive, and having had enough experience with the way gossip spreads in the teachers lounge, you knew you would never live it down should it get out. you would forever be known as the student teacher who had her heart broken so she fled colombia to avoid the shame. that wasn't who you wanted to be, you'd fled so that you could live a life without javier peña and you'd been doing so successfully. you were no longer the silly 22 year old girl who let her heart dictate her life and allow some stupid little man to ruin it all for her. you were a fucking career woman as far as you were concerned, there was no more room in your life for that anymore, and you were going to try your damnedest to keep it that way. no more will you allow yourself to fall to the whim's of a little girls failed attempt at playing house with somebody who couldn't even have the balls to admit you were nothing more than a booty call. -  with nearly two more years passing, you were growing closer to finally getting your phD, you and alex had only grown closer, especially now that he was happily living with a girlfriend and had become manager at the bowling alley. though you still continued your weekly dinners, he was still your student after all.  it was no more than a month after your 32nd birthday, standing by the counter in the teachers lounge, stirring the coffee in your mug, staring down as the dark brown colour faded to a light brown as you mixed your milk into it.  already suffering from limited sleep due to the fact that your neighbours had decided to have yet another screaming match until the ungodly hour of 3:30 in the morning, you were dealing with forcing yourself to smile and nod along as your coworker was already talking your ear off.  "so basically, i told him if he was going to talk to me like that, there was a perfectly good couch for him to sleep on tonight." she continued ranting about her on and off boyfriend, somehow unable to tell that you were barely paying attention, only just nodding on as she kept on going. she was nice, you could give her that, but it was once again just stark different between 25 and 32 that the two of you were stuck with. you hoped to god to weren't like that with the other teachers when you first started, but there was really no way to know for sure. admittedly, your lack of sleep was not only due to next doors argument, but also because you were already having trouble sleeping anyway.  it was coming up to be 10 years since you'd left colombia, an anniversary that left you with so many mixed feelings, one part was a sickening feeling in your stomach as you remembered everything to do with the drug wars, bodies on the news and other horrifying things even to this day were in your dreams to haunt you. but then there was also the emotion and memories connected to colombia, hell, the reason you almost wanted to go back a year after escobar was killed, but stopped yourself just as you were looking up the prices of tickets, deciding it was best to quit while you were ahead. you couldn't say the beginning of your morning had been all bad. the moment it hit 7 am, your phone went off, only to see an unknown number, and when you answered, you had to stop yourself from tearing up when you heard the oh so familiar voice of your old boss greeting you with the ever classic "hola miha! long time no talk aye?"  in an instant, it was as if you had never left, that you were 23 all over again and back in that crummy little bodega to sell cheap cigarettes and cans of baby formula that were far too expensive to connie. now completely in his early 70s, his nephew was now running the bodega, while he once again was keeping to his telenovela's, as per usual, explaining that he'd found your number after recognising your name in the phone book and deciding to give you a call. the two of you talked for at least a solid 45 minutes, ended with you promising you were going to call him again but that you had a class in 40 minutes and that you really needed to go. as if nothing had changed, he teased you about your teaching position, before wishing you all the best and hanging up.  your old boss' call had brought a sad smile to your face, but all at once, had also brought a horrifying thought that invaded your head before you could even think.  'should you dare ask about him the next time you talk to your boss?'  there was no doubt in your mind that he never went to that bodega again after you left. he wouldn't have been able to resist those cheap cigarettes. resisting the urge to slap yourself so as to not look like a manic should somebody walk in, you instead shook your head a bit and reminded yourself in your head of the promises you'd made to yourself years previously, reminding yourself that you were far, far better than this. even ten years later, you were better than the girl you were back in colombia. you deserved better.  - having well and truly calmed yourself down, you left the teachers lounge and began the path down the winding hallways towards your classroom, you shoes clicking along the floor as you struggled to look for your keys under the big pile of files that you were holding in your hand.  hearing footsteps behind you, you didn't look up from your bag as you quickly recognised the voice of your coworker behind you calling you by your last name, a form of teacher's lingo that you'd just grown to accept, already beginning to talk to you as you continued to walk up the stairs to the classroom.  "i've got a guest speaker with me who spoke at my criminology lecture yesterday, and i was thinking they should speak for criminal psychology as well yknow? that could be real good for your students."  only nodding your head, you reached the top of the stairs, still not turning around. "uh, yeah sure, they need a break from my lectures anyway, send them my way for this lesson." finally reaching your door, you found your keys and began to unlock the door, pushing it open and walking, only to be followed in by your coworker, who smiled brightly.  "that's awesome, i think he's just getting a coffee last i saw him. you'll love him." nodding, you began to organise the files on your desk hurriedly, knowing that you were already running a bit behind due to your boss' phone call.  "i'm sure we'll get along fine." you sighed, still not 100% paying attention to the conversation. "well i mean, your colombian right? yknow ca-" "i'm not colombian, i use to live there." ignoring the part about the fact that he'd somehow found out you had any sort of association with colombia, too tired and somewhat stressed to care right that second.  "he was in colombia for awhile too, during the drug wars and stuff! he was a dea agent."  in that very moment, it was as if time slowed down, your surroundings started to disappear and the files in your hands flowed out onto the desk, as if your hands faded out of existence. nothing in your mind was happening except pure, white hot panic. turning around slowly, trying to gather yourself, you took in a deep breathe. praying oh so desperately that it was anybody but who you were terrified that was. hell, at this point, you'd take steve murphy, just, please, please, please. don't let it be him.  "what was his name.." 

TAGLIST : @godohammers​ . @onelasttimee​

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 16: Prinxiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Heeey, look at that, I’m behind! Day 16: When your soulmate listens to music, you hear it in your own head as well. 

Content warnings: assumed death of a soulmate (he’s not dead), depression, general sad vibes.

Word count: 2.6k

Note: the songs referenced in this fic are IDK You Yet by Alexander 23 and Love is Gone by SLANDER. Both of these songs make me cry and were the inspiration for this.

It was at midnight on December 19th when Roman’s soulmark first appeared. He didn’t realize this until 1am.

Granted, he didn’t know it was his soulmark for the first hour.

At first, the almost imperceptible steady beat in his head just seemed like a song that had gotten stuck in there. He didn’t remember ever hearing the song, but it wasn’t unlikely that he’d heard the tune at the store or on the radio and it unconsciously ingrained itself into his memory. He was working on an assignment that was due in the morning, a script analysis for one of his Theatre courses, and had begun to bop his head along to the music when his roommate walked in, eyes bleary and arms laden with books.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” He asked through a yawn, dropping the books on his desk and flopping into the bottom bunk. 

