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coffeeandchemicals · 4 years

Note

Combo of 2, 17 & 38 for the Harringrove horror prompts. Please and thank you!

Thank you @introvertia for the prompts! Sorry it took so long - I hope you enjoy this!

The prompt list is here, if anyone wants to send me more!

Trigger warning for homophobic language and gore.

all that's left is a ghost of you

Billy had only been town for a few days, but he’d already noticed something wasn’t quite right with this King Steve that everyone was talking about. Something wasn’t right, but no one seemed to notice. Not the ex-girlfriend who kept giving Steve wide-eyed sad looks as if she couldn’t quell her own guilt. Not the ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend who actively avoided Steve’s gaze whenever Steve saw him in the hallways. Not the kids that Steve drove around taking them from school to the arcade to home and back again as if Steve was their personal chauffer.

But Billy noticed.

And Billy watched to see what would happen. To see what Steve would do. To see if Steve would finally snap.

And Billy needled Steve to see if he could get a rise out of him. To see what emotions, if any, would cross Steve’s face. To see if Steve would give in to whatever he was trying not to feel.

And Billy waited.

On the basketball court, Billy pushed into Steve’s space, plastered himself against Steve’s back, and let himself feel the heat of another body against his own. Billy almost made a move in the showers, but he saw Steve’s flat, emotionless face, anger flashing for the briefest moment when Tommy had brought up the ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. (Billy wasn’t sure why Steve was surprised – those two had sexual chemistry that could light shit on fire.) So, Billy pulled back, he didn’t want to work with anger at someone else. If Steve had felt anger towards Billy, Billy could twist that into something more visceral, something baser. But Steve hadn’t, so Billy decided to wait. Billy decided to bide his time.

Then things became truly fucked up.

Billy had been out looking for Max on the orders of his dad, sporting a necklace of bruises, and a healthy dose of rage that simmered under his skin. He was focusing on tamping it down, trying to contain it, when he pulled up to the Byers’ place. Before he even got out of the car, he could see Max’s head peaking through the window, her orange hair glinting in the dim light.

Then Billy saw Steve, looking resigned and rejected as always.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?” Billy drawled, letting the cigarette smoke curl out of his mouth, as he took Steve in. Steve didn’t even flinch.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants,” Steve replied, his tone lacking any kind of bite.

Billy sauntered up, letting his rage flicker into something more physical, definitely something more like lust. He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and said, “I won’t–”

“Steve!” someone yelled as they come barreling out of the house, past him, and past Billy in three seconds flat. It was the curly haired kid – Billy couldn’t remember his name – and his face was covered in panic.

“Dustin, I thought I–” Steve started to say, but is cut off.

“Steve, we gotta go now. Like right now. Like should have left ten minutes ago now.”

Steve sighed, long and drawn out. But the other kids had already come tumbling out of the house, herding him forward towards his car.

Max stared at Billy, her eyes wide. “Look,” she muttered, “Billy, I can’t explain. But I have to help.”

Billy glared at her and the other kids, taking in the organized chaos that shifted more towards chaos as the kids tried to pile into Steve’s car.

“Fine,” he snapped, then he grabbed the keys from Steve’s loose grip. “I’m driving. Max, you tell me what’s going on.”

Steve attempted to protest, but his words and tone were lackluster at best, like he’d slipped into some sort of apathy.

“C’mon, Harrington,” Billy said, as he circled his hand around Steve’s wrist, “let’s go.” Billy maneuvered Steve into the passenger seat without any protest. He wondered what was going on in Steve’s head, why his eyes were so blank and empty. He dropped into a crouch in front of the open door and snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s unfocused gaze.

“Huh,” Steve muttered, “I’m not a dog, Hargrove.”

“Sure,” countered Billy, “But, man, you’re gone. I watched you disappear in the span of two minutes. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Steve snapped, spinning to face the front.

“Monsters,” yelled the curly-haired kid – Dustin – “we need to go now!”

Monsters and tunnels were apparently the things plaguing Hawkins. Billy pieced together the fucked-up picture from the kids talking over each other. He kept making eye contact with Max in the rear-view mirror to confirm that this was, in fact, not a joke. She looked terrified enough that Billy decided the story must be true – or at least partially true.

“Right,” said Billy, as he rummaged through Steve’s trunk to find some sort of weapon – a tire iron would do nicely – “all you kids stay here.”

“What –”

“No!”

“Billy!”

Billy stopped them all with his practiced glare. “Me and King Steve here will go check it out.”

“Yep,” Steve said, twirling his bat, looking more awake than Billy had ever seen him. Maybe Steve was sporting a death wish. Maybe he was looking for that adrenaline high.

“It’s toxic,” Dustin said, passing bandanas and goggles first to Billy and then to Steve. Billy took them and wondered how a bandana would save him from a poisonous atmosphere, but he put it on anyway and checked to make sure that Steve was doing the same.

“You just need to distract them,” said the pinched-faced kid, who Billy thought was named Matt or Mick or Mike. “You need to give El time to close it.”

“Uh huh,” said Billy, “let’s go, pretty boy, we gotta save a town. Or some shit.” But Steve had already walked to the hole in the ground and jumped in by the time Billy had finished talking. He rolled his eyes and jumped down after Steve.

The tunnels were eery. The lighting was dim and diffuse, as if things couldn’t quite get into focus until they were right in front of your face. The vines – or whatever the fuck they were – shifted constantly, creating rustling noises that echoed through the enclosed space. The air felt heavy as if it weighed Billy down and stole his energy. It made goosebumps crawl up the back of Billy’s neck.

“Well,” muttered Billy, “isn’t this a nice place.” He heard piercing screams in the distance and footsteps that sounded like they were coming closer.

“C’mon,” said Steve, voice muffled under his bandana, “we gotta go this way.” He jerked his head back indicating a direction that Billy was pretty sure went the opposite way of the town, but he could tell that it would be incredibly easy to get lost in this maze. Billy picked up the can of gasoline that one of the kids had dropped down and headed after Steve, wondering if this was some sort of nightmare he was going to wake up from.

“You alright, amigo?” Billy asked, after the silence had stretched out between them for a few minutes. He needed something to cover the squelching noises that the vines made every time he stepped on one. It made him think of intestines spilling out of some monstrous abdominal cavity. It caused his stomach to roll and bile to rise in the back of his throat.

“We’re walking in some creepy tunnels, going to fight fucking monsters. We’re armed with a bat and a tire iron. What the fuck do you think, Hargrove? Are you alright?” Steve snapped, spinning around on his heel to face Billy.

“I’m just peachy,” said Billy, grinning, even though he knew that Steve wouldn’t be able to see it. “I finally got to meet the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a little shove and Steve responded by balling his fist up in Billy’s shirt.

“Do you think this a joke, man?” Steve spat out. “Can’t you take something seriously for once in your life?”

“My whole fucking life is a joke,” Billy muttered, as he grabbed Steve’s wrist in an effort to pull him off. “I’m gonna die a fucking virgin in some toxic tunnels filled with demon dogs. And my dad will laugh at my funeral.”

“What,” said Steve, stepping back. “What about all those girls I see you with?”

“Just for show,” whispered Billy, heart pounding and stomach clenching, feeling more fear than when he’d dropped down into the tunnels. “Gotta keep up the image. Otherwise Neil will kill me. And he’ll still laugh at my funeral.”

Steve dropped his hand and just stared at Billy. Billy couldn’t read his expression, just saw his brown eyes, obscured by goggles, flit up and down.

“What,” said Billy, throwing his arms out, “you ain’t ever seen a fucking faggot before?”

“You–” Steve started to say, but then his jerked his head back. “Billy, c’mon, they’re coming.” He grabbed Billy’s wrist and yanked him forward as Billy suddenly heard the approaching din balloon in volume.

“Fuck,” Billy gasped out and took off after Steve. “How did they find us?” he panted out, as he caught up to Steve.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe it was all the talking – you’re not exactly subtle.”

“I’m not subtle? Amigo, I’m as subtle as they come.”

Steve peeled around the corner and yelled over his shoulder, “Dude, you hit on me in the showers. At school. You were fucking naked. You don’t think I didn’t notice that?” Steve dropped his gaze to Billy’s crotch in an exaggerated gesture.

Billy flushed. Yeah, that hadn’t been exactly inconspicuous.

“That was one time,” Billy yelled back, as he stumbled over the vines and almost fell into Steve. Because Steve had stopped short. Because there was a pack of fucking monsters staring them down only twenty feet away.

They were trapped.

“Well. Shit,” said Billy, as he glanced over his shoulder to see the other pack closing in. “Am I going to die?” he forced out.

“It would appear that way,” whispered Steve, as he backed against the wall, but jumped forward almost immediately as the vines shifted behind him.

“Fuck it,” said Billy, dropping both the tire iron and can of gasoline. He wrenched down his bandana.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, as he put two hands on the bat, getting ready to swing at the monsters.

“Being unsubtle,” responded Billy, as he yanked down Steve’s bandana. Then he leaned in and kissed him, trying to inject all the feelings of wanting, desire, fear, and hope into it. At first, Steve didn’t respond, but then he kissed Billy back, bringing one of his hands to cradle the back of Billy’s head. Billy licked his tongue across the seam of Steve’s lips and sighed when Steve opened to him. He let his hands move up and down Steve’s back, feeling the muscles shift beneath his fingertips.

Steve jerked back, “Not now.”

“We’re gonna die, seems as good a time as any,” muttered Billy, leaning forward, trying to catch Steve’s lips in another kiss.

Steve shook his head, pulled up his bandana, and then pulled up Billy’s. He dropped down in a crouch and eyed both packs. Then he picked up the tire iron and tipped over the can of gasoline, letting it spill down the tunnel.

“I’m gonna light this,” said Steve, softly, “and then we’re gonna run that way. There’s fewer of them. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Too fucking bad. Run!”

Steve dropped his lighter and the gas whooshed into flame. Then he grabbed Billy and took off towards the smaller group. Billy started swinging as soon as they were in range, but one of the monsters took a huge gouge out of his thigh and another locked onto his forearm. He gritted his teeth and tried to fight against the pain. His managed to shake the monster off his arm, but blood was pouring out of both wounds. He dropped to all fours, hoping that his death would be quick, but fearing that it wouldn’t be. Then Steve was wrapping an arm around his middle, trying to pull him up.

“Why,” Steve gasped out, swinging the bat to knock another monster away, “are you so fucking heavy?”

“’m not,” slurred Billy, as he tried to get to his feet. The tunnel was filled with smoke, further decreasing visibility. And then all the monsters took off, running down the tunnel as if they’d been summoned.

“What the fuck?” Steve said, as he finally got Billy standing.

Billy surveyed Steve, he didn’t seem to be hurt too badly, just scratches on his arms and legs.

“C’mon, we gotta go.” Steve pulled on Billy’s arm, trying to get him moving.

Billy took a few shuffling steps forward. “I don’t think I can make it.”

“Bullshit,” said Steve, “don’t tell me after all the shit you’ve been through in your joke of a life that some teeny tiny flesh wounds are gonna stop you now.”

“And what if they are,” Billy forced out as he took a few more steps.

“Then there was really no point in kissing me,” Steve said, throwing Billy’s arm over his shoulder to take some of Billy’s weight off his injured leg. They took a few more steps, but the blood was still streaming out of the wound on Billy’s thigh.

“Hang on,” Steve said, as he ripped off his jacket and dropped down in front of Billy. And wasn’t that a heady vision – Steve on his knees in front of him. Billy would have liked it more if he could’ve seen Steve’s face, but by the time that thought had crossed his brain, Steve had finished tying the makeshift bandage around Billy’s thigh.

“Let’s go.” Steve got Billy’s arm over his shoulder, put his arm around Billy’s waist, and they started their awkward shuffle run down the tunnels.

Billy heard the kids before he saw them. They were leaning down into the hole, yelling their heads off for Billy and Steve to hurry up. One of them had found a rope, which was good, because as they got closer to the opening, Billy was sure they wouldn’t be able to climb out.

“Guys,” snapped Steve, “he’s gonna need some help. I’m gonna boost him, you guys try to grab him.”

“I’m fine,” countered Billy, as a he reached for the rope with his injured arm. His fingers wouldn’t close around it, he couldn’t maintain a good grip.

“Billy,” Steve said, “you’re going to have to use your legs and it’s gonna fucking hurt. But if you don’t, there’s no way you’re gonna get outta here.” Then he clasped his fingers together so Billy could step in the bucket of his intertwined hands.

Billy did as he was told. Steve was able to lift him higher than Billy would have gotten if he’d taken a running leap it. He clung to the rope as he tried to shimmy up it. He could feel hands grasping at his shoulders, trying to pull him up. Then he saw Steve on the rope below him, trying to give him something to push off of. And, finally, Billy was able to throw himself out of the hole, with Max pulling on the shoulders of his jacket so he wouldn’t slide back down.

He saw Steve’s very tired face, but something surprisingly animated given how blank those eyes had been earlier. Then he saw nothing but darkness as he passed out.

“Billy, you’re at the Byers’, we’ve patched you up. Max said you probably wouldn’t want to go to the hospital,” Steve said, as his face swam into view.

Billy blinked a few times to clear the haze. His throat was dry; he swallowed a few times and then Steve was there, passing him a glass of water. Billy sat up and looked himself over – both his arm and leg were wrapped in a clean, white bandages. And he wasn’t wearing pants. A blanket was draped over his lap and Billy wondered who had undressed him.

“You always go commando, or is that for special occasions?” Steve asked, as he sat back on the coffee table, next to the couch that Billy was lying on.

“Special occasions,” countered Billy, his voice was rough as if he’d been asleep for awhile.

“Yeah?” said Steve, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward, dropping his elbows to his knees. “Don’t worry, it was only me that saw you.”

