#you can run and run and always land back home. you can hurt and triumph and break and always find your love. even if it's yours alone.

[demons2003]

Fruity Four Adventures (Part 1)

Series List

“Let’s get moving already!!” Robin yells from my car, beeping the horn over and over to get me out of the house. I roll my eyes and look back into my old empty home. It looks as empty as always but it still feels like it’s missing something. Or like me leaving is making a difference to the place. As I move to close the door, to forget about this home once and for all, another horn sounds from my left. Speeding down the street is Eddie’s van, Nancy leaning out the window and waving at us. “Oh god,” I whisper and make my way over to my car.

“God she looks so hot right now,” Robin whispers as I move next to her and Eddie pulls into my driveway. “If you made a move by now then maybe she’d already be yours,” I whisper to her, earning me a push in the arm and a fond, ‘Dingus’. “What are you two gossiping about over here?” Eddie asks as he comes bounding down the driveway. “How bad your driving was. You could’ve really hurt someone driving like that,” Robin jokes. Eddie pokes his tongue at her and Robin gives him one back. Neither of them stops even after they should have.

“If you’re both done, I’d really like to get on the road already,” Nancy states while coming up behind Eddie. “Leave them be for a sec. I wanna see who wins this,” I laugh and walk over to Nancy. She rolls her eyes but nods. “They could stay like this forever if we don't step in to stop them,” Nancy says after some time has passed of the two of them just staring at each other with their tongues out. “You're right but if one of them stops now then we can finally start our journey and I can get someone some ice cream on the way,” I tease, hoping that Robin would stop.

Instantly, Robin looks over at us and smiles. “Well let’s get going already, I want some ice cream!!” She exclaims and ducks back into the car. Eddie turns to us and gives a triumphant smile. I smile back at him as he says, “Thanks for that, sweetheart. I just won.” I blush and shrug my shoulders, walking back over to the driver's side of my car and opening the door. “Get in your van so I can get out Eds, or no ice cream for you." Eddie's eyes go wide and he runs back to his car, grabbing onto Nancy on the way. I laugh at Eddie’s antics and shake my head, jumping into my car and starting it up. Getting ready for our drive to our new home.

In their Chicago Apartment

“It’s so big in here!” Eddie gasps out loud, spinning around a few times to take the place in. The rest of us give a giggle at his actions and put down the last of the boxes we’ve been bringing up. “It’s a normal-sized apartment Eddie,” Robin says as she lays face down on the couch, clearly exhausted from the moving. “Not to me. I’ve been living in a show box for my whole life. This is so much bigger,” Eddie says, moving over to the couch and landing on top of Robin causing her to groan. “Come on, help us unpack some of this stuff before it gets dark. We are going to need some of this tomorrow,” I yell over to the two of them as Nancy and I start opening a few of the boxes labelled ‘Kitchen Stuff’ in Eddie’s scribbly handwriting. “But we’re tired!” Robin yells back at me, poking her head above the couch and giving me her best puppy dog eyes. “Yeah Stevie, we wanna rest for a minute,” Eddie says next, doing the very same thing as Robin.

I look between the two and sign, turning around so I don’t have to look at them anymore and they don't notice my blush. Eddie woops in triumph and more ruffling occurs over near the couch. “You are way too nice to them both,” Nancy whispers to me as she moves over. I smirk at her and tease, “If they were looking at you, you’d be reacting in the exact same way Nance.” She scoffs and shakes her head. Before she turns away from me though I notice a slight blush spread across her cheeks. We work the rest of the kitchen stuff into its place and turn to find both Robin and Eddie asleep on the couch. “They really were tired from all the driving and the moving,” Nancy whispers to me and walks over to the two of them. “Yeah, they’ll never lie about needing to sleep,” I whisper back and sit down on the loveseat next to the couch.

“They look really cute like this,” I whisper over to Nancy who is sitting on the coffee table facing them as well. She nods and runs her hand through Robin's hair without noticing. Robin groans a little but doesn’t stir too much. “Should we leave them here and finally go to sleep?” Nancy asks, turning slightly to face me. I shrug and look over at the two of them. They switched places before they got to sleep. Eddie is now lying on his back with Robin lying on his chest. My two favourite people sleeping together. So nice. “Nah, they’ll be cranky if we let them sleep all night on the couch,” I whisper and walk over to the three of them.

Nancy takes her hand off Robin and I start to shake her, trying to slowly wake her up. She groans and digs her face more into Eddie's chest, causing him to groan out as well. “Come on you two, you need to get into your own beds,” I say, shaking Robin again while Nancy starts to tap Eddie on the forehead. “I’m comfy here though,” Eddie wines, swatting at Nancy’s hand. I laugh at him and start to help Robin up. “If you get up now you can sleep in my bed then?” I ask, not really understanding why the thought made me a little nervous. Robin gives me a tired confused look while Eddie gets up excited. “Really?” He asks all excited and almost knocks Robin and me down in the process. “How about I take Robin to bed and you take Eddie to yours?” Nancy asks, giving me a very confused look. I blush and nod my head, moving Robin over to her. “Make sure she is on her side, she’ll kill me if she doesn’t fall asleep like that,” I tell Nancy as I let Robin move over to her. She nods at me and leads Robin towards what might be Robin’s new room.

I turn to Eddie to find him looking at me like an excited puppy, with no sign of sleep anywhere on him. I smile and gesture toward the hallway. He immediately runs in the direction of a bedroom and out of my sight. I laugh and slowly walk down the hall, noticing Nancy tucked into a bed with Robin in her arms. Dam they are really cute together. I look into another bedroom but find it empty so I continue on until I find Eddie already curled up in a bed, slowly falling back to sleep. I smile at him again and crawl in behind him, trying not to wake him from whatever he is dreaming about.

[tripleyeeet]

My brain has been rotting with Romero and Wyll so buckle in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride in infodump land.

To refresh, Romero is a bard, one son of the famous bard Gerhart Tulb, who left a lot of families behind on his own adventures. Gerhart reconciled with his lovers, married most of them, and built a large house for his kids and partners to live in. Anyway,

Wyll is an only child. He's used to a small, compact family. He would love a kid or two of his own one day, but the idea of a large family (especially one as large as Romero's, with ~11 parents and ~14 or so kids) isn't really on his mind.

In comes Romero, somewhere-in-the-middle-child of a huge family, who isn't used to having a small family. He get married to Wyll after the tad-venture and lives with Wyll, helping with politics and social reforms where he can. But it's empty. Too empty. Romero is literally begging to fill the space up as quickly as possible because it's off-putting for him. He's used to taking care of his little siblings and helping in family matters.

They take the time to settle into home living again, take time to really talk and think things through and just enjoy life and love. And then they adopt a few kids. One to start, but then comes another, and another. I haven't actually put much thought into their kids, but at least one is definitely a tiefling.

Wyll is the sweet, always gentle parent. He'll teach his kids how to fight and be brave and all that, but he never hurts them in their little sparring sessions. Not even a scratch. He's busy with being a Duke, but he always finds time for his family. It's everything he could have dreamed of and more.

Romero, on the other hand, pure chaos. He's picking up the kids and swinging them around by their feet, carrying them around everywhere under his arm and slung over his shoulder. Their littlest, the tiefling, he's more careful with, but even then he's pretending to toss her into the Chionthar. He teaches them music and instruments, and magic. He's a little shocked if any of them don't want to take up music - almost his entire family are bards, to the point it feels like it runs through their blood. But he takes it in stride, trying to be a good dad and help them get where they wanna go.

I also imagine Wyll and Romero spar each other with their rapiers to put on a show for the kids. Who's to say if Romero cheats by trying to distract him?

They both tell the kids stories each night. Usually they switch off, but sometimes one is busy and the other takes over. Romero's a great story teller without music, but he loves getting to play his lute while traveling from bed to bed as he sings about their adventures. He'll also tell them about the Blade of Frontiers, about the Blade's triumphs, but he doesn't tell them one of their dads is the famed hero. He leaves that to Wyll, because he left the Blade behind to become Wyll Ravengard, Duke of Baldur's Gate. It's not his place to put the mask back on.

I've rambled on for long enough, but!! They deserve a family and kids and all the happiness in the world!!! I love themmm <33333 I'm currently 3k words into a smutfic for them and it is the sweetest thing istfg

If you want me to infodump again, I have so many thoughts on Wyll's "forgive but never forget" versus Romero's "never forget, never forgive, especially if it wronged someone I love"

Also bc idk if you saw it, here's some art I did perfectly displaying their parenting styles okay I'm done lmao

first of all, LOVE ROMERO TO DEATH. i remember when you first mentioned him to me (i think it was the scene where he's helping take care of wyll's horns?) i was kicking me feet. they're so cute together. and the idea of them growing alongside each other and getting the opportunity to raise their own in the way that they want must be so healing for wyll?

like, i know this is about romero but i just have to mention the idea of wyll getting to provide his kids with the love he didn't receive growing up has my heart HURTING. that man went through hell and back and came out humble and loving and just???? he'd be the best dad.

same with romero though. in a different way, obviously. but nonetheless in one that both of their parenting styles i think would compliment the other.

also. screaming at the pics you've provided. that meme format is one of my favourites. <3

[marprocessesjournal]

ISTD- Poetry on Immigration/ The Immigrant Experience

The poems in this collection are really good and reflect the immigrant experience really well, but I think the majority if not all of them are rented around an American perspective, so there's a huge cultural difference between these and what I will be talking about. A lot of these are also from an adult immigrant's perspective rather than an adult who grew up a child immigrant, this may not seem like a big difference but I think experiencing this in one's formative years develops different emotions and outcomes than experiencing this as an adult. Either way, here are some poems from the collection that I think work really well at showing the juggling and merging of two cultures.

My tongue is divided into two

BY QUIQUE AVILÉS

"My tongue is divided into two by virtue, coincidence or heaven words jumping out of my mouth stepping on each other enjoying being a voice for the message expecting conclusions My tongue is divided into two into heavy accent bits of confusion into miracles and accidents saying things that hurt the heart drowning in a language that lives, jumps, translates My tongue is divided by nature by our crazy desire to triumph and conquer This tongue is cut up into equal pieces one wants to curse and sing out loud the other one simply wants to ask for water My tongue is divided into two one side likes to party the other one takes refuge in praying tongue english of the funny sounds tongue funny sounds in english tongue sounds funny in english tongue in funny english sounds My tongue sometimes acts like two and it goes crazy not knowing which side should be speaking which side translating My tongue is divided into two a border patrol runs through the middle frisking words asking for proper identification checking for pronunciation My tongue is divided into two My tongue is divided into two I like my tongue it says what feels right I like my tongue it says what feels right"

Choi Jeong Min

BY FRANNY CHO

"For my parents, Choi Inyeong & Nam Songeun in the first grade i asked my mother permission to go by frances at school. at seven years old, i already knew the exhaustion of hearing my name butchered by hammerhead tongues. already knew to let my salty gook name drag behind me in the sand, safely out of sight. in fourth grade i wanted to be a writer & worried about how to escape my surname — choi is nothing if not korean, if not garlic breath, if not seaweed & sesame & food stamps during the lean years — could i go by f.j.c.? could i be paper thin & raceless? dust jacket & coffee stain, boneless rumor smoldering behind the curtain & speaking through an ink-stained puppet? my father ran through all his possible rechristenings —  ian, isaac, ivan — and we laughed at each one, knowing his accent would always give him away. you can hear the pride in my mother’s voice when she answers the phone this is grace, & it is some kind of strange grace she’s spun herself, some lightning made of chain mail. grace is not her pseudonym, though everyone in my family is a poet. these are the shields for the names we speak in the dark to remember our darkness. savage death rites we still practice in the new world. myths we whisper to each other to keep warm. my korean name is the star my mother cooks into the jjigae to follow home when i am lost, which is always in this gray country, this violent foster home whose streets are paved with shame, this factory yard riddled with bullies ready to steal your skin & sell it back to your mother for profit, land where they stuff our throats with soil & accuse us of gluttony when we learn to swallow it. i confess. i am greedy. i think i deserve to be seen for what i am: a boundless, burning wick. a minor chord. i confess: if someone has looked at my crooked spine and called it elmwood, i’ve accepted. if someone has loved me more for my gook name, for my saint name, for my good vocabulary & bad joints, i’ve welcomed them into this house. i’ve cooked them each a meal with a star singing at the bottom of the bowl, a secret ingredient to follow home when we are lost: sunflower oil, blood sausage, a name given by your dead grandfather who eventually forgot everything he’d touched. i promise: i’ll never stop stealing back what’s mine. i promise: i won’t forget again."

[diaryofassortedimagines]

freak like me

request/summary: Can I make a request where Credence has a girlfriend who protects him from cruel people and then consoles him? @green-day-fangirl

warnings: my poor baby credence gets so scared, angst, fighting

anywayssss i hope this was good enough!

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credence cringed a bit every time he would stroll through the streets of london where he used to hand out flyers. remembering the chill of each gust of wind, the abuse of every passing individual, the emotionally draining and hope-killing life he had once had. for a long time, he was hardly able to walk through the streets without being on the edge of a breakdown

all that he had in his hold life had changed, however, on the day you two met eyes. it was not long before his obscurial incident, in fact. vividly, the two of you remember the story of how you met- it started from the usual bully, pushing him out of his way with clear intent on hurting him, an experience credence was all too used to. as you witnessed the act and looked around you, only to see a plethora of people ignoring it, you found it your duty to right the wrong no one else would. in your eyes, it was unacceptable, something credence had never seen from anybody.

“hey!” you stepped in front of the man, being careful not to actually put your hands on him and looked him, bravely, in the eyes before turning your gaze to credence. he shriveled a bit, afraid of what the outcome would be, but snuck looks at you. “what was that for? you had plenty of room!” the man scoffed.

“just get out of my way, sweetheart.” you stomped to the side, not letting him pass. “apologize to him. now.” he sighed. “look, i have places to be, lady... if i apologize, will you move?” you nodded in triumph. “fine. sorry, kid.” “no, no no,” you said. “look at him, like you mean it.” the man turned to the frightful credence and said. “i’m sorry i pushed you, kid.” he looked back at you and you gave a straight faced nod, stepping aside.

“are you okay?” you took just a few steps toward credence. wordlessly, he nodded yes. “good.” you smiled and turned. credences eyes widened.

“wait!” he clasped his hands over his mouth in regret. however, you quickly returned back to his side. “you didn’t have to do that. it happens all the time.” he was hardly audible. you tilted your head in confusion. “well, it’s precisely for that reason i did do it. it doesn’t have to happen all the time.” he smiled a tiny bit, although you could hardly see his face as he tilted it downward. “i’m y/n.” you reached your hand out, speaking and acting cheerfully. weakly, he took your hand and “shook it”. his grip wasn’t firm in the slightest, and was clearly inexperienced in the act of meeting people. he inhaled, gathering as much bravery as he could. “c-credence.” he shrunk into himself with embarrassment. “well, why don’t i take some of these for you, credence?” you gestured toward the small stack of flyers still left in his hands. this certainly warmed him up to you a bit, as his eyes brightened and he smiled up at you. “really??” you chuckled and took them from him, putting them in your bag as if you would actually use them. “maybe i’ll see you again? i-i just landed a job here, so... yknow.” he could’ve cried in that moment. he’d never really had a friend, but what he knew about how they acted, you were pretty close to it. “y-yeah.” he started playing with his fingers behind his back, his heart absolutely faltering. you gently placed your hand on his shoulder, entirely in a friendly way, and he melted on the inside, but wouldn’t let himself show it. “‘bye for now, credence.” he loved the way you used his name. “goodbye... y/n.”

that had all happened almost a year ago, now, but you were still just as protective of your dearest as always. you learned his telltale signs that said he was nervous, and as his chest began to heave, you clenched his hand with a strong grip and pulled him into you, moving your hand to be over his shoulders.

“here we are.” you said as the two of you stopped in front of a tailor shop. “i’m just gonna run in. ‘you okay here?” he smiled a bit.

“yeah! ... yeah i’ll b-be okay.” truthfully, he was nervous, but also thought it was good for him to face his fears a bit. you kissed his cheek before heading inside. he turned on his heel and looked at the passerby’s in the chilly streets.

at an almost comically bad time, the unthinkable happened. a group of kids, even younger than credence, caught each other’s eyes for a second or so.

“what’s with that hair?” he and his friends laughed. credence inhaled deeply and pursed his lips, pretending to ignore it. “hello?” he snapped a finger in front of his face. he was in so much strife at the moment. he expected to either break down and cry or enter his obscurial form, something he had done so good at controlling.

“stop... p-please.” he was so proud of himself in that moment! not only did he look them in the eyes for a moment, he spoke at a level they could hear (even if barely). his naivety got the best of him however- they didn’t stop like he expected them to. “why should i do that?” they were relentless on terrorizing him. “what a silly outfit!” they were all snickering and giggling at him, shamelessly. “take this stupid hat off!” as the kid raised his hand, fear struck his heart, and credence instinctively caught it. he was unaware of his own strength, as the boy struggled to get free. in an instant, everything happened. first he saw another hand coming for his jaw, and the next, the soft and gentle hands of yours stopping it.

the rage in your eyes as the two of you had a little staring contest was insatiable. credence, in shock let go of his hand by mistake. as one hand was freed, you expected his next move to be to go for you, and dipped out of the way of his blow. as peaceful a person as you were, you would allow nothing to come between credence and his happiness. as a last resort, you used both arms and bashed him into the rest of his friends, standing there looking at them like a lion. the kid scoffed. “whatever, he’s not worth it anyways. freak.” credence had shed a tear by now, and without hesitation you spat in his face. his mouth was open in shock as he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. ”go home, young man.”

your power was that you were a formidable force that nobody feared until you had reason to. you fought valiantly against a variety enemies as a friend of the goldstein’s and mr. scamander to the extent where a snot-faced kid was no match, no matter how much he thought he was. not to mention, you had a few... spells up your sleeve.

as he charged at you, you twirled your wand discreetly under the cover of your coat sleeve. “slugulus eructo.” you whispered with a sly smirk. in an instant his mouth erupted with slimy slugs. the boy was revolted and horrified as his friends ran away from you in fear, him soon following. credence laughed quietly- had never seen that spell.

the very second they left, you sped over to credence, who was looking at you both amazed and terrified, and held his face, wiping away a tear.

“are you okay?”

“are you okay?” the two of you spoke in union.

“oh, baby, i’m okay. you’re not hurt are you?” he nodded no. “i’m so sorry. i should never have left you alone, it’s my fault. i’m sorry, honey, i’m so sorry-” he cut you off by simply hugging- clinging to you tightly. you kissed his head. “oh, credence i’m so glad you’re okay. that was amazing what you did back there, catching his hand like that. i’m so proud of you honey. it’s okay, everything’s okay. you’re doing so good, my love, look at you, how far you’ve come.” you clung to each other like leaches. he was blown away at your existence, each and every word that came out of your mouth was his saving grace.

“i-i’m sorry i didn’t want you to get caught in the middle.” you chucked. “don’t worry about me; it was hardly an inconvenience.” you held up your pair of just-tailored pants, completely intact and undamaged. he smiled “gosh, you’re... you’re incredible... my real guardian angel.” pausing, he said: “i’m... not really a freak, am i?” you gasped. “oh darling, i thought we’d been over this, how could you think that after all this time?” he shrugged, and as he wouldn’t look you in the eyes, you gently took his chin and made him. “even if you were a freak, you’d still be mine. my freak, and i love you so much, credence. you’re simply beyond words splendid. besides, who can say what normal is? your normal is different than mine, and to some people, i’m a bit of a freak too.” you smiled. “and baby, you’re the prettiest, most talented, kindest freak i know.” a pretty coral tint was across his face as you spoke. “thank you... i-i love you... too.” he spoke with uncertainty, but you knew completely that he meant it and was only unused to affection. the two of you laughed as you said. “i know, babe. wanna head home.” he smiled to you and nodded as you apparated into a swirl and returned to your warm bed.