“I could ask you the same question, Pat,” Roman hummed, completing his conclusion paragraph with a dramatic flair of his hands. “Just finished my paper. Going now.”

“Lost track of time at the library,” Patton murmured in response, draping his arms over his eyes. 

Closing his computer, Roman popped his back and climbed up the small ladder into the top bunk, using his cellphone as a flashlight. He assumed Patton was already fast asleep (the man could fall asleep at the drop of a hat) and tried to follow suit, only to sit up in annoyance after several minutes.

Whatever song was stuck in his head was keeping him up. 

He remembered a tip he’d seen on the internet once, that said if you sing the last part of the song, it’s easier to get out of your head. Something about ‘your brain needing to complete it to be satisfied’ or whatever. As hard as he focused, though, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what song it was, much less the ending. 

The more he concentrated on it, the louder it seemed to get, until it was no longer a hum of bass in the back of his skull, and he could make out the lyrics, the guitar solos, everything. He definitely hadn’t heard this song before. It wasn’t the kind you’d hear playing in public; it was loud, swears thrown in every chorus, just generally the kind of thing you’d hear in a Hot Topic but nowhere else. 

And then it stopped.

For a split second he was pleased, thanking his brain for finally shutting off, and conceded to lie back down. He might be able to get six hours of sleep at this rate. Pretty good, for a college student. 

Except as soon as he closed his eyes, another song started. It was another one he didn’t know, one he would have no way of knowing each word to. The realization hit him hard and his eyes shot open, nearly falling off the ladder in his haste to climb down.

“Roman? Everything okay?” Patton drawled, clearly having been woken up by Roman’s enthusiasm. 

“My soulbond!”

“What?!” That got his attention and he jerked up, narrowly missing whacking his head on the top bunk.

“The music in my head all night, it’s my soulmate! It must be his birthday!”

He was pulling up music on his laptop before he’d even processed it, hands freezing over the keyboard as his brain grasped for something to play. What could he play that would properly introduce himself to his soulmate? A show tune? Something from the 80s? But his mind had gone completely blank, and he couldn’t think of a single one.

“What do I play, Pat?” He gasped, tapping the mousepad in time with the upbeat tempo in his head. 

Patton was suddenly leaning over his shoulder, clacking a name into the search bar before pressing enter. Roman narrowed his eyes 

“Why that one?”

Patton shrugged, “It’s kind of cheesy romantic, like you. And the first line is fitting.”

“A valid point,” Roman announced, closing his eyes to listen for a pause as the music switched. The second the song ended, he slammed the space bar, begging it to play before the next one started. 

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.

A little more depressing than he initially would have chosen, but he could see Patton’s point. The music on the other end had been paused and he smiled in accomplishment, knowing that he must have heard. He let the song play to the end of the first chorus before pausing it, waiting with his roommate with baited breath.

The silence was almost unbearably long, Patton watching him intently for some kind of indication that the music was back.

Hello,

It’s me.

Adele’s soothing melody filled his mind and he absolutely wheezed with laughter. Patton grinned and let him explain through gasps for air, and he let out a giggle in response.

“Okay,” Roman snorted, “What next?”

Patton passed out probably an hour later after helping Roman pick out songs that would adequately encompass him as a person, but the theatre student didn’t sleep last night. Eventually him and his soulmate found a nice rhythm, each playing a song in turn. It didn’t take long for him to assume that his soulmate was emo (a fact that had him blushing furiously), simply due to the overwhelming amount of My Chemical Romance and Green Day played in his head, and he figured it was probably pretty obvious that he was a theatre kid. The second song he played was from Heathers, afterall. 

When his eyes finally started drooping too much to ignore, he knew he had to end this soon. The soulmate’s song ended and he quickly pulled up the first thing he’d thought of, a children’s lullaby, trying to indicate that he had to sleep.

There was quiet on the other end when the song ended, before the beginning trills of Baby Shark started playing and he groaned, quickly muffling the sound with his hand so as to not wake his roommate. He didn’t let it play past one verse, thank Olympus, and then his mind was quiet for the first time in many hours. It seemed like a mutual agreement that ‘now is sleep time’, and Roman went to sleep with a smile on his face.

Their new norm was quickly established in the following weeks. It became obvious almost right away that playing their music at the same time was cacophonous and only caused headaches, so they eventually settled on switching days. Every second morning, Roman would wake up to his alarm and quickly start his morning playlist, a set of rousing, uplifting, exciting songs to get his blood flowing for the day. It was his day to choose the music, so he’d set his walking playlist for class and his study one for the evenings, sometimes playing an adventure podcast or something to spice things up. The other days, he’d be woken by the soft notes of melancholy tunes, starting the day slowly. As the morning progressed, usually by the time he was eating breakfast, the tone would change to something a little more fast paced, as if his soulmate needed to warm up before getting to the main act. As much as the music wasn’t his style, he found himself keeping pace to the beat with his steps, bopping his head along to the melody, humming a harmony to the more commonly played ones. Just knowing that this was his soulmate made it better. 

And then, one day… the music stopped. 

He’d woken up around noon, not a big deal since he didn’t have classes until after lunch anyways, but he knew for a fact that his soulmate was always up by 10, latest. Whether the other had classes or a job that kept his schedule, he didn’t know. It was an oddity for sure that there was no alarm. 

He put it off to the other probably having a sick day, or a free schedule, and he was sleeping in for once. The worry only started creeping in near the evening, when usually at this time, the music would start slowing down again as the sun set. There hadn’t been a peep all day, which was very unlike either of them. Even though the silence bothered him, he wouldn’t dare intrude on the other’s day, so he studied and ate dinner in silence, tapping his pencil against the table. Of course, he put it off to a one day fluke. 

Except, two days after, when it should have been his soulmate’s turn again, there was no music. And the time after that. And the one after that. It was almost two weeks of radio silence on the other end before he called Patton through broken sobs, pleading for him to stop studying and come back to the dorm. Obviously, he made the ten minute walk in five. 

And then Roman admitted the way his anxieties had been spiralling.

“What if- What if our soulbond broke? Did the universe realize we were a mistake? Or… or what if he died?! What if he’s hurt or dying or alone and I’m just-”

Patton shushed him gently, rubbing his back as Roman hiccuped into his shoulder. “When did this start?”

“Two- two weeks ago.”

“Then isn’t it possible that he just isn’t listening to music for a little while? Maybe he’s… somewhere without wifi. Or his phone broke.”