“I dunno if that makes me feel better or worse,” muttered Billy, closing his eyes as he slumped back down.

“That depends on if you want to kiss me again or not.”

“Always want to kiss you,” Billy slurred out, as exhaustion began to take hold. He cracked open his eyes to stare at Steve. “Do you want me to?”

Steve leaned forward, eyes twinkling with amusement and… something that looked like affection, “Yes,” he whispered.

And Billy drifted off feeling the ghost of Steve’s lips against his own.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy x steve #prompt fill #my fic #tw: homophobic language #tw: gore #stranger things #fanfic

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unicyclehippo · 4 years

Note

beaujester + “You’re trembling.”

the salt-spray is powerful at the bow. it stings at scrapes jester hadn’t realised she had, stings at her eyes, fills her nose until it’s the only thing she can smell. she clutches at the salt-crusted rail, feels the crystals grind beneath her skin, and wonders, in a very focused way that bars any other thoughts from creeping in, whether orly could make a tattoo using salt in place of gem dust. or whether that’s, just, y’know. a normal tattoo.

so focused is she on this that she doesn’t notice when, precisely, beau came to join her. the other girl is leaning scraped-red elbows and forearms on the railing, not seeming to feel or mind the sting. the wind whips in beau’s hair, tugs at it until more and more of the long strands come free of her topknot. it’s harder to escape the goggles, the leather keeping her hair mostly pinned, and after a short while, the wind dies down.

that’s normal, obviously, but it makes jester smile to think of it sulking. maybe the wind is a prankster too.

‘beau! when did you get here?’

‘little bit ago. would’ve said something but, i dunno, you looked like you were thinking hard. figured i could wait.’ beau drags her hands through her hair with a small noise of complaint. she stands, pulls her goggles down to hang around her neck, and continues to talk as she tries to fix her hair. ‘you alright? anything you wanna run past us?’

jester can’t help but look askance at her friend. ‘us?’

‘you know. the group.’

‘i don’t see the group here. just you.’

‘i can go get someone...?’ beau lets the offer trail off when jester scoffs. ‘what?’

jester shakes her head.

‘no, seriously, what is it? is everything okay?’

‘i don’t know.’ jester digs her nails into the wood, watches the splinters curl and the salt whiten and crack away. ‘is it?’ out of the corner of her eye, she can see the way beau’s hands slow as she works her hair into a tight braided coil. she turns the tiniest bit more, wanting to see something that explains anything, but beau’s expression is as stoic as ever—unruffled, vaguely thoughtful. her frown isn’t cranky, just protects her eyes from the wind that has started up again, long lashes dipped low. ‘did you want something, beau?’

the other girl starts. finished with her braid, she lets her hands fall slowly back to the railing. pulls herself back into her nonchalant lean, though it loses some of its carelessness with the way she turns toward jester, the way she—seemingly without intent, without effort—focuses on jester, eyes boring into her, through her.

sometimes, jester wishes beau were simpler. easier to understand. less of a liar. she pretends so much that she doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care—but then she’s the one who has all the questions, the one who looks and stares and examines and learns and questions everything. jester thinks, maybe, beau cares the most out of all of them, about everything; she pretends she doesn’t, that these things don’t matter, but the attention betrays her. jester wishes beau were easier to understand. wishes she knew whether beau cares about everything equally, or whether the weight of her attention means something special.

‘you’re trembling,’ beau says softly. the words have barely reached jester when the wind—that asshole prankster—whips them away.

jester sniffs. tosses back her hair with a jaunty shake of her head. ‘i’m fine. did you want something or not?’

beau is quiet for a bit. then, ‘yeah,’ she admits, voice gruff. ‘but—if this is a bad time,’

jester musters a smile. gives it to beau, who stares at it and the way it sits on her and seems to see how it is misaligned. how it doesn’t quite reach jester’s eyes. ‘it’s not! i’m happy to help!’

beau drops her eyes. dips her head over her hands, over the rail, and stares down toward the sea below them. her shoulder blades press together as she stretches. sunlight glints off jade.

‘i was hoping,’ she says, and the words come out haltingly like she doesn’t want to say them, or like she is still debating whether this is the right time, ‘you could - send a message to my dad.’

jester jerks. ‘oh.’

‘it’s cool if you don’t want to, or if you don’t have that prepared, i don’t know what you have prepared, but i just figured it’s probably time to be like oh hey i’m still alive. or. whatever.’

beau turns toward her with a grimace, one that crinkles up her face, and jester is struck with sudden affection for her friend. she looks young and uncomfortable and vaguely grumpy at the notion of having to send him a message. she looks alive, and jester loves her for not leaving. for still being here. loves her desperately and sharply, a stinging pain beneath her heart, for being here when jester thinks she might want to leave still.

‘i—‘ jester clears her throat. tries again, trying to pull strength into her words. ‘um. i can do that.’ she smiles brightly, glances teasingly over at beau, who looks abruptly worried and charmed by jester’s shifted expression. ‘what i’m hearing is that you’re giving me permission? to message your dad?’

beau snorts. ‘yeah.’

‘he’ll know it’s me now so i can’t pretend to be the witch,’

‘probably for the best.’

jester doesn’t necessarily agree with that. she thinks beau could make something with him—thinks he really does love her, even past the fear and misery—but it doesn’t mean jester shouldn’t be able to torment him a little bit.

‘what do you want me to say?’ she asks, summoning the playful wind back to her, compressing it into something that can carry this message. she curls her fingers, feels it nudge and buffet at her, eager to race halfway across the world for her.

beau mutters under her breath, fingers moving as she counts. ‘uh. okay. we are alive. met the witch, got what we wanted. your deal still stands.’ beau’s voice quavers the tiniest bit but she pushes on. ‘beau is fine. anything happen there?’

‘five more words.’

beau shrugs, dismissive. then, ‘say hi to the kid.’

jester smiles sweetly. nods. she brings the held wind to her lips and whispers the message into it, watches faint green and pink wash through it. as soon as she opens her hand, it is gone. just as quickly, it returns.

‘ah. good. i’m—glad to know she’s okay. i was worried—we were worried—when no one returned. everything is as it was here. do—‘

jester rolls her eyes. ‘some people just don’t understand the concept of a word limit,’ she tells beau grouchily. beau smiles, hides it quickly, and jester narrows her eyes. ‘what?’

‘nothing, nothing. did he say anything?’

‘just that he had been worried. it sounded like he was going to ask something. do you want me to send another message?’

beau sighs. ‘no. yes? no. if everything was burning or whatever he would’ve said that first up.’ she cracks her head to the side, neck popping. ‘did he—say anything about me?’ she grimaces immediately.

‘he said he’s happy you’re okay.’

‘hmm.’

‘that’s good, right? that he cares?’

beau shrugs. ‘maybe,’ she says, very softly. ‘thanks. for sending that for me. and—for sticking by me in there. i didn’t say it then but—thanks.’

they’ve been standing side by side for the entire conversation but jester feels it powerfully like she is crossing a line, stepping over it, when she reaches those meagre centimetres to put her hand over beau’s. squeeze.

‘of course, beau.’

‘it’s not an of course, though. you know that, right?’ beau peers at her. flips her hand so she’s holding it, loose enough that jester could slip away. fingertips pressed firmly where they sit, like she can read jester from the pulse beneath her skin. ‘no one else did that. they were all there but you—you stood next to me and i really - i really appreciate it. i was gonna lose my shit and you helped me. not everyone does that.’

‘well. i’m not everyone,’ jester tells her, all exaggeration and coy smile.

beau slides her thumb across the back of her hand. over the waves of her knuckles, the sea-blue skin. ‘you’re not,’ she agrees, voice low. careful, cautious almost, in the way one would be careful with something precious. ‘you’re not like anyone i’ve ever met. i kinda think you’re a god, you know.’ she shakes her head when jester giggles. ‘i’m serious. you—you’re amazing and powerful and it’s who you are. i’m—fuck, i’m sorry you’re having a rough time with it,’

‘i’m not!’

beau ignores her lie. no—she hears it, nods, steps over it. ‘i can’t say for sure i trust this dude, but i just want you to know that i trust you and what you do and who you are and i’ll do anything to protect that. and i didn’t come here to ask you to send a message for me, i wanted to make sure you were okay, because you’re—you’re not alone,’ she says, with the same fervour she had thanked jester for standing with her. ‘you’re not alone in any of this, and maybe we can’t do it for you but we’ll be right there alongside you—‘

‘will you?’

beau blinks. ‘what?’

‘will you be there?’

‘i mean—i was saying we, it’s kinda implied,’

‘will you be there?’ jester asks again.

beau glances down at their joined hands. jester sees her shoulders shift as she drags in a deep breath. ‘yes. as—as long as you want me there.’

and there’s the problem, jester realises, the same stinging pain taking up residence beneath her heart. because she thinks, with sudden clarity like the purity of the unmitigated burn of sunlight, like salt reminding her of her wound, that to have beau leave at all would wreck her.

‘forever, then,’ jester says, voice a little wobbly, a little unsure.

beau’s hold on her hand tightens and then loosens once more. ‘okay,’ she says. ‘okay.’

#cr tag #beaujester #tagging my stories #prompt fill

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moonbelt · 4 years

Text

»the moon, the sun

↳ ex-best-friends to lovers au | college athletes au

pairing » jeon jungkook | reader

genre » big angst + fluff + sexual themes

word count » 11.770

» there’s not a single thing you like about jungkook. no. not his jokes or his thinly veiled overwatch obsession or his supreme swimmers body. absolutely nothing. there is, however, a multitude of things you hate. wait, sorry that was rude, vehemently despise is better.

» mutual pining that could've been resolved if either of them exercised some basic communication skills lol, mild coarse language, lots of angst, cocky jjk but also crack jjk??, gamer memes, poufy haired jjk, also supposed hate-love relationship.

YOU ARRIVE AT THE SWIM CENTER WITH A THROB in your knee and a resounding ache in your head. It felt like your brain was about to explode into a thousand gory pieces as you pushed open the wide frost-tinted glass double doors that led to the locker rooms.

Now that would have been a great start to a low-budget horror flick. You could just picture it, a lonesome girl? No… Woman? At twenty, you weren’t sure if you still qualified as a girl but the term woman felt too formal, too stifling, too mature to be attributed to you. But whatever, that was semantics you could spare for another day.

So, there you’d be; creeping into a university swim center at the ass-crack of dawn and then bam! Your brain impedes on itself. Maybe it’s because of some mutant phenomenal viral disease, maybe it’s repercussions from tempering with a portal to the paranormal realm that only exists in semi-open pool arenas. Whatever it was, it would have to be epic and a far cry from the truth. Which was, you were used to indescribable, continuous pain. It came with the territory of being an athlete. If you didn’t wake up in the morning with some part of your body feeling uncomfortably off then that just meant you didn’t try as hard the day before. Or at the very least, that’s what you told yourself to keep going.

Yawning, you punched in your locker code and began the mental and physical process of getting ready for the next three hours of practice before break. You usually where the first one in the building and the last one to leave if you didn’t have classes or work.

Swimming made you feel good, made you feel like there was something special about yourself. It didn’t help that the more you practiced, the more you were able to outpace everyone else. Practice birthed results and your stubbornness, wait no, competitiveness was off the charts. So, of course, you wanted to dominate every single athlete in your division.

Still though, waking up at four in the morning had to be the singular dumbest thought you’d ever conceived.

Once you were suited up, you padded back into the arena that held the huge industrial sized swim pool. The overpowering smell of chlorine and humid air made you feel more at home than the dormitory you’d just left less than thirty minutes ago. You honestly might’ve started crying right then and there at the sight of the crystal clear water and the humongous life-sized painting of an unknown swimmer in the midst of a beautiful breaststroke at the center of it all.

Today was after all the first day of the semester. Your collegiate swimming career was finally back on. Your lips twinged at the sight of the polished, tiled floor and how it felt cool under the soles of your feet.

You’d gone back home for winter break and although you’d kept up with the training regime your coach had persistently emailed out, there was just something fundamentally different about being back on your own turf. In fact, you were fairly sure a few tears slipped past your barriers and hooked at the corners of your eyes at the thought. Only to be blasted into near oblivion by the sound of a phone camera going snap snap.

You whipped your head to the direction of the camera like a person possessed. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, My Zelda. This is glorious.” The goddamn stalker, wait he wasn’t a stalker if he was a member of the swim team. Right, the goddamn fiend had the guts and audacity to say with an open-mouthed grin marring his face. “You’re actually crying. There are literally tears in your eyes. I can see ‘em.”

“Screw off, Jeon.”

Him. The only other person dumb enough to be at the swimming center at five am. A full hour before the scheduled practice time. God, how long had he been watching you? And to think he even had time to whip out his phone and document this moment. You were never gonna live it down, that was for sure. You? Crying? Over – you took a grand look around your surroundings – water?

“It was only three weeks, you know. You wouldn’t die if you didn’t swim for a month or two.” He still found the whole scenario funny, if the laughter in his voice was any indication.

“Coming from someone that I doubt showers even once every three days? Yeah, I’ll pass on that lecture.”

“Ooh, a solid burn from the Ice Queen,” he clutched a hand to his chest like he’d been shot with a bazooka or something. Dramatic. “That one hurts my ego immensely.”

You snorted. It was debatable if anything could seriously damage Jeon Jungkook’s ego. That shit was built with solid uranium. No matter how you tried to smash it. He was his own number one supporter and he’d built himself up in his head that he was the greatest at whatever he laid his hands on. At that moment, however, you wanted to snatch the iPhone out of those deft hands of his and dig a well through his head with it. Couldn’t he go be great somewhere else?

Instead of replying and subsequently dragging out this conversation longer than necessary, you busied yourself with adjusting your swim cap and bringing your goggles to rest on the bridge of your nose.