——————————————————————————

not to ruin this with how much of a horny bitch i am, but alternate ending where credence gets aroused at how much of a badass you are....? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[x-childish-x]

Hello!! I was wondering if you can do a kurt x reader with promts 4, 20, 22, 24, 25, 34, 35, 36, 38, 48, 49, 52. sorry for so many promtes but if you can do it than tysm and if you can't than that's fine lol

Looking Back

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x fem!reader

Fandom: X-Men

Warnings: angst-ish, sadness, cheating boyfriend, cussing, degradation from ex-boyfriend, mutant reader, happy ending, cuddling

Word Count: 1,114

A/N: Hello lovely! First off, thank you for this request, I hope you enjoy it and feedback is always appreciated! Don't apologize at all for requesting a lot of prompts, I love the challenge and a lot of these prompts were one's I've been dying to get in a request! This was fun to write and I truly hope that you enjoy it!

Summary: You look back on your relationship with your ex and how lucky you are to have Kurt now.

(gif not mine!)

Looking back, you suppose it was never going to work. 

You had always felt you were too intense for Tyler, never realizing that you were just with the wrong man. You'd come home early from the mansion, your intention to surprise him, only to find him in your bed with another woman that most definitely wasn't you.

You hadn't meant to explode, but you had, all the electricity in your apartment going off like a switch, your body absorbing it like a sponge. The girl screamed, taking in the sight of your arms that currently had small sparks of electricity running up and down them. She bolted past you and out of your apartment, crying about something you couldn't care less about.

"Princess-"

"I'm not your princess," You snarled out, cutting Tyler off.

He smirked, the damn boy smirked, before speaking up, "You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise." 

Oh, you were raging now, the electricity flying off you in bigger sparks, "Excuse me!? This red.. it's anger, not from being flattered, you colossal dumbass! You have the never to flirt when you were just fucking another woman!"

He shrugged, sliding on sweats and getting out of the bed, "God, you've always been so touchy, you're weak-"

"You're one to speak," You snarled, directing a current of electricity through the floor to zap him, solidifying your point. 

"You bitch!" He snarled, rubbing his arms now, "It's not like I was the first one to cheat anyway!"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, "Kurt."

"Oh my god!" You yelled, throwing your arms up in frustration, "He's just a friend!"

"We used to be 'just friends' too!"

"You're that insecure? You know I love-- loved you, you jackass!"

He rolled his eyes, "Well, I never really loved you. Been cheating for months anyways."

Tyler smiled in triumph as your face dropped, tears welling in your eyes. Looking back, you realize that idiot wasn't worth a second of your time. You realize you should've gotten with Kurt sooner, never used Tyler as a distraction from your crush on your best friend. Your best friend, who thankfully, seemed to know exactly when you needed him.

"Forget it, you're a fucking asshole."

You spun around, intending to march into your living room when Tyler grabbed your arm. You went to shock him, maybe even completely electrify him, when a soft 'bamf' filled the room. Your head snapped to Kurt. His eyes were frantic, assessing the situation before his glare landed on your new ex-boyfriend.

"If you don’t let her go right now, I swear I will break every bone in your body."

Your smiled widened at Kurt's words as you sent a jolt of electricity to the area of your arm Tyler had been holding. He yelped in shock, jerking away from you and glaring as you bolted to Kurt. He watched as Kurt engulfed you in his arms, his tail wrapping securely around you as he glared at Tyler.

"Are you really choosing him over me?" Tyler scoffed in disgust as you looked up.

"I'd choose Kurt over you anytime," You snapped, glaring at the disgusting man.

You turned with Kurt, walking towards the door. You could come to get your things later. And you did the next day, returning with Kurt and Peter, who helped you gather your things incredibly quick. Looking back, you thought of all the times you should've done that so much sooner.

"You're gonna walk out on me, you whore? I'm the best you could ever get."

"You were the one who walked out, not me," You scoffed, turning back around, "And, the best I could ever get... is right here." 

You'd never forget the defeated look Tyler gave you as you pat Kurt's chest, who was absolutely glowing at the broken look on the man's face. It truly was one of the best moments you'd had without needing to say an incredibly witty remark. It was short, quick, and immensely true. Kurt was the best, the most amazing boyfriend you'd ever had. You only wished you hadn't been so afraid to tell him you liked him.

You jolted at Kurt's side, a small bit of electricity shocking him as your eyes opened. He smiled softly, his arm rubbing you gently as you slowly looked up at him. You hated your nightmares because they were often the same, people you loved getting hurt or the moment Tyler hurt you the most. You knew it was stupid with Kurt by your side, but for some reason, your brain still held on to those awful last moments.

"Another nightmare?" 

You nodded at his voice, scooching closer into his side, "I don't know why it bothers me so much."

"Because he hurt you."

You nodded softly at Kurt's words, fighting hard to stay awake as the lull of sleep crept upon you, "I'm just such a burden to you, Kurt. You have to let me go."

"Don't say that!" Kurt hissed, "Y/n, darling... when I asked you to be my girlfriend, I was well aware of the relationship you'd been put through. I knew your pain and your struggles, didn't I?"

You nodded softly.

"There are a thousand different ways to tell someone you love them, and I intend to try every single one. Not only because that's what you deserve, but it's what I want to do. I'm not leaving. Ever."

A smile had pulled onto your face at this point, a soft, lazy smile as Kurt repeatedly rubbed your back. He noticed your small smile, his heart swelling with love and affection at your adorable, sleepy face being squashed into his chest. A quiet giggle left your lips before you spoke up.

"What about when you die?"

"Can't I just be romantic for once?" Kurt huffed with a smile, watching the way your nose scrunched, "But... even when I die, I'll still haunt you. I'll leave roses with you each day, I'll make plates break when you don't eat, I'll make you buy one of those scary boards so we can still talk. I love you (y/n), and not even death could prevent me from showing my love for you."

As he finished his miniature rant, Kurt looked down at you. He smiled widely at the sight of you fully asleep, a small smile on your lips. Kurt loved, more than anyone ever had, and more than you ever thought possible. Looking back on everything you'd been through made Kurt decide that you would never, ever go another day in your life, believing that you weren't completely and utterly loved.

[ura-writes]

Trampolinist - Part Two

Part summary: You encounter a few strange teenagers, discover blown-up ruins, and find out about who caused them.

Warnings: mild anxiety, thoughts of murder, blood, threats, lots of swears

A/N - I got a good few requests asking for a taglist for Trampolinist, so here it is! Just ask and you shall be added!

@lemonmochitea

@dad-ee-drea

@victoria-a567

Also, this is non-canon compliant, but only by a bit. I may change a few small details.

Hope y’all enjoy!

(Also, if you can find the movie reference I put in here, then kudos to you!)

——

A lingering curiosity sits in the back of your head for the rest of the week, not quelled by any amount of Bedwars or Skywars, which leave you exhausted in the evenings.

Even your dreams hold inquisitiveness.

How lovely.

Eventually you have to go back to your home world to check on your animals, repair your tools and the like. It’s tedious work, but nothing you can’t handle.

Boredom eventually sets in.

It’s unnerving. You never get bored of combat, of competition between your fellow players and teammates, but here you are, eyeing the list of servers on your grid.

Only two people are on the server at the moment, their names not available for whatever reason. You’d prefer to pop on when there were no people online, mostly to scope out the server, but you’ll take only having to deal with two people.

Hopefully they’re adults and not kids that recently learned to use portals.

You stick your pointer finger out, curl it like you’re dragging it down a wall; a ripple starts where your finger lands, slowly following its path downwards. It rips a hole through the fabric of woven servers, creating a direct link to the Dream SMP. You just hope that no one attempts to close the portal, as opening one in the first place takes a good deal of energy and effort.

A sight of spruce trees and misplaced dirt greets your vision through the rip in reality.

An odd spawnpoint, but whatever. You’re not one to judge.

In the corner of your eye, where chat normally sits, a message pops up.

TommyInnit: who the fcuck

TommyInnit: what

TommyInnit: NEWY PERFHSAON

Ranboo: ah yes, perfhsaon

TommyInnit: shut the fuck n up

You chuckle at the messages rapidly crowding the chat, watching them fade idly while trying to find a way out of the really weird spawnpoint, which is, for some reason, walled off by a combination of dirt, wood and stone haphazardly placed down, as if in a hurry.

Your efforts do not go unrewarded as you spot a section of the wall that sits lower than the rest, low enough to climb over if you try hard enough.

Perfect.

Feet hit the ground rapidly as you get a running start towards the wall, scrambling upward after you jump. You fall almost immediately off the other side.

“Ouch.”

“That looked like that hurt.”

You glance upward to meet heterochromic eyes, red and green contrasting with the curious face split in half by its black and white sides. A tail flicks behind the person as their crown slips a bit down their head.

“Wh—the fuck?”

The figure laughs at your reaction, offering a gloved hand out to help you off the ground. Hesitantly, you accept, being pulled up easily, and that’s when you realize that he’s a lot taller than you thought.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” you comment idly, brushing yourself off. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem. I’m Ranboo.”

You introduce yourself with your tag, which elicits a hum of recognition from him, much to your pleasant shock and surprise.

“You’re the person that Dream invited, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh.”

He laughs at your quip at him, smiling with sharp fangs exposed to the midday sunlight. No point in judging a person on their (potentially, anyway) monstrous features.

“Well, you probably need a tour—“

He’s quickly interrupted by a loud “hey!”

“Oh great,” you mutter, crossing your arms. Ranboo looks a bit sheepish at your cocked eyebrow and slightly irritated expression, scratching his bi-colored hair.

“That’s Tommy. He’s uh… well, Tommy.”

A teenager wearing a red and white shirt and jeans with battered sneakers comes sprinting out of the nearby forest, coming to a halt just in front of you.

“New person!”

“Yeah, and what are you, the gremlin that got fed after midnight?”

The kid sputters out a few protests against being called a gremlin, sprinkling a good few swears in his jumbled sentences that mostly consist of rambles.

When Tommy gets his bearings, he eyes your tag, squinting at it suspiciously before his eyes widen in recognition.

“You’re the bastard that beat the shit out of me in Bedwars! Get ove’ here—“

One of Ranboo’s arms shoots out to grab the lanky teenager with ease to stop his potential assault on you. You just brush your nails off on your shirt.

“Oi! Lemme a’em!”

“No, Tommy, remember what Tubbo said?” Ranboo lectures, tail flicking in annoyance, eyes trained on him. “Remember?”

“You’re one to talk about rememberin’.”

Ranboo cocks an eyebrow.

“No punchin’ people we don’t know unless they’ve hurt us…” Tommy grumbles. “Can ya lemme go now?”

Ranboo agrees, letting go of his shirt and summoning a journal and quill to write something down in, muttering that he’s almost out of ink.

“Anyway, how about that tour now?”

You smile at him.

Maybe you’ll like this place.

——

“...and this is L’Manburg… or what’s left of it, anyway. It’s still being rebuilt.”

“How’d it get destroyed?” you ask him. “It takes a lot of TNT, Withers and dedication to destroy a city this big.”

I should know.

Tommy eyes Ranboo.

“Hey, it’s your city. I’m not explaining it,” Ranboo defends against the wordless accusation. Tommy exhales with a groan and begins his explanation.

“Wil-Wilbur, my brother, went a bit insane a few months back, blew it all up with Technoblade’s help. Wil’s… well, he’s dead.” Tommy sounds indifferent about the death, much to your surprise.

You nod absentmindedly, setting your eyes on a slightly obscured poster that flaps in the wind. When you get close enough to pin it down it reads:

Wanted: Dead or Alive. High Treason, Inciting Violence, Unlawful Use of Explosives, Extreme Terrorism.

Reward: See Authorities

Below that is a well-painted picture of a man you somewhat recognize, wearing a red cape, a crown, full enchanted Netherite armor and carrying an axe that seems to shimmer in the light.

Technoblade. You’ve had a few run-ins with him playing Bedwars and Skywars, even teaming up with him a few times. He always seemed nice enough, and certainly a damn good sword fighter. He always knew when to run and when to stand and fight, when to attack and when to defend.

“What did he do?”

Ranboo starts to speak, but Tommy interrupts him.

“Blew the rest o’ this place up. Bastard ran after that.” Tommy all but spits the words out of his mouth, like they’re acid or venom. “Fookin’ coward.”

Well, I wouldn’t call ‘knowing when to run’ cowardice, but we’ll pretend I agree, child.

“No one knows where he is now,” Ranboo adds. “Except Phil, of course. But he’s pretty much silent about it. Won’t give up a word of information.”

Shouldn’t be that hard to find one man, you muse to yourself. Bet I could.

“Well, I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” you lie with a smile plastered on your lips. “Y’know, as a sort of gift to you as the newest member of the server.”

Hah, as if.

“We’ll hold you to that.”

You nod and say your goodbyes, walking towards the central nether portal while keeping an eye out for an ender chest so you can get some of your stuff. You know the admin will take your elytra away if it so much as comes into contact with the server’s air, so you decide not to risk it.

Spotting one, you make a small noise of triumph and dart over there, grabbing the shulker with your stuff in it, transferring it to your inventory with a practiced ease.

Armor adorns your figure, enchanted Netherite striking an imposing silhouette against the blackstone beneath your feet. You twirl your sword with a grin.

Now to find Technoblade.

——

Turns out, finding a piglin hybrid is not easy.

You scoured the Nether for any sign of him, any trace of fabric, of a broken pickaxe, hell even a piece of iron he may have held. The ability you hold as a Jumper not only allows you to jump servers, but also allows you to find people if you have something of theirs.

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nil. Absolutely jack shit.

How can one man be so difficult to track down?

Just as you’re about to give up, a barrage of curses at the tip of your tongue, a glint of iron catches your eye.

Odd.

Hopping over a cluster of Netherrack and scaring off a few baby Striders, you see a small circle of iron sitting in a pile of red dust, looking dented and beat up.

You huff and brush the dust off of it, titling your head to the side when it reveals itself.

A compass, pointing in one direction, working even in the Nether.

Standing up, you pocket it and head to the nearest portal, jumping through to the other side only to grab the compass out of your pocket as you walk to who-knows-where. It still points in the same direction as before, only moving when you do.

An irregularity in the metal against your hand inspires you to flip the compass over to look at the back.

What lies there makes you smirk.

Technoblade’s cabin. Phil’s compass.

This might be easier than you initially thought.

:)

[headspace-hotel]

This isn’t the bad timeline. It’s our timeline. Maybe there are worlds where good triumphs easily and things get better without a fight. Maybe there are worlds where everything is and always has been okay. Or maybe there aren’t.

But this is our world. Not the world where we have to live. But the world where we get to live.

World full of pain and darkness. World that is terrible in so many infinite crushing ways, world that is overwhelming and uncaring and unjust and where evil is rewarded and the innocent suffer. Disgusting, intolerable, broken world. World that we live in, together.

World that allowed us to live. World that allowed us to love each other. World of dinosaur bones and earthworms and snow. World where trees can be climbed, where there are beaches when the ocean meets the land, where cats have purrs and rain has a smell and lightning has a sound and the sky has a color and people have thousands of languages in which they say goodnight and goodbye and I love you and tell each other stories where a boy has a sword, where the woods are full of monsters, where a girl is cunning and clever, where a hero has friends at his side, where rebel bands are always ragtag and the dark side always more powerful and the escapes always close and the odds always nearly impossible.

Story where the bomb’s timer almost runs out, but doesn’t, and where the hero almost falls from the cliff, but is pulled to safety just in time. The dragon kills every adventurer that approaches his lair and one makes it out of the forest alive and no one has faced the dark lord and survived, but we tell this story anyway because maybe, maybe we can fight back, maybe, just maybe we live this time, maybe we make it.

Maybe we live when so many others did not. We mourn for them, hurt for them, and the torch is passed to us. The sword is left to us.

World where we can keep telling this story. World worth saving, whether we can save it or not.

World that lets us hurt. World that lets us feel this anger, world where we are descended from beasts that would lash out and bite, and where we became creatures that could reach out and love. Feel it, that unbearable burning inside you, that rage. Body where we are here, living, feeling. Self that responds to evil, that can feel anger, that can feel others’ pain, that burns with the suffering around us. World where we are designed and built not to lie down and bear this, but to fight it with claw and tooth. A part of us was made terrible, a roaring in our hearts, a terrifying animal that would tear the throat out of anything that tried to hurt those we love. This world did not shape us for giving up, but for fighting back.

This world is our home. It is the place where we meet one another. It is the place where every good thing has to live. Our world is dark, and terrible, and full of pain, and we get to live in it.

We get to create something worth fighting for. And we get to fight for it.

This is not the bad timeline. This is the timeline where we are allowed hope and a sword. There may be a world where we don’t get those things. There may not be any other world.

It doesn’t matter. We fight.

[jaedreaminn]

My Snack

Pairings: Reader x Jaemin ♡

Genre: Fluff, Crack.

Word Count: 2.6k

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

Stupid. That's what you call yourself (Jaemin too and your parents and your friends and your neighbour and the lady down the street) on a regular basis.

There standing in front of you laughing his ass off was your best friend, Na Jaemin. You were standing in the middle of your school courtyard, covered from head to toe in your long awaited lunch- spaghetti. Such a pity.

It wasn't your fault that the loud sounds from Renjun and Haechan trying their best to taunt the other were distracting, or the fact that Jeno was near them trying to befriend a cat (where had it even come from) who kept hissing at him and was this close to scratching him had caught your attention, so you could help but slightly worry or the fact that the youngest two devils, Chenle and Jisung had brought a fake can of worms and were dumping them in Haechan's satchel and the thought of how Haechan (who hates any form of insects) would react was playing in your brain. Maybe it was also the way Jaemin had smiled at the two 'Angelic Devil's' as he liked to call them but then noticed your arrival and winked and blew a kiss towards your direction like the flirt he was, was what made you trip on your own feet. Launching your favourite dish of spaghetti high into the air and land straight on your head a second later. Nope, no you definitely didn't trip because of a kiss. It was the other thing distracting you, and it was gravities fault the plate fell back onto your head.

Somehow, you couldn't seem to get mad at the fact that Jaemin was laughing at you instead of helping you because of how his eyes lit up when he laughed and how his low chuckles calmed you.

So instead you did what anybody else would do in that situation. You stood there stuck to the ground and pouted.

Looking at your sulking state Jaemin beamed at you and made his way towards your spaghetti covered self taking off bits of it off your hair.

“You know,” he said his infamous smirk playing on his chapped but pretty lips “I get that your stubborn, but I didn't think you'd go that far t- OW!” As realisation on what he was saying dawned on you a punch to his gut was all you needed to shut him up. Maybe not. “You know what you said and now-ow ooowwwww ow ow ow OK I'll shut Ow OOW UP!” You glared at him as you threw a series of punches his way to make sure he shuts up. Plus, he was a dramatic ass, and you knew none of your punches ever hurt him.

“I know what you're going to say,” you said and Jaemin opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could “Don't you dare say that” you cut him off, venom in your voice and Jaemin knew better than to anger you more than he already had.

“Oh well,” Jaemin sighed in defeat as he wiped the sauce off your face. How romantic. “Lunch is coming to an end, and you need to get changed. So I'll buy you a sandwich from the cafeteria and sneak it to you during Maths” and he smiled. Cute you thought, in a platonic many years of friendship way of course.

You simply nodded and made your way towards your locker where your spare change of clothes was when you had a thought which made you smirk in victory crossed your head. You immediately turned on your heels and yelled in a devilishly sweet voice “Jaemin-ahh”

He looked at you confused and so did the rest of your friends who didn't do anything to help and just laughed at you and go back to the bickering.

“You're the first person to approach me,” you said, and you could practically see the screws turning in Jaemins head “You know what I said.” you said in a sickeningly sweet tone and Jaemins jaw dropped as low as Felix's jaw when he realised he's terribly screwed in the year-end UNO tournament, and Jaemin stood there dumbfounded finally realising what's happening.