Even though he very much didn’t believe a word Patton was saying, he nodded along messily, clutching Patton’s shirt tighter. He eventually agreed to give him more time, hold on just a little longer, before completely giving up.

It took about a month before he did, and it didn’t get better from there. 

Their consistency had been their norm for almost nine months, over summer break and now into the new school year, and now it was torn away without warning. Roman refused to listen to music on days that weren’t his, even though Patton tried to tell him it was okay, but he wouldn’t. It didn’t feel right. He mourned his soulmate the same way he would mourn a close friend’s death, for he truly believed he was gone for good. The person he’d barely gotten to understand, much less meet, and he was just… gone. He was going to live the rest of his life without a soulmate.

Most nights he just did the bare basics of the homework he had to do, without any of the old flair he’d put into all his work, and curled onto his bed to watch a show or, on his days, listen to music. His old playlists had shifted to the bottom of his rotation, now only bringing sadder memories that Patton had insisted he not indulge in at this point, so it was usually just automated lists he found. Nothing was special about them anymore. 

Today was his day, an uneventful Saturday where the most exciting occurrence was Patton convincing him to come to the cafeteria and eat with other people. It had been tiring and only made him feel more alone, so his daily scheduled moping times had come up a little earlier. Patton had given him a hug and a gentle kiss on the head, telling him he had to go meet some people for a group project, and to call if he needed anything, before grabbing his bag and leaving. Roman didn’t miss the sad look tossed his way before the door shut.

Despite Patton’s advice, he was feeling particularly shitty today, and his fingers, seemingly with a mind of their own, pulled up one of his older playlists. One of the ones that was reminiscent of days when he actually had a soulmate. He clicked shuffle and tossed the phone onto the pillow next to his head, curling that much deeper into his blankets, as if he could somehow refill the void that had been cut out of him. 

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.

The first song he’d ever played had become a sort of inside joke between them. Despite the song’s sad melody and somber lyrics, it was a reminder of the first time they’d interacted; an awkward, laughter filled night. At least, it had been on Roman’s night, and he could only hope it had been the same on the other end. 

He didn’t even realize he was crying until the pillow beneath him was tear stained and gross to lay on. Why had the universe chosen him as the target for its cruel irony? Not that he wished this on anyone else… but why couldn’t soulmates be foolproof? Why was there that margin for error, the always-there possibility that everything you’ve ever dreamed of will be ripped out of your hands just as soon as you think you have it? So close, but so far. At least before they’d connected, he’d lived in blissful hope and ignorance. 

The song ended and he pressed pause lethargically, not able to find the emotional strength to listen to more. Maybe Patton had been right. A glance out the window showed that it was well past nightfall, the full moon gleaming into his window, and he decided to just sleep the emptiness away. It hadn’t worked so far, but maybe tonight was the night. He turned off his phone screen and plugged it in to charge, rolling away to face the wall, and waited for the soothing peace of sleep to take over him.

At first, he thought it was just a hallucination, wishful thinking. More than once in the three months since his soulmate disappeared, he’d thought he’d heard music, only for the feeling to disappear as soon as he focused on it. A soulbond only became louder when concentrated on, so he eventually realized he was doing it to himself subconsciously, his mind struggling to fill the emptiness that had once been filled by the other’s music. 

When it disappeared, he figured it was music from someone else’s dorm filtering through the thin walls. But no, this was too clear, too distinct, too ingrained, to be coming from an external source.

He calmed his racing heart before he could jump to conclusions. This music isn’t like what his used to be. It must be your brain, because he’s gone. He’s GONE, Roman.

Much as he tried to push it down, he couldn’t. It was becoming evident that no, something was happening, and it had to do with his soulmate. As he had done for the time he’d known (could it be considered ‘knowing’) the other, he concentrated on the lyrics, because those were the only feeble ways they’d interacted in those times. 

I’m sorry,

Don’t leave me,

I want you here with me, 

I know that your love is gone.

I can’t breathe,

I’m so weak, 

I know this isn’t easy,

Don’t tell me that your love is gone,

That your love is gone.

Patton walked in after his group meeting to see Roman sobbing in his bed and, immediately assuming the worst, he jumped onto the bed and pulled him into his arms. Through gasps for breath, Roman was able to choke out that, “He’s back. He’s playing music. He’s back. He’s back.”

Part 2 HERE

[heart-strong]

The Strongest Sense

Couple: Aaron Hotchner and enby Spencer Reid

Summary: (hurt/ comfort and fluff) After a long case and not enough sleep Aaron finds Spencer awake in the kitchen having intrusive thoughts.

WC: 2.6k

CW: talk about 5x01 (Aaron getting stabbed, Spencer getting shot), misgendering, nightmare, Haley's death mentioned, thoughts of self-harm (not actually self-harming tho), panic attacks, and mental illness mentioned. Tell me if I missed something, I’ll add it no question.

A/N: So about a month it was 2 in the morning and I was feeling really shitty about myself and my bestie just said "Evie you get really depressed when you're tired." and so I wrote the original draft of this and then went to bed. The wonderful @hermes-creature betaed for me go check them out!

read on AO3

- - -

Aaron shifts in the thick blankets, not opening his eyes just yet. Finally home after a week and the detailed case, he is happy to be in his bed. But as he turns his body into his pillow, Aaron registers the weight and sound of Spencer's weighted blanket on top of him. Times like this make him realize why Spencer likes the blanket; the weight makes it easier to sink into the bed. Except the blanket being on Aaron means Spencer is not in bed. He reaches out to his left just to double-check and feels the sheets cold. Aaron opens his eyes and turns to his nightstand, seeing it is only a quarter past two. He shucks off the blankets overpowering him and grasps for the pajama pants on the floor. The ones Spencer asked him to take off, "I want to feel your skin on mine, Aaron." Locating them, he shucks the cotton pants on and leaves the bedroom without another wasted second.

As he walks further down the hall and descends the stairs, the light brightens until he reaches the kitchen threshold. Spencer has curved his back over the kitchen island with lunch meats, a box of fruit snacks, and crackers with baggies, post-its, and markers are strewn around. Aaron has done this before; he walks to the other side of the kitchen island to the sink, pulling out two mugs and filling the tea kettle with water.

Spencer will have nightmares that don't wake Aaron. Then he will be up for a while before he can't sit still anymore. He leaves the bed to make or rearrange the lunches, reading a book, listening to music from his childhood to help him fall back asleep on the couch. This is a habit, but it doesn't make Aaron worry any less. Now he sets the stove alight and finally looks at Spencer.