It didn’t matter that Jungkook was here. It didn’t bother you one bit. It’s not like it was abnormal. You’d known him longer than you’d known anybody so of course you were used to his presence. Although you didn’t particularly like the fact that you’d known him almost your whole life. Or the fact that your body prickled with awareness every time he stepped into the nearest vicinity. You couldn’t control that. What you could control though, was how you felt about it.

And right now, you hated him. Wait, no hate was too strong a word, perhaps vehemently despise was more fitting.

You make your way to lane five, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and then dunk yourself into the ice cold water. Better to get it over with than squirm around the edges with him around. For Zelda’s sake, he has his phone camera on standby!

Yeah okay, you didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook; the son of a family friend that lived on the other side of the cul de sac. Instead, you vehemently despised the boy that was a walking, talking human critic. You bite your lip ferociously in a bid to punish the thought of Jungkook out of your mind. After a second or maybe three, you push into the water.

“Your shoulders look tense from up here... you’re so not gonna perform well if you don’t stretch that baby out.”

That’s the first thing you hear other than the rushing of water leaving your ears as your face breaks out against the surface of the pool. You jerk your goggles off your eyes, look up and scowl at him. Mr. I-Should-Basically-Be-A-Coach-With-All-These-Pointers-I-Give.

“I am not tense.”

“Yeah, no. You don’t have to lie about that. I could legit see your muscles almost cramping up down there.”

“Are you really going to stand up there and pretend we have some kind of mentor-mentee relationship going on? Seriously? It’s five in the morning, Jeon.”

You could clearly see the wheels in his head turning and then zeroing in on the one word you shouldn’t have said. Relationship. Gah, you need a chastity belt for your lips. His eyes basically sparkle with rays of mischief and a dash of mastered superiority. “Well, I am seven months older, so when you think about it that way it’s only natural that I take you under my wing and —”

“I swear to you, I will physically break your knee caps —”

“Wait,” he looks genuinely confused, perfect lips pouting. “What do you mean by physically? Is there any other way to break a knee?”

Ugh! You stare at him and he stares right back, cocking his head to the side like he can do this all day. You want to scream, hell maybe even shapeshift into a fucking banshee and scream the roof off this building.

And then his mouth curves into a roguish smirk. The type he reveals when he manages to squeak by a better time than you or like that one time (okay maybe five?) that he got randomly stopped by some modeling agency recruiter when your parents had forced the two of you to carpool to swim meets back when you were a tad younger and he was the only one with a car. The smirk that just screams ‘I’m getting under your skin, aren’t I? And dude, it feels fan-fucking-tastic.’

“Get a life, Jeon. Or better yet, get in the water. It’s only been three weeks, no way you suck even worse than usual after that. I mean, by fuck, it hasn’t even been a month!” You twist his words back at him and then feel proud about it. So what, you are competitive and you hold grudges. There could be worse things.

His smirk deepened and okay, you won’t lie to yourself. He is attractive. Critically so. It would be hard not to notice that. It’s a continual and conscious effort to even attempt to un-notice it. But still, moments like these when the fluorescent lights beamed on his face at just the right angle and the shadows cut across his features and illuminated his golden skin to the heavens, boosting his overall aura like he was some sort of reincarnated god of beauty. Or worse, a Final Boss that you had to most certainly defeat. It became increasingly hard not to notice how much he affected you and your breathing.

Yeah, it’s in these moments that your better judgement faults and for a split second you are transported to that one November night in the middle of eleventh grade when fuck no! Absolutely not! You refuse to walk that horrendous trip down memory lane and relive one of the most humiliating, and this is coming from a girl that threw up because of nerves in front of judges at a talent show, experiences of your life. This was not the time.

“Your shoulders are still stiff as a board. Tell me, child, have you gotten laid recently?”

You let out the most frustrated sound of agony you could muster. You’re going to murder him. Forget you being the star in some crazy horror film, you were going to be the director. And you were gonna serve up a mean case of Deck Jungkook’s Ass With Supernatural Intervention as the main course. Maybe you’d win an Oscar for it. Heck, maybe you’d get a home run and even win Best Picture.

He chuckles like he’s cracked the greatest joke since Netflix Original Films. You’re too busy orchestrating a slugfest in your head to really pay attention. “I’ll take that as a negative.”

You barely manage to spit out a dignified response. “One of these days I’m going to seriously maim you.”

“Tsk tsk, you and your threatening bodily harm tendencies. I wonder if that’s like a kink thing?” He asks as he taps his chin with his forefinger and squats down to a level that is closer to you. His dark brown hair that looks almost a shade of black sways like a river to his beat. This is much better, it hurt your neck staring up at him like he was some guardian deity.

But the action happens to highlight the ridiculous tightening of his abs. The abs you’ve painstakingly not ogled at because they are sculpted beauties. Hell, you’ve yet to meet a swimmer's body that isn’t the epitome of fitness but Jungkook’s is different. He is carved. Probably why you don’t like looking at it, stare too much and he might notice and of course, you wouldn’t want that happening.

“Jeon?”

“Hmm?” He sounds so innocent. The liar.

“Shut up before I drown you. I don’t care how long you can hold your breath. I will send you down to hell personally.”

He wiggled his eyebrows like the concept of hell was all he’d ever wanted to discuss in life. “Does that mean you’d be coming with? Fascinating. Let’s make a road trip out of it. Maybe you’ll even find some demons down to fuck all that tension out of your body. You know, DDTF. Get your exophilia on, if that’s your thing.”

Exo-what?

Beat. He’s beaten you at your own game. How the heck are you supposed to reply something snarky when all he ever does is blow the thing to epic proportions and have you running in circles. This is why the best strategy was just to simply ignore him.

You shoot him one last look that you hope is as menacing as it ought to be. You yank your goggles from resting on your forehead and dunk them in the water to get the fog out. Placing it back gingerly across your eyes, you let take in a soothing breath.

“I am serene. I am calm. There is nothing around me in existence that bothers me. I am the pinnacle of collected.” You refrain from adding tense-free.

There’s no way you’re tense after running the three and a half miles between your dorm and the swim center. You repeat the words aloud twice before you actually believe them. And then you tear back into the water. You still have roughly thirty minutes before the rest of the team comes in for practice. You’ll be damned spending all your time talking to the fool with shaggy hair and a crooked smile that made you want to burn something.

The only sound other than the whoosh in your ears and the rapid pumping of your heart as you exert yourself is the uncanny, blistering laughter of Jeon Jungkook. At least someone was enjoying your torment.

You swore at that moment that you were going to deck him someday. Even if it was the last thing you ever did. Maybe not even physically, gah, but you were going to get a time so fast, so unbelievably better that Jungkook would be dumbstruck in awe and lagging to catch up. You grin at the thought.

By the time practice comes to an end, your knee has migrated from a troublesome ache to a colossal titan. Dragging your body out of the water proves to be much a greater task that you previously took for granted. You try and fail to hold back your groans as you attempt to not limp back to the locker rooms and take a shower. Also, you need a painkiller stat.

The coach is too busy being circled by the hyena pack that is freshmen to really pay any attention to you. However, you know better than to think you’ve slipped past his radar. He’s definitely going to catch you sometime later to rim your ass for going too hard the first day of the semester. You guess that makes him a great coach in the grand scheme of things but you’d rather he let you be.

“Your knee acting up again?” Your lane buddy and a veteran senior in the program, Seokjin asks as he saddles up next to you and rips the navy blue swim cap off his head. You fear a little bit for his hair. “I thought doc cleared it?”

You sigh, not really wanting to remember last year when the university-affiliated doctor told you that you needed to take three months off swimming to heal and you’d barely lasted two weeks without going insane. You shiver at the horror of it all as you wrap your Legend of Zelda limited edition Link towel around your dripping body.

“Yeah, he did.” You send him a smile that comes off like a wince and then you give up on trying to downplay the pain altogether. “Guess it’s just not doing so hot today.”

Seokjin nods solemnly like he understands. “Some days are worse than others. I get that.”

“It be like that. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you’d be set for March though? Coach’s probably going to start analyzing his final picks for the comp.”

Ugh, Goddess of the Sea take me now! The National Collegiate Swim Competition is an annual event held every March and even though you’d made the cut as a naïve freshman, a knee injury caused you to be sidelined in your second year. But now though, you have to get on the final lineup. An absolute must.

Your cold heart won’t take it to be on the stands watching your teammates accomplish something you dreamed of. Something you’d worked and sacrificed so much for. You won’t stand to watch Jungkook rub it in your face how he’d come in a mere 0.6 seconds away from the first position. And you definitely won’t stand to have another year put on hold when your dream is literally right in front of you.

You bite out a laugh that sounds foreign even to your own ears. God, your knee is killing you. “You know what they say about pain.”

Seokjin gives you a quizzical look. Like he, in fact, has no idea what you mean. And you’re about to launch into a tirade about exercise mottos when you feel a tall presence step up behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. Of course, it’s him. Who else would encroach in on your personal space without a second thought?

“She means she’s gonna push through her limping and her tense as fuck shoulders and pull a win out of her ass. Don’t you,” the way he says your name is so patronizing, so unbelievably condescending that you whip your head up to glare at him.

“That’s impossible. If anyone knows how to take care of their body and not push their limits to insanity it’s Y/N.” Seokjin appears appalled that Jungkook would even think of such a thing. But Jungkook knows you better than anyone, albeit hatefully.

“Mm-hm. You doubt how crazy obsessed she is with winning.”

“Says you,” you spit out but it lacks your usual snark.

In truth, maybe Jungkook was right about your shoulders not being as stretched out as they should’ve been. They feel sore and they almost gave out on you during a lap. You were basically running on guts and mental fortitude for the last four laps. But you’d rather swallow butcher knives than admit that aloud for his ears to hear.

Seokjin is oblivious to the simmering tension between the two of you. Instead, he turns to you with so much concern sweeping through his posture it makes you uncomfortable and yet happy at the same time. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. There’s no point in winning if your body crashes on you, yeah?”

You know he means well and it’s not like you like lying to your senior but you know he just won’t get where you’re coming from. “Yeah,” you stare down at the suddenly interesting aqua-tiled floor.

He pats your shoulder once before he turns down the other way to the male locker rooms leaving you and Jungkook alone. You’re about to go on your own merry way — agonizingly slow of course, when a hand latches to your upper arm and stops you.

You swear you shouldn’t feel anything but your skin almost scorches at the contact. Your brain is divided: a part of you wants him to never let go, while the other half can’t get away from him fast enough. You don’t breathe, heck you don’t even move.

“Winning isn’t everything.”

You don’t mean to — truly, you don’t — but a scoff slips out of your lips before you even register it. “Coming from the golden boy that basically has a clear shot at making the lineup? Yeah, I won’t drink to that anytime soon.”

Jungkook uses his free hand to run through his hair like a maniac. And you entertain the idea that perhaps you really do get under his skin as much as he does you. The thought elates you and dilutes the throbbing in your knee to a lesser degree. He’s your biggest tormentor and you can only dream to be the same thing for him. Equivalent exchange and all that jazz.

He clicks his tongue at you and somehow that infuriates you even more. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Ruin your body for all I care.” He lets go of your arm like it’d be painful to hold it any longer. He pulls at the towel he has around his shoulders so hard that even you feel the burn and then he drapes it over his head, effectively blocking you out.

A forgotten part of you wonders why he’s so concerned about your body anyway. It’s not like he should care at all.

The two of you aren’t friends. Once upon a time that wasn’t the case but you aren’t one to cry over spilled milk much less bemoan over it. But it still rubs you some kind of way that Jungkook thinks it’s normal to voice his concern to you. The two of you are not close like that. At least, not anymore.

You scowl to yourself as you weave your way back to the locker room. You’re not much of a talker but you wave back at a few of the girls that bother to look your way. And spend a good ten minutes talking to a freshman about how she needs to stop holding her breath for long periods because all that does is make you dizzy and liable to pass out. After all that, it’s no wonder that you’re the last one out of the showers.

Tugging your baby blue beanie tight across your forehead, you curse yourself for forgetting to pack your knee brace when you left your dorm this morning. But whatever, you’ll push through it. You always do.

What you’re not expecting is to see a lithe body resting on the bench right outside the swim center. And it strikes you as odd that you immediately know in your gut that it’s Jungkook. Even though you’re too chicken now to admit it, there was a time when you’d engraved his whole body into your mind like he was a science project you were desperately in need of completing. Although his body has since gained more muscle mass and reduced way more body fat, it’s still him. No matter how hard you try to burn him out of your memory, he never leaves. You fear your only remedy might be self-induced amnesia.

What you’re not expecting is for that body clad snugly in black sweatpants, a really oversized navy sweatshirt that has ‘I AM NOT GONNA BE MERCY’ branded in fine print across his chest, and a beanie that suspiciously matches the one on your own head, to turn up and catch your gaze like he knows you’ve been staring.

You blink once and then twice and then once more just to be sure. Weird. You have no idea why he’s waiting out here and you’re even more confused as to why he owns a beanie that looks way too much like yours to be a coincidence. You shift your gaze to the sidewalk, debating if it’s worth it to strike a conversation with him. All it will do is leave you irritated, so you decide to continue to your dorm instead. Screw him and whatever he’s out in this cold as shit weather for.

“What? You’re just gonna ignore me now?”

Huffing, you pretend he’s not matching his strides to your sluggish pace.

“This is cold, even for you.”

Maybe if you keep quiet he’ll think you’ve gone magically inept in the span of forty minutes?

“You know I thought I was doing a good thing by waiting for you.”

That gets you to break your mental battle. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Jeon.”

“I know that. But what if you slid across the pavement and went straight to the dimension of hell? I have to be there for that.” He sounds genuinely invested in the matter at hand.

“I can still walk perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You almost smack your head dead against the stoned ground when your foot snags a loose edge of the sidewalk. Fuck.