“You know what this means” you sang out more than said as you waved at him and sent him a wink and a flying kiss, turning on your heels and skipping away. You liked to think that maybe after years of watching the master flirt you've learnt a good amount to have actually made Jaemin blush.

You definitely weren't affected by what you said AT ALL. If anyone said you tripped a bit more with each skip you took they were as blind as your principal Lee Soo Man.

Jaemin on the other hand did. He really did blush as you walked away.

Jeno walked up to the now shyly smiling Jaemin “So what did y/n say?”

Jaemin didn't answer staring off into the distance, so Jeno pinched him making him yelp and glared at the boy who glared back, and let's be honest no one wants to be caught in a glare down with Jeno so Jaemin simply sighed and said “She said she's a snack” and Jeno raises an eyebrow as if asking Jaemin to go on not convinced that just all she had said.

“So I obviously denied it and y/n being stubborn as she is said that guys would like her even if she's covered from head to toe in actual food” by now everyone was carefully listening to the conversation.

“I told her she's delusional”

“Then” Jisungs soft voice asked anticipating what was to happen next.

Jaemin sighed and looked at the floor “She bet that she would do it and the first person to approach her when she's covered from head to toe in food is the person she's going to date” there was a one-second pause.

And then the loud laughter coming from their group made a lot of heads turn. Chenle fell to the ground laughing, dragging poor Jisung who he was earlier leaning on with him too. Hyuck had tears in his eyes and was holding onto Jeno who was doing the same all while hysterically laughing. Renjun tried and failed not to laugh and instead tried to comfort Jaemin but his red face and watery eyes weren't exactly subtle.

However, between Renjun’s laughing or chocking no one could tell he managed to get out a “That's why the great flirt Na Jaemin was flustered” and somehow the laughs got louder. Jaemin just stood there turning all shades of pink and red.

Finally, when the laughter calmed down a bit Haechan looked at the pouting Jaemin “Aww poor Nana got himself into a mess again here let me give you some candy to cheer you up” and reached into his satchel. Jisung and Chenle sat up straight looking at Haechan in anticipation and Renjun and Jeno also looked.

Haechan on the other hand was clueless and was just trying to pull out candy from his never ending stash of candy when “It should be right- AAAAAAHHHHH!” The bag flew five kilometres away from the way Heachan launched it across the ground upon seeing this 'slimy legless wiggling poop insects' as he likes to call them in his bag.

Chenle and Jisung immediately snickered and gave each other a high five giving themselves away as the culprits to Haechan who was glaring daggers at them. They realised that they were discovered when Heachan yelled and charged at them ready to strangle both, so they started running away from the very VERY angry Haechan yelling all sorts of profanities at them.

This time Renjun didn't hold back his laughter instead, he laughed so hard he fell on his but causing the demonic duo to stop and laugh but run as soon as they realise Haechan is still trying to murder them.

Jeno shook his head at the sight and smiled. He then turned and walked towards Jaemin who was zoning out again.

“So....” Jeno started and Jaemin looked at him “You and y/n are dating now?”

Jaemin sighed.

Jeno tripped and fell onto the floor.

Jisung had crashed into Jeno.

He was laughing at Chenle who had tripped over the Renjun who was laughing his ass off on the grass and fell face flat while running away from Hyuck.

Haechan couldn't stop himself from running.

He tripped over Jeno and Jisung too.

Everyone was on the floor.

There was lots of shouting.

And laughing.

And Jaemin answered Jeno's question as this all took place in sequence like Domino's.

He whispered a quite 'yes' and walked away.

No one noticed.

Everyone was now on the floor all tangled up yelling at each other to get up first.

No one noticed Jaemin's smile as he walked away either.

...

You got your promised sandwich in your shared math class with Jaemin. You felt a little too bold today, so you sent another wink and flying kiss his way.

You may have also overly enjoyed his flustered face, so you held his hand as you walked to your next shared class P.E. and you may have smiled in triumph when Jaemins cheeks turned pink and he got all shy.

You also may have been a little too bold so when no one was looking you kissed his hand and then skipped away. And maybe that felt a little more than Platonic to you.

That's the thing it was always maybe, you never had a definite choice of words because you were always confused, so it was always maybe.

School soon ended, and you waited for the only person who walks home with you because you go the same way- Jaemin. You knew that he would be late. He always was. Every Wednesday. He shared his last class with Oh Miri, and he always helps her pack up and carries her things for her to her locker. It's because he obviously likes her. And you think they'll be a cute couple and you'll be happy if Jaemin finally asks her out. You really will be happy for him. Really.

You bid goodbye to Renjun and Chenle as they both head home. You said bye to Jeno too as you pass the turf where he has his practices. You see Haechan at the gate and wave bye to him too. Jisung and you talk about a new way to prank Renjun this time before he too has to leave.

You frown now and look at the time on your phone, was Jaemin latter than usual? Turns out he wasn't late and the low voice that whispered “missed me?” which startled you a bit, confirmed it. You turned around to come face to face with Jaemins smile that you are convinced produces light because of how bright it was.

“So...babe, how was your day?” Jaemin asked cheeky smile on his face. You shook your head and chuckled slightly as you answered him “It was good Nana you can stop joking around now”.

You saw Jaemins smile falter for a second. Or maybe you just imagined that. Nope, no definitely did not imagine that because now he was full on pouting.

“You're already breaking up with me y/n? But I thought we loved each other” he said using his sad baby voice.

You roll your eyes at his antics and held onto his arm ready to drag him “Come on Nana we need to go home”

“Aww but today's our first day! Shouldn't I get a first kiss!” Jaemin protested still not moving as you tried to pull him. Thank god you were facing another direction so he couldn't see how much that made your face heat up and how flustered it made you. You knew he was only joking. Right. His tone didn't sound the least bit serious. You're just imagining things.

You gave him, what you hoped sounded like a small laugh instead of a strangled one “Seriously stop kidding I'm pretty sure it won't help with your Oh Miri situation”

It was weird to see Jaemin so confused, but maybe it was because he was confused about how you knew about his crush when he hasn't told anyone yet.

“What situation with Oh Miri...?” Jaemin asked still confused. Still keeping up the act huh.

“Oh please, I know you like her and chill I'll help you out if you want. I don't really see any reason for you to hide your crush on her. She's really sweet and you two would make a cute couple and if you keep up this act it might be misleading to her considering she's still around and will think you're taken” you kept in rambling but stopped when you saw Jaemins blank expressionless face.

The atmosphere felt awkward, so you said a “yea...” to kind of end your entire ramble and to cut through the sudden silence.

“Oh” was all that Jaemin said.

“Yep”

“So I win?”

“Huh?”

“I win don't I?”

“What?”

“The bet”

“Bet…?”

“You didn't date me, you owe me” Jaemin simply said shrugging.

Then realisation dawned on you, you bet him that you would date the first person that came up to you.

You sighed in defeat “Fine you win. Where do I treat you this time”?

“Not just treat me” Jaemin shook his head “Take me out on a date where you of course pay” he smiled that stupid smile of his and your jaw dropped.

“If you think about it you're losing without actually loosing” he smiled.

And you kept looking at him in shock. But what about Oh Miri...?

“See you didn't date me” he fake pouted “But I wanted to date you and since I won the bet and could ask for whatever I'm asking you to date me” Jaemin smiled his mischievous smile.

”I-” you started but couldn't form a single sentence.

“It's okay I know my genius left you speechless.” he said putting his hand on your head and leaning on it.

“I got a free meal and a girlfriend because you can't win bets” he smirked and ran for it because now you snapped out of your dazed moment and were ready to jump him.

Jerk played you like a guitar.

“THIS IS CHEATING” you yelled as you chased him all the way home.

You did catch up to him enough to throw your pencil case at his head. He whined. You smiled. He smiled. Things went good.

You went on that date. The two of you were official now.

You were always indecisive about your feelings and always stuck on maybe so Jaemin just made the right decision for you.

“You know you should ask me to be your girlfriend properly” you had said on your date.

“You want dramatic?”

“No-”

“I'll give you dramatic” Jaemin had replied with a smirk.

You should have known not to trust that smirk because trouble (for you) always followed it.

Trouble happened Friday morning.

There in the center of the hallway stood your boyfriend with a shit eating grin. The reason for that grin being the hallway that was entirely covered with posters of your face poorly edited onto a burger with the wordings 'My Snack' on it.

You shut your eyes and slowly inhaled and slowly exhaled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes snapped open.

“I'M BREAKING UP WITH YOU JAEMIN NA”

“YOU CAN'T YOU LOVE ME” was heard at the end of the hallway form Jaemin who had already bolted.

“Then you better run cus I'm breaking your Legs!”

“Already running!” The now barely audible voice of a rapidly retreating Jaemin was heard.

Bonus:

You brought Jaemin coffee because you felt bad for attacking him.

“I can kiss you now but what more has changed” Jaemin sat pouting with his coffee in his hand after being attacked by you.

You laughed and kissed him.

[love-and-monsters]

Cold Sea Monster

M sea monster X GN reader, 2,713 words.

Winter is a rough time for monsters who usually live in the tropics. Luckily, he can rely on you to keep him warm. 

There was a lump in the blankets of your bed. You prodded at it, lips pressed together to hold back a giggle. “You can’t stay in there all day. You know that, right?” The lump wriggled away from your touch. “Come on. I need to make the bed.”

“No, you don’t.” The voice was muffled beneath the cloth. The lump curled into a tighter ball.

 “I do. And you need to get out of bed sometime today.” You tugged at the edges of the blanket, trying to force it up. Claws hooked it from the other side, pulled it back down. You swallowed hard against the tidal wave of giggles.

“I’m hibernating.” The lump shifted and you managed to get the grip you needed to wrench the covers up. Your partner wailed as the cold air touched him. “No! Give me back the blankets!”

 “Get out of bed,” you said, staring firmly down at him. “It’s past noon.”

He slunk slowly out from under the covers, gazing at you with enormous, sorrowful eyes. His dark, fishy eyes gave him a look like a kicked puppy. Luckily, he’d given you the look so many times, you were immune.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. “You can go get in the hot tub, if you want.”

Getting a hot tub had been expensive, but absolutely necessary when your partner was amphibious. He was covered in pale blue scales that melted into skin on his belly. Brightly colored fins stood on the top and sides of his head and his long tail ended in an enormous, frilly fin, though it was folded down most of the time. He crouched on his long, digitigrade legs, peering at you with soulful, sad eyes.

“It’s so cold,” he whimpered. You rolled your eyes.

“I turned the thermostat up.” Keeping a tropical boyfriend warm in the winter was a pretty big task- even with the thermostat in the seventies, he still shivered and complained.

He looked sorrowfully at the electric blanket as you tucked it away. His mouth gaped in an enormous yawn. It was quite a change to see him now from the summer- he was usually energetic, but the instant the temperature started to dip into the forties, all his enthusiasm seemed to drain out of him.

“I set up a fire downstairs,” you said. “And a humidifier.” The drying effect of heating a house wasn’t great for an amphibian either. He yawned again, standing to his full height. He was much taller than you, with long limbs that helped him move through the water.

“Okay.” He snagged a quilt from his blanket pile and wrapped it over his shoulders. “Are you done?”

You smoothed down the last of the bedsheets. “Yeah, I’m done. Do you need me for-”

Before you could finish your sentence, he had seized you and pulled you into his arms. You yelped, startled, though not entirely surprised. He had a habit of picking you up and hauling you around. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, he simply pulled you into the living room. The fireplace was going, and there was a humidifier humming away in the corner. A heating pad sat tucked in a pile of soft blankets.

He wasted no time burrowing into them, you still in his arms. “Hey,” you said, squirming. “Come on, Morgen, I have to go to work.”

He rolled over, smushing you underneath him. “You work from home!”

“Yeah, on my laptop. Which is in the office. And not here,” you said. Morgen grumbled.

“What I mean is, there’s no way they can tell if you’re in the office on time or not. So…” He squirmed over, trying to give you another sorrowful, big-eyed look. It was a bit diminished by the fact that he was mostly covered in blankets and it was hard to see his face.

 “Look,” you said. “It’s past twelve. I’m technically on a lunch break right now, but I am going to have to go back to work eventually. And you’re going to have to let me go eventually.”

 “That’s what you think,” Morgen said, puffing up his chest. “I could lie here all day. And you’re going to lie here with me!”

You stuck out your tongue at him. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Ugh.” He gave you a playful shove. “Why do you always have to ruin all my perfectly laid plans?”

“If reality has started screwing up your plans, maybe they weren’t perfectly laid in the first place,” you pointed out. Morgen wrapped you in his arms and pulled you further into his enormous nest of blankets.

“Shh,” he said. “Be quiet. Let’s take a nap.”

There was more work to be done and a billion other things you could be taking care of at the moment. But it was so warm under the blankets and Morgen was rubbing at your tense shoulders in a way that felt so nice after hours of bending over a computer, and the idea of crawling back into the cold office and staring into a screen was sort of depression.

You groaned and rolled over, pressing your face into his shoulder. He made a quiet noise of triumph next to your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “Yes. I win!”

“Yeah, sure,” you grumbled. “Hope you like going to bed alone because I’m going to be staying up late finishing all my editing.”

“Noooooo,” Morgen wailed. “I hate going to bed alone! It’s so cold.” Despite that, he didn’t make any attempt to release you. If anything, he clung tighter. You snorted, stroking your fingers along the top of his head. His fins twitched as you ran your fingers along them. They twitched and jerked under your ministrations. His fins were so delicate and sensitive. Apparently, they could pick up subtle changes in the currents when he was underwater. On land, they made him very ticklish if you played your cards just right.

One of his ear fins twitched wildly as you ran a calloused fingertip over it. “Cut that out,” Morgen said sleepily.

“Yeah?” you said, scratching at the thin membrane. “What are you going to do about it?”

Morgen made a noise that could generously be described as a snarl and less generously described as a snore and rolled over onto you. “Gotcha,” he mumbled, wrapping his tail around you. “Now you’re never getting out.” You were completely smushed under him, though he was leaning back so you could still breathe. His tail was twitching, fins slapping against your back. It was rather funny, the way he wagged his tail when he was comfortable.

There was very little you could do to actually get him off you. He was pretty heavy and as he started to relax, the weight only seemed to increase. It was still pleasantly warm under the blankets, though his skin was cool against you. You closed your eyes, running your hand along the top of his head.

You startled awake abruptly. Your head was hazy and confused and your sense of timing was completely lost. It could have been thirty minutes or six hours for all you knew.

Muzzily, you poked your head out from under the pile of blankets. Morgen was still on top of you and he protested sleepily against your movements. After a moment of craning your neck, you caught a glance at the clock.

“Morgen, you need to get up. It’s two thirty.” He groaned, attaching himself even tighter to your side. “I need to work, come on!”

“No! I’m sleepy and you’re so warm.” It was impossible to get up with Morgen attached to you. He was so tall and his gangly limbs meant that he could very easily attach himself to you and he couldn’t be pried off.

“It’s past two! I need to work.” You kicked the blankets away from you and shivered. Even with the fire on, the warm was still pretty chilly. Morgen whined and retreated back into the blankets like a deep-sea creature recoiling from sunlight.

“You’re going to abandon me,” he said. He blinked at you from under the blankets. Somehow, having the blankets tangled around him only served to make him more pathetic. “Your boyfriend… all alone… cold and abandoned.”

“I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to be one room over! You’re going to be asleep, you’re not even going to notice that I’m gone.”

“I’ll notice,” Morgen said sorrowfully. “I always notice.”

You hesitated, then crouched down next to him again. “Okay. I think I have a plan. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

 He looked suspiciously at you, but he let you leave. You trotted to the office and carefully pulled your laptop free from its nest of wires.

Morgen had fully buried himself under the blanket when you returned. He peeked out as you stopped next to him. “You brought your computer,” he said.

“Yeah. Budge over, make some space for me in the blanket.” Morgen was only too happy to do so, rolling over and lifting the blankets so you could shuffle in next to him.

It was sort of hard to write while lying on your stomach. Resting all your weight on your elbows hurt after a bit, and it was awkward to type. Morgen didn’t help in any way. He was half-sprawled over your back, a heavy weight that pressed you into the ground. Despite all the discomfort, though, you didn’t want to change your position. Morgen made little, sleepy noises of contentment as he pressed his face into your shoulders. Occasionally, he would even move to press kisses to the base of your neck. It was utterly delightful.

The afternoon dragged on. It was impressive how much Morgen could sleep, really. And such a change. It was strange to think about how much temperature affected his mood. You looked at him, curled against your side. He wasn’t quite entirely asleep, you thought. It was more like the sleepy hazes your childhood cats had gone into. His eyes were closed, but his fins twitched at the slightest sound and you could see his eyelids twitching every now and then.

You only ended up working for a couple of hours. Not only were you getting stiff from trying to type on the floor, but you were also growing increasingly distracted by Morgen. He had started to stir and was clearly trying to get your attention.

“Do you need something?” you said, finally pushing your laptop away. Morgen beamed, tail wagging so hard it shifted the blankets aside.

“I think I just got it,” he said. He tucked the blankets securely around you. “Want to put on a movie?”

“Are you actually going to stay awake through the whole thing or do you just want something in the background while you go to sleep?” you asked. Morgen tried to look innocent and utterly failed.

“It’s not my fault the cold makes me sleepy,” he said. “You can put on whatever movie you want! I won’t even complain if it’s one of those really boring ones.”

“The Poltergeist is not a boring movie. You just have no appreciation for subtlety,” you said.

 “It’s so subtle that nothing happens,” Morgen said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t get why humans are so scared by it.”

There was no way either of you were going to win the argument, so you just grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Morgen wasted no time in sprawling himself across your lap, still smothered under several blankets. In the end, you put on an animated move you’d both seen several times before. Morgen said the way the water was shown reminded him of home, and you liked the story and bright colors.

Morgen dozed on your lap as you half-watched the movie. In truth, you were more paying attention to him. you worked your fingers over his scalp, scratching against the fins. He made little noises of satisfaction, leaning into your touch. For a water creature, his cat-like behavior was rather funny.

“I can’t believe how much you can sleep,” you said as he started awake and shifted his position on her lap. “You’ve barely been awake for two consecutive hours.”

“It’s the cold,” Morgen said. You ran your hand along his head and he pressed into the touch enthusiastically.

“Does the cold just make you more sluggish or does it actually make you need to sleep more?” you asked. Morgen rolled onto his back, his head still resting on your lap.

“This is just a guess,” he said. “I’m totally speculating here based on some stuff I’ve heard, but I think it’s mostly accurate. So, my species lives in tropical areas, yeah? But it was thought that in the past, we lived somewhere a little more temperate, that sometimes got cold snaps. And when there were cold snaps, in order to conserve energy, we went into a hibernation mode, where we all gathered together and slept until temperatures rose again.” He yawned, showing off his large canines. “Sorry. Anyway, when we moved to more tropical areas, we stopped needing to hibernate, but we still have the genes for it.”

“Which means that spending time in the cold is triggering your need to hibernate,” you said. “That’s why you’re sleeping so much. Your body is trying to hibernate.”

“Mm,” Morgen murmured. “My body wants to find somewhere warm where I can sleep until the temperature rises.”

You stroked your hand over his head again, fingers twitching. There was an abrupt feeling of nervousness coalescing in your stomach. “It must be hard. To fight that.” You played with one of his fins. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“I’m sleepy a lot. And cold a lot,” he said. “It’s a little uncomfortable, I suppose.”

You pursed your lips. “Would it…” There was something choking happening in your throat. Morgen blinked up at you, waiting for you to keep speaking. You cleared your throat a couple of times. “Er. Would it maybe be easier for you if you did hibernate? I mean… If that’s’ what you’re supposed to do in the winter? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Morgen looked up at you with his big, soulful eyes. “If I’m asleep, then I can’t spend time with you.”