Spencer's hair is sticking up in the back and right side, probably from watching Aaron sleep. His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, and one leg is tucked under an arm, contorting his body to be comfortable. He recognizes the oversized sweatshirt as his own as Spencer's one hand is swallowed up by the sleeve and atop his knee. Aaron also notes it's the knee he got shot no less than a year prior; the leg isn't covered in any fabric. He is currently scribbling a note on a blue post-it. When he secures it onto Jack's sandwich bag, he looks up at Aaron.

"Hey," Spencer whispers, careful not to wake Jack even though the boy could sleep through a hurricane.

"Hi," Aaron smiles, and as he hears the water start to boil, and turns it off before the whistle sounds. "What kind?"

"Peppermint, please."

"Of course." Aaron pulls out the box with the tea, taking out two bags and pouring the water, walking around to where Spencer is and sitting before he speaks again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, but then you got out of bed for nothing."

"What do you mean 'nothing,' Spence? You weren't in bed. You are half of my everything." Aaron reaches for Spencer's hand, but the younger man does not respond. Not even to flinch away as he sometimes did when the nightmares were most horrific.

"I wanted to cut," Spencer says as he weaves his fingers with Aarons.

"Baby, you could have woken me up." He feels 80 pounds heavier. What had he done to make Spencer not want to wake him when he thought of such dark things. Nothing Hotchner, he thinks to himself, Spencer's mental illness speaks louder when he's tired. At least that's what he thought; after long nights on a case, it always seemed harder for Spencer to find peace in his brain.

"Was it anything specific?" Aaron asked. Sometimes old cases where the team lost the unsub or victims hunted Spencer at night.

"Next week's going to be a year since I got shot and you were stabbed, Aaron."

"Oh." Aaron didn't realize it was that close; he still got pain all over because of that day. Or more like night. Time. That awful time.

"And it's hurting again," Spencer says. He got that far-off look that lets Aaron know to not interrupt, to just let him ramble. Making sure to tighten his grip on Spencer's hand but otherwise leave it be. "The dream was me getting shot, and it hurt just as bad. And then you were there. You were sitting above me, holding me. But then, where my hand was, on your shirt started to feel damp. The blood was soaking through your shirt. You fell unconscious, and I was sitting there helpless. The rest of the team took care of the press and Myers, and you're just bleeding out while I can't even hug you. Then I woke up, and my leg was hurting, and I just felt the dream both emotionally and physically, and I didn't want to tell you because it's the same day Foyet stabbed you. I didn't want to remind you. I just started thinking, if I need another surgery, how long will I need to stay back? How long will I hinder the team more than help? How long would I have to rely on your help so I can do basic things? Why would you want to help me again?"

"Hey, Spencer." Aaron can't let this go on further. "You just finished up a week-long case that ended with you needing to run to catch the unsub. Your knee probably hurts because you were on a plane not 12 hours ago, and you haven't been sleeping well since we were on a case. Your brain is overworked and now overthinking, Baby. Now, I am not trying to downplay your pain in any way, but this week has not been easy. Can we go back to bed? I can prop up your knee, and we can stay up talking. Give me all your thoughts, so you don't have to hold them to yourself. That sound okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Spencer lifts the cooled tea to his mouth, finishing the rest. "But I can't walk," he added, suddenly laying on prime puppy eyes. "Can you carry me?" finishing it off with grabby hands blooming out of his sweatshirt sleeve and directed to Aaron as he stands reaching across the island for his tea.

He laughs, shaking his head down at Spencer. Aaron then pushes the hair that's fallen into his eyes away, tucking it behind his ear and moving into Spencer's arms. "I guess I can do that, but just this once. Can I finish my tea?"

"I guess." Spencer pouts as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend's middle.

Aaron drinks the room temperature drink while his fingers comb Spencer's hair flat. Spencer nuzzles into Aaron's abdomen, pressing his nose to his boyfriend and breathing in deep. A gesture that comforts them both, Spencer's weight on Aaron and loving his body no matter the damage. Because their job has damaged them physically. But Aaron prided himself that he could pick up Spencer and hold him the way he needs when the worst thoughts run rampant.

Aaron sets the cup back on the kitchen island and places his now empty hand into Spencer's hair. Spencer looks up at Aaron when his hands go to the nape of his neck, and Aaron can't help himself.

"Would a kiss help your pain?"

"It couldn't hurt more."

Moving one hand to Spencer's jaw and leaning down, they connect in a chaste kiss. It ends quickly with Aaron just melting into Spencer, kissing a trail from his mouth to jaw to neck, and hugging the younger man.

"Babe, I'm so sleepy." Spencer wines.

"Okay," Aaron laughs into Spencer's neck. "Shall we go back to bed?"

Aaron feels Spencer nod rather than sees it. He scoops up Spencer, taking his hand from Spencer's jaw and looping it under his knees. It earns a squeal from Spencer and makes Aaron smile.

Back in their room, Aaron sets Spencer on the big armchair in the corner of the bedroom surrounded by stacks of books. Spencer picks up a book off the top of one stack as Aaron flicks on the lamp on his nightstand. Usually, this chair is also adorned with Aaron's pressed suit he chose for that day. But tomorrow there is no work; tomorrow is a day in bed with his love and his son shuffling through the Netflix movie choices.

After setting Spencer down, Aaron grabs the glasses for water they both have on their nightstands and fills them with fresh water from their bathroom. Then back in the bedroom, Aaron sets up pillows halfway down the bed. He walks back to Spencer and picks him back up, kissing the top of his head. Then placing him on the bed and holding his knee gently as he adjusts the pillows perfectly for Spencer.

"Um, Ar, can you get another squishy one? There's more in the corner of the closet."

"Of course, my Love." Aaron lowers Spencer's knee to the pillow, squeezing his shin, and walks to the closet. After rummaging in the closet between Spencer's cane and brace, he finds one. "Is this one good?" He raises it above his head and squishes it for Spencer to see. It collapses immediately.

"Yes, and babe, my glasses are on the dresser, please?"

"Yes, anything else, my Prince?"

Spencer swallows before responding, "Gender-neutral pronouns?"

Aaron turns, glasses limp in his hand, looking at Spencer sitting in their bed. Not 20 minutes ago, Spencer told Aaron he wanted to cut when he woke. Now he didn't want to be a 'he.'

"Sweetheart, wait is that okay," Spencer nods to the fifth nickname that night. "How long have you been feeling these things? The self stuff and self-harm."

"I took some classes really early on in undergraduate, and I was intrigued. Then I went into the bureau, and Gideon told me how to look professional, and since he left, I kinda have been looking at things more."