“Pfft.” He’s barely holding in his laughter but you don’t cower. Har-dee-har-har. You don’t need him breathing down your neck thinking he’s doing you a favor or anything.

You don’t need pity parties hosted by Jeon Jungkook. Not again. Not after that one night that you thought was perfect and monumental when in reality all it really was a blip in his radar. You’re nothing special, or at least Jungkook thought so. It’s been years since then but that’s the funny thing about pain. It doesn’t just die down because you refuse to think about it. It simmers, it boils, it festers. Pain is a living, breathing monster and simply because you don’t devote time to it doesn’t mean it’s not taking up space under your bed.

But you are not going to think about it. Because you are definitely over it. Yep. That was it. You are over your ex-best friend and you are happy... Bah, what-fucking-ever.

Maybe he realizes that you’re not in the mood for the snark he would normally throw your way because the walk back to your dorm is relatively quiet after that. This is the most civil the two of you have been in a long while. Most of times the both of you are too busy making jabs at each other. But you’d noticed that ever since your accident last year that busted your knee, he’s been different.

You’ve yet to decide if that difference is for good or bad but it doesn’t matter because you’re back at your dormitory which means you get to sleep the rest of the day before work. Yes, maybe there is a God.

“Look, take care of yourself, okay?”

You stop on the stone steps to take him in. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, the January chill making the tip of his nose bright red but his eyes don’t hold the same mischievous fight as before. He’s determined. You know him well enough to know that.

“I’m not going to die climbing up some stupid stairs.”

He shakes his head. Guess he’s not up for jokes then. “I mean it,” he breathes your name out with so much seriousness it stuns you. “You can be cruel to me. You can be angry at me. But don’t take it out on your body. Just... don’t.”

What does he know about cruelty? He knows not jack shit about cruelty. Cruelty was a seventeen-year-old girl waxing poetic love to a boy that she thought hung the moon, the stars and the sun only for him to trample over it just because. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the timing, maybe it was every fucking thing in between but that night had been a changing point. Horror movies weren’t half as scary as being rejected by your best friend since before you were five and not know why. Cruelty was not whatever this limbo you and Jungkook had. You’d experienced cruelty and that was far worse.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not then and certainly not now.”

Pushing your body to its limits is something you have to do. Getting better at swimming is something you would die trying to attain. Not because you particularly love swimming all that much but rather because it’s the one thing, the only thing that you really do believe you can beat Jungkook in. The only thing you can compete with him and with hard work win. You have to win. You can’t stand being second place next to him. It makes you want to gag. It makes you revert back to that seventeen-year-old girl you thought you’d killed off in your origin story.

Pathetic, you think to yourself. But you won’t stop because you’ve already come so far.

You rush up the stairs and into the dorm like lightning. You’re so quick that you don’t even feel any twinge of pain ricocheting from your knee or anywhere else to be honest. You’re a running painkiller. You haul ass all the way to your room and it’s only when you’ve locked the door and released the longest sigh of your whole adult life that it hits you.

And here’s another thing about pain: it always comes rushing back.

If it’s even possible, over the next few weeks your knee becomes even worse of a problem. Waking up in the morning becomes more of a drag than usual, you can barely walk to your classes much less the swim center without your brace on and then perform a Mission Impossible skit so that the rest of the team doesn’t see the brace dangling in your locker. You’re seriously considering ripping the whole joint out. For Zelda’s sake, it has to hurt significantly less, right?

To make matters worse you’re basically lying out of your ass to Seokjin and the rest of the team that your knee is not bothering you one bit. You’re such a liar, someone needs to lock you up for it. But it’s already the end of February and you can already taste the end of it all. All you need to do is hold on by the skin of your teeth for the next couple of days and then you’ll be free. Sure, rationally you know you’re not swimming your best right now but that does nothing to deter you from what you’ve set your mind on.

“Hey, Y/N,” the voice of the Student Assistant, Namjoon stops you in your attempt to blend in with the other swim members exiting the building after a rather rough day. “You came in later than usual today. Something up?”

Namjoon is an amazing guy. Attentive but not too overbearing. A great listener but he doesn’t go overboard with trying to get you to confess your deep, darkest fears to him. But even with knowing all of this, you still don’t want to tell him a thing. You know he’ll understand, that’s not the problem. The problem is, he would seriously blow it out of proportion. All you want to do is head home, nap for a good hour or three and then head to your afternoon class and get back to crashing. Was that too much to ask?

“Yeah, I’m great. Just a little tired.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, flipping through the sheet on his clipboard. “Hmm, your times been dropping since last week. You sure everything’s fine?”

Fuck. You fumble thinking of an answer, your eyes skittering around the tiled floor till you look up and lock on Jungkook staring right back. He’s a few feet away near the front door discussing with one of the assistant coaches but for some reason, his big, brown eyes are glued to your frame. An inane section of your brain wants to beg him to come over and rescue you from lying so horribly to Namjoon. While another insane part of you wants to sneer at him and tell him to stop freaking looking at you when you’re at your worst.

“I... uh,” you stutter and return your attention back to the kind senior in front of you. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at you, disbelieving. “Is it your knee? We could get the team doctor — ”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you stumble away from him, your thoughts passing the point of loudness and encroaching into deafness. No way. There’s no way you’re going to let him bring up your injury and then take it up with the other coaches because you know — deep in your bones — that if he does that you won’t make the cut for the lineup talk less of being able to just attend practice. You’d be kept on the side like an invalid.

Hate.

You hate it. Your stupid knee, the stupid way you were running late to practice almost a full year ago and then proceeded to fall down a flight of stairs and dislocate your knee so bad that when the seasons shift from sunny to cloudy, your knee throbs like an ingrained weather alert.

You hate how much the pain makes you want to cry. You hate yourself for pushing yourself, even more, when you know you shouldn’t. You hate how everyone is so damn concerned about you like you somehow deserve it. You hate that you don’t deserve their kindness, not when every other athlete next to you is getting better and better by the second and you don’t want to be left behind.

“Bro, she’ll be fine.” You don’t realize your savior and yet tormentor has weaseled his way into the conversation until you you hear the soft timbre of his voice. He stands so close to you that you smell the sweet scent of vanilla from his clothes. “I mean, look at her. Her technique is still kicking ass, no one can touch her when it comes to form.”

Lips wobbling a little under the pressure of your teeth, you peer up at him. Your mind running a mile a minute trying to place what his endgame is. Why is he here? What does he think he’s doing?

Namjoon laughs, his features becoming even more stunning with the action and you glance away from Jungkook. There’s no way he bought that blatant form of flattery. “That is true. Y/N has the best technique in the program right now. Probably best in the state.”

Lies. You know there’s talk about some super senior at a neighboring powerhouse school being the best in your division. But your mind is clogged up with your loud thoughts that you don’t say anything to refute his claim.

“Anyways, let me know if you need anything, ‘Kay?” Namjoon demands your attention. “Take it easy and rest up this weekend.”

You nod profusely and Namjoon smiles at the action like your adorable. You frown at that. And then he’s gone and you’re stuck with Jungkook and the thoughts clamoring around in your head.

“I didn’t need you to save me. Or lie for me.”

“Sure,” he says but his eyes say something different. That maybe if you really didn’t want his help you shouldn’t have looked at him like a deer in headlights practically begging the floor to swallow you up. “And I wasn’t lying. You do have a better technique.”

You roll your shoulders, ignoring the praise. “Seriously. I was fine.”

“Fine my ass,” he mutters, pushing past your body and heading outside the door.

“I didn’t need your help and I don’t owe you —” The frigid air whips across your cheeks so hard that you have to stop and close your eyes for a beat. When you peel them back open you find Jungkook looking down at you without something akin to disappointment swimming in his eyes. “What?”

He stares at you for what seems like an eternity. You try not to break away from his gaze but your eyes skittle across his outfit. The beanie on his head that outrageously still looks similar to the one you have on, his grey padded jacket and a similar shade of sweatpants. And by the time your eyes reach back to his face, his focus has diverted to glaring needles at your knee.

“What?” You repeat, this time though you’re whispering like you might not like what he will say next.

“I don’t get it. You of all people know how horrible last year was. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to relive your sophomore year. “Why do you care?”

“Why?” Jungkook practically stutters at the question, his already big doe eyes transforming into the size of craters. “Are you trying to prove something? To who? Me?”

“I don’t care about you, Jeon. And I don’t need to prove any single thing to you. You’re dead to me.”

“You think that by carrying this invisible burden and pushing yourself to the point of borderline insanity you’re going to get better? That you won’t burnout? That somehow you’re going to get back at me? After you’ve ruined your knee and not only ruined your chances at swimming competitively ever again but just in general? You think you’d finally feel like you’ve served me a hot plate of revenge?”

There’s no reason for him to be able to see right through you so easily. There’s no reason for him to know how stupid this whole thing is and how really the only one suffering is you. Always you. Only you. Alone.

Jungkook’s face twists into a vision of pain and you’re stunned into silence. It’s like you can tell how much your disregard for your own body is affecting him when it shouldn’t. He’s your self-proclaimed enemy that was once your friend. You shouldn’t feel like you’re hurting him more than yourself.

You don’t even feel the lone tear that slips past your walls and slides down your cheek until he moves closer and uses a smooth thumb to wipe it away. Dammit, you’re better than this.

“Not everything is about you, Jungkook.” But right now it is. For you, it is.

He nods his head once. The pain that was painted on his face morphing into something you can’t discern but his thumb doesn’t lift from your face. Instead, the rest of his fingers cradle the side of your face like they’re protecting you. You inflate at the action. After several seconds, they’re gone.

“I should go,” he states matter-of-factly.

Don’t, you want to say but the words live and die in your throat You know if you start you’d say too much. “Yeah.”

Even though you want him to make up some silly excuse as to why he has to walk you home. Like maybe you’d slip and knock yourself into the netherworld. He does nothing of that sort. He puffs out his cheeks; resembling a bunny, and then he sends you a wary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

For the first time in ages, you don’t like the sight of his retreating back. For the first time in a long time, you don’t even have the energy to pledge eternal damnation to Jeon Jungkook. All you want to do is ask him why. Why were you not enough? Why did he hand you back your heart when all you wanted was for him to keep it. And why did he suddenly do a one-eighty in college, resorting to snide comments and remarks that make you boil but also instill air into your lungs like you are finally breathing again? Why does it seem like he still cares?

You’re on a mission to drown out everything that has to do with Jeon Jungkook. You don’t like that he has created a rupture in your stratosphere. You don’t like that you’re realizing that you’ve been waging a war but not against Jungkook like you’d originally perceived. Now now that you think about it, when has he really been a rival? You’ve really only been fighting yourself.

The two of you aren’t even in the same category. You don’t even specialize in the same swimming techniques. And now that you’re seriously going through it, has he ever really been conceited about getting better times? All he ever did was point out things you were doing off and even though you hated it, it wasn’t like he was lying.

You’re one step away from your dorm when your phone buzzes with a flurry of text messages. It’s from the swim team group chat for juniors and seniors.

Taehyung: It’s the weekend mi amigos *dancing emoji*

Vivian: whatever you’re thinking... it’s gonna be a no! from me! also i thought u were sick?

Taehyung: aw come on i havent even said anything yet

Taehyung: not! sick! it was just the flu

Seokjin: flu is a sickness, no?

Vivian: im so tired dudes,, im not going out with y’all to get smashed

Nathan: im down

Taehyung: yes!!!!

Taehyung: guys i promise! you’ll love me for it. a friend of a friend is hosting a party on Greek row. Let’s GO!!

Vivian: it’s not like we’re the only friends you have. ask someone else dude

Before you even think about it, you’re typing a response.

You: I’ll come. We don’t have training tmr so...

Taehyung: OMFG

Nathan: i had no idea you were in the chat lol

Vivian: rude. if y/n’s going then maybe she’ll keep Tae’s head on straight

Seokjin: don’t know if JK’s down but I’ll drag him out if I have to.

You: don’t do that.

Taehyung: why? don’t you guys have that whole foreplay thing going on or?????

You: WHAT

Vivian: wait i might come after all

Seokjin: Tae, leave it alone.

Taehyung: okay but it’s not my fault they both barely look at anyone other than themselves during practice. i can’t be the only one that noticed them basically eye-fucking each other all day everyday

Nathan: i second that

Vivian: ... sorry, y/n. but i third that

Seokjin: GUYS. if she leaves the chat because y’all can’t keep your mouth shut istg,,

Nathan: wait is jungkook reading this?

God, how you want the whole universe to open up and swallow you whole. Your phone feels like a hot potato in your hands. You throw the wretched thing into the back of your jeans pocket and blink over and over again as you rush into your dorm and up the elevator.

It takes the rest of the day to calm your cheeks from splitting from humiliation or embarrassment, it’s a close tie. You don’t pay attention in class, you can barely nap without the words blinking at the back of your eyelids like neon target signs.

Foreplay? Foreplay?!

You almost spontaneously combust.

You hear the telltale sound of a key unlocking your dorm room door and you hightail out of the ensuite bathroom before you can even think.

“Foreplay?!” You all but scream at your roommate and fellow swim team member, Vivian.

At the very least she looks sheepish, smiling nervously as she pushes a piece of her coiled hair behind her ear. “I thought you knew. I mean, everyone talks about it.”

“What about me wanting to rip his ass from his hole screams foreplay to anyone?!”

She shrugs, her lilac sweater falling down one brown shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s kinda sexy.” She drops her backpack on the only sofa and turns back to you. “He’s the only one you really talk to in the team so, everyone just kinda assumed y’all were either a has-been or a to-be couple.”

Wheezing, you lock your arms defiantly across your chest. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Vivian laughs, unconvinced for some reason.

“I’m not kidding. He’s annoying. Always breathing down my neck like he’s my personal trainer or something. Any time I do a thing it’s like he has to say something in response, you know. I don’t hate him but I don’t... I don’t like like him.”