You snorted. “You’re avoiding hibernating because you’re afraid I’m going to miss you?” It was unreasonably sweet and it was also fairly accurate. You pushed your sorrow away, though. It wasn’t fair to him, to force him to stay awake for you. “I mean, I will, but it’s only during the winter. And you’ll be awake sometimes. I’ll manage. You’re not the only person I talk to, you know.”

Morgen’s fins drew close to his face and he gave a small, slightly sheepish smile. “I wasn’t really worried about you missing me, exactly. I was more worried about me missing you.”

You made a noise of surprise. “You’ll be asleep. Are you even going to notice?”

He flicked his fins out and in, his version of a small shrug. “I think so,” he said. “I haven’t just been wanting you around because you’re warm. I love you a lot. I want to be with you.”

“I know,” you said. You couldn’t keep the emotion out of your voice and Morgen smiled, pressing his face into your stomach. “But I don’t want you to make yourself sick or something because you’re not doing what you should during the winter. And I really don’t want you doing that on my behalf.”

“I’m not doing it on your behalf,” Morgen said, his voice muffled. “I’m doing it because I want to.” He turned his head to blink sleepily up at you. “Trust me. I’d much rather spend time with you, even if I’m a little sleepy, than spend all winter asleep.”

Your eyes stung with tears. You sniffed. “That’s the sweetest thing I think anyone’s ever said to me.”

Morgen lifted his head toward yours, smiling. “It’s true.” You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed, reaching a hand up and pulling you down to kiss you more firmly.

“See?” he said as you broke apart. “I can’t get that when I’m sleeping.”

[needtherapy]

The Necromancer’s Apprentice

Xue Yang has seen The Dark House and he’s heard the rumors that a zombie, a witch, and a necromancer live there. It’s stupid, obviously, but...well...maybe he’ll just sneak in one night and find out.

It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than going back to the group home. It’s better than sleeping on the street.

Aka, three mildly feral twentysomethings are forcibly adopted by one (1) very feral thirteen-year-old Xue Yang.

Read on AO3

Many thanks to @coslyons for co-writing this with me (all the funniest parts belong to them) and @kevinkevinson for beta.

There is a Dark House in Ballard, and people say to avoid it.

It is probably not called the Dark House because evil lurks inside, although there is some debate about that. It is called the Dark House because it is black from threshold to cupola, from shutters to frames, and it looms on a block where whimsical shops of brick and steel are far more common. Unlike the thrift store and the record shop, the hiking outfitter and the vegan patissiere, no ivy reaches toward the roof of the Dark House. Unlike the local yarn store, no dogs sniff the Dark House’s gate, although at least two cats—also black, naturally—are always sitting on the porch.

It may not be fair to judge a house by its color, but the local legends are clear. If you step on the cracks in the sidewalk, the Dark House will steal your soul. The wrought iron gate of twining snakes comes alive under the light of the full moon to snap at unwary joggers. Children who walk alone after dark get eaten, and the yard is full of bones that wail songs of their murders.

Xue Yang sits on a bench, across the street, eating ice cream and admiring the house. He wonders about the sanity of people who mow the lawn and trim the roses, yet painted their pretty little house black, until it occurs to him that he could just go inside and find out.

He waits until dark, not to stay hidden, but because it’s a more terrible idea, and Xue Yang always gives himself permission to do more terrible things whenever he gets the chance. The high iron fence buzzes with a strange kind of energy that crackles in his palms, so Xue Yang wraps his hands tightly in his flannel shirt as he climbs over. His mother always said he was a practical boy, back when she was still around to say things.

Xue Yang lands in the backyard with a quiet thump onto thin and scraggly grass. The center of the yard is dark under the watery moonlight, with the dirt churned up and loose, and for the first time, a tiny twinge of warning pings in the back of his mind.

He ignores it.

With a flick of his wrist, he summons his knife, a long black switchblade that is seven kinds of illegal and which he loves more than anything else he has ever had, not that there is much competition. With nimble and practiced hands, he slides the knife between the door and the frame, twisting just right when he reaches the lock. With a grin of triumph, he turns the handle, shaped like a gaping mouth, and opens the door.

In the center of the room, there is a long sort of table that seems somehow to pull all the darkness of the room toward it. The shadows gather most thickly around a large, human-shaped lump laid out stiffly on top of it. Xue Yang reaches out to poke it and feels something unexpectedly warm give slightly under his finger.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xue Yang shrieks.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the shadowy lump shrieks back.

“Why the fuck is everyone yelling?” a voice says, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

The shadowy lump rips off the sheet and turns into a guy in his early twenties with a scraggly little beard and wicked bedhead. The voice belongs to a grumpy-looking woman wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. She squints at him in the oppressive brightness, glaring for a long moment before apparently deciding to deal with the man on the table first.  

“Wei Wuxian, I’ve told you a thousand times that the workshop is not a place for sleeping.”

“Technically—” the man begins, before being abruptly cut off by the woman.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘yes, Wen Qing,’ then I don’t care. Go to bed.” She rounds on Xue Yang and he takes a tiny, involuntary step back. “You. What are you doing here?”

Before Xue Yang can answer, another guy—this one with long hair, killer tats, and a dedication to the goth look Xue Yang has to admire—runs in with a baseball bat held in his hands like a club.

“Jiejie! Is there something wrong?”

The woman—Wen Qing, she’d said—pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “It’s fine, A-Ning. I’m just trying to figure out what this little hooliganthinks he’s doing breaking into my house and tripping all of my wards while I’m trying to fucking sleep .”

Xue Yang is now convinced that what he’s broken into is some kind of madhouse, and he pastes a charming smile on his face, the one he uses when fists are clenched and the smell of alcohol burns in his nose. The smile whispers words like “anger issues” and “prone to destruction,” and it’s usually weapon enough, but he holds his knife a little tighter too, just in case.

The woman snaps around like she’s felt his fingers grip the handle of the blade and holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

No. He will not. His chin tips dangerously, his smile grows icy spikes.

Her eyes narrow. “I could just take it.”

They face off for a minute, the tension almost palpable. Actually, Xue Yang thinks, it’s not tension after all. There’s something else in the air. It reminds him of the buzzing fence, and he doesn’t like the way it confuses him.

“Ah, Wen-jie, let him keep her. Can’t you tell? The kid is scared, they’re both scared, and it’s not like he can hurt us.”

Xue Yang is offended. He is not scared, but he’s relieved that Wei Wuxian spoke up all the same, because even though Wen Qing purses her lips and looks annoyed, she drops her hand.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms again. “Wei Wuxian, make sure our little guest leaves. I’m resetting the wards in five minutes and going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wei Wuxian grins and shoots finger guns at Wen Qing. “Sleep well and dream of me.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I love having nightmares.”

“Oh shoo.” Wei Wuxian flicks his hand at the goth man and Wen Qing. “To bed with you both. I can handle it.”

Their footsteps creak on the wooden floors as they walk further into the house. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian wait in silence until the footsteps quiet, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang. The grin he’d been wearing drops off his face and he looks serious, his eyes shaded and dark.

“Look kid, you should know better than to piss off powerful witches. It tends to be bad for the health.” The side of his mouth just barely tilts upwards, more wry than mirthful, and he looks old now. Old and grey and tired. “So, we’ll just call this a learning experience, and you’ll never come here again, right?”

Xue Yang snorts. “Are you kidding? If you’ve got real magic why the fuck would I leave now?”

“Toddlers shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m almost fourteen, fuck you very much.”

“Ah yes, I am now so convinced you are an adult.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You want to go home and go to bed. There’s nothing here for you to be curious about at all.”

Something sibilant and musical weaves its way through the words, and Xue Yang has his hand on the door knob before he fights off the slithering compulsion.

Holy fuck that was cool.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he says, sauntering back casually, pausing to look at a weird painting of a monster facing off with an axe-wielding guy in front of a lighthouse. He feels a very strong sense of camaraderie with it right now.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Sure, maybe you’ve got a little gift. But you’re a kid. Don’t you have parents who are going to, you know, notice you’re missing?”

Xue Yang stares him in the eyes, willing himself not to flinch. Something tells him this is a chance he’s never going to have again, a chance that requires honesty.

“No.” Xue Yang lifts his chin stubbornly. “I don’t.”

Wei Wuxian stares back, and Xue Yang gets the feeling that he sees all the years and all the disappointments that fit into that no. He doesn’t care. No one gives you what you want unless you take it.

This standoff lasts forever, or maybe it’s only a few seconds.

“She’s going to kill me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, and a little louder, “You can sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m locking you in the room and if you touch anything, I will turn you into a mannequin.”

He turns to leave, but looks back with a frown. “Wen Qing builds beautiful, elegant wards that you’ll never feel, never even notice if she doesn’t want you to. Mine will hurt. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Xue Yang decides, in the principle of magnanimity, to agree. “Whatever.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and points a finger at Xue Yang. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

The words hold Xue Yang’s hand and lead him to the couch, make him lay down, and within minutes, he is asleep.

He opens his eyes to piercing sunlight and a pale face inches from his.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, instinctively grabbing for his knife and snapping it open.

“Mr. Wei, he’s awake and noisy,” the face says, and Xue Yang focuses on its features.

It’s the goth guy. His arms have full-sleeve tattoos, matching patterns of stark black geometric lines and circles, but his neck has weird black veins tattooed on it. His eyes, which are still way too close to Xue Yang’s, are so dark they’re practically black.

“Where’s the witch?” Xue Yang asks, sufficiently recovered to be an asshole.

“Boiling children,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He’s leaning over the table and taking notes in a tattered book, poking something with a tiny screwdriver. “It’s the only reason we let you stay.”

“Really?” Xue Yang can’t decide if that’s cool or terrifying.

“He’s always like that in the morning,” Goth Guy says conspiratorially. “By ten, he’s pretty nice again.”

“I’m never nice,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “A-Ning, can you take our miscreant home, please? The last thing I need is cops knocking on The House door asking if we’re kidnapping children. Again.” “Okay, Mr. Wei.”

Xue Yang panics. He can’t go back there. Not since they found him alone with the fire. He knows what they’ll do, and he can’t go back. He won’t . He ducks under Goth Guy’s arm and has his knife angled under Wei Wuxian’s chin before he’s even processed the motor function commands “get up” and “don’t let him send you away.”

“No! You have to…” He scrambles though thoughts, desperate ideas, each one crazier than the last before he hits on words that work themselves loose from his mouth. “You said I had a gift, you have to teach me to use it.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but instead of being afraid or angry, he tips his head and whistles, two notes that almost sound like a name. To his great shock and horror, Xue Yang’s knife vibrates in his hand, and his fingers snap open like a broken trap, dropping the knife onto Wei Wuxian’s waiting palm. He carefully folds the blade back into the handle.

“Jiangzai,” he says, almost affectionately.

It doesn’t mean anything, but then it does , and it hits Xue Yang so hard he collapses to the ground. The knife has a name, and he knows it’s right as soon as Wei Wuxian says it. Xue Yang’s heart pounds, and he hates it. He hates this motherfucker who just took his knife away and he hates the Goth Guy who is helping him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to stay anymore, and he shakes off Goth Guy, wishing he could throw his kindness on the floor and stomp on it.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe you have a little bit more than a little bit of a gift. But you still can’t stay, and I’m not teaching you anything.”

Xue Yang snatches his knife— his Jiangzai—out of Wei Wuxian’s hand and stomps to the door. “Fine. Fuck you.”

He gets as far as yanking the door open and slamming it against the wall before he realizes that there is a person in the way, and she doesn’t look inclined to move.

“Here you go, kiddo,” she says, handing him a bag. “I bought you some clean clothes and a toothbrush. A-Ning will show you where the bathroom is. Come back down for breakfast when you’ve changed.”

This is somehow more terrifying than when she was yelling at him. Yelling he understands. Now she’s just being...creepy. He stares at her belligerently, and she sighs.

“Listen, you little shit,” she says, bending over to look him dead in the eye. She doesn’t have to bend very far, he realizes. She’s actually tiny, even though she seems as big as the Fremont troll. “You will either go willingly with A-Ning, who is very nice, or you can test my patience and get buried in the yard with all the rest of the naughty children who break into my house. Your choice.”

Yeah, that’s more solid ground.

“Fine.” He grabs the bag from her and waves at the Goth Guy. “Lead the way, A-Ning .” He means it to be an insult, but Goth Guy just grins.

Xue Yang hears Wei Wuxian ask, “Wen Qing, what the fuck,” before Goth Guy herds him up the wide staircase, and he doesn’t hear any more of her answer than, “A-Xian, I can’t let him leave. You don’t understand, I did a location…”

This close to the Goth Guy, Xue Yang decides to acknowledge that the pale translucence of his skin is probably not makeup.

“I’m Wen Ning, by the way. I doubt Mr. Wei or jiejie introduced me,” Goth Guy—Wen Ning—says in a casual tone.

“So are you actually dead or what?” he asks Wen Ning, and Wen Ning grins.

“Or what,” he answers enigmatically, and gently shoves Xue Yang in a bathroom with pink tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Once he’s bathed and changed, Xue Yang heads back downstairs. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and toast, and he doesn’t even pretend it isn’t the best food he’s eaten in a week. It is, in fact, the first food he hasn’t stolen in a week, and that alone is a novelty.

He’s halfway done with his food when Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t touched a bit of his and looks as sullen as an orange, says, “I have been informed that there is some arcane rule about teaching a gift you discover, and my...how did you put it, dear Wen Qing? My immortal soul and earthly being will be in danger if I don’t capitulate to the inevitable?”

He glares at Wen Qing, and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang says around a mouthful of eggs. “Are you going to eat that?”

Wei Wuxian passes him the plate of food, and Xue Yang closes his eyes in bliss. Food is amazing.

“There are conditions—don’t look at me like that, Wen-jie. I agreed, okay? I get to set conditions. First of all, you do whatever I tell you. If I tell you to sell turnips on the street corner, you better sell some goddamn turnips. Second, you don’t touch anything unless I say it’s okay. A lot of this stuff,” he waves his hand around the white and yellow room, which looks surprisingly cheerful for a kitchen in a black house, “is priceless and dangerous, so…”

Wen Qing clears her throat and glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Uh...don’t touch anything.” Wei Wuxian finishes, snaking a piece of bacon from Xue Yang’s plate and shoving it into his mouth before disappearing back into his workroom.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise he’ll actually teach you stuff once he pulls his head—” She visibly checks herself. “Once he stops being an idiot. More bacon?”

The rest is on AO3

[apiratewhopines]

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

[cyclicalaberration]

Naught But A Fool In The Body Of A God

(Gore + existentialism warning) A foolish gamers... character study? I think?

Totems were funny things. Made of gold and emerald, looking both very much and not at all like their creator. You could go your entire life never seeing one of them. It is a rare person who needs to to face a powerful and dangerous raid, or to track down a mansion, all of which are filled to the brim with Illagers, just to get lucky and catch an Evoker off guard.

Totems are particular about who they save, seeming to despise their own holders. Evokers almost always held one, but they couldn’t seem to use them.

They seem almost heretical, as though Death herself is only tolerating their presence. She does not seem the type to let a method of escape slide. Though, she is simply a collector, and totems can only be used once. Perhaps she created them, to give some sense of hope as she waited at the finish line, merely extending the bridge into the void.

That is not the case, however. The creator was a young god then, full of spite and bloodlust. He carved them in his image, gave them to those who followed him through lava and storms, across oceans and land. He was not a god of death but a god of dying, a conglomerate of souls of those slaughtered in his name. He is of much the same stock as gods of war and blood, power growing from violence and destruction.

He was older, though. Older than the concept of war. War implies thought behind destruction, implies plans. Dying is a natural aspect of life. Everyone is dying, ever so slowly. He was an intermediary, an active force on the field of Death, who, for all those who fear her, is quite passive.

You, most likely, do not fear death. You cannot, for you do not know what awaits you in her loving embrace. You fear dying. Your last breath leaving your body, laying still, moving for the very last time, thinking your very last thought. You fear the unknown and the end, the change. You do not know what comes after death and that strikes fear into your heart. You do not know what it is like to take your last breath, and that haunts you.

This young god, so new and so primordial, hunted. If he stopped moving, stopped hunting, stopped killing, he’d fade away and die. He sent his followers to hunt, to pillage, his need for souls insatiable. They hunted, and they warped, skin greying and eyes darkening. They began to shift from human to something else, something other. Infused with his power, they hunted, leading groups to hunt down more sacrifices to their god.

He grew in power, grew in strength. Death herself watched, for he was just like his creations. He was a totem, serving a greater power. He was sculpted from gold, inlaid with emerald eyes, given the wings of all her favored creatures, and he engraved himself with stories of his past, his triumphs, his losses, things he wanted to hold close to him forever.

--

Blood runs through the canals of those engravings, a trident plunging into the chest of the next breathing mortal, and the god, whose name has been long since lost, laughs. Another one came for him, not learning the lesson of its companion, and a sword is driven through their heart, buried up to the hilt, freed moments later by the golden flames eating at its nervous system, reduced to ash in seconds. He brushes them away as one would brush away eraser shavings.

Bodies lay strewn across the field when he’s finished, a one-sided war, headed by a mortal he’s already forgotten, over some sin he no longer cares to remember.

A chuckle rings out from behind him, and he whirls, sword drawn. “That’s quite the display.”

They were half-buried in a fog, extremities concealed in the mist that he knows for a fact wasn’t there. Their eyes glow with hunger, with spite, with a thousand emotions he couldn’t even begin to untangle. It hurts to look them in the eyes too long.

“A lot of flair for some bodies nobody will even see. Nobody but me, of course.”

“What can I say, I’m an artist.”

“Or a zealot.”

“What’s the difference? You won’t have the breath to tell anyone.” He swings his sword, runes glowing. Whoever they are, they will soon be ash, soaked by their own fog, as fire eats them from the inside out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My father wouldn’t be happy, he’s not nearly as forgiving as me.” He whirls again, seeing white eyes and a ruffled shirt, mere feet from his face, leaning back against nothing. He gets the feeling that they’re looking at him, truly looking at him, and he chokes, breaking his gaze away from swirling, dancing white, blank but never empty.

“How-”

“Foolish, that’s what you are. A fool.” The mortal- No, they are not mortal. No mortal stares a god in the eyes and calls him a fool. “Why do you fight?”

--

His companion smirks at him. He grins right back, rows of teeth glinting in the light of the enchanted blades. Centuries of fighting together made them a well practiced dance, a machine of blood and souls. Three arrows pierce the hearts of the guards, falling wordlessly from their towers. That’s all the warning they get. Before the night is out, blood flows so thick it sits for years, soaking the wood and drowning the now-ashen grass.

His companion’s footsteps wither and rot the wood on which they stand, warping it beyond recognition. They work their way to the center of the fortress, people charging to their deaths, impaled, sometimes, by naught but the thorny whips of their enchanted armor.

The stone crumbles beneath their feet, and the god would feel the effects, if he were not himself a statue, life breathed into him by the very goddess who steals it, made of pure gold, which doesn’t tarnish, doesn’t decay. Tapestries crumble to dust as his companion runs their hand along them. The god tosses a mortal to the side, its body lying crumpled, its soul buzzing as he adds it to his own. Another voice layered over his own, another voice to buzz with every angry word.

His companion grips a guard by their chin and laughs as it crumbles to dust beneath their hands.

The general of the army falls, and they dance in the blood of their enemies, spin in the blood of their victims. The hem of the smaller god’s dress sprays droplets of blood as they twirl, the god of dying laughing as his friend grabs his hands, dancing in victory, in elation, in completion. They propel themself into the air and spin him. They move as a unit, as they did in the heat of battle.

Later, the god will sit, stare at his companion, and say “You once asked me why I fight.” That day is not today. Today they will both fight, dance in the blood of their enemies, and move on, the fortress a shell of its former self, growing over with vines, breaking apart.

--

Two gods, a god of dying and a god of withering and ash, rest in a small village on the bank of a river. The withering god rests against a tree, long ago struck with lightning, telling a story to the village children, as the god of dying laughs, interrupting them with his own commentary on just how comically wrong they’re telling it.