"Spence," Aaron walks back to the bed and joins Spencer, handing them their glasses. "It's been about two years since Gideon left. Why haven't you told me."

"We weren't together. And then we were, and I didn't feel like myself because I didn't have Gideon to tell me what to do, how to look, and I had all these thoughts and you. God Aaron, you were so solid until, well."

"Yeah." They both knew they didn't have to say what the 'until' was. Aaron sits on the bed, placing the pillow below Spencer's knee. "I can't believe it hasn't been a year. And Jack, I am unbelievably glad I have you and Jessica, but sometimes he doesn't understand she's not coming back, and my little boy breaks my heart."

"Aaron, you don't have to," Spencer takes Aaron's hand and drags him closer to their body.

"No, Spence, I said we'll share our thoughts."

"But I don't want you to be sad."

"Do you want to change the subject?"

"Only if you want to," Spencer says. "But I want you to hold me, please. Like when I have panic attacks?"

"Of course. "Aaron takes the blankets where he folded them back before he placed Spencer in the bed and fit to their body. "Do you want your weighted blanket, or will it hurt more?"

"Can you take it off, please and be my weighted blanket tonight?" Spencer cards their hand through the short hairs by their boyfriend's ear before he leans away, picking up the 20-pound blanket and throwing it off the bed. "Thanks, Baby."

"Hey, that's your nickname." Aaron lies back down, slides his hand up their side, under their shirt, and swings his leg between Spencers, scooting as close to their side he can possibly get without hurting. "Unless you don't want that anymore. We can come up with others. I really,"

"Aaron, Babe. I just said it to throw you off. You can keep calling me 'Baby.'"

"Okay." He breathes out, thumping his head on Spencer's shoulder and moving his other hand up to Spencer's throat. Aaron feels the blood rushing beneath his fingers and threading them through the hair on Spencer's neck. "But," he looks up to meet Spencer's eyes. "What do you want me to call you?"

"Partner?" Spencer speaks as if they were answering Aaron when at work about the timeline for the geographical profile.

"Okay. I can do that." Aaron lays his head on Spencer's heart, still looking up at them. "What do you want Jack to call you? Do you want to tell Jack?"

"Jack can call me Spencer or Spencie like he does already." Spencer won't make eye contact as they sink their head into the fluffy pillow behind their head. "We just have to talk to him about it. I know of this book for kids. It's a chapter book, but super simple, and we can read it to him. It's a way to explain to kids transgender and pronouns."

"That sounds perfect. Do you want to tell the team?"

"Well, and don't be mad, but Penelope already knows and kinda Derek. I just told him that I was doing self-talk in gender-neutral pronouns recently, and he just told me to keep him up to date."

"Spencer, I am so sorry that I made you feel like I would get mad at you. We work with people and kids constantly going through similar things, and they are always afraid of telling their significant others. They think they'll leave them because of it. I understand. And with Penny."

"Right." and as Spencer realizes what Aaron said, they shoot up in bed. "Oww," They scream as their knee-jerked when they sat up.

"Hey, you okay, Baby?" Aaron sits up as he was relocated to Spencer's lap when they sat up. He then grabs Spencer's face on both sides and strokes his thumbs over their cheekbones.

Spencer nods with a whimper that sounded to be a close resemblance to a positive confirmation. "You didn't make me feel bad. It's exactly what you said. It's just harder to tell significant others rather than friends sometimes. Especially when friends are in the queer community."

"Well, I'm glad you told me, baby." Aaron kisses Spencer's cheek. "do you want to lay down again?"

"Yes, please. How you were before was really comfortable."

"Okay." Aaron lowered Spencer's head back onto the pillow. He slotted himself snugly to Spencer's body, one arm up to their shirt and the other brushing back the hair that had fallen into Spencer's eyes. "like this?"

"Yes. Um," Spencer wriggles their shoulders into the pillows then wraps their arms around Aaron. "I like being able to look at you like this. And your body is nice pressure."

"So much so you might fall asleep?" Aaron's dancing his fingers back against Spencer's artery.

"No." Spencer then yawns, covering their mouth with the sleeve of the sweatshirt sleeve tucked under their thumb, making 'sweater paws.'

"My pretty Spencer, you need to sleep," Aaron says. "You'll feel better after a long night's sleep, and if you don't, still thinking those bad things, I'll call the team phyc."

And there, in the warm glow of the bedside table lamps and the weight of their boyfriend, their accepting love-of-their-life boyfriend, Spencer shuts their eyes. Feeling safe as they feel their own blood rush and touch of Aaron's fingers.

"I love you, Spence," Aaron mouths into their throat.

And in response, Spencer tips their mouth to Aaron's hair. "I love you, Aaron." Making sure their nose is full of Aaron, as it's the strongest sense.

[ask-purpled-and-blued]

Vigilante

Not once has Purpled ever called himself a hero.

He wants that on record, wants to say it up front. He’s never had any delusions about what he is and what he’s doing.

He doesn’t have the license for it, doesn’t have the morals for it. He’s not even saving that many people.

He’s just some kid running around in pro hero cosplay with his shoddy homemade support gear.

So riddle him this: why the fuck is his vigilante name trending on Twitter under #Swag_forHeroCon?

(—This one’s got a high-stress moment and the briefest panic attack known to man somewhere in the middle. Mind the post’s tags and reply if it needs more.—)

—

It started about a year ago. It’s sophomore year and he’s looking at his options for next year’s classes.

Of course he’s taking AP Calc and everything he thinks colleges wanna see. That’s a given and a no-brainer and he’s not gonna go into detail about that.

No, what matters is that his junior and senior year let him take career classes.

Hero-related career classes.

Because not only is this a private nerd school that he needs his scholarship to afford. It’s a private nerd school that has a dual-enrollment type thing with a nearby heroics school.

And one with a pretty good support course that is now available to him.

He’s always been interested in math and engineering. Support courses are just using both of those to make cool shit for heroes and make hella money while doing so.

He’s done his research. Support gear can cost anywhere from a couple thousand dollars to an arm and a leg and both your kidneys.

And it’s his dream to make that kinda money.

So he talks to his counselor about it, fills out the applications and waivers, takes the program’s entrance exam. And within a week he’s got his new schedule that’s got an extra two hours slapped onto the end of the day.

It’s gonna be so worth it.

—

And it really was.

The beginning of the year was covering what they should make support gear for, how to take the quirks and ideas of the heroes they’re working for and make them actually work.