“Do you think he’s attractive?”

“Everyone does.”

She smirks at you like she’s caught you dead in a trap. “And you?”

You bite your lip. It’s not worth the hassle to lie. “A little bit. A teeny-tiny bit.”

“What about him do you think is attractive? And don’t mention his thighs because we all know those are in a different league of their own.”

That gets a laugh out of you. Vivian’s mouth widens at the sound. You realize then that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been hoarding things in for too long. And you appreciate Vivian because she’s always been nice and has tolerated your one-worded answers and four am showers like a champ. You want to give her an award or something.

You lean against the wall and think about her question. “Well, in a way his nagging and pushing my buttons can be seen as being attentive? I mean, he notices things about me that I don’t. And I’ve been… thinking that maybe he’s not really all that bad like I conjured up in my head.” More than that, before everything turned to shit, you thought he was the kindest, funniest person in the galaxy.

“Well, I’m no team Jungkook,” she snickers at her own Twilight reference and your lips tilt up as well. “And I won’t pretend to know what’s gone on between you and him. But whatever it is, maybe y’all just need to, like, talk it out.”

“I—”

Vivian shushes you. “You know I’m right.” She sashays to her room door and then turns back to you. “We’re going to go to Taehyung’s friend of a friend’s frat party and you’re gonna get the liquid courage to talk to him. I think everyone on the team would appreciate the whole sexual tension going on between the two of you finally being exiled into the cosmos.”

Cosmos?

You’re not really sure what happens after that. You let Vivian convince you to trade your comfortable sweatpants for an A-line skirt, tights and a stylish sweater that you’d bought on a whim. At least if you’re going to really say screw all and go for this party, you refuse to be a shivering mess.

Even though Greek Row is truly not that far from your dorm, you let Vivian drive the two of you over. She talks about everything and anything and it feels like it’s been forever since you hung out with anyone that wasn’t during scheduled practice and workout sessions.

Hell, what have you been doing for the last four years? Being obsessed with results that apparently your arch-nemesis doesn’t even care about?

Vivian tells you about the dude she’s dating and how he’s on the university’s volleyball team. You’re more surprised than you should be. You can’t believe you’ve been roommates with her for almost two years and you barely know anything about her other than surface-level shit. Oh, Zelda, this is one big bitch of an awakening.

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely as she puts the car in park aways from the actual fraternity building. The entire street is blocked up with cars so it was hard to find any space. “For being here and yet not really at the same time.”

Thankfully, Vivian doesn’t make you sweat. “S’cool. Everyone’s got their own shit.”

“I’ve been really shitty lately.”

“Hmm, well, we can get drunk off our asses and feel really shitty together?” You decide then and there that she is amazing and only the devil will be able to pry this budding friendship out of your cold hands.

You find out that Vivian is very skilled at mixing drinks. It takes barely half an hour for you to start feeling a buzz and by your third round of whatever she stirs for you, you’ve straight up arrived at the land of Drunkenville: population; one. You’re busy debating with her and her boyfriend about how sports anime is simply the best branch of cinema to have ever been created and the one sub-genre that truly speaks about the resilience of the human spirit when you feel a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” the voice all but screams in your ear. You hazily look up to see Taehyung’s chiseled face smiling down at you. And even your intoxicated self can tell that he’s pregamed the fuck out of this night already. “I brought lil Jungkookie for you. At first, he was all blah blah not going but when I said you were going to be here. Boi jumped like a fish in water.”

Taehyung laughs and you laugh with him, not really sure if you get the joke but happy nonetheless that he’s happy.

“‘Sup Viv and Viv’s boyfriend,” he salutes them and weirdly enough, Vivian’s boyfriend doesn’t take offense. He salutes back.

Vivian rolls her eyes but then she clasps two strong hands across your shoulders, effectively washing away the tipsy gaze from your eyes for a moment. “Now, listen. You’re going to find Jungkook and let him know how you really feel. Use all this liquid courage and let him have it. And you shouldn’t care that we’re at a party because almost everyone is drunk anyway.

And if that goes to shit and you want out of this place, don’t you dare even think of walking home, okay? You look for me. Don’t think I haven’t seen you limping your way across the dorm like a crazy bitch. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have the right. But so help me, if you so much as think of walking back I will ... I don’t know what I will do but you won’t like it! So go find Jungkook and do us all a favor and end this eternal foreplay.”

Foreplay... that damned word again. It overrides your brain system and makes you think of things you shouldn’t want. But you’re stupidly confident right now. Hell, your knee hasn’t really been bothering you since you woke up from your nap. The alcohol in your blood is dancing to its own beat and it’s lighting your system on fire.

If not now then when?

You have a gazillion and one questions to ask Jungkook. Questions you’ve kept silenced and bottled down in your heart for years. Questions that keep you up at night. And maybe its because the last month and a half has made you question everything about yourself and your ethic and your predicament, you know you have to do this now.

Fuck it. Who cares if you become the source of this boorish party’s entertainment like a walking cliché? It’s not like you’d remember anything that happens here and you only know a handful of people. Embarrassment? You don’t know her. Not today.

You find him in the basement with a cup of something near his booted feet and his gleaming eyes transfixed on the TV in front of him. His tongue poking a hole in cheek. There’s a small crowd of people around him and you take one glance at the screen and see that he’s playing Super Smash. Of course. He looks beautiful like this. Different than the last time you saw him and better because he doesn’t have that look of agony coloring his eyes.

You could probably spend a whole day just looking at him. Taking in the man that’s grown from the boy you once knew and called your own. His body is a work of art and ought to be chiseled and crafted like the sculptures of the Renaissance era. If you were any good a sculptor, you would’ve done just that. Instead, you commit him to memory. Because even though it is possible that neither of you likes each other anymore, you want to remember this.

He looks perfect like this. Happy. Not distressed and sad like when you’d confessed to him. When you had laid your heart bare before him and he didn’t even react. You wish you could say he had pried your heart out of your hands and ripped it to shreds. But that wasn’t the case. Your heart hadn’t shattered by his blatant rejection. It had melted.

You watch as his character, Link, of course, K.O’s his opponent and Player 2 Victory flashes on the television screen. He wins. Like always. You don’t feel mad like you usually do. Maybe you’ve finally accepted that there are just some things you can’t win no matter how steadfast and committed you are.

Jungkook looks up from his controller, pumping his fist in the air, his long, dark hair flopping around his face like a curtain. Your veins practically burst with electricity when his smiling eyes notice yours in the corner like you knew they would. The smile dims and you expect that. You’re not asking for a love to cure all epidemics or a lie to burn your body to ash. You just want to move on. To finally escape the purgatory you’ve put yourself in.

“We need to talk,” you try to say as loud as you can but the cheers and conversations of the people around you drown you out.

Somehow in someway, he hears you and nods his head. Maybe he’s a glutton for pain like you. He scoots out of the loveseat, standing to his full height and making pleasant excuses to his newly acquired friends that you don’t know. Maybe it’s the fake courage but you don’t take your gaze away from him. You’re going to do this. You have to — you suck in a huge breath — you must.

Once he steps into your bubble of personal space, the rest of the world fizzles out.

“This is a bundle of firsts, Ice Queen. You? At a party and instigating a conversation with me first? Damn, did you get a taste of hell without me videoing?”

“You always joke about everything,” you decide to bite the bullet. “I used to find that really cute.”

Alcohol o’ alcohol, why hath thou forsaken me? You almost look up to the heavens and question what possessed you to drink so much but then you rehear Vivian’s speech in your head and you find your resolve and strangle it.

Jungkook’s eyebrows fly up like he’s not quite prepared for this. “Wait, what are you... Are you drunk right —”

“I’m not good with words. And I’ve always sucked at speaking my mind and being thoughtful and generally being a good person. Like you,” you smile sadly when you remember the first time you ever made a friend; the boy in front of you that had offered you to come over sometime and play his GameCube with him when his older siblings were too busy to hang with him. “I’m passive at best when it comes to anything that’s not swimming. And even that, you got me into it. You were the reason I started it. You know this, I would’ve rather died than engage in anything that made me exert energy. But you made it fun until I genuinely loved it.”

“That’s not,” Jungkook shakes his head adamantly. “That’s—”

You shoot him a look. “Let me finish okay? I have this whole thing in my head and ... please, just let me say it.”

You hadn’t realized the curious looks the people around had been shooting your way until you see Jungkook scowl at any and every one before he intertwines your hands with his and pulls you out of the basement in a swift motion. You don’t mind the giddy feeling enveloping your chest at the sight of your fingers wrapped around each other. A part of you actually loves how cocooned it makes you feel. You want to bottle this feeling up and bathe in it.

He must be overfamiliar with the frat house because he leads you expertly into a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. He shuts the door and then locks it. For a minute, he stares at your locked hands and you wonder if he feels the same pull you do. If he’s ever felt the same pull you do.

“When I handed you my heart and my everything, why didn’t you want it? Why did you act like I had committed a grievous crime against you and your glorious self?”

There. You’ve gone and said the thing. The biggest question that has plagued your mind for months and years. If your best friend didn’t even find value in you then really, was there any to begin with?

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh that careens his shoulders down as if he’s carrying the weight of the world. A sigh so deep that it shakes his body from the vibrations visible through his black tee, and crashes into your soul. He closes his eyes for his barely a second but you wish he’d just spit it out. Pour acid on your wounds so you can feel the fire of a thousand suns and finally, fucking finally move on. Baptism by fire they call it but what you want is a goddamn exorcism.

“You thought I shat gold and that I hung the moon and that I was this perfect person when I’m not. I mean, have you listened to yourself? You think you’re a bad person because all you’ve ever done is compare me to you. But it was you and me. Not either or.

You think I really love swimming when you’re not the one egging me on? Pushing me to be better? You think I would’ve let you confess your magnificent love for me and then accept it when every sentence you said contrasted you from me. Pitted you against me? I’m competitive, you’re competitive but I didn’t think you needed competition when it came to that. You’d already won. And then I had this crazy stupid idea that maybe just being friends with you would work. I mean, love isn’t something you need to fight yourself bloody and dead for. Why would I accept this really amazing love from someone that was going to feel less than me and feel like shit for it?”

“So, what were you gonna do? Just wait till I up and decided that I was insecure and didn’t have a major inferiority complex I had no idea about?” Your sober thoughts vomit out of your mouth with impressive speed.

“I was still your friend,” Jungkook almost yells and out of his aggravation, his hands slip out of yours. The loss is staggering. He jabs his index finger into his chest. “I did everything I could do to still be your friend. But you wouldn’t talk to me. And I get that we were sixteen and there were so many ways we could’ve done better but you shut me out.”

“No, I…” You begin to say but the words die in your mouth.

Truth be told, you did shut him out. It wasn’t like you blocked him on every site. But when he tried to talk to you at school, you pretended he wasn’t there. When he stopped over at your place, you told your parents that you were sick and to keep him out. When he sent party invites on the gaming platforms the two of you shared a love for, you ignored them and turned off your console. But it wasn’t like you did all of this out of spite to begin with. It was just easier.

You were hurt. Seeing him brought on multiple feelings of shame, embarrassment, and pain all wrapped snugly like a demonic burrito. And he was your best friend, it wasn’t like you didn’t have other friends you could’ve asked for advice but the one person you wanted to talk to was the one person you couldn’t reach out to. So you didn’t think about it. Instead, you threw yourself headfirst into freezing ass water and worked your butt off with the one thing you had left.

And contrary to what Jungkook believes, he made you feel good about yourself. Like an anchor. You didn’t have to hide your nerdiness between a cold exterior so as to not get teased about it. With him, you were free. Like he was a sun that burned a path that enabled you to breathe easy. To be yourself so that you wouldn’t drown.

“You think I really go around joking with every bum on the swim team about Down To Fuck Demons for hire or that I walk every person with a rubbish knee home in fucking negative degree weather? Or that I worry about everyone that’s throwing their whole future away over a rivalry that doesn’t even exist? You think I’ve been playing the role of a pest around you because I hate you? —”

“Vehemently despise,” you choke on your words but your sense of seriousness causes Jungkook to burst into a staccato of quick muted laughter.

“Y/N,” he whispers your name like it’s a thing of beauty. And maybe it is. Right now you think so. “Firstly, I was dumb and I thought if I left things as they were maybe you’d realize how fucking awesome you were without me. But then all you ever did was practice and practice like you were training for an aquatics mafia or some shit. And then I realized that maybe you’re not the only one that sucks with words and when to say them. I should’ve told you that I did love you. Platonically. Romantically. And you made me feel great and not because you were less than but rather because being with you meant that I was my best self.”

You feel a cascade of water flooding down your cheeks like a waterfall but you don’t release a sound and you don’t really care about it because this moment feels sacred. Because you’re not crying out of pain or agony or longing. Rather it’s because you finally understand.

“You were like the sun and you were so blinding that I thought I would incinerate if I was still next to you like nothing happened.”

“Ha,” Jungkook scoffs, using a palm to run across his face. Then he squints his eyes at you like he’s seeing you anew for the first time. “If I’m the sun then you are —”

“The sun eater.” The words fly out of your mouth with ease. Quoting your fave anime characters was a thing the two of you had done relentlessly for days, heck, years.

Jungkook nods his head, elated that you remember like there was ever a time you’d forget My Hero Academia. “I’m not gonna apologize for not accepting your confession back then. I can’t. Not when I genuinely think neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing back then. Still don’t.”

“And I’m not going to say sorry for pulling away from you. I mean, I’m not a masochist.”

He lets out a throaty laugh that washes your insides clean. And you give a watery smile back, feeling soberer than you did a couple hours ago. You bet you look worse for wear but you don’t care because you’re done not pretending.