It has been decades since they drew first blood, traveling for weeks at a time, collecting, remembering, rather than destroying. Fights found them, of course, mobs never learn, but fewer mortals have fallen to their stained hands in the past century than in their best year previous.

They still delight in the occasional bloodbath, if the chance arises, but as the world shifts towards calm, they drift away from senseless slaughter and towards traveling.

They pass by cities, or the ruins of what once were, and they ask themselves, “Was that our doing?” and they do not know, hundreds of civilizations having fallen to their blades, their arrows, and their fire.

But they sit, ancient, immortal warriors, telling stories to children, their hands still caked in more blood than these children will ever see.

Later, the god of dying will say to his companion: “I fight because destruction is control. Nothing exists that I cannot destroy, nothing exists that I cannot control,” but that day is not today. Today they laugh at incorrect accounts of tales they experienced, true histories lost, new memories formed. Today the god of withering and ash closes their eyes, and the god of dying makes the skies dance with light for the descendants of people they long-ago killed.

Later they will reflect. Today they will reminisce.

--

Two gods part ways, on a mission from Death. They will meet again, but it will not be the same. The god of dying, of storms, and of the ocean and all that that entails smiles down on his old friend, their white eyes glowing with hundreds of memories.

“I’ll see you soon, Old Pal.”

“See you soon.” They turn down different roads, one a path of explosions, of wars, of power-grabs and monarchies, and one down a path of self-reflection.

Their paths take them to the same destination: Redemption. Neither take the same road there, and neither path is straight, but it never is. And redemption is a place not easily found, but easily lost, easy to slip back into old ways for moments at a time, on a godly timescale.

The god of dying takes the name Foolish, a reminder of his past. He arrives in a strange land, full of holes and trauma and death. The place reeks of hubris. It makes him sick. It makes him hungry. The hunger curls in his stomach and the stench gives him a sickening headache, so he runs. Runs far away, and he builds.

Builds for control, builds for stability. Builds are his one constant, gigantic pyramids and sculptures and he can’t stop. His temple expands. A man, a man he has seen, a man who feels like too much and too little, too much in one body, a vacuum and a black hole, asks him for a kingdom. Simple enough. A child approaches him, telling him to build a mansion, a mansion larger than a country, for him, his husband and their son. He will be paid. He is not paid nearly enough.

--

A demon, a cat, and a not-quite-human man encroach on his summer home. They reek of vines and death, and Foolish loses his composure. They doubt his power. They threaten his home and he smiles with too many teeth and grows, grows to his full size. His eyes glow. They taunt him, threaten him.

“I’m a peaceful man, Ponk. But if I must defend myself, I can.”

“Defend yourself against this, then, Foolish.” Ponk hurls a trident at him, glancing off him, a mortal not strong enough to pierce his skin. He’s a fool, more a fool than the man who took it as his name. That is his weapon, carved of prismarine and ivory, more his domain than any other. For a moment, the god tastes blood.

“I may be a totem of undying, but in the past, I have been a totem of death.” He calls power to his fingertips, lightning in his eyes. “It’s not just one thing, Ponk. It's never just one thing. Have you ever tasted lightning? Smelt the ozone in the air, seen it dance across your skin before you black out from the pain?”

“Do you see where we are, Foolish?” In Ponk’s mind, the name is fitting. He has never seen a storm called from nothing before. Never seen a storm called at all, only harnessed. He disbelieves.

“It does not matter. A sunny day does not matter.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Let me show you.” He smiles, rows of teeth bloodied with the lives of thousands, millions of mortal souls. His voice layers, thousands of voices, screaming to be heard. The crack of lighting lands mere feet from the three. “Now begone from this place, and I don’t ever want to see you here again, am I clear?”

The vines must be resolved. The egg continues to hunger, but he has hope, hope that there is a piece of mortal soul left in them, a piece of morality that wishes to be free. He does not give up hope.

--

The gods’ paths cross again in a city, the totem and the king. A city drowning in red, twisting, oozing vines, calling out for blood. They spend hours weeding, burning red vines and laughing. His friend no longer flies, his friend hides their once-beautiful eyes, but they’re the same. They do not remember him, but they are the same.

“Foolish, have I ever shown you my eyes?” Of course they have, and he says as much. “I’m going to show you again, just in case.” Their eyes dance, with confusion and worries, and a deep-seated fear of rejection.

“Yeah, that’s the Eret I’m thinking of! The one with white eyes, the one with the netherite armor!” Foolish looks concerned, but this is nothing that they can’t fix. They’ve fought armies together, a few missing memories aren’t going to make him give up on them.

They attend a banquet. They dance for the first time in centuries, spinning in circles to the music played by that infernal catmaid. They attend a banquet and it goes south, hard, as all parties attended by gods do. It goes south and he makes use of his totem nature, wrapping around their heart, taking their place. They will not die to the monstrous egg before they get to dance together, and reminisce.

Soon, the god will say to his old friend, that he builds to replace. He builds to counteract the destruction he caused, and it will not replace the lives lost, but it adds something new, something beautiful to this harsh reality, but that is not the truth. The truth is, he creates for the same reason he destroyed.

--

Soon a mortal man in a cardboard mask will tell him that he let him die. Soon, he will be taunted by a mortal man, full of hubris, who says that his builds mean nothing, are nothing, bring nothing to the world, and a part of him will think the mortal man is right. A part of him whispers that he is selfish. That his ways are wrong. That he must pick up the sword once again, bleed mortals for their souls.

He will shove that part deep inside, and he will remind the man that no good comes of blood. He will tell the man that he too once believed that death was the answer, death would give control, but he will tell the man that he was wrong, and that he will be too.

You either die a monster, vengeful and wicked, or you grow. You adapt, you create, you reconcile. Some may never forgive, but many will. Mortals only get one lifetime, he must make the most of it.

He will not say that though. He will sit up against the side of his sphynx and sew hundreds of thousands of tiny dolls, breathing life into each one, giving each one a small hard hat and a job, so he will never be alone. He will build, children safe in the ender cradle, and he will give himself time to think. He will stop moving, for one moment, and he will not die. He may be the god of the seas, but he is not a shark. He keeps moving, a perpetual motion machine, purely out of fear of what his own thoughts bring, and he truly lives up to the name given to him so long ago. Foolish. For he is naught but a fool in the body of a god.

[girlmeetsliv3]

Violent Delights: One

Violent Delights

(In collaboration with @jooniescupcakes​)

Genre: Horror, Suspense, & Psychological Thriller

Pairings: Gang!Jimin x reader ; BTS x Reader

Sypnosis:“These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.”

Release Date: Sept 29, 2020 @ 8 p.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 9.2k

Author's Note: It's finally here! Almost a year in the works, but Violent Delights The Series is finally kicking off. Thank you for all the love, support, as well as critiques the one-shot received. I hope this re-telling can both capture and surpass the twisted charm of the original. I would like to thank Min (@jooniescupcakes) for helping me outline and plot the story and for contributing. I greatly appreciate it. This story will be darker, gore-y, and a lot more twisted than the original. So strap in & happy early Halloween! Trigger Warning: This story contains subject matter not appropriate for all ages. This story contains mental illness, emotional, physical, and mental abuse; as well as abuse of power, manipulation, and toxic relationships. All of which play a big part in this story. It is never my intention to sensationalize or spread misinformation about mental disorders, please take the "medicine" used in this story with a grain of salt. Links to helplines can be found in the navigation of my blog. Lastly, this is a work of fiction and does not portray the character of Bangtan Sonyeondan.

The door slammed shut harshly as Hanbin rushed to bolt it locked, by his side, he tugged an inconsolable YN through the small house. There was very little time until she arrived. He maneuvered his way through the piles of old dirty clothes, the children had long become accustomed to the stench coming from the kitchen, the dust, and grime that covered their home. It’s why no one came over. Not that anyone was allowed over. In the center of the room framed on the wall shined a family portrait mockingly. Hanbin was short for his age, just eight years old, but it allowed him to navigate through small openings and hide in tight spaces. It was a survival tactic.

“Shh, YN. You need to calm down. She’ll be here soon.”

“i-I wuh-wanted to help, Binnie. She was hurt -”

Hanbin pulled on his sister a little too harshly trying to draw her attention, it caused her lower lip to quiver as she tried to hold the tears back. That wouldn’t do she didn’t like it when they cried. “Helping people only gets you into trouble.” Outside, the slamming of a car door could be heard. Quickly Hanbin located the small broom closet and helped YN inside. The jiggling of the doorknob was barely above a whisper, but it rang as loud as the fire alarm in the children’s heads. YN began to hyperventilate knowing what was coming even if she didn’t truly understand why. 

“It’s okay,” Hanbin rubs her cheek affectionately. “Just stay inside, be quiet, and don’t try to help.” Just like that he closed the door and locked it. He silently hoped YN hadn’t skipped lunch that day. YN cowered under the old headboards, her only company the dusty cleaning products and cobwebs, the second the screaming started she covered her ears and closed her eyes.

“Miss YN?” The nurse’s bright pink scrubs served as a strong contrast to the muted tones of the rest of the building. YN cast a glance around she was likely the youngest person there, but everyone around her shared a similar air of ennui that YN had long grown to associate with doctor’s offices. Slowly she stood up following the nurse as she guided her through what appeared to be an endless labyrinth of doors. After stopping abruptly the nurse turns around and smiles though it’s evidently rehearsed. “Don’t be nervous, Dr. Kang is one of the best doctors here.” How many times hadn’t she heard that before? YN offers the nurse a smile making sure it is wide enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes. That seems to suffice the woman enough for her to finally knock on the door.

Dr. Kang Daniel was certainly young for his profession, but that provided some relief for YN. It would be nice not to spend almost an hour with someone that looked to have been around when Freud was. “Please take a seat.” He gestures over to a chair in front of the desk and YN notices there is little decoration around the room. It’s also missing a clock, but thankfully she sees Kang is wearing one. YN notes the time: 5:36 pm. Forty-three more minutes to go. 

“I apologize that we’re going to have to go through all of this, but its procedure.” He lightly shakes the file in his hand. Most doctors operated digitally now, so that stood out.

“It’s fine.”

“Let’s get to it then. Why are you here YN?”

They went over the usual things and YN was quickly growing a bit bored, her eyes danced around the room as she did find it very strange that it seemed so vacant for a personal office. “Bored?” Her eyes snapped back to his, Kang wearing an unreadable expression. “I apologize for the lack of decor. I recently moved offices, so this will be my last day here.” YN frowned, “I thought I was to be your new patient.” Kang nods, “Yes, but our sessions will be held in my consultation. It’s closer to downtown so you might save yourself the trip.” How does he know I live closer to downtown? Perhaps seeing the further furrowing of her brow Kang speaks once more. “Unless you live far from downtown?” YN shakes her head feeling the tension leave her body just a bit.

Slowly he closes the file and leans forward, resting on his elbows. “I know this isn’t the most comfortable environment. I also know how jarring transfers can be and that they can halt any sort of process…” YN zones out of the conversation having heard it a thousand times since she was eleven years old. The rambling tends to have the same conclusion every single time.

‘I want us to be friends.’

“I want us to be friends or something similar. I know there are some barriers and guidelines in our relationship, but don’t think they aren’t malleable. I’m here if you need me.” 

YN mulls over what might serve as an appropriate response, aware that taking too long might ruin the pseudo-friendly atmosphere and she doesn’t want to have any more problems with psychiatrists. “Thank you, Dr. Kang. I’m sorry I’m just a bit nervous.” The sheepish smile that follows afterward is enough to convince Kang. Perhaps he isn’t a bad man but YN has encountered his type far too often: those striving to make a difference. Always trying to make things better. Always trying to help. 

“No one will help us, YN. No one cares about us.”

“So let’s move onto your family YN -”

“Actually I wanted to ask you about my medication.” Kang seemed surprised at her interruption but encouraged her to continue. “Dr. Lee only gave me enough medication to last the transfer, so I’m almost out.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll be taking you off the medication for a short time anyway.” What? Kang’s attention was now on his computer, not bothering to look at YN in the eye. “I need to run some tests and in order to do that your system has to be clean.” 

YN hadn’t been off her medication for a long time. Sure the dosage varied depending on the treatment, but going completely off was unheard of. Especially so soon. “Don’t worry,” Kang smiled. “There shouldn’t be any potential side effects and if there is I’ll give you my private number. In case of emergencies.” What was supposed to be a soothing smile only unnerved YN even more. YN nodded once more though she felt her anxiety begin to swell up in her stomach. Her heart rate speeding up, but YN knew a panic attack wouldn’t do her any favors. It would make her look like an addict and they would lock her up for sure. It’s only a matter of time. Now that the issue had been cleared Kang cleared his throat, “Now what I was saying about your family -” 

YN stood up abruptly thankful the minute hand had finally landed one above the four. “It’s 6:19 our time is up.” She gestures towards his wristwatch and an annoyed look masks his face before it went just as quickly as it came. “It appears so.” His hand covers the watch in a motion that could hardly be described as casual. Kang waves her off, “It was a pleasure meeting you, YN. I’ll schedule the tests for Friday and I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“In other news….updates...gang violence…”

YN wandered through the aisles looking for inspiration or something to satisfy her cravings. In her hand lay open her phone just so she wouldn’t have to keep making eye contact with the older woman behind the cash register. The employee peered at her as if YN was one of the dangerous criminals the news anchors droned on about.  YN keeps looking over the message her social worker sent her: you have to be there at least a month before I could put in a transfer request. When YN bent down to read the label, she felt the woman lean over the counter. YN rolled her eyes and picked up the packaged bulgogi before grabbing a sports drink and a small fruit salad.

Once she saw YN was an actual paying customer, not a shoplifter, the woman’s expression changed. Her smile far too gleeful for this time of night. “Will that be all, dear?” Her voice too high to be sincere. Nonetheless, YN nods and forces a polite smile on her face. Even wishes the woman a safe night for extra measure. Before YN could walk out of the store, the woman responds with her own form of goodnight. “I would be careful walking home tonight. There’s been a lot of crime recently.”

 It is a bit cruel that the second YN exits the store and turns a corner someone begins to follow her. She becomes aware of it instantly, her senses having been trained from a young age to pick up on the small imperceptible changes. Instinct was not to be ignored. The wind became thicker and the streets a little too quiet. YN wouldn’t look up, but if she did, surely there would be storm clouds looming. Don’t acknowledge him. Just keep walking. People like that enjoyed prey. The game. No one wanted to face off against a predator being one. Unless this was a different kind of predator then YN really ought to call the police. For once she was thankful for the pocketknife stored in the inner pocket of her jacket but disappointed that her pepper spray remained stashed in her bag.

Her groceries hung heavy on her arm, but YN was too far from home to attempt to sprint. So she would have to wait it out, YN could take a few punches. Surely whoever it was would become tired after following her for too long. By the time YN had walked ten blocks, she realized that was not the case. The person was still behind her, though there wasn’t much that she could tell much about the person. They were likely taller and considering their persistence they were a threat.

YN could pick up distantly on the booming bass that likely came from one of the many clubs scattered downtown. It meant she was near her house, that she could likely get home. The houses looked familiar she was probably not too far from home. Hope began to swell in her chest until another idea dawned on her. That’s exactly what they want. If the person had followed her this far they wanted to see where she lived. Abruptly YN turned left towards the direction of the main street, she was likely in a back alley of some sort but the bass only got louder so that helped propel her forward.

Towards the center of the alley, YN saw three figures huddled over on the ground. She was too far off to hear what they were saying, but based on their movements it seemed mocking in nature. YN wasn’t able to decipher what was occurring until it was far too late. A man is wriggling on the ground while bleeding profusely from the side of his head while two men stand above him. Blood is spattered on both walls and their clothes are covered in it. There no longer was a presence behind her the real danger now lay in front. In the form of a tall raven-haired man and a slightly shorter blonde - the latter of which YN made eye contact with.

YN bolts down the alleyway in the opposite direction aware that the blonde is hot on her tails. As she rounds a corner she feels him catching up to her right on her before he abruptly slows down. He doesn’t want the chase to end.

56...57...58…

YN counts the streets aware she’s nearing her apartment but isn’t about to lead him straight to her doorstep. In her peripheral, she sees one of the neighboring buildings which contains a doorman stationed there twenty-four hours. YN uses the last bit of her strength to push through the glass doors tumbling at the steps, but the doorman is there to catch her. “Miss, is everything alright?” YN turns around to catch a glimpse, but there’s no one behind her. Though she does note something disappointing: her groceries are gone.

When YN unlocked her apartment door she felt this immediate wave of tranquility hit her. It had taken a while to convince the doorman not to contact the police, she didn't want to be in bigger trouble, but the man had finally agreed after stating he would walk her back home. Once in the lobby, she took the stairs just to be safe. Quickly, she turned around securing all three locks, and headed straight for the bathroom. YN never understood the sentiment behind showers helping unwind, then again she never spent enough time under the water to allow for that. Baths weren't a treat - they were a utility. Like most utilities YN didn't have a lot of available growing up, so she learned to adapt.

Still, it was long enough to let her mind wander to everything that had occurred today. YN wasn't quite sure about how she felt about Dr. Kang, he unnerved her in a way other doctor's hadn't before. Then there was the issue regarding her medication: YN hadn't been unmedicated since she was eleven and that was a time she didn't want to go back to. Then there was the person that may have followed her and the man that definitely did. My head hurts. She rinsed herself and shut the water off, drying herself quickly with her towel. The chase had been real, too real, everything in YN's body had reacted instinctively once she met his eyes. Those dark eyes that had pierced into hers. The blonde man wasn't just chasing YN - he was hunting her down.

But what about the other person? YN hadn’t seen them, but she had felt them trailing after her. However, why would someone do that and especially for so long? The blonde man had only really tracked YN down for two blocks, but even then it felt shorter. The other person simply observed her. Didn’t do anything. Was there even someone there? YN glanced up, catching her reflection in the foggy mirror. The mist had dispersed in some sections, but not others so the only thing she could see were parts of her face. Faltering in her step, she walked forward and pulled the mirror open. Grabbing the white-labeled bottle with her name printed on it.

Habin sits atop the bathroom sink balancing himself. One of his hands gripping tightly to the side to not slip. This has to be done quickly before she gets back from the store. YN holds his legs or attempts to, while Habin finally manages to grab the bottle. “Is it this one?” He sticks his hand out for YN to see. The young girl squints her eyes, “Are they blue and little?” Hanbin looks through the orange tint of the bottle before nodding. “I think so.”

“Do they smell like fruits?”

“I can’t open the bottle YN. I don’t know if they smell like fruit.”

YN nods and Habin notes how hollowed out her face has become. Once round and plump, full of life, now looks as frail as his. “I think those are the ones.” Habin closes the medicine cabinet and cautiously jumps off, the medicine bottle still tight in his hands. “Why does she give them to you?” YN can note the confusion in her brother’s face, she was confused before too. “She says I need them to go to sleep. They help me sleep.” Habin stays quiet before in the blink of an eye he throws the pill bottle against the wall, breaking the seal causing all the pills to spill all over the floor.

“Bin why did you do that?! I need -”

“No! You don’t need anything YN. You aren’t sick, she's just lying to you!” Habin screamed in frustration. He could see the tears starting to well up in YN’s eyes and he felt regret pool in his stomach. “Please YN. You aren’t sick. We aren’t sick. Okay?”

YN took a deep breath, the way her brother had shown her would help stop the tears, the inside of her cheek was bitten harshly until her throat cleared up. “Okay.”

YN looks at the white bottle in her hand considering taking the medicine despite what Kang said. It would just be one more. Just to calm her down. To make sure that what happened tonight wasn't a side effect of going off so quickly. Her hand twisted the bottle cap, but instead of grabbing one and placing it in her mouth, she headed towards the toilet flushing them all away. Though she might not agree with his treatment plans Dr.Kang was a professional and surely knew more than she did. Plus, YN couldn't afford to be transferred again; her social worker might drop her altogether. It’s just until the blood work is completed.