But also the design process, how to research stuff, lab safety. How to make something look nice while not compromising its utility, costume design, branding. Different materials and their uses, different materials and how to work with them. How to deal with mistakes and set-backs. Avoiding burnout and getting literally burn.

The class was amazing. But his favorite part came later in the year.

The final project.

They were given a made up hero student’s profile and were told to create a support item for them. The file came with their name, measurements, hero name, quirk description, and several sketches of what the fake person looked like and of them using their quirk.

They were given a few deadlines and some profiles came with design requests, but for the most part they were allowed to go ham.

And go ham he did.

His assignment was a kid whose quirk was being able to float just himself. He got a couple sketches of what the kid’s costume already had and it looked like there was a bee theme going on.

So, naturally, he decided to give this kid a pneumatic nail gun.

...

Alright so maybe that wasn’t as intuitive as he thought it was. But the kid didn’t have any sort of weapon on him in any of the sketches!

And there wasn’t any sort of close combat abilities listed in the biography like some of his classmates’s people had, so the further this kid could be from the action while still packing a punch the better.

Hence the nail gun he was designing to look like a stinger.

He did his research. Looked up where the body’s vital organs are and read up on acupuncture. Looked up the damage that stab wounds can do and how fast a thing had to be going to go right through you.

Printed out some human outlines and wrote up a couple sheets that pointed out the “no-no spots.” And basically wrote a manual on how to use the thing and half an essay on why certain safety features were implemented to keep him and the fake kid from being sued.

And then halfway through actually building the thing he got the idea to add a paralytic substance.

And then he hated himself a little bit because he had to find a substance that would be non-lethal and would have the desired affect. And then he had to go to his teacher during his office hours to sit down and explain that yes he had this idea but he’s not entirely sure if it’s a good one.

And he wrote another almost-essay about what he chose as the paralytic substance and why he chose it and what the max amount the average person could take was so that he wouldn’t be liable if it was used improperly.

And then he recorded himself reading all of his paperwork both for extra credit and because apparently the kid’s bio said he was dyslexic and the teacher wanted them to do this as realistically as possible.

Probably would’ve been easier to just change the font but he’s come this far, might as well go the extra mile.

He paints the thing. Gathers up all his research and his concept sketches and his blueprints and his explanations and his recordings.

And he dumps them on the teacher’s desk and enjoys the lull in the class as the final projects get reviewed and graded.

They get to watch movies and Netflix with the TA while the teacher sits in the other room grading them.

He loved this class.

—

He still loves the class but it loses points for the fucking heart attack it just gave him.

Apparently the hero students they made shit for we’re real hero students. Actual, physical people who applied to the heroics department and got in. And may possibly one day be heroes if they didn’t fail.

And were going to come in and see the shit they made that passed inspections. And would be given said shit to use as part of their hero costumes.

In hindsight it should’ve been obvious, but Purpled cut himself some slack there.

At least his guy was nice. A little too excited at 4pm on a Thursday, but given the fact that Purpled just handed him a gun and said he could shoot people, it was understandable.

Purpled felt really good as he walked this Tubbo guy through the instructions again. Apparently he’d already been sent the paperwork and the audio before this. So all that was left to do was remind him about it the important stuff and then taking five wide steps back and letting him shoot at a practice dummy.

...

Well, Tubbo’s aim wasn’t his problem.

F to any villains and civilians in his way.

—

At this point, there’s probably some confusion.

“Purpled, why did you become a vigilante if your support gear inventing future looked bright?”

He’s getting to that!

He needs to talk about his junior year to give context for his senior year.

Which sucked absolute ass.

—

For one, Purpled’s quirk came in.

Now, normally that would be a pretty good thing. Somewhere around 80% of America’s population had quirks.

Four out of every five people had some sort of ability or abnormality that ranged from being able to detach your ear to having super strength. Getting one that wasn’t detrimental to your health, even at his age, was generally a positive thing.

Except Purpled’s actually sucked. Sucked so fucking bad.

Yeah, he was lucky in that he didn’t suddenly grow gills and need to live underwater for the rest of his life or something. But he honestly wished he could go back to a week ago when he didn’t have this quirk.

When he wasn’t constantly being forgotten by the people in his life because of a quirk he couldn’t turn off.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the quirk counselor’s quirk let them detect the use of quirks, he would’ve thought he’d lost it.

People forgetting his face, his name, his existence over the span of a week was hell. He had to show his mother his birth certificate and social security card and his baby pictures so that she’s remember she had another son. Let alone everyone else in his life that he only saw at school.

Oh god his fucking school.

The lengths he had to go to to keep his fucking scholarship was fucking nuts.

Classes were a nightmare with the teachers forgetting about him by the end of the period.

Things eventually got easier when he realized it was an area of effect thing and that he could shorten it to affect people within a few feet of him.

From that point on he just had to social distance from people like his life depended on it. Because his social and academic lives did depend on it.

He didn’t experiment with his quirk beyond that though. He hated it. He did everything in his power to keep it as tightly controlled as he could.

Until the one time he didn’t.

—

He was out to get another notebook because he’d severely underestimated how many notes he’d need to take for one of his classes. It was just supposed to be a quick stop on his way home.

He’d sat on the bus home with his quirk pulled in tightly around him, the force of it a buzzing weight on his skin that he refused to let go of.

He got off at a stop that wasn’t his but was closer to the dollar store he had in mind. He honestly didn’t expect to take more than ten minutes.

Then a guy walked in and loudly told the cashiers to hand over the money.

Purpled wasn’t that close to the front, but he peeked around the aisle and watched the robbery unfold.

The dude had what looked like leaves for hair and was holding the cashiers at gunpoint. There were two of them at adjacent checkouts, neither of them with any visible mutations. They actually might not have quirks.

Purpled has no idea what to do with this information.

His best bet was to wait for the heroes to arrive and stay quiet-

One of the cashiers was looking right at him. Robber guy noticed.

Turned around and pointed his gun at Purpled. Told him to get out from where he was hiding and to kneel on the ground in the open.

And Purpled was scared. He couldn’t move, he’d frozen.

The guy got loud and mad and he still had the gun pointed at him.

Purpled was panicking. His chest felt too tight and his quirk was freaking out. Buzzing harder than it ever has.

He couldn’t hold it. He let go.

...

For a moment, everything was still and everything was quiet.

Purpled felt light, he felt more at ease than he had in months.

Because his quirk was free and loose and everyone else in the room looked so fucking confused. Like they had no idea what was going on.

Like they just forgot what was going on.

And then the heroes arrived. How they knew to be here was anyone’s guess.

Purpled should probably give his statement.