“Why did it take four years for me to...” your voice chokes and you almost break down right then and there. But your stubbornness is a thing of pride. “For us to finally talk about it. It would’ve made so much more sense if we had just talked and now I feel like I’ve wasted four years of my life being angry? Feeling discarded? But it’s not like that at all.”

Jungkook’s smooth yet experienced hands cradle the sides of your face and the overflowing tears pool in the flesh that connects his thumbs to your skin. “Friends fight all the time.”

You snort and he grins. “Most friends aren’t half as dumb as us.”

“You got that right. I think dumbness is attractive.” He says with an overflowing aura of achievement. “This just means we’ll just have to spend more time making up for it.” He dips his head down till his lips brush the tip of your ear. “And by the way, I think I’m done being your friend exclusively,” he says.

“Yeah?” You ask and for an inane reason, you smile even harder because the tears on your face feel like rain. And you’re still breathing easier, albeit a tad bit faster. But there’s no crash and burn after you’ve soared too close to the sun. Unlike before your heart feels like it’s glowing instead of charring.

“I think I want to take you out on a date.”

Your eyes widen with faux-horror. “Just one?”

“Oh my Zelda, can I at least finish my grand speech?” He rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, it won’t be one date but you know that kinda depends on if you’re still god at Fortnite. I mean, partying up is basically the same as marriage, you know?”

“Kook?”

“Yeah?”

“Your inner nerd is showing.”

Jungkook sputters loudly, the action making his hair swish across his forehead and his hands drop from your face. “Oh, forgive me. I thought you loved my nerdiness.”

“Love,” you correct him. “Present tense.”

His mouth practically breaks even with the floor with how wide he’s gaping. You haven’t sprouted a second head, have you?

You clear your throat, attempting to be blasé about the whole thing. “Well, if we’re really going to pursue this whole dating thing then I have to be honest, right? I think it’s quite sexy how knowledgeable you are about gaming and stuff even though we’re like hardcore athletes.”

“So I’m like an onion? Three dimensional? The more you get to know me, the more you love how I’m not like Other Guys trademark sign?”

You guffaw so hard you almost start crying all over again. “Oh my Zelda, we were having a moment. Why did you ruin our moment?”

“Think I can make up for it.” He looks at you with something akin to competition and licks his lips.

Your eyes falter at the action, zeroing in on them. Suddenly the distance between yours and his feels like a crime against humanity. It’s comical really, how the temperature of your body can fly from ice cold to a blazing inferno in less than minutes.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“As you wish.”

Jungkook bends his lips to connect with yours in a swift motion. You’re surprised but a part of you must have anticipated it because you are pushing deeper into him as quickly as humanly possible. His arms snake across your waist, his hands landing squarely on your ass and his groan eliciting a magnitude of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as his tongue danced an infinite tango with yours. Smoothly, he backs you up until you feel your head tap a wall for support.

Holy crap shit. Your mind is a mess. No wait, your mouth is a mess. A warped sense of dizziness floods through your body and it has nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed earlier and everything to do with the sensuous teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his hands deftly squeeze your ass. Fuck, you can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. You cling unto his shoulders for stability and revel at how corded they feel under your touch.

He tears his lips away from yours, breathless, resting his forehead against yours. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You can’t die until we get to the part where we role-play as demon and a naive spell caster.” You’re out of breath as well because that kiss was something else. Divine, maybe.

“I get to be the demon though, right?”

You grin at that. “Of course. I’m not a heathen.”

This time you kissed him, pushing all thoughts of future escapades further away from your mind and focusing on the beautiful man in front of you. Reaching up, you dig your hands through Jungkook’s abundant hair and moan. You understand then what it must have been like for Icarus to fly off to the sun. It must have scorched his skin to death within seconds, and yet at the same time, it must have been oh so slow. And you doubt he despaired because in the end he was heading home and he was finally not alone. You understand so well because the more the fire in your veins expands, the more you come close to burning up entirely. And you love it. You’re losing all control and you don’t care because he’s losing his alongside you.

Everything turns into a mess of frenzied motions. Him reluctantly removing a hand from your ass to reach up and use his fingers to clasp around your throat and position it just right enough for him to latch his lips there and suck. hard. When he pulls away from you to admire his handiwork, the lopsided grin on his face almost sends you into another need to kiss him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you at a frat party when only Zelda knows how many losers have cummed on a singular bedsheet,” he announces without remorse.

“Fair enough.”

“But I am going to do very wicked things to you that’ll loosen up those shoulders to the point of being supple. And after that, you’re gonna promise me that we’ll go get your knee checked out later.”

A few hours you would’ve kicked and screamed at the idea of anything derailing your plan of getting on the lineup for the competition. You thought that admitting you need help meant that you were quitting. Punishing yourself for something so irrevocably at out of your control. Now though, you nod your head drowsily. You hate the doctors but you hate self-destructing even more. Especially now when you have someone that hurts when you hurt.

He’s unraveling you.

“I’ll go.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, not believing how easily you’ve conceded to him. “Where has my sweet, stubborn Ice Queen gone? Bring her back to me, please. All this ecstasy must have gone to her head.”

God, whoever said you still won’t want to deck Jungkook even after experiencing something so explosive. But his grin threatens to split your heart two. Like he’s happy to just be with you, adoring you, joking with you. Oh, how your body is singing with praises.

“Yours?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

Jungkook beams. He’s the sun and you’re the moon. Now that you’ve tasted this, you’re never going to let go. You are simply submerged.

“Haven’t you realized? You’re my girl.”

a/n: i know very much that i took a lot of liberty when writing about collegiate swimming/sports in generral (i took an advanced swim class at my uni last semester so thats where all my info comes from) i tweaked it a lil bit to fit my purposes but it was fun to try to write about it hehe.

i hope you all loved this fic as much as i loved writing it!!!!

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2020 kai, high-on-food. ✉

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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

blinding lights, chapter 4/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality."

---

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut :)

No matter how long fate will allow him to live, Akira would never forget Ryuji’s awakening.

Blood splattering on the carpet as he rips the mask carved into his face, the explosion that erupts from his very core like an airstrike, the scream so raw and guttural and unleashed, as if a part of Ryuji that’s always been strapped down and chained has been freed after years of confinement.

But it was the look on his face, the manic grin that emerged from the pitfalls of anguish is the part that’s burned into his memory. Any hesitation that was there was wiped clean—all that’s left was triumph and sheer rage, an insurmountable amount of it laid bare on his face and in his eyes so prevalent that Akira had barely noticed Captain Kidd behind him.

“What the hell—” Akira stammers, unable to process that Ryuji’s here, in Maruki’s Palace. There’s a sag in his shoulders, the effect of the curse attack probably causing him to feel heavy and drained. That’s why they should always be wary of curse skills; they’re a direct attack on their physical and mental state. (Once, it had hit Ann particularly hard in Futaba’s Palace. If Akira’s hits became harder after that as a precaution, nobody mentioned anything.) “Why are you—”

Ryuji turns and anything that Akira might’ve said dies in his throat. He barely looks like someone who took Eigaon head-on, but it doesn’t stop Akira from feeling waves of nausea anyway.

“Are you hurt?” Ryuji asks tersely.

“No, but—”

“Good,” the look on his face was one of pure, irrepressible fury, one to rival his awakening. “Then I can get pissed off without having to feel bad.”

Akira nods and touches his mask. “We will, I know you’re probably confused but you got hit pretty bad—”

“I didn’t—”

Personas burst in and out, flickering like shadows from TV static. “Sorry, just give me—”

“Stop looking for—”

“You got hurt, at least let me—”

“God dammit, Kurusu!” he snaps, and grabs his wrist, grip lax. “Why aren’t you listening? I said I was fine, wasn’t I? I’m not hurt, I don’t want your effin’ diaharan. I just want you to talk to me about why you’re here and I wasn’t.”

“Ryuji, it’s a long story,” Akira starts, forcing his voice to be steady.

“Long story, my ass!” Letting Akira’s hand fall, his glare hard as steel. “I was in some messed up world where Kamoshida didn’t slap my leg like a toothpick and everyone was in it with me. I have zero clue if you were in it from the start or if you got out if it later on, but I know one thing:” he jerks his thumb behind him. “I had to rely on Yoshizawa and Akechi Goro of all the damn people in the world.”

“They told you?” Akira hisses quietly.

“Jesus Christ, this isn’t about them!” Ryuji shouts, and his hands are clenched into tight fists. “Why does it matter that they told me? The point is that you didn’t, and it really fucking sucks that my leader, my best fucking friend would let me live like that!”

“It’s because I’m your leader!” he snaps, and he realizes his voice is raised. “It’s because I’m your best friend that I did that!”

“What are you even saying?” His fists are shaking, his frustration threatening to break out.

“I’m saying that the crap you guys went through was hell. God, just look around! Yusuke lost what was supposed to be his father figure, Haru actually lost her dad and had to put up with some predatory douchebag, and Futaba…” Akira clenches his teeth. “She’s fifteen, Ryuji. She’s a year younger than us, and she’s gone through so much—”

“And they still moved on, didn’t they? They still get out of bed everyday, still go out and live life, they still have a purpose. They want to live in the reality they fought for and you just want to, what, take that away from them?” his jaw locks tight. “Did you forget that it’s always, with no damn exception, supposed to be a unanimous decision?”

A long, heavy beat fills every crevice of their bones.

And then: “Your mother.”

“What?”

“You love your mom more than anything,” Akira says. Early memories of Ryuji roll in his mind, and even those are filled with him raving about his ma, about how she was the only one on his side when it felt like the entirety of Japan was against him. And how she just smiled when she found out Ryuji lost his scholarship. “You want to be in track for her again, to help her. That’s what you wanted—”

“Are you seriously bringing in the mom card? She’s moved on, Akira! She’s swallowed what happened, and we’re fine. Yeah, it’d be a hell of a lot easier to have that scholarship, but she’s over it. We all are.”

“But don’t you wish it never happened?” Akira insists, urgent. “You don’t have to put up with it, Ryuji. You have that choice.”

“And my choice is to live in a reality that we all decided to live for! It’s our choice and you almost took that away from us! I just don’t get why you would do that, Akira. You’re so damn smart, but why couldn’t you see that we learned to be happy?” Ryuji takes Akira’s face in both of his hands. “What were you thinking, Kurusu?”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but he finds himself looking into brown eyes instead—still furious, but beneath it all is confusion, and above all, hurt. It was the one thing Akira wanted to prevent above everything else.

He realizes, a bit belatedly, that’s he’s so, so stupid.

“I just want every single one of you to be happy,” Akira whispers.

“I know.”

“I thought this is what you wanted.”

“I know,” Ryuji begins to deflate a little, the tension seeping out of him.

“I’m—” Akira swallows past the lump in his throat, and averts his gaze. Shame burns hot as fire inside of him. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For not talking to the group first. You’re right—I forgot about the unanimous decision part.”

“Damn right you did.” Ryuji lets go of his face, sighing. Scrubs his hair. “I’m still mad at you. Like, crazy mad.”

Before Akira can say anything, Ryuji pulls him by the shoulder and incases him in a tight hug. “But I forgive you.”

Slowly, he hugs him back. “I won’t do it again.”

Ryuji squeezes him tighter. “I know you won’t.”

They stay like that for awhile—in between realities and in each other’s arms.

—

Footsteps. Lots of them. Not as fast as Ryuji’s, but louder, overlapping one another. Approaching fast.

“You’re screwed, dude,” was all the warning Akira got before he was released and promptly tackled onto the ground by two separate entities screaming into his ear.

“Akira!”

“I’m gonna punch you so hard—”

“Kurusu, I am so crazy pissed at you—”

“What did you expect?” Makoto sighs as Ann grabs him by the collar and shakes him vigorously. “It’s only natural we react like this since you abandoned us.”

“I—did—not—abandon—” Akira tries, but Mona clambers onto his shoulders and is attempting to restrain him in a headlock. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can barely even feel it.

“You didn’t tell us anything!” Ann yells. “We had to rely on pancakes over there—”

“I had believed that the relationship we had forged was an admirable one, but I would have thought you’d talk to us about it first—” Yusuke says, but stops short when his eyes land on Futaba.

The group quiets down, and even Ann and Morgana cease their harassment.

Hands gentle and heart thudding, he coerces the two off of him and sits cross-legged on the cold tile, awaiting his execution by the hands of a fifteen year-old girl.

Her Metaverse footwear adds about two inches to her stature, barely breaking into the realm of five feet, but as she slowly walks to where Akira is, he can’t help but feel her towering presence.

She stops an arm’s length away, her goggles perched on top to reveal her expression; blank except for the slight twist in her mouth.

Unconsciously, everyone else had forced a semi-circle around the two like a mediocre street fight, waiting on bated breath for the verdict. It takes some effort, but Akira manages not to look away from her gaze.

For a moment, only the buzz of the lights can be heard.

“I have some guesses about what’s going on,” she says eventually. “But you know everything, I think. And you didn’t tell us.”

Akira swallows and Futaba pushes on. “I get the feeling of wanting to be alone. I’ll help you have that if that’s what you want. But,” her blank expression cracks and her voice begins to wobble. “Don’t try and leave like that. You helped me, back in the summer. And you won’t even—” her breath hitches, and Akira’s chest clenches. “You won’t even let us do that for you.”

“...Futaba—”

She reaches forward towards him and he tenses for the hit, only for her to pat his head firmly. “I know,” she says softly. “Ryuji chewed you out pretty good, and there’s no hecking way I’m letting you pull something like this again. I just wanted to tell you what I was feeling.”

Akira nods and tries for a smile. It probably doesn’t come out right. “As if I could ever leave behind my annoying, genius key item again.”

“You’re such a loser,” she snorts before throwing herself on Akira, arms opened wide and crushing every ounce of air out of him.

Somewhere behind him, Ryuji yells out: “Group hug for the dumbass leader!”