“Unfortunately Miss YN, we won’t be able to conduct any tests until your insurance approves it.”

YN paces around her apartment, phone in hand. “I understand but my doctor ordered it. It’s necessary in order for him to treat me.”

“It appears that the necessary paperwork hasn’t been sent over to the insurance company. At least not enough to justify the exams. You can go through with them, but it will have to be out of pocket.”

YN sighs, running her hand through her hair as the nurse lists off the prices for each exam. A knock disrupts her causing YN to glance at the door questioningly, no one in her building would ever knock on her door. Looking through the peephole, she sees the manager and doesn't know if that makes her relieved or tenser. "I'm sorry can you just give me a minute?" YN speaks to the phone and mutes it, just to be safe. Upon opening the door, a brown bag is shoved in her face.

“Sorry to interrupt dear, some boy left this for you downstairs.”

Just as quickly as he came, the manager leaves. YN quickly shuts the door and locks it, before hanging up the call. The bag looks simple enough though YN hadn’t ordered anything in the past couple of days. Cautiously she opens it and the horror that spreads through her body is instantaneous. In the bag are her groceries from last night, but with minor changes: The red energy drink is now blue, the fruit salad is replaced with regular salad, and instead of bulgogi it is kimchi now. Though it isn’t the food that upsets YN, but rather the pink sticky note placed on top.

To replace everything you lost ;)

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Staying locked inside her apartment for the following days seemed like a smart choice. There was someone out there who knew where she lived. What she looked like. YN was used to being preyed upon, but this was a different game. Not one she was accustomed to. There were enough faded white lines and healed over bones to evidence that she was a survivor. That time and time again YN had faced against monsters and gotten out alive. The thing that terrified her about this monster - was how different he was. She kept waiting for the tall blonde man to show up one night: looming over her whilst she slept, crouching in a dark corner of the room. Lurking behind the shower curtain.

YN wasn’t able to sleep, didn’t bathe, and had thrice rearranged the room so there was no furniture to hide behind. Her paranoia was through the roof and it didn’t help that it had been the first time YN was off her medication for an extended amount of time. Which was bound to be causing more problems than she was aware of, or would like to acknowledge. The cycle continued until on her fourth day, sick of the grime, YN picked up the phone and dialed Dr.Kang’s office. Hoping to resolve the issue and be back on medication as soon as possible.

“Unfortunately, Dr. Kang isn’t in the office today. However, I can schedule a house call”

She hung up, not even bothering to respond to the secretary on the other line. If YN would have allowed herself a moment to feel anything except for fear - sympathy would've been felt for the probably nice young woman she had just hung up on. Maybe I can just sleep until my next appointment. Sleep it all away. So YN crawled into her bed, the covers lie somewhere on the floor. Exhaustion taking over as she drifted off to sleep.

It should've been easier to tell her childhood room apart from all the ones she had before. It had the most personality; if stickers on the wall, old pencil marks, and deteriorating plaster counted. Most of them hadn't even been done by her, but rather Habin in time before her. It created a sense of normalcy in YN's life that didn't exist elsewhere. Of course, her safe haven didn't last long, the hole in the wall right near the bed frame was proof enough. YN couldn't remember the last time she had dreamt, the medication helped with the nightmares, now she stood curled in a ball in the center of the room. The way she would always get once she heard the heavy footsteps approach the hallway.

YN had long learned to tell the different patter of the weathered old sneakers. Heavy stomps that scraped against the wood meant she was going to be screamed at. Rhythmic ones that were heavier on the heel, than the toes meant they might get dinner. While footsteps that dragged meant YN would be getting ignored. It was the ones she didn't hear. When the hallway was so quiet that all YN could hear was the sound of her breathing and the fear rushing through her tiny body - those were the steps she feared. Those were typically followed by the gentle, yet suspenseful pushing of her bedroom door. It didn't have a knob. There was no escape.

YN expected to peer up and see the tall large figure that always tormented her. The thick thighs, rounded hips, a bulbous stomach that spoke of all the meals she'd had - all the ones her children hadn't - and her face. It was much like YN's though much more feminine, older, and eyes devoid of life. It had always stood out to YN when she was a child, though she was certain that if she were to look in a mirror now YN would be the spitting image of her mother. Instead of her birth giver stood a man.

His face was angular, rounded cheeks, and sharp eyes highlighted by thick brows. His lips appeared full as if they were meant for bright large smiles, but it was obvious from the man’s expression he rarely did. There was something strangely familiar about him. An amalgamation of someone she knew and her own imagination, filling in the blank spaces. He looked like her, yet not at all. Tears welled in her eyes, “Bin?” Then he morphed. Now slightly taller, more weight to his frame. A rounded face with hooded eyes, the corner of his lips were tilted upwards in a way that was full of mirth. Dr. Kang faded as quickly as he came.

Now all she saw was a silhouette. Despite being mostly obscured, she could at least tell it was a man. He was lean yet muscular. His body was sharply defined in a way that seemed deliberate. Facial features were obscured, but YN was certain he was glaring at her in a way that caused goosebumps to rise all over her body. Plump pink lips parted moving slowly, tauntingly, but no sound exited them. Only by the smirk formed afterward could she tell their salacious nature. He stepped forward drawing closer to her, but the way he moved was inhumane. It wasn't a walk. But a predator's crawl towards her. Now he was finally in the light, entirely visible but all YN could focus on was the blonde mop of hair atop his head. When he pounced, she screamed.

YN awoke covered in sweat, her hair matted against her forehead and neck. She could still taste the saltiness of her tears and when she finally managed to breathe a sob tore out. Get out! Get out! Get out! If she remained locked inside her apartment for one more second, YN was going to reach her breaking point. Quickly she hopped in the shower before throwing on the first thing she saw and grabbing her wallet. YN didn’t know where she was headed, but her body acted on its own. Locking the apartment door before racing towards the stairs, dashing down all seven floors with little care if she tripped. Perhaps a silent part of her wished she did, it would put her out of her misery.

The lobby of her apartment building, if it could even be called that, was always empty. Never a soul in sight to guard the door, even though YN was sure part of her rent went towards security. Not to mention the intercom system, which allowed people to be buzzed in, hadn't worked for several weeks. It was something she was always acutely aware of but pushed towards the back of her mind. Wouldn't do her any favors to obsess over something she had no control over. Now walking through the desolate lobby out into the night - it was all she could think about. He was all she could think about.

YN took a deep breath and opened the glass doors sneakily peeking towards the sides and being thankful when she noted nothing great. Now where to? She wouldn't go very far nor somewhere unknown. It was reckless to be out so late and would be a death wish to try and enter city life. Gang violence was on the rise and YN didn't fancy herself prepared to face off against someone. So, YN went to the one place that felt familiar no matter what. The convenience store was a fifteen-minute walk, but she took the bus. The original plan was to sit towards the back, where she could see everything, but it wasn't empty. An elderly woman, far too frail-looking to be out this late, sat in the center. Whilst three boys huddled over sat in the back, they must have felt her eyes on them. As one of them - the one in the black beanie - stopped his conversation and turned slightly. Before they could make eye contact YN looked away and sat down.

“Which one do you want?” Habin asked as they stared at the ice cream truck. He had counted the cents twice making sure they had enough. “Hm,” YN eye’s glanced all over the various images glued onto the truck. She already knew what she wanted but had long learned that taking your time was important - not too much though. “Mint choco.” Habin grimaced, disgust evident on his face. “Come on YN. We have to share it. Why can’t we get something I like for a change?” He whined, it was only ice cream but it was the only food Habin was likely to have all day. “Okay, let’s get chocolate then.” YN didn’t really care, she wasn’t planning on eating. Habin had sacrificed enough meals to feed her, an ice cream was the least she could do.

As she steps into the cold building, a small bell chimed to signal her entrance, alerting a young employee near the cashier. 

“Welcome!” The boy smiles, wide and welcoming, handing her a basket,

YN didn’t respond. She walks towards the back, looking for some of her usual snacks, and before long, her basket was filled to the brim with all sorts of colorful foods, and she headed towards the till to pay, grimacing under the weight pulling at her arm. As she pulls out her purse, a soft chime catches her attention, making her glance at the door quickly, before trailing her eyes back. A familiar head of blonde flashes in her mind immediately, and despite herself, she found herself clenching her purse tightly, feeling her palms become clammy with sweat. What were the odds..?

“Is that all?” the cheery voice of the employee breaks her out of her trance as she nods back firmly, unable to push aside the nervous feeling from seeing the person walk in. Quickly weighing the options as she sees him bag all her groceries, she forces the question out before she can stop herself.

“Could you...walk me to the bus station?” Her voice was awkward and tight from keeping quiet most of the day, and she internally winced at the confused expression the other gave her.

“Are you..” he pauses, eyeing her carefully, “is someone trying to hurt you?” 

YN doesn’t know what to say. Could she tell him what she saw? Fortunately, she didn’t have to reply. The boy - Kai, as it said on his tag - seemed to assume her pause was a yes. Excusing himself, he disappears behind the counter, and within a moment, hushed voices coming from there. Something was unnerving about standing there alone with the blonde, chilling her to the bone, knowing she was faced away and he could pounce at any moment. As soon as the terrifying thoughts crept in, Kai stepped back out. He takes her bag and silently leads her out the glass doors, warm, still air hitting her face the minute she left the building. They walk side by side silently, and YN could only count her steps as she got closer and closer to the station.

Her steps quicken when she sees the familiar structure, tall gray pillars, and a few large buses waiting. Kai keeps up with her as well, not bothered by the bag that seemed to drag her down, looking around carefully. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles, what she initially assumed to be his practiced ‘customer service’ smile seemed a little more genuine now. Or maybe he was just very good at it - she wasn’t sure. She takes back the plastic bag, letting herself get used to the additional weight before turning to board the bus. 

“Have a safe trip home!” The boy calls out, making her look back.

YN was expecting to see him with his blinding smile, but something eerier catches her eye. The young employee was standing a few steps away from her, and behind him, dangerously close, was the blonde man from before. Her mouth goes dry as she notices his dark gaze fixated on her hand that held the railing inside, something else in them as he cocked an eyebrow. He almost looked as if he was questioning her, asking what she would do now that he was close, much closer, and positioned to attack the boy. Realizing he must have followed her all the way, she felt her heart rate pick up as she found herself rapidly staring between Kai and the perpetrator, the choices dawning on her. She had to choose to leave Kai behind, or possibly die with him. 

She felt her heart drop at the calm expression on the boy's face, not noticing the danger he was in, she knew he was young, but watching him now, she only just realized how young. He was so young, so innocent, with a whole life ahead of him - but because of some unfortunate circumstance, an unforeseeable future, he would have to throw everything away. 

But if she stayed for him, so would she. She would have to give up everything she had struggled for, while in any circumstance, the blonde would kill Kai, regardless of whether she chose to stay or not. However, she could spare her own life. She couldn’t convince Kai to get on with her without alarming the man, but she could save her own life. After everything she had gone through, trouble was the last thing YN needed. Even if it meant someone else had to suffer alone, she had to stay safe. She found herself holding back hot tears as she quickly ducked into a lonely seat, refusing to look back, still clenching the cheap plastic in one hand and forcing herself not to look back as the tears freely slid down her cheeks. 

‘Helping people only gets you into trouble. You do whatever it takes to survive.’

           “They tell me you’ve missed the appointment I had set up.”

           YN is noticeably tense as she sits in the blue velvet mid-century, her nails digging into the denim fabric of her jeans. “The insurance wasn’t notified,” her tone was clipped. Lower with a slight tremble to it as if it were about to break, but never really did. “I also needed a referral.” Dr. Kang frowned, glancing back down at the file before looking at YN questioningly. “That’s strange. I told my secretary to handle all the paperwork. I even told Joy to hand you the referral.” Seeing the confused expression on his patient’s face, he shrugged. “My apologies, Joy must have forgotten.” The smile he shoots her is sincere, or at least looks so, YN has no reason to doubt him any further on this matter.

Her posture slackens somewhat but given everything that has happened these past few days she finds it difficult to truly relax. YN feels that she is tethering at the edge of a breakdown, but that if she were to fall it would only make her circumstances worsen. There is something that has been bothering her though, how pacified everything has been as of late. The blonde man knew where she lived, he'd likely overheard her name as well, yet nothing had happened. Even Kang, with his cold calculating eyes, had not commented on her odd behavior the last session or how worse she had seemed to get after only being off her medication for a week. Why can’t I figure them out?

           “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to assign you any new medication until I have the results from the bloodwork. However, I do want to know how you’ve been feeling lately.” Kang crossed his legs, leaning forward in his seat. “Have you been experiencing any side effects or withdrawals? Anything I should know about?”

There was a glint in his eyes as he spoke, one that warned YN that he may know more than he lets on. As if the man sitting in front of her was single-handedly responsible for everything that had occurred to her recently. "Normal things…" I am being stalked by a homicidal maniac. “Migraines, low blood pressure…” I keep having vivid flashbacks that only serve to increase my paranoia. “Sometimes I dissociate a bit.” Most importantly, doctor, I had a nightmare where you were about to kill me. “And trouble sleeping.” YN looked towards the ceiling, feigning as if she were in deep thought. “I think that’s it.”

Kang Daniel looked affronted as if she had not given a sufficient enough answer. Hadn't given him the answers he wanted. "I see." His eyes darted towards her hands, which had been tightly intertwined on her lap - immediately she relaxes them. When their eyes meet once more she levels with him. YN knows there is no point in engaging with Kang, that is exactly what he wants. To pry. Dig deep. Learn of all her secrets and who knows what else. He won’t win. I’m safe here. YN had suffered too great a loss yesterday, she was determined to win this game.

           “I had time to go over your file YN. There’s a lot to discuss, but I would prefer to dive right in if you don’t mind.”

           “I-”

           “Very well,” She’d upset him. YN wasn’t even truly aware of what she’d specifically done, but it seemed to matter very little. “It states here you’ve been diagnosed with a personality disorder - at quite a young age too.

           “I was ten.” YN’s voice is muted. Her mind blank.

           “Do you agree with this diagnosis?” YN shrugs, her eyes move down to the file. She knows what he’s going to say next. Or she can at least predict it: it typically doesn’t vary. No matter how many times she goes through the same process the words and intentions are the same. It isn’t sincere sentiments, but rather rehearsed lies spewed to make her feel better - as if she ever could. No, YN is broken. No fixing her up.

           “I don’t. I think you were misdiagnosed.” YN’s eyes widen as they shoot back up to meet Kang’s. “The main reasoning behind this is because of your apparent lack of empathy, but that isn’t true either is it, YN?” Her mouth felt dry, she struggled to swallow the saliva building up. There was a build-up of breath in her lungs which was starting to become painful and she felt her throat tighten. “It’s a survival tactic. An effective one at that - if I may be honest.” So many thoughts were rushing to the forefront of YN’s head. So many memories. Stop. She wanted to scream. Please stop! She felt like she was going to throw up. Kang bent over, his face so close to YN's that she could see how dilated his pupil was: only leaving a sliver of his iris shines through.

Why is he doing this?!

“You feel something YN. It’s okay to feel things. You aren’t with your mother anymore anymore. You aren’t with your brother anymore. You’re safe and I know the next time something happens you’ll do the right thing.”

YN’s eyes were red, brimming with unshed tears as Kang’s words bounced around her head. “Dr. Kang -” She chokes, a sob threatening to escape, but the man doesn’t allow her to finish. “Our time is up. Pick up your referral at Joy’s desk. I will see you on our next appointment.” The smile given is full of sadistic glee.

YN didn’t know how long she had spent wandering around the city. Last she knew she had passed the bus stop and convenience store from last night. If she were smart YN would’ve gone back to her apartment. She didn’t want to though, not trusting herself to be alone. It had been mid-afternoon when she had left Kang’s office. Now it was pitch black with only a few people walking down the streets and cars passing by. Her phone was tucked away in her bag, YN couldn’t muster up enough energy to reach for it to know her location. The tears she shed had long ago dried, though their evidence remained clear to see on her face due to the streak marks and reddened nose.

Several voices were speaking to her, memories, all pulling her in different directions. One by one, YN blocked them out until only three remained. Her brother’s: “You’re not sick.” Dr. Kang’s: “You’ll do the right thing.” Lastly, the faintest one of all - hers: "What do I do?" She had muttered it without realizing it. A cry for help that traveled through the wind, searching for an answer or a sign. She would be granted one.

The scream was so loud, it tore straight through the foggy haze that had settled in her mind and YN found herself frozen in place. Glancing upwards, she noted that a few feet away to the left was an alleyway. That was it, wasn’t it? Yet her feet wouldn’t move. Her brother’s voice echoed so loudly that it barely allowed her to breathe much less move. Until, a stronger, much more powerful one broke through - “It’s okay to feel things...I know you’ll do the right thing.” Her feet were moving before YN had even a second to dwell on her decision. The alleyway was, deceptively long, but YN could see several silhouettes just from the entrance. Quickly she dug her hand into her bag and pulled out her phone, dialing emergency services but hovering over the call button. YN didn't even know where exactly she was - nor did she know what was going on either. It wouldn't do well to just rush in, thankfully about ten feet inlay a giant dumpster which YN crouched behind.  

Another scream echoed off the brick walls, a cacophony of laughter followed it. There’s more than one. YN had hoped it was a robbery or something simple, now she realized just how in over her head she may be. You can still walk away YN. Just walk away. Cautiously YN moved to sneak a glance. There was a singular lamp attached to one of the buildings that illuminated most of the alley. The faint light didn't allow her to make out specific features, but it was enough for her to bear witness to the disturbing scene. Seven men were standing all loosely crowded around a young couple: a man and woman whose bodies were severely bruised and beaten. The man's skull was cracked open with blood profusely leaking from the side of his head. Several teeth were scattered on the ground and his hand was tightened around his abdomen which seemed to have been cut as well. The woman beside him had most of her clothing ripped and large bruises on her side, an indicator of broken ribs. Her eyes moved deliriously as she muttered to herself.

YN’s attention lay entirely on the victims until she witnessed a crowbar fly through the air and land on the man’s leg, with a sickening ‘crack’ that had YN feeling nauseous. The man was too out of it to do anything but let out a small howl of pain. Her previous assumption had been right, there were seven men: all standing there with blood-stained clothes and mocking the man. There was something familiar about them, but YN couldn’t pinpoint what. All of them cheered as the man’s now dead body slumped to the side. Her phone had been long forgotten, YN observed everything now with a morbid fascination. Taking advantage of the perpetrator’s lack of attention the woman stood up slowly and bolted, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement and alerting them their prey had gotten away.

None of them moved - they simply observed her and YN watched in shock. Why aren’t they chasing her? Would they actually… By now the woman was only a few feet away from the entrance, she passed by YN and must've caught sight of YN's hunched over the figure for the woman's head snapped towards her. Causing both women to miss the figure dashing in their direction until it was too late. The woman was harshly tackled to the ground, her head bouncing off the pavement in sickening motion. There is a glint of something in his hand before a dagger plunges into the young girl's body multiple times. In a desperate move, she extends her hand reaching out towards YN begging for help but YN remains frozen. Eyes wide and teary as she cowers as close as she can to the wall, shaking her head she begs the woman not to speak. Begs her not to draw the perps attention. Please don’t!

“Please help me.”

The perpetrators head snaps towards YN and she finally sees him. He's tall, lean figure, plump lips, cat eyes, and ruffled blonde hair. The blood splattered across his face revealed the dark truth behind his angelic features. His dark hooded eyes trail across YN's body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The blonde man looks like a predator savoring its next meal. Before he can pounce YN takes off running, unfortunately, he captures her with ease. Caging her body against his own, pillowy lips part and it dawns on YN she has never heard him speak before.

“Caught you.”