Purpled was probably in shock though. So he forgave himself for shoplifting and not pulling his quirk back in. For just walking right out of the store and down the street.

Nobody shouted at him or called him back, so he assumed they forgot he was there.

He wished he could forget he was in the store for that moment too.

—

There’s a lot of other little things that lead up to Purpled being a vigilante, but those things don’t matter as much.

He drops out. It’s not hard to make people forget he even went to school.

He regularly breaks back into school to steal tools and materials for his projects and just wipes the people who walk in on him doing that shit.

Makes a costume but scraps it and decides to make several replicas of the top twenty’s costumes.

Because he’s realized that the wider he makes his range the less of an effect his quirk has on all those in range. Vice versa.

So the pro gamer move here is to make people forget what they saw the person in the pro hero costume doing instead of trying to make them forget they saw an unfamiliar figure doing shit.

Memory is reconstructive after all. Easily manipulated even without a quirk like his.

And he’s good at making his costumes and altering his appearance.

He probably won’t always do a good job wiping people’s memories though, so he lets it stick that there’s a vigilante that impersonates pro heroes. One that constantly shifts their appearance.

He even gets bold and makes a name for himself.

Swag_.

...

Listen he didn’t say it was a good name-

—

He doesn’t stop a lot of crime. And the people he does save often think they were saved by someone else.

But there’s always that one moment after he managed to save someone where they look at him. And they see him.

And that’s worth everything.

It’s not a selfless motive. It’s not a heroic motive.

But it’s enough of a motive for Purpled.

—

He doesn’t know how he got a following. Doesn’t know how he never noticed.

But he likes it. After the initial shock of seeing himself trending fades, he lets himself soak up all the positive attention.

And then he gets back to work.

[lone-parent]

04/21/22

So let’s get into this healing journey. Hardest shit ever. Healing from childhood trauma, mid life trauma and adult trauma at age 31 is the worst. It is hard to do when you have held on to trauma for so many years. It is hard when you have let your trauma fester and in turn affect your soul negatively. It is sad to say that when I am happy , it is uncomfortable for me but when I am depressed, anxious or angry, that feels normal for me. My soul is tarnished.

Let’s get into this last relationship with my son’s father. I wouldnt say it was the worse. I mean I did get gifts, he took care of me when I was sick one time, claim he wanted a family but for some reason he always had wandering eyes since the beginning. Wandering eyes are ok until those wandering eyes turn into secret relationships, secret dates, secret emotional attachments making me look like a fool and making me honestly just detach myself emotionally from the relationship or so I thought. I tried to end it from the beginning by pushing him away but he always came back. I felt as though as I was in a deep peaceful state of healing before him but he interrupted that and I am now worse than ever. I would say I dont react well to certain situations. You can buy me whatever but if I dont feel secure with you or feel like I am the only one, then I am no good to you. I was always upset, always angry, I never felt GOOD around him, I stopped wanting to have sex with him, I felt UGLY (which honesty I had never felt before). I felt fat even before I had our son and gained 80 pounds because everyone he talked to while we were together was mad skinny. My intuition was right though. He didnt love me, I was NOT the one for him and he HAS moved on to a skinny chick that wears make up, eye lashes, shake her ass on social media and materialistic. He went for everything he did not want me to be. He advised ME to stop wearing make up, and weaves but is now in love with someone who does all that. I dont understand. And even though I checked out a long time ago (as we both did obviously), I went crazy after he started disrespecting me. At first he was still playing both sides when he was with her but when I stopped giving in to him , he really started showing another side and disrespecting me! I mean I have a way with words but he was just too much...too much to even discuss.

I am healing from my mother who was an awesome mom my younger years however from end of middle school up into late adulthood, I did not get the best version of her. Ive always felt like a disappointment to her. She always frowns at me. I rarely see a smile . She has just recently started hugging me which I cannot accept because I am not used to that affection. I have been talked about behind my back by her. I feel like she has ruined alot of good things for me because she didnt like my decisions (they were not up to  par for HER). I have had to deal with demeaning messages from my mother. She has always been too deep into my business. Words are spells which alot of people dont understand and her words have been nothing but hurtful. Another example of spoiling by materials. Call me a fat bitch at a young age and buy me a barbie doll because adults know psychology with kids. I longed for a normal relationship with my mother especially because I did not have a father.  We have so many unhealed adults raising kids and it sucks. 

I have to say I am now an unhealed parent raising two kids. I am trying to be the best person I can be. I am trying to be better than how I was raised. I am trying to be a great parent, a great partner for my next man, a great employee , a great everyting but it is hard. It is a struggle for me right now. I saw a life with one partner however now I did not get it right twice and have two baby fathers that absolutely hate me. Most people have the strength to brush off words or negativity. I do not. It feeds my soul. Its really werid. Im so used to negativity and being cussed out or talked down to or unliked by those closest to me that it is normal for me .

I am trying .

I am trying to heal my soul.

I am trying to heal that inner child.

I am trying to be a better person.

All while being a full time mom, full time employee, trying to keep peace between me and my kids’ fathers (which is not going well) , trying to take my beatings in silence, trying to start a business and remain focused and it is fucking hard.

Please pray for me. 

[hit-em-with-the-four]

Lifetime of Waiting *Chapter 2*

AN: I am so so sorry that this is late! I promised it such a long time ago and I am finishing my semester of school and just started a new job so I’ve been less than a person! Here we go! I’m slowly getting the swing of things!! Without further a do, enjoy!

——————————

Chapter 2

Tessa wasn’t really sure what made her run from her soulmates. Maybe it was her commitment issues after a lifetime of being alone or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way she couldn’t bring herself to face them and so there she was outside of the club waiting for her uber without her coat. The cold New York air was not kind to her and made her regret her decision of leaving the club but it was far too late to turn back. She had made some lame excuse to Anise saying that she was going home to work on some case studies when in reality she just had to leave. As her Uber pulls up she sees the two men, her two men emerge from the club looking worried. She makes eye contact with one of them before getting into her uber and shutting the door.

“Good evening miss, how are you?” The older gentleman asks beginning the ten minute drive back to her apartment.

“I’m great thank you, how are you?” She politely makes conversation with the man until he drops her off at her apartment. She graciously thanks him and exits heading to the front door of her apartment building.

Once Tessa is back in her apartment, she is peeling off her heels and slipping out of her dress before drawing a bath. She cannot seem to get her mind of her two soulmates and how she never got their names. ‘Great, I meet the two im destined to be with and run away before I learn their names.’ She groans internally giving herself grief. From beside the tub her phone is going off.