“I am not a—” Akira gets out before his breath is snatched out of him four, five, six more times.

“Ouch, Yusuke that’s my back—”

“Don’t be mean. You know he’s got a lot of sharp angles cause he eats six times a week, max—”

“Mona-chan, your fur is so soft. Do you use a conditioner?”

“Well, sometimes when Akira is in the bathhouse and I’m feeling a little brave—”

Voice muffled, Akira groans dramatically. “I can’t breathe…dying…”

“Oh, puh-lease, you can’t die from too much love!”

“Besides,” Makoto pops her head out from somewhere in their impromptu football pile. “I doubt Ryuji would let you die after he took the hit from—”

“Oh, hell,” Akira blinks. Patting random limbs around him, “Let me up. I need to check-in with Akechi.”

“It’s okay, senpai.”

A pause, and they all gradually turn their heads to the sound of the newcomer’s voice.

With a little struggling and some light shoving, Akira stands. “I missed,” he says quietly. “I got sloppy.”

“Did you really believe that that messy attack would cause lasting damage?”

Akechi comes up from behind Sumire, face gaunt and trudging, but his contemptuous expression immovable. “It’s insulting that you believed I’d be anything less than fine.”

The group tenses, all sense of levity evaporated—in its place is wariness, layered with a thick coating of distrust. Akira opens his mouth, but Haru beats him to it.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Akechi-kun.”

A few gasps were let out, and Sumire’s mouth hangs open. Akechi’s shoulders tense ever so slightly.

“...Thank you.”

Haru shakes her head, smiling. Whether or not it’s forced or legitimate is anyone’s best guess. Next to Akira and Akechi, she has the toughest mask to crack. “I should be the one thanking you. You assisted us greatly in supporting Akira-kun. Ah, and Yoshizawa, too!”

Haru, Akira had learned very early on, can wield an axe better than a lifetime-trained lumberjack can. Yet her ultimate weapon is being able to kill people with kindness despite—no, because of what happened to her. The strength to pursue compassion in the face of vile circumstances is what compelled Akechi to silence now.

Sumire spoke for the both of them. “It’s no problem!”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Ann says. “But I’m beat.”

“As am I, but I can’t find it in me to return to dorms after all this,” says Yusuke.

“Me neither,” Makoto pipes in.

“I think we all want to keep hanging out, right?” Futaba asks. “So I’ve got two words, bolded, italicized, underlined, and highlighted: Leblanc party!”

Ryuji squints. “That’s three words, dummy.”

“Ooo, that’s a great idea, Futaba!” Ann exclaims, clapping her hands together, “I can get the cupcakes and some sweets!”

“I can get chips and snacks!” Haru beams.

“Drinks are on me, y’all!” Futaba says.

“Fear not,” Yusuke says, self-satisfied. “I will let Boss know.”

“I want sushi!” Morgana yowls.

“Not too sure I gave the okay to this, given that I live there,” Akira says, only to be booed from all sides.

“No one likes a tsundere, man!” Ryuji yells.

“Akira isn’t violent,” says Makoto, frowning.

“That’s ‘yandere,’ Mako-chan.”

“I’m expecting everyone in Akira’s room in two hours!” Futaba announces, and hesitates, before looking at Akechi. “Everyone! And I mean it! At least...just for today.”

Akira blinks before Haru cuts in. “Yes, I completely agree. A celebration for being together again, and to everyone who helped us get here.”

They all nod in agreement. It’s incredible; it’s the people around him that elected him to be the leader of their little group, but he will only ever be half as strong as they are. For them to be able to set aside their feelings, their hate, for one day just because they’re grateful that Akira was saved from his own delusions—Akira really doesn’t deserve them. (But there’s no way he’s saying it out loud. They’ll all eat him alive if they even suspect that he’s thinking that.)

“I’ll politely have to decline—” Akechi attempts, before Ryuji scoffs.

“Dude, come on. One party ain’t gonna kill you and there’s no way you’re beating Haru in a manners competition.”

“Or Futaba in a battle of obstinacy,” Yusuke finishes.

When Akechi looks like he’s about to argue once again, Sumire clears her throat and levels him with a loaded look. Looking away, Akechi accidentally meets Akira’s eyes with a carbon copy of the same expression.

You’re not getting out of this one, detective.

Eventually, he relents: “One evening.”

—

After a quick group discussion about who’s getting what, Akira offers to get sushi and all but drags Akechi with him, saying that if the restaurant recognizes the Detective Prince they might get a discount; though judging that Akira had tipped a generous thirty percent and the way he had pulled Ryuji aside to make sure he wasn’t hiding any wounds or pain (“the only pain I have is you. You’re a pain in my ass, ‘Kira”), Akechi assumes that Akira had an ulterior motive.

They stand outside the restaurant somewhere in Ginza, the empty alley more bearable than the crowded inside. For once, the weather is approachable—gray clouds in the early evening sky, though the chill is as present as it always is. Few are out and about on leisurely walks and mundane errands, finding no need to celebrate on an arbitrary Wednesday, but every once in a while there are those with laughter and frivolity trailing them; a reminder that their work is far from over.

Someone in the distance buys a drink from a vending machine when Akechi’s eye twitches.

“Do you mind?”

Immediately, Akira averts his eyes from Akechi. Embarrassment isn’t present in his expression, but the disgustingly thick layer of concern couldn’t be clearer. “Just checking.”

“For what? If I was bleeding out over a scratch?”

“Because I know you could've avoided that scratch,” Akira says, voice hard. “Yeah, my aim was shot, but that shouldn’t have hit you. You’re good in short, all-out fights like that. It’s your element. Yet I still hit you.”

“We all have our off days.”

“I guess,” he says, and the corner of his mouth tilts up, just a bit. “You looked pretty tired by the end of it.”

Akechi throws a glare at him. “I suppose I’m not used to someone who acts like he’s in the middle of a dance contest while he’s in battle.”

“Okay, okay,” Akira chuckles and the last dregs of uneasiness seems to wash away, the hard line of the corner of his eyes fading. His fingers gravitate to his pockets. “You’re too feisty right now to be injured.”

He feels himself about to retort against ‘feisty’ (Akechi’s never been called feisty in his life and he isn’t about to start today) when Akira looks up, staring at the sky. “Mind if I say something?”

Akechi gestures a gloved hand and Akira turns to give him an unreadable look. “How’d you convince them?”

An odd question. “After seeing you be triggered by mentioning or seeing memories from the real reality, it wasn’t too difficult to create a plan surrounding that.”

Akira was shaking his head before he even finished. “No,” he says. “I mean how did you know what to say to them?”

Squinting, Akechi thinks on his next words, wondering if it’s some sort of trap, not unlike a traveller poking at the ground in case of quick sand. He comes empty-handed. “Have you forgotten that I, however unwilling, worked with your thieves for a good chunk of time?”

“Huh,” Akira muses. “That’s nice.”

He feels his teeth clench. “What?”

“I always wondered how much of it was, you know, an act. Like which one was the fake detective spiel and which was the real Goro,” his mouth twists into a sour expression, but Akira doesn’t notice. “But you got to know them. At least, enough to know what to say.”

“Don’t speak like I had any intention of using that in any condonable way. Information and trust was what I needed to get the upper hand, fruitless as it was,” he replies. “Or had you conveniently forgotten my past actions?”

Akira smiles, though it could just as easily be a tight grimace. “Unless Maruki decides on a do-over, I’d have to say no on that one.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But wow,” he scuffs at the pavement—whether it’s flipping a pen through his fingers or tugging on his forelocks, he never seems to stop moving. Akechi hates it. “I know you think we’re naive and stuff, but Haru and Futaba sure are something else by inviting you, even if this,” Akira gestures between them, “Is temporary.”

“Temporary, hmm?” Akechi ruminates. “I was fairly baffled as well. I don’t believe I’d have it in me to be able to recreate what she did if it were Shido.” Looking back to the restaurant, he wonders if their order will ever be ready. “Truth be told, Sakamoto not taking the green light to summon Taisai the moment he saw me is almost as surprising, given his temper.”

“He’s working on it,” Akira shrugs. He side eyes Akechi. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Trying.”

Him and his stupid games. “Trying to what?”

“You know,” Akira waves a hand. “To be a good person. Or a half-decent one.”

Silence stretches on. The clattering of plates and cutlery fill up the empty space.

And then: “Do you think I did this for you?”

“No, jeez!” he rolls his eyes. “I get that you hate me, despise me, loathe me, whatever. You don’t like me. I just thought that—”

“That somehow empathy bloomed within me?” Akechi scoffs. “Hilarious. What would be the point of that? Are you honestly telling me that if I got down on my knees, tears positively streaming down my face and apologized with my whole being, you’d forgive me?”

“Maybe?” Akira answers, and Akechi freezes, not expecting a genuine response. “Only if everyone else does.”

He tries not to make his relief obvious—he wouldn’t know what to say if Akira had said something as ridiculous as actually forgiving him, especially when in Akechi’s mind, he’s already accepted what is and isn’t possible. “Given the possibility of that, a simple ‘no’ would be more efficient.”

He raises a shoulder half-heartedly. “Who knows? With enough time, anything could happen.”

Akechi stays silent.

“Oh,” Akira blinks. “Speaking of time—”

“This sushi place is scamming us?”

“—you and Sumire are pretty friendly with each other.”

“Hardly,” he crosses his arms. “She’s always insisting on teamwork, and communication,” he spits it out like a curse. “Too much time was wasted on useless endeavors. I had to watch her eat half the table at one point. However, in fairness, she provided valuable insight about the other...what?”

Akira’s looking at him with a strange expression—the lovechild of awe and disbelief. “Nothing, it’s just…” he trails off for a second, before his eyes crinkle in mirth. “I’m happy for you, Akechi.”

Before he can reply, make a comeback, quell the sudden cold in his fingertips, Akira lights up.

“Looks like the food’s finally ready. Let’s head to Leblanc—Mona’s probably gnawing on the stools by now.”

He moves past him, and Akechi swallows back the bile in his throat.

—

“You think Boss’d mind if I grab a couple of glasses?” Ryuji’s muffled voice leaks through the thin walls of the cafe. To a nosey passerby, they’d be able to hear conversations with a concerning amount of clarity. It’s a miracle no one’s called the police on them before.

“Nah, he’s too big of a softie to mind. Since I’m the heiress to his grand, lackluster estate, I want you all to feast and be merry without worry! Am I right, Haru?”

“Absolutely, Futaba-chan!”

“Is it me, or is Mona acting kinda...rabid?”

“I’m sorry to act so garish, Lady Ann, but I’m starving and Akira’s probably already stuffing his face with—”

The bell chimes and Akira’s eyes lock with a wild, salivating cat. “—Sushi!”

Like an untamed beast, a ball of fur sprints at Akira. “Yeah, it’s all here, just—ow, Morgana, let me—okay you know what?” Akira tosses the bag to Ryuji, who catches it by the handle with ease.

“Ann, grab lover boy over there before he claws into the furniture.” Ryuji takes out the paper boxes as Ann picks up Morgana, and his face looks stuck in a euphoric state; awaiting sushi and cradled by Ann, Morgana looks like he could die happy.

Akira takes a moment to examine the small, overflowing cafe—Yusuke and Makoto are behind the bar setting up drinks (orange soda and water, no alcohol lest they want to taste nukes by the hands of Johanna), with Yusuke making sure that each glass has the same amount of liquid and ice cubes (more than once has the ice slipped out of his hand and onto the floor). Sumire smiles at him, and waves when Akechi saunters to her, rolling his eyes. Futaba is still trying to explain to Haru how they’re basically the same person given their ‘societal circumstances’ and he can see that Haru is genuinely agreeing with her. Ann is chiding Morgana when he starts purring so intensely he’s nearly vibrating out of her grasp.

“Whatcha smilin’ about over there?”

Prying his eyes away from the sight, Ryuji paused his rummaging to look up at him.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You weren’t,” he agrees. “But your eyes kinda—” he gestures vaguely at his face. “So it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Of course. Let Ryuji figure him out in four seconds or less. They can make a gameshow out of it. “Maybe it’s because I’m excited for sushi.”

“Well, tough luck buddy,” Ryuji crumples up the now-empty plastic bag. “Cause you forgot the soy sauce.”

“You what?” Morgana crane his head backwards to glower at him. “Akira, please—”

“Doesn’t Boss have soy sauce in here?” Ann asks.

“This is a coffee shop, so I wouldn’t think so,” Makoto says.

Akechi mutters under his breath, “That sushi place is truly vile.”

Sumire whispers back, “Is it because they didn’t have a dessert menu, or…?”

“Shut it.”

“No biggie,” Akira says, feeling his pockets to make sure his wallet is still there. “There’s a 777 down the street, it’ll be quick.”

“I’ll come with,” Ryuji hops the bar, inciting a ‘Ryuji!’ from Makoto. “Forgetting can be such a pain, yeah?”

He nods, and the two of them set off, Mona yowling behind them.

—

Yongen-Jaya never gets old.

The back alley is jam-packed with small businesses, motorcycles, vending machines, stray cats and much more—it’s the equivalent of shoving all the clutter to the back of an already cramped closet. But it’s not the organized chaos that tugs at Akira’s heartstrings; it’s the memories that come with the mess, with the atmosphere of Yongen that makes him ache. It’s how Morgana whispered what he should get in the grocery store, or watching a movie 20 minutes late with Ann, or Yusuke tripping over a bike.

Right now, walking side by side with Ryuji, he thinks about how he had insisted on walking Akira home after he awakened Arsene, making sure he got home safe even though his apartment was on the other side of the city.

Even then, Ryuji was always looking out for him.

They’re silent as they walk, footsteps falling in time with one another. There’s no rush between them, despite Morgana’s insistence. It could just as easily have been a nightly stroll between two people who find comfort in the crisp, nighttime air.