Just like that their game has come to an end, surely YN’s life will too. The two of them are so enraptured in each other, they don’t notice the figure slowly standing up and grabbing the abandoned knife on the floor. Not until the blonde man’s body sags slightly and YN notices the woman standing behind them. Don’t. She wants to say, furious that the woman wouldn’t have run away - escaped when she had the chance. For YN couldn’t bear another dead body on her subconscious. The blonde man turned around with pure rage steaming off his body, upset that his prey would dare to fight back. His arms gripped her head and with the slightest flick of his wrist, he broke the girl’s neck. When he turned back around to face his prize, he was shocked to find her expressionless staring at the corpse right in front of her.

YN came to a disturbing conclusion: She wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t helped me. As she once again made eye contact with the monster before her, all YN could see was her reflection in his eyes. Hanbin was right.

The man stepped forward and YN stepped back, crashing into the wall. His hands gripped at her sides, nails digging into her flesh harshly. He was formulating a plan, thinking about how best to kill her - YN could see it. It seems the universe had decided to take pity on her, or further condemn her, for just as his eyes were beginning to light up, the rest of the group made their presence known. “Jimin let’s go. The fun’s over.” Jimin? There was something familiar about that name.

“Funs not over yet, boys.” As if she weighed nothing, Jimin grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. YN struggled against him, aware that if she couldn’t handle one man, there was no way she could survive seven. “I finally found my pet.” What? When Jimin finally put her down, his arms encased her again showing her off to his friends as if she was some shiny new toy, they could look at but not touch. As YN glanced at them she found she recognized some of them, they’re from the bus. At that moment she realized that death had been following YN for a long time and even if she hadn't stepped into the alleyway tonight, their paths would have crossed eventually.  

“Ah, so you’re the girl Jimin’s been obsessed with.” The tall tan one with curly dark hair spoke, his low baritone voice was mocking in nature.

“She’s not that pretty.” muttered another one, with rounded eyes and a tall nose.

“Now, come on kookie. Don’t be mean, she’s a lot prettier than what we’re used to.” The third man’s tone was higher pitched, lips stretched into a heart-shaped smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you think we should do, Namjoon?” spoke the light-haired one dawned in all black. His eyes darting over to the tallest member, his platinum hair shining brightly in the dark alleyway.

When Namjoon spoke it was deliberate and calculated, his eyes boring into YN’s, his words dripping with implication. “We should take this one to go.”

Distantly YN could hear the wailing of sirens rushing towards them before Kookie stepped forward and delivered a right hook to her face, making her lose consciousness.

[kitty0boy]

I’m baaaack. I saw the is idea for this on Tiktok where basically Marinette saves Chat Noir she’s on top like when Chat saves Ladybug and he can’t function, so she smirks and flicks his bell. It’s a little spicier than the stuff I usually write so be warned! As always they are aged up so Marinette is 17, Adrien is 18. And much like some of my other fics, Chat can use multiple Cataclysms while Ladybug has to run off and recharge. Again, the content is kinda spicy so I’m going to say 14+ for this one. So enjoy!

———————————

You’ll never guess who was akumatized again. That’s right, Lila, why? Because she was caught lying this time.

Marinette was exhausted, being the new guardian and all. She slept through half of first period, dozed off in Ms. Mendeleev’s class twice, and nearly face-planted on the staircase outside the school. Needless to say, everyone was worried about her, especially Adrien. He felt he was partly responsible after all. His late night visits with her seemed to have taken their toll. Maybe he should stick to UMS tournaments on the weekend and Fridays.

Not everyone was worried though (somehow), one of those people being Lila. Over the years she’d become more and more set on gaining the attention of everyone in a 2 mile radius. While she usually only bragged about her “charity work”, the opportunity to slander Marinette wouldn’t go unused.

“I’m so worried about our poor Marinette.” She cooed, “Ever since she downloaded that app, oh it’s only gotten worse.” The class stared at her puzzled. In mock surprise, she covered her mouth, “Whoops! Oh I’m such a blabber mouth.” Adrien couldn’t see her lips, but he was sure they were curled into a nasty smirk. “Wait what? What app?” Alya piped up. “Oh she didn’t tell you? She’s a sugar baby. She’s been on Tinder getting money from older men. How do you think she pays for her supplies.”

He’d had enough, “Seriously Lila, if you’re going to spread rumours about people at least make sure they’re true. You don’t even hang out with Marinette, how would you know that before me or Alya?” She pulled out her best sad smile. “Oh Adrien, she confided in me because she was too scared of what you would think.” Alya cut her off, “No Adrien’s right, Marinette doesn’t like you Lila. I’m sorry but it’s true. There’s no way she’d tell you something like that.” Adrien put his hands in his pockets in triumph, but not before Lila got her phone out and held it up, showing Marinette’s supposed profile on Tinder. There was a picture of her face right on the profile. “I managed to hack into her account last night. Just look at all these creepy old men she’s matched with.” She scrolled through the list of men, most of them looked to be in their late 40s. Anger bubbled inside him.

“Seriously Lila! She’s still underage, don’t make a fake profile of her on Tinder. Now all of these old men know what she looks like. What would happen if they tracked her down. I swear to god if she’s ever hurt because right this I’ll-” He was ready to strike when a hand touched his back and a head fell against his shoulder. “What’s going on?” Marinette asked, she rubbed her eyes. “Girl let me see your phone.” Alya demanded. Marinette slumped over to her before placing her phone in the bestie’s hand. She walked behind Alya and wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind.

Adrien, or rather, Chat Noir was no stranger to Marinette’s sleepy cuddling tendencies. He remembered many nights that involved her wrapping around him while blinking back sleep. Whether it was watching movies, playing video games, or even sketching. She somehow always found a way to cuddle up to him. Not that he was complaining, it was the best way to get her to sleep after all. She’d lean on him and he’d wrap around her, start purring, and play with her hair while she drifted off. He of course was adapted to running on less than 5 hours of sleep anyways, besides, hearing the sleepy sounds she’d make were always worth it. So seeing her cuddle up to Alya did make him a little jealous yes, was he going to say anything, probably not. He’d probably suggest a movie marathon that night to get his fair share in.

He watched while Alya scrolled though Marinette’s phone. Marinette subconsciously nuzzling into the crook of her friend’s neck. “Take a look everyone. Do you see the app for Tinder anywhere on my girl’s phone?” The class stared at it. “I don’t see it.” Rose squeaked. “Well obviously not, Marinette picks up shifts at the bakery sometimes to pay for all that stuff.” Alix shouted while walking towards them. She wasn’t there when Lila was talking about it. Adrien looked at her confused. “How did you know what she-?” She cut him off, “Nathaniel told me.” He looked at him and Nathaniel’s face turned as red as his hair. “He wanted to say something but he’s still really shy.” Alix whispered to Adrien. Adrien turned back to see his friends crowding around the bench where Lila sat, all of them were scowling at her. One by one they started voicing their disapproval. “Don’t spread rumours about our friend.” “Seriously Lila, not cool.” Lila got up from the bench and calmly walked towards the exit with her belongings in hand. It was the end of the day anyways.

He saw Marinette stumbling towards the locker room to pick up her backpack, Alya guiding her with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Maybe your purrincess could use a lift home.” Plagg suggested from his pocket. “Hey you’re right, maybe then Lila wouldn’t be able to start more rumours about her. Everyone would know why she’s been up late.” He considered the idea. “But what about Hawkmoth? I don’t want him to target her.” Plagg tried to fly up to his eye level but Adrien quickly slapped the kwami back into his jacket. “Ow hey what was that for?” Plagg yelled, “I’m in the middle of the school foyer, I’m already getting weird looks for slapping myself so don’t make it any worse.” That earned a little pinch from his friend “A little pay back, now if you don’t transform and pick up your sleeping beauty I’ll carry her back home myself. I don’t trust that girl to walk across the street by herself.” Adrien smiled, “Aww does the cheese monster have a soft spot for my purrincess, I thought there was only room for camembert in your heart.” Plagg rolled his eyes, “Yeah well if I can make room for you, then I can make room for pigtails. Now go and transform before you miss your chance.” He flew back into Adrien’s pocket. Touched by his kwami’s speech, Adrien walked towards the exit and sprinted around the corner. Luckily he had fencing practice today so his bodyguard wouldn’t be waiting for him.

He ducked into an alleyway and transformed after making sure he wasn’t followed, Chat Noir emerging from where Adrien was seconds ago. He ran back towards François DuPont to meet his little mouse at the front. As she emerged covering a yawn, Alya spotted him. Immediately she whipped out her phone and ran towards him, leaving Marinette behind. “Chat Noir! What are you doing here? Out for an afternoon patrol?” She held up her camera to record him. “Actually I’m here to pick up a certain little lady. I’ve been keeping her up at night and word has it she’s dead tired.” Alya blinked before turning towards her friend and looking back at him with wide eyes. He nodded and looked back up only to see Marinette trip over her feet. He rushed over and caught her around the waist in a hug before she could smash her face into the pavement. “Well hello there Mari, fancy seeing you here.” She looked up at him and smiled before stretching her arms up and wrapping them around his neck. “Hey kitty.” She murmured before resting her face on his chest. He sighed and bent down a little to sweep her up, he gently repositioned her into a hip carry with his other hand wrapping under one of her thighs. She immediately snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Alya stood there, her mouth agape. “Hey uh, would you mind grabbing her bag for me miss Ladyblogger?” He asked, nodding at it. She snapped out of it and picked it up off the steps where it had fallen. She passed it to Chat who slung it over his free shoulder and started heading towards Tom and Sabine’s bakery, with a certain fox tailing him.

The three, well the two of them walked while Marinette was peacefully carried by Chat Noir. Alya chuckled “Are you, purring?” He blushed a little before giggling back, “Yeah I am, I usually do it when she’s really tired, it puts her to sleep really quickly.” She smirked at him, “So this is a regular occurrence?” He stammered “I well uh yes for a while, not every night but umm.” He blushed and looked down at her. “If only I knew Marinette was sleeping with one of Paris’ superheroes.” She said slyly, she was definitely fit for the fox miraculous. He turned away from the journalist, he didn’t want to see him blush. His cheek bumped into Marinette’s forehead before resting against it. “It’s not in the way you’re thinking, we usually play video games or watch movies, most of the time she gets really tired and ends up falling asleep on me so I put her to bed.” He looked back at her and she was not convinced. “You mean she gets tired so you cuddle her and purr while she falls asleep then you sneak out the window.” He pouted, “You make me sound like a creepy, and it’s actually the trapdoor to the balcony, I can’t climb through the window without diving through it.” She grinned at him and he rolled his eyes. “Not much better is.. hey what’s that?” He turned to see a figure glaring at them from on top of the school, he didn’t get to look at them for very long before something fast and sharp came barreling towards them.

He didn’t even have time to grab Alya, he only had time to shove her out of the way with his foot before jumping backwards with Marinette pulled tight to him. He stumbled a little, crashing to the ground with a very much awake Marinette landing safely on top of him. She propped herself onto her hands just enough to separate her face from his. “Chat? What’s going on?” A loud cackle was heard behind them and she leapt to her feet, he followed suit and pulled Marinette behind him, making sure she was as separated from the akuma as possible. “My name is Seamstress, with my needle and thread I’ll make sure none of you can ever speak against me.” Seamstress turned to Alya, she pinched her fingers together and make a jabbing motion towards her. Alya’s mouth shut and she covered it with her hand. It looked like she was in pain, then Seamstress pulled her hand back and Alya cried out, but her scream was muffled. She pulled back her hand to reveal that her lips were sewn shut. Marinette tried to run towards her friend but Chat wrapped his arms around her before she could go anywhere. “Alya No!” She screamed, her face full of tears. “I’m really sorry Marinette.” He said before grabbing his baton and vaulting them away from the akuma and Alya.

Marinette held tight to Chat’s neck, despite the sobs that shook her violently. He needed to get her away but he wanted her to breathe. He looked behind him, Seamstress was nowhere in sight, so he jumped into an alleyway and sat down, Marinette sitting in his lap. He sat crisscross so that she could sit more comfortably, she still wasn’t breathing right.

“Marinette I need you to breathe for me ok? I know it’s going to be hard but I have to get you somewhere safe, and I can’t do that if you can’t breathe. Here.” He reached behind him and pulled one of her hands off him and placed it on his chest. “Ok can you feel me breathing?” She nodded against his shoulder. “Ok good, now try to match my breathing ok?” He felt her panting against him as she tried to fix her breathing. It took a few minutes but soon enough her sobs turned into little whimpers of sadness. “Feel better?” He asked and she nodded. She was always quiet like this when she was upset, seeing her friends hurt wouldn’t be something she got over easily. She pulled back to look at him before another tear slipped down her cheek. He quickly reached up and brushed it away, “Ok now we’ve got to-“ An explosion rang out in the street near them, he gently pushed her off of him. “Stay here ok, I’ll come and get you after.”

He ran out from the alley only to come face to face with Seamstress. “Hello kitty, where have you hidden miss goody two-shoes hmm?” She asked, she looked like she’d gone insane, her face twisted into something between and grin and fury. Her face darted from left to right, looking for his princess. Luckily, the dumpster they landed beside blocked Marinette from view. “Like hell I’d tell you.” He turned his baton and extended it towards her, putting as much distance between him and the akuma as he could. “Well if I can’t get you to talk, maybe I should just shut you up!” Her hand thrusted towards him and he saw a needle, he dodged it and her hand snapped open, a drop of blood running down her finger. So if she misses a stitch she’ll prick herself. Good to know.

He dodged needle after needle until he got distracted and stumbled. He fell to the ground and braced for the pain to come to his lips, but it never did. Instead something small crashed into him and they rolled across the road, hitting the curb. He looked up to see Marinette on her hands and knees above him. Her lips were still swollen from crying but in that moment, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was. ‘Geez Adrien great timing.’ He could almost hear Plagg cackling in his head. He just stared at her, mouth agape, then she did something he would never recover from. She smirked, and oh god did he want to kiss her. “What cat got your tongue?” She said before flicking his bell. She stood and pulled him up. He quickly snapped out of it and scooped her up before dashing down the street, the akuma not far behind, he drifted around a corner and silently sprinted down an alley before extending his baton and racing across the rooftops in the opposite direction, successfully leading the akuma in the wrong direction. He brought her to the first place he could think of, the Louvre. He leapt off one of the buildings to the side, summoned a cataclysm to break a glass panel, and landed on the floor inside with Marinette clutched safely in his arms.

“Wasn’t there an easier way to get in here?” She said, a teasing tone to her voice. He wish he wanted to laugh but he didn’t. He was mad, furious even. He told her to stay hidden, out of sight. He told her to wait in the alley for him but she didn’t. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” He asked angrily. Hundreds of emotions swam through him, part of him wanted to lecture her for hours, part of him wanted to hug her and make sure she was ok, part of him wanted to kiss her stupid because mon dieu she was beautiful with her hair down like that. He settled for a simple “Stay here this time, I’ll come get you.” Before turning and vaulting towards the akuma.

Ladybug was a little late to the fight but they got it over with fairly quickly. He destroyed the bracelet the akuma was in and Ladybug captured it and fixed everything. “Would you mind taking her back this time? I’ve gotta run.” Ladybug asked and he nodded. Some of his anger had faded but he wasn’t exactly in a good mood right now. She waved goodbye before hurrying off. “So,” he started turning to Lila, “I hope you won’t be spreading anymore false rumours about people now, especially Marinette.” He growled a little and miss liar shrank under his gaze. She nodded before standing and walking away.

He needed to calm down, Marinette was probably scared and hurt and confused, he didn’t exactly leave her on the best note. By the time he arrived at the Louvre it was closed for cleaning. He slipped inside to grab her but noticed that she was standing by the door. “They umm, kicked me out when it closed.” She said shyly. His brows furrowed.

She looked at him confused before he opened his mouth to speak. “I told you to stay hidden and you didn’t listen. Why?” She frowned, “Don’t you mean ‘thank you Marinette’?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Uh no I mean why did you run out from your hiding place, I’m the superhero remember, you can’t go running into the middle of an akuma battle. You don’t have superpowers or a magic suit to protect you.” She walked up to him and pushed her finger into his chest, “You were more important when it came to defeating Seamstress, who cares if my mouth is sewn shut because yours will still work. You needed to be safe more than I did so I saved you.” He clenched his fists, “My job is to protect you“ she cut him off “No your job is to help Ladybug save the akumatized person.” He started speaking, “No, my job is to make sure no one gets hurt, I have to keep everyone safe.” She crossed her arms again, “Once Ladybug’s cure fixed everything I would have been fine.” He stood straight, “Well I wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t be able to function knowing you got hurt because I couldn’t protect you.” She grabbed his shoulders, “And how do you think I feel huh? Seeing you die over and over again! So fuck me if I wanted to save you one time! I can’t keep watching you sacrifice yourself over and over again.” Her voice broke, “And what? You think I would be able to keep fighting if I knew you weren’t safe, I don’t think I could live with myself if Anything happened to you.” He wasn’t yelling anymore but he was still angry with her. She was close to crying again she was so angry.

“For heaven sakes you stupid cat!” She blurted before grabbing his bell and pulling him down to her. He saw her eyes close before their lips met. He closed his eyes and kissed her back, it wasn’t a slow gentle kiss either, it was a desperate, passion filled kiss that made him feel like he was struck by lightning. Her hands tangled in his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist. He couldn’t tell if this was heaven or hell, he felt like he was dancing on cloud nine while her lips burned against his neck. She pulled down his bell zipper slightly and he groaned as she left marks on his collar bone. He grabbed her face and pulled her back up to him, gently biting her bottom lip when she smirked.

He heard a whistling noise somewhere behind Marinette but it barely registered and he lifted her up to get her closer to him. She pulled back and he started leaving marks on her identical to the ones she left on him. “Um Chat.” She whimpered and he wanted to hear her say his name again. “Chat.” She said a little louder, “Hey!” She squeaked and he stopped, looking up at her. Her face was bright red and her eyes were wide. “What?” He asked, lowering her to the ground. He quirked an eyebrow at her before looking above her head. It was Alya and Alix, standing there, watching him make out with their best friend. “Uh, hi.” He said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “Well hi there.” Alix chuckled. Oh no, he was about to die right? “We’ll leave you two to your, umm, whatever that was but make sure you have her home by 9 young man, you understand me?” Geez she sounded like Mr. Dupain. “Yes ma’am.” He chuckled, wishing he could curl up into a ball and hide. The pair walked off, laughing and whispering together.

He felt something heavy crash into his chest, “Oh, mon dieu I’m a goner.” Marinette groaned. He laughed nervously before hugging her and ruffling her hair. She looked up at him, “You’re still an idiot you know.” He laughed for real this time, “And you’re still beautiful.” Her face turned pink and she put her head against his chest again. He sighed and started purring. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just so worried. Like I said, I don’t think I could function if I found out something happened to you.” She wrapped her arms around him and raised herself up to rest her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry too, I’ll try to stay out of trouble.” He smiled, “You’d better, or I’ll go full Weredad and lock you away.” She giggled, “I think you mean Werecat.” He joined her and they laughed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. “So, how about a movie night tonight?” He asked. “Why don’t we just cuddle until I fall asleep, that’s basically what we do anyways.” He wagged his tail excitedly, “Do you still have the pillow fort set up from last time?” She giggled again, “Yes I do, now let’s go home kitty, it’s cold out here.” Oh right, she didn’t have a jacket on. He quickly scooped her up and they headed off.

That night he got more than his fair share of cuddles, he even stayed for a sleepover. Thank goodness it was Friday.

————————————

Thank you for reading. It’s a bit spicier than the stuff I usually write but I think I did ok.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanon for being Hela’s child

Hela Odinsdottir x child!reader

Thor/Loki x reader

warnings: blood/death/ alcohol mentions

a/n: been thinking abt hela a lot lmao

prompt: y/n is hela’s child

you were born in hel

and raised on stories of your mother’s triumph

she always left out her downfall, though

growing up to hate the thought of your grandfather, odin

he was always regarded as “backstabbing coward”

“and what will you do when we finally go back to asgard, my child?”