Anise: I know that excuse was bullshit, now what really happened?

Tessa rolls her eyes and begins to think of an answer that her friend would think was acceptable.

Tessa: I got a notification regarding an assignment I needed to finish. Sorry!

Anise: This conversation isn’t over... btw not coming home! Found my soulmate and spending time with him. Sorry!

Tessa: I’m so happy for you love! We’ll talk when you get home. I want details of course.

Anise: Of course! I’ll let you know periodically how I am and where I am okay? Isabella and Ryan are going to his for the night so you’re alone.

Tessa: Amazing, thank you! Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ;)

Tessa shuts her phone off and rests it on the toilet seat lid.

At the club Mat and Tito are both confused as they watch their soulmate run out of there.

“What the fuck just happened?” Mat asks and Tito shakes his head.

“I think we just met our soulmate and let her run away from us.” Tito says running a hand over his face. He had been waiting for his soulmate for 80 years now and let her slip through his fingers. His family was one of the families in which all of them had been cursed with a long life expectancy, Anthony had been the luckiest and was stuck at 18 until the year 2015. Then he had begun to age naturally as a way to find his soulmate. He didn’t understand it fully but his mother had always told him growing up that the world worked in weird ways. Mat and his family were under the same issue. They all must find their soulmates before they can start to age again and Mat was the last one to find his soulmate. His little sister had found hers just a few years prior in her final year of high school, leaving Mat the only Barzal without a soulmate.

“How does this work though? Are we both her soulmate?”

“Yeah, I mean I guess. But how can someone have two?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing by the way we both reacted she is telling the truth.”

“I mean, yeah there is no reason why she would lie.”
“Where the fuck did she go by the way? We need to go after her?”

“Fuck, yeah. She probably left, we should see if we can stop her.” The two men exit the club and are looking around frantically to see if they can find the girl that they’ve been looking for. Anthony sees her out of the corner of his eye and makes brief eye contact before she gets into a car and speeds off.

“She just left.” He huffs watching the car fade from his eye sight.

“What do you mean she just left?” Mat asks.

“She got in an Uber and left. What else do you want me to say?”

“Fuck, so we’ll never see her again.”

“Good chance.” The pair head back into the bar feeling disjointed and defeated.

“What’s got you guys so upset?” Anders asks holding onto a new woman who neither man had seen before.

“We let our soulmate get away.” Mat says slumping down into the booth.

“Why?”

“She ran.” Anthony says with a shrug.

“We don’t even know her name. We were stupid and didn’t ask her name.” Mat runs a hand through his hair and watches the young woman furiously type on her phone. Then it clicks for him, “fuck, you’re the girl that was dancing with her.”

“What was her name?” Anthony asks leaning across the table towards her. She giggles leaning into Anders’ shoulder.

“I don’t know if that’s for me to say boys.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean obviously Tessa didn’t want to tell you?” Anise smiles letting the boys know her name.

“Why didn’t she want to tell us?... wait her name is Tessa?” Anthony asks catching on to her slip.

“Yep....” Anise nods.

“And you are?”

“I’m Anise, pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Anthony and this is Mat.”

“Nice to meet you Anise.” Mat says politely. Anders pulls her impossibly closer to his side and she places her hand on his knee.

“So will you tell us where she is.”

“Nope, she’ll find you when the time is right. I’m not interfering in fate.” Anise shrugs and the two boys look at her incredulously.

“Why not?!”

“Because fate was telling her to run, I am not going to interfere with her gut. You’ll meet again when you meet again.”

“Well we need to be with her.” Mat huffs gripping at his hair.

“Well, if she doesn’t want you to know where she is, then suck it up. She will come when she wants.” Both boys leave it at that and go to get another beer.

A few weeks go by before Tessa runs into the boys again. She had just finished her shift at the gentleman’s club and was on her way home when she spotted the two men in suits walking out of a classy high rise. She ducks her head and continues to walk right by, hoping that the two boys don’t notice her. She’s almost of their sight when she’s pulled into a hard chest.

“You think you can walk past us and not have us notice you?” A deep, raspy voice growls in her ear. She’s bites back a moan letting her eyes close.

“No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She stutters.

“I think you do know baby girl.”

“Nope, not me.” Tessa sighs her head tossing back. If anyone saw her they would think she was crazy. But thankfully it was still dark out being 6 am in winter.

Mat drags his fingers up her arm towards her neck and she lets out a soft whimper showing her neck more. ‘Why is my body reacting this way. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.’ She thinks.

“I know you wanna be choked but I don’t think it’s appropriate in public my dear Tessa.” He smirks, lips close to Tessa’s ear.

“How do you know my name?” She asks gulping.

“Anise.” Tessa rolls her eyes and turns around to face him.

“Of course, well you found me. Hi, now what?” She asks pulling her jacket tighter around her body. Both Anthony and Mat were taken back by her reaction. Tessa notices their faces and sighs, “Sorry, I just got done work and I need to do school work and well, I am a little tired.” She yawns rubbing her eyes and the two boys feel their hearts melting.

“It’s okay, she’s the soulmate of our coworker so the night we met she met him and told us your name.” Anthony says from where he was leaning against the building. Tessa gets a good look at the two men and bite her lip. ‘Fuck they look so good.’

“So, since you know my name can I know yours?” She asks.

“I am Mat or Mathew but normally Mat.”

“And I am Anthony, Tito or Beau. Whichever you prefer.”

“Beau, like handsome in French?” Anthony chuckles shaking his head.

“Kind of, but it’s because of my last name. Beauvillier,” Tessa makes a mental note to search him up later.

“It’s nice to meet you both finally, I am able to put a name to your faces. Now to avoid anymore issues I am going to need both of your numbers.” She shrugs.

“Why don’t we drive you home and get you some coffee so you can do your work. At least right now we can get out of the cold.” Mat says smiling at his soulmate.

“I’d like that but I need someone to hold my hands, they’re both super cold.” Tessa whines exaggeratedly and both boys are quick to grab her hands. Hers feel so tiny in comparison to Mat and Anthony’s.

Once they’re in the car, a nice SUV Tessa thanks the boys.

“Here, give me your phones. I’ll add my number.” She smiles.

“Amazing, thank you.” Tessa cheekily puts her name in Mat’s phone as ‘Babygirl 💕’ and just ‘Tessa🌸’ in Anthony’s as she wants him to decide her nickname.

“Thanks.” Anthony smiles leaning over to kiss her head without a second though. Tessa feels a warm feeling spread through her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” He stutters.

“I liked it, don’t worry hun.”