But Akira knows better than that. Ryuji isn’t as slick as he thinks he is, and his jumping at the chance on soy sauce is as subtle as a neon sign. So he waits—as long as he needs to for Ryuji to speak, which never takes long. (He’s so honest and forthcoming, it’s insane. As someone who insists on having two meters of caution and deliberation up at all times, it’s a trait Akira’s always been a little jealous of.)

It took some time, but Ryuji finally starts. “Yoshizawa explained what happened while you were out getting food.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot to catch everyone up to speed.”

Shaking his head, “S’fine, we get it. She let us in on the whole Maruki thing, how it worked and stuff. The whole...what did she call it? Reality? Yeah, how our reality kinda molded around our desires. It fits the bill with everyone—Yusuke with Madarame, Futaba with her mom. Me with the track team.”

He must’ve seen something in Akira's eyes, because he puffs out his chest. “No, this ain’t me second-guessing my decision.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Damn right,” he huffs. “Well, after Yoshizawa explained all that, Makoto—y’know, she’s got a big brain and all—asked her something that’s still on my mind. Then Yoshizawa kinda got a little nervous, didn’t give a decent answer.”

“She knows as much as I do, but I can try my best to answer.”

“Good,” Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets. “Cause Makoto was wondering what your wish was.”

Akira’s footsteps stall for a split second. Ryuji keeps walking.

“I got these memories, ‘Kira,” he says, slowing down, and Akira directs his eyes to the ground. “Don’t really understand it—like flashes of pictures, of people, of places, but it’s real annoying. Keeps slipping away like those crappy prizes in claw machines. Wanna know something though?” he stays quiet. “I asked around, and no one else was getting them.”

“That’s odd,” Akira manages, despite the frantic rhythm of his heart.

“See, the memories are crap, they’re no good. Can’t remember them. But the feeling that’s there—” he lets out a long, shaky breath. “I dunno if I can ever shake them, man.”

Silence.

Ryuji stops and turns. “Akira.”

Slowly, Akira looks up. Ryuji’s frowning, brows wrinkled together like unfolded laundry (he wants nothing more than to reach up and smooth it away), and his fingers are flexing as if he wants to squeeze something to get rid of his confusion. That’s the thing about Ryuji; he always feels so much more than anyone Akira’s met, and it translates to physicality. More than once during a Thieves meeting did Ryuji have to take a break and go for a run to process.

“You’ve got to tell me because—” he scrubs at his hair, sighing. Clenches his jaw. “Because if those—those memories, that feeling isn’t what I think it is, I’m gonna go fucking nuts.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you need to know?” Akira asks. “What if knowing would make everything worse?”

“That’s impossible.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because this feeling is the best thing I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Speechless, Akira doesn’t know how to respond. He stares at Ryuji, his palms facing up like he doesn’t have anything left to give, his eyes open and sincere. There isn’t a hint of malice in them and it makes Akira feel like he can tell him anything and receive nothing but support in return. Like he had a hundred times before.

And then, in a single moment of clarity, Akira realizes that Ryuji’s seen him, has been with him since the very beginning of everything, and still calls him his best friend without a drop of hesitation.

If Akira can’t tell him this now, can’t respect what Ryuji’s been giving him, then what would be the point of any of this? He won’t (can’t) lie to Ryuji, and he’s not about to change that now.

A small gust of wind comes and Akira’s hair gets blown back, just a bit.

“My wish was for us to be together. For you to love me in the way that I love you.”

At that moment, a meteor could have struck. An airplane could have crashed. The ground could have swallowed him in his entirety. The world could have destroyed him, but nothing could’ve possibly taken the feeling of sheer relief that thrums through his veins. Like a concrete block that was pressed against his shoulder blades, relentlessly weighing him down everyday, suddenly gone.

Ryuji’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open (he wills himself not to look at his mouth). It doesn’t matter what disaster could possibly arrive; Ryuji’s next words would crumble Akira more than anything else could.

The Metaverse had never once terrified him like this.

“Seriously?” he asks, voice hoarse. “You can’t mess around right now, Kurusu.”

“I’m dead serious, Sakamoto.”

Ryuji blinks. And again. And then takes a step forward, and all but sprints towards him.

“Wha—”

“You are—” he bends, arms extended. “So annoying!”

“Ryuji!” Akira yells as his feet are suddenly swept off the ground.

“I wanted to say it first!” Ryuji screams back, and then he starts to spin and Akira has to hold on to him for dear life. (Did he hear that right? Probably not. He must’ve said something else.) “But nooo, Joker over here has to steal the kill!”

“Wait, wait—” it’s hard to think when the world is blurring together mercilessly, but Akira knows that Ryuji will never drop him.

“I guess ain’t no time like the present.” The spinning slows, and Akira gradually feels the concrete beneath him once more. Hands find their way to his shoulders and despite his coat, Akira can feel their warmth.

“Kurusu Akira,” his eyes are bright and his grin could’ve led ships back to the coastline. “You are, without a doubt, the best that’s happened in my existence—you’re my best friend, super cool, and obnoxiously good-looking. I am so fucking in love with you.”

Oh.

Ringing. Akira’s ears are ringing as he processes what came out of the other boy’s mouth. It was impossible—so impossible that Akira had thought it needed another impossibility to make it possible. It was a fantasy so buried that he never let himself think it, and only let himself indulge in the idea in moments of weakness. It was a hidden shame, a chain that binds him, a broken record that mocked him for ever believing it could happen.

Yet here they were; Ryuji’s still grinning and Akira gradually, ever so slowly, starts to smile. That smile morphs into a grin, and eventually—

“You love me,” Akira laughs, unable to hold back his joy. “You love me, Sakamoto Ryuji.”

Ryuji joins in, doubling over, shoulders shaking, his hands still glued on him. “This is crazy!”

“So crazy!”

They both laugh even harder. They must’ve looked like a couple of idiots, standing around some random alley and practically crying of laughter for no reason. Neither of them give a damn.

After a bit, they sober up, mirth still clinging in their eyes and cheeks sore.

“So…’ Akira says, unable to stop smiling. “That feeling you were mentioning before…”

“Yeah, dude?” Ryuji has these tiny little dimples at the very top of his cheekbones if he’s grinning hard enough. It drives Akira crazy.

“Was it this? Was it love?”

He tilts his head. “Hell no. What I’m feeling right now, y’know...love,” Ryuji fumbles over the word, despite his brazen confidence from early. “I’ve been feeling that since Kamoshida’s castle.”

Akira’s mouth twitches. “Same here.” Shoving his hands in his pocket, he gives Ryuji an inquisitive look. “So if it wasn’t love, then what was it?”

Ryuji hums. “It took me awhile to realize what was going on with me, and it took even longer than that to let myself feel it. And, y’know, I was scared shitless that you wouldn’t feel the same way, so when we were—” he gestures between them. “Even if it was Maruki that made it happen, I guess I felt… accepted,” his expression turns sheepish. “And let me tell you, that feeling? It sticks with you.”

“I get that,” Akira says, voice hushed like confessing a sin.

They stare at each other, at a loss for words but finding no need to find them right away.

“Oh,” Akira blinks. “I haven’t even properly said it yet.”

Ryuji gives him a questioning look, and he responds by lifting one hand and places his fingertips to Ryuji’s cheek (where his dimples would be), touch featherlight. “Sakamoto Ryuji, I love you in every reality.”

To his delight, blood rushes to Ryuji’s face. “Quit it, ‘Kira,” he mutters. “You’re not fooling anyone with that cool bullshit, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh yeah?” letting his hand drop, Akira takes a step back. “Is that a challenge? Because I’ve been wanting to do this since the festival.”

He squints. “Don’t you dare.”

Akira takes a deep breath and cups his hands over his mouth.

“Akira, I swear—”

“I love Ryuji!”

“Oh my God—” Ryuji slaps a hand over his mouth, face beet-red. “Someone’s gonna call the cops on us now, thanks to your dumbass!”

Voice muffled, “So what?”

“So your ass goes to jail, for real this time.”

Akira says something incomprehensible.

“What?” he drops his hand.

“I said that you’ll probably just bust me out, won’t you?”

Ryuji snorts. “Duh. Give me a week, and you’ll be out on the streets making a mess again.”

“You know it.” If he doesn’t stop being so ridiculously earnest, Akira would have no choice but to squeeze him until he pops. He readjusts his glasses instead. “We should probably grab that soy sauce before Mona—”

He stops when Ryuji showcases a handful of soy sauce packets from his pocket, expression smug.

“First rule of thievery: a slick hand is a slick man.”

“That is definitely not the first rule of anything.”

“Thievery is a crime, Akira.”

The two of them banter as they head back, side by side. Despite everything, there’s still a bit of a shyness between them, but that’s okay—they’ll take things at their own pace, the way they want to do it.

Their shoulders bump, and if Maruki had asked him for a second wish, Akira would decline without hesitation.

—

“Give it up, Futaba. You’re playing to lose.”

“Ha! I haven’t lost a game since I misclicked in Solitaire when I was eight.”

“Ladies, neither of you know the art of the hustle in the way I’ve perfected it.”

“You going around random parks and picking up cans for three hundred yen isn’t a hustle, Yusuke.”

“And who taught him that word?”

“Ryuji.”

“Definitely Ryuji.

“You bet I did.”

“Um, no one’s played anything for two minutes now.”

“Trash talk is gameplay, Haru.”

“This is less trash talk and more senior citizen bingo chitchat.”

“Shut up Akira, winners can’t join the banter.”

“‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’”

“Wow. That’s deep, man.”

“Don’t fall for it, it’s from Spider-Man.”

“It’s Shakespeare, Ann.”

“See, this is why Makoto’s college bound and you’re not.”

“I don’t want to go to college. It’s a scam.”

“You wanna know what else is a scam?” Futaba slams her cards down hard enough to rattle their drinks. “A revolution!”

Groans fill the air, and Akechi looks over Ann’s shoulder from the next booth. “Mind if I mention that you’re done for?”

“I’m blonde, not stupid,” Ann whispers back fiercely. “And besides, it’s not like you could’ve predicted a revolution.”

He leans over and points to one of her cards, careful not to touch her. “Judging by the way Sakura and Kitagawa are holding their cards, they’re chock-full on pairs. If you use this,” he flicks one of her cards. “They’ll have no choice but to—”

“Time! Red flag! 911!” Futaba stands, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair. “No outside help allowed, it’s cheating! Akira, make them stop.”

“Oh, so now you want me to talk?”

“Yes, I command you.”

Akira turns to give Akechi a stern stare. “Stop cheating, it’s making Futaba upset.”

“Then why hasn’t she said anything about Sakamoto giving you strategies?”

“Pfft,” Futaba snorts. “That’s more of a handicap than anything.”

“Hey!” Ryuji tips his chair towards Futaba, balance precarious. “‘Kira, she’s bullying me!”

“You think I can stop her?”

“Good point,” he scans the room. “Yoshizawa, stop her abuse!”

“Huh?” Sumire tears her eyes away from Yusuke, who started rearranging his cards by pattern instead of… anything that can help him win. “Why me?”

“You guys are the same age, so,” he waves his hand in a need I say more? gesture.

“Can you just get on with the game?” Makoto sighs. “I’ve been wanting to play, but all you do is argue.”

“Don’t worry Makoto,” Futaba’s glasses glint like an anime villain. “This won’t take long.”

Three minutes later, Ann shoves her head into her hands, brutally defeated. “Akechi, you suck. Yusuke beat me.”

“You did the exact opposite of what I told you to do, how is that possibly my fault?”

“I thought it was reverse psychology!

Sumire can see Akechi physically restrain himself from commenting any further.

Their impromptu party has been nothing short of a success—surrounding them and littering the bar are empty sushi boxes with Morgana snoring one of them. After everyone ate the (ridiculous amount) of food, Haru suggested a casual game of Tycoon, but there had been a glint in her eyes that told Sumire it would be anything but. It was an array of cutthroat games topped with poor trash talk and a complete lack of camaraderie with one another; the opposite of what had happened in Maruki’s Palace.

When Ryuji had sprinted past her, swift as a lightning strike, Sumire was ready to join him until a hand gripped her forearm. Ann shook her head. The rest of the Phantom Thieves were geared up and ready to go, yet none of them made a move towards Akira. It was as if there’s a silent agreement from all of them. She explained to Sumire why, all while keeping an eye on the two boys fighting with each other.

“Akira… he takes his role in the group seriously,” Ann said. “Sometimes a little too seriously, but that’s because he has to. Nothing bugs him more than someone on the team getting hurt, so he ends up trying to do everything himself. And Ryuji,” she nodded at him. “He hates it. Tells him off every time. Akira doesn’t usually lose his focus like this, but whenever he does, it’s just better to let them sort it out. It may not seem like it, but Ryuji’s been doing this as long as Akira has. They’ll make it work.”

Her voice had been so certain, so confident and sure of that fact that Sumire could only nod and wait for them to finish.

Now though, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. They had accepted Sumire with open arms, had made her feel comfortable and welcomed in what’s clearly a tight-knit group.

“Okay, who’s next?” Akira calls, gathering the cards with deft hands and begins to shuffle the deck. “Makoto called dibs already.”

“I’d like to give it a try,” Haru says. “Many older fellows from the company seem to judge power through the hierarchy of cards, so I’d love to get more practice in.”

“Sounds problematic,” Ryuji comments.

“It is, but I’ll never back down from the chance to see defeat flood into their eyes.”

A beat.

“...Okay, so Makoto and Haru are in, anyone else? Winner gets to poke Morgana while he’s in a coma.”

“Speaking of—elephant in the room,” Ann leans forward and drops her voice. “Was it just me, or was Mona—”

“Super, really, mega, ultra weird as a human?” Ryuji finishes eagerly.

Sumire gasps, “Oh my God, you too