“stand beside you while you rightfully rule the kingdom, mother”

“that’s correct”

after years and years of enduring hel, you’re only home, you were released at the sight where your grandfather had took his final breath

“you didn’t tell me i had any uncles...”

“they’re irrelevant, my dear”

thor and loki being extremely confused upon meeting the evil family members that they had just discovered

“and odin never said anything about hela having a child!”

“i was born in hel”

:)))

straight up attacking them, it was all you had been trained for

you were your mother’s weapon, that was for certain

craving destruction and blood, that was what you were taught—now that you’d escaped your prison, you could finally do that

and you wanted asgard, you were robbed of that much after your mother was banished

it felt so elegant there, nothing like the depths you were trapped in

striking fear into the hearts of asgardians, but something seemed very off

their fear didn’t make you happy like mother had promised?

it wasn’t very glorious when you killed anyone

“mother, you said this would be fun...”

“you’re not having fun?”

“not even a bit”

your only fun was watchcing skurge dance around for your mom

and it wasn’t even that good then

your uncles returning to asgard for a fight to remember

while your mother was distracted with thor, you ran across the bifrost, running into loki

“now just what do you think you’re doing, child?”

“my mother is a monster, i cant serve her any longer”

this god of mischief believed you

“then you better fight like hell to prove it”

your powers were similar to your mother’s, blades were never scarce to you

thor and the rest of the “revengers” regrouping on the bridge

“what the hell is this one doing here?”

“helping you defeat my mother”

“well, okay then. welcome to the team”

valkyrie didn’t trust you right away

you paid no mind to that, you were focused on one thing

“y/n?! what do you think you’re doing with them?”

“getting rid of you once and for all, you..?”

*thor, whispering* “bitch”

“bitch!”

“typically i dont condone the usage of that word, but your mother gets a free pass”

happily fighting alongside your uncles, it was almost as if you could tell each others next move, it was mesmerizing

you saved loki from being hurt

“well then...thank you, little one”

“im 1200 years old”

“i stand by my words”

hela begged you to join her once more, it was startling and pathetic (and maybe even a trap)

happily watching your mother perish, you hadn’t realized how cruel she was until then

“i’m sorry about your mother, young y/n” -thor

“im not”

the asgardians didn’t trust you very much, you would have to earn it

and you did when you encountered the mad titan known as thanos

you swore you did everything you could, but it wasn’t enough

you had to watch thor be tortured and loki be killed, it was scarring

being picked up by the guardians of the galaxy

“who are you?”

“i barely know who i am”

thor needing to go to nidavellir and taking you with him

“im sure you’ll need a mighty weapon to see the fall of thanos!”

“but...am i worthy of such a thing?”

you felt a sense of guilt for your past actions

and even your mother’s

thor put each of his hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eye (with the only one he had)

“y/n, you must understand that your mother...she poisoned your mind with nothing but hate, but i can tell that you’re much different than her. i’ll be here for you from now on, believe me”

dmitri was able to forge you a weapon of your own, you fell in love with it as soon as you laid eyes upon it

also thor almost died??? that would’ve sucked

and then he took you to midgard, the only thing you knew about it was that the people were weak and irrelevant

but when you met the midgardians, you only met warriors (mind you, you had just landed in the middle of a battle)

another significant fight with your uncle thor

“captain! this is y/n, my (neice, nephew, nibling)”

“hello, y/n. welcome to earth”

“thanks, i hate it!”

going out of your way to save as many as you can, it just felt right

“who is that?”

“well, apparently thor had a sister no one knew about, that’s her kid?”

i nearly forgot about rocket and groot, who you thought were the coolest

“rabbit! over here!”

“for the millionth time, y/n, it’s ‘rocket’”

seeing thanos once again, you and thor thought alike over what needed to be done

you attacked him from behind while thor struck him in the chest, but the disaster ensued and you were left blaming yourself once more

“it’s not your fault, y/n. we all failed”

“captain rogers, i could have killed him, i know that im the one to blame”

everyone could tell that you carried an abundance of guilt, your mother didn’t treat you well

you had to control your anger, you didn’t want to be perceived as a threat

eager to kill thanos

thor told you his stories of war, you idolized him after this

“so, y/n, tell me about your childhood”

“what’s there to tell? i was born in hel”

“good point”

happy to watch thanos die

thor and you rescued the rest of your people and founded new asgard

you and valkyrie ended up running it together, though

thor only became depressed, but he did teach you how to play fortnite

“y/n, y/n look! im doing the dance!”

“very impressing, korg!”

you and valkyrie actually became friends

she realized that the horrors inflicted by your mother were not a reflection of your character, you could be guided by valkyrie instead

“val, where’d all the beer go?”

“ask your uncle”

“why do i even bother”

a shot at redemption after meeting a smaller version of the hulk, giving your uncle a small sliver of hope

and him telling you who jane was

“you never told me you dated a midgardian?”

“yes, well, the reason for that was...”

he started crying

“right...”

tony called you “the little hel-raiser”

you did not laugh

maybe you didn’t have the greatest sense of humor

thor took you back to asgard where you met frigga

“thor, do you know if she’s my grandmother?”

“not a clue”

:)

but you met her anyways

“y/n, dear, it’s good to finally meet you”

“oh, yes, you...you too”

she was very kind, you wished that you were able to see her in the natural timeline

you sort of wished to meet odin, as well

yall kinda saved the universe tho, that was pretty cool

valkyrie brought pegasus to the fight, you rode behind her while shooting daggers below

“you’re very good at that!”

when the fight was finally over, thor made the decision to leave new asgard to you and valkyrie

“you’re ready, y/n. they trust you. and valkyrie will be sure to guide you, ill see you again someday”

[rocorambles]

Promise

Pairing: Kageyama x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, SFW 

Summary: Volleyball is what brought the two of you together, but is it also going to be what tears the two of you apart?

It's the last week of summer break before he becomes a third year and you'd think as a high schooler he would be playing around and relaxing, enjoying his last few days of freedom, but Kageyama isn't a normal high schooler which is how he finds himself at Karasuno trying to sneak into the boy's volleyball gym. Yamaguchi wasn't free today which meant the only person who had the gym keys was unavailable to let him in, but his stubborn self couldn't just drop it without at least trying. After a few more unsuccessful attempts to pry open the door, he plops down in front of the gym and grumbles, already preparing to at least go for a run instead as he gets up to leave, but the familiar sound of a hand hitting a ball catches his attention as he passes the girl's volleyball gym on his way out and he can't help himself from taking a peek through the windows.  

He's stunned by the sight of you leaping into the air, scattering drops of sweat everywhere as you serve a ball over the net and he admires your perfect form and technique. He hasn't paid much attention to the girl's volleyball team, but even as dense as he is, he's heard the whispers in the halls of how strong they've become, how both the Karasuno boy's and girl's teams are considered top tier teams and from watching you, he can tell the rumors have at least some truth behind them. He can feel his body and hands twitch in anticipation, the way they always do when he's excited by something (that something usually being great volleyball playing) and maybe that's why he's standing in the doorway of the gym and nervously asking if he can share the gym with you to practice. 

Unlike Kageyama, you know exactly who he is and you shyly but kindly oblige him, excited to see him practice and play in person. Who doesn't know the star setter of the Karasuno boy's volleyball team who was also invited to be part of the All-Japan Youth Training camp? He's literally one of the best setters in the country and as a serious player yourself, you'd have to be living under a rock not to recognize him. The two of you continue practicing, the sound of balls being hit and landing on the ground echoing off the walls, and maybe both of you pause a little too long between practice routines while you subtly try to watch the other from the corner of your eyes, but it's an effective session for both of you and you both grin at each other from across the gym as you both slump down to the ground and catch your breaths. And both of you will argue about whether or not Kageyama taking you to Coach Ukai's store to eat meat buns after you locked up the gym was your first date, but you'll both agree that's how your friendship began. 

The two of you begin walking home together after both your practices end and at first it's mostly one-sided conversations with you rattling on and on while Kageyama listens, but over time the two of you begin to banter back and forth. You go to each other's volleyball games and even though you both know you should be rooting for the entire team, neither one of you can stop staring at the other in awe as you both play your hardest. Pretty soon Kageyama begins scanning the crowd for you when the team wins a point and you beam at him when you get a service ace. And when both your teams make it to nationals, you loiter in front of Coach Ukai's store once again, excitedly babbling on and on as the rush of victory thrums throughout your bodies, not stopping until Ukai shoos you away when he closes shop. That night as the two of you walk home together, Kageyama's hand gently brushes against yours and it feels like second nature to you to intertwine your fingers with his and both of you can't help but think it feels so right to walk hand in hand under the starry night sky. 

Neither of your teams are surprised that the two of you are dating. They just make fun of the two of you, teasing you both for taking so long to get the memo and both of you sheepishly smile at each other. But there's hardly time to seriously date with Nationals and college entrance exams around the corner and the two of you dive head first into practicing and studying, sneaking in texts and calls here and there, grabbing lunch together, and walking to and from school. Luckily for Kageyama, you're a much better student than he is and although they aren't fun, study and tutoring sessions become the new way the two of you can spend a little more time together (even if you do want to strangle your boyfriend for his stupidity sometimes). 

But nationals pass, the college entrance exams pass, and now there's loud banging on your front door. You've barely unlocked the door when it swings open and Kageyama holds his college acceptance letter and sports scholarship offer in triumph. You hadn't brought in your mail yet today, but Kageyama had gathered it up for you and you both nervously look on as you open a similarly sized package with the same college logo on it and you tear up when you see your own acceptance letter and sports scholarship offer. You both share a watery smile before happy tears of relief fall from both of your eyes and you cling tightly to each other, silently excited about being able to spend the next four years at the same university, playing the sport you both love. 

The two of you spend the summer break after you graduate from high school going on real dates and enjoying the free time like a normal couple would. Every second of it is perfect and you're almost positive that you've been to every popular date spot in Miyagi after just the first month off. But you both also want to spend some quality time with your families before you head off to college and the two of you part ways for a bit as you both go on summer vacations with your relatives. Kageyama excitedly waits on his bed the day you’re supposed to return, waiting for you to text him that you're back home, but hours pass and you still haven't messaged him despite your earlier text telling him you were almost back and he begins to worry. He scrambles to pick up his phone when your name pops up on the screen, but he's surprised when it's your mom's voice he hears and he almost drops the device when he finally makes out what she's saying in between sobs. 

His shirt is on inside out, he almost ran out with his pants on backwards, and he snarled in frustration when his trembling fingers couldn't lace up his sneakers, opting to wear sliders instead as he rushed towards the hospital. He's a mess of frazzled nerves as he practically screams your name at the front desk and clumsily stumbles as he follows the directions to your room. He thinks he might just faint from relief when he sees you turn towards him as he reaches your room and he gingerly cradles your upper body, careful to steer clear of your bandaged lower body. He's so overwhelmed by the fact that you're alive that at first he doesn't register what you're saying or that you're crying, but when he finally pulls away a bit to talk to you, his heart drops once more at your words. 

"Tobio…my leg...it hurts so much."

All he can offer are loving words about how much he loves you, how glad he is that you're alive, how he'd be by your side throughout your entire recovery and he puts up a strong reassuring facade, but as soon as he steps out of your room, out of your view, he tenses up as he talks to your parents, trying to understand how badly you've been injured in the car crash. Your parents are grief stricken and your mom continuously cries about how it should have been her who got injured instead while your dad tells Kageyama everything while comforting his wife. You had been driving back home from your family trip when a drunk driver had come out of nowhere and crashed into your car, slamming into the side rear of the car where you had been sitting, effectively crushing your entire leg. The diagnosis is a broken femur, but it's still unknown how severe or long lasting the effects will be. There's uncomfortable silence after those words are uttered and the elephant in the room is left unsaid. No one knows if you'd ever be able to play volleyball ever again. 

The rest of the summer is spent by Kageyama taking you to physical therapy every day and anxiously watching you and waiting for you to finish each session. He carefully listens to the moves your therapist tells you to do at home and he dedicates himself to making sure you go through with all your physical homework no matter how painful they are or exhausted you are. It hurts him to see how much pain you're in, but he knows how much more painful it'll be if you can't ever step foot on a court again. At first your recovery seems promising. He smiles as you start walking again and he swears your steps look less and less wobbly with each passing day, but even after weeks, he slightly frowns at the way your limp never seems to go away. 

Both of you keep on pressing on with your rehabilitation, straining to do everything you can to get you back in playing shape as your college begins to send information on when sports practices begin, but it's the week before practices begin that your therapist sits both of you down and officially nails the coffin of your volleyball career shut. And that night when the university officially rescinds your scholarship, you cry for hours, you cry so hard that you begin to cough and hiccup, you cry until there are no more tears left to shed and you're left to just dry heave in Kageyama's arms while he resolutely holds you and never lets go of you. Only when you cry yourself to sleep in his embrace does he let out his own heart wrenching sobs out, his tears mixing with the wet mess you've made of his shirt as he grieves with you. 

It’s hard to pick up the pieces after that, but Kageyama and you have always been determined and you both walk with your heads held high on the first day of college and you give him a toothy smile as you drop him off at practice before walking off to grab a coffee from the campus cafe. Only when Kageyama enters the gym and you turn around, your face hidden away from him, does your smile drop as you slightly limp towards your destination. Kageyama repeatedly assures you that you don’t need to come watch his games and he’s careful to never really talk much about volleyball around you despite how large a part of his life it is, scared of and unwilling to even remotely hurt you with the reminder of how your own athletic career was stolen from you. But you insist on cheering him on in person, wanting more than anything to be a supportive girlfriend in all parts of Kageyama’s life even if your heart feels like it’s being torn to shreds every minute you watch your boyfriend smile and sweat as he plays and you’re reminded of just how much you too loved the sport. And yet you persist, mustering up excitement when he’s not on the bench and loudly screaming his name when he’s allowed on the court. But as freshman year continues on and his skills are acknowledged and he’s brought into play more and spends less time on the bench, it becomes harder and harder for you to watch and when he officially becomes one of the regular starters during your sophomore year, you stop attending his games, making excuses left and right about being too busy with schoolwork and extracurriculars, hiding the growing jealousy you feel from watching him live the life you’ve always dreamed of, that you’d earned, only to have it unfairly taken from you.  

Junior year comes and goes and Kageyama isn’t as dense as he once used to be. He knows you’re lying about why you don’t come to watch his games anymore, but he never confronts you about it. Volleyball is his one true passion and he knows it was the same for you and he can’t imagine how painful it must be to even just see a volleyball court now, so he just nods at your excuses and lovingly kisses you before he rushes off to warm up for his games. Both of you had chosen to come to this university because of how highly regarded their volleyball teams are, so it’s no surprise that being a starter on the team makes you an instant VIP on campus and with your boyfriend’s skills and looks, it was only a matter of time before his name spread like wildfire around campus. You try to keep a low profile, not wanting people to begin bothering you and interrogating you about what dating Kageyama is like, but his fans are drawn to you like a dog to a bone and they sink their teeth in you when they find you, unwilling to let go until they chew off everything they can bite. 

It’s easier to laugh and scoff at the jealous girls who scream in your face, loudly and rudely wondering out loud what Kageyama sees in a nobody like you. But it’s the fans who rave on and on about what an amazing setter your boyfriend is, how skilled and talented he is, how lucky you are to be dating a top-tier athlete, who unknowingly hurt you more. Their words claw at your insides because they’re true. He is an amazing athlete and you know he’s going to go so much further in his athletic career. He’s everything you can never be and jealousy begins to twist into hate, bitterness, and resentment. You don’t even know where to direct these negative feelings festering inside of you and they continue growing as you desperately try to squash them down, but it’s no use and you can feel your self-loathing becoming worse every day. And with every new person who praises Kageyama to you, the feelings extend beyond yourself, spreading towards volleyball and Kageyama until just seeing random college students passing around a volleyball or even just seeing your boyfriend’s face makes bile rise in your throat and a scowl form on your face. 

Your relationship is hanging by a fraying thread, but the two of you become too busy to discuss the growing tension between the two of you as junior year wraps up. Kageyama throws himself even more into volleyball as recruiters for professional teams begin to scout him. You’re busy with your summer internship and keeping up your grades to stay in the running for the companies you want to apply to during your senior year. But the calm before the storm can only last so long and when Kageyama tells you he’s been given an offer to join the Schweiden Adlers after he graduates, you explode. Kageyama’s known for some time that you’ve been bottling something up inside of you and that something’s been bothering you for a while now, but he’s not prepared for the venomous hate-filled rant you throw at him. 

“Volleyball this and volleyball that. I don’t give a fuck, Tobio. I don’t care that you’re going to play for some stupid professional team. I don’t care about volleyball. I don’t care about you. Actually, let’s just break up so that I don’t have to listen to you talk about your stupid sport ever again. This relationship is over. Go have fun being a star athlete or whatever.” 

You take sick satisfaction in the way he flinches at your words and stares at you in shock, a twisted damaged part of you finding solace in the fact that he’s finally hurting and suffering like you have for years. But when you see your own pain reflected in his eyes, you quickly turn to walk away from him for forever, only to be stopped by a firm, but gentle hold on your wrist and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to turn around and run into his chest, to not sink into his familiar and comforting presence. You struggle to pull your arm from his hold, but maybe it’s the part in you that still loves him and yearns for him that makes your motions weaker than you intended and he determinedly holds on to you, pleading for you to talk to him, to help him understand where all this is suddenly coming from. And when you hear his voice crack and you hear the quiet sniffles he tries to hide, all the fight in you dies as you quickly whip around and throw yourself at his toned figure, uncaring of how your hands will ruin his shirt as you tightly clutch the front of it, bunching up fabric between your clenched fists and you sob as all your pent up feelings over the years finally make themselves known. Kageyama quietly listens, his own silent tears cascading down his face as he clenches his teeth and holds you tighter to him, upset at you for holding all of this in, upset at himself for not talking to you when he knew you weren’t fine all this time. There’s a pause after you finally finish unloading years worth of burdens, but you’re stunned by Kageyama’s next question. 

“Do you only love me because I’m good at volleyball?” 

You splutter indignantly and you jab a finger in his chest as you turn your head up to glare at him and give him a piece of your mind for even assuming something as stupid as that, but you pause at the humorous glint in his eyes and the smile twitching on his lips. Still scowling, you bite back the entire rant that had been about to exit your mouth as you give him a stern “no” and wait for him to continue. 

“Volleyball is the reason I like you and it’s how we found each other, but you’re so much more than that to me. I’m not going to let you break up with me over a stupid game.” 

You can feel your face begin to heat up at his words and in self-defense you mockingly bite back at him, trying to hide just how much those two sentences had affected you. “Did you just call it a stupid game?” 

But your plan backfires when he just nonchalantly shrugs at your teasing words. “Compared to you and our relationship, it is a stupid game.” You think your heart might beat out of your chest with the way it races and you try to hide your face in his chest once more, only to be stopped by Kageyama gently grabbing your chin and keeping your face tilted up to look at him.

“Volleyball will always be a big part of my life, but I’m going to continue showing you and proving to you that I’m more than just that. I’m going to make sure that when you see me, you only see Kageyama, the man you fell in love, the idiot who you have to tutor because he can barely pass his English classes, the “overgrown child” you make fun of for still always drinking milk. I’m going to make sure that you never associate me with those negative feelings ever again. And when those negative feelings bubble up, I want you to tell me and talk through them with me. I’ll always be here with you and for you every step of the way.”  

His words alone are enough to almost make you swoon, but it’s his eyes full of nothing but love that have you falling for him all over again and when he leans down to connect his lips with yours, you melt into the touch. And when your eyes meet once again as you press your foreheads against each other, arms wrapped around each other, a silent promise is made. A promise of devotion. A promise of commitment. A promise to never give up no matter how tough things become. And there’s no doubt in either of your minds that there are going to be many bumps along the way, but there’s also no doubt that together you’ll be able to navigate whatever other curve balls life throws at the two of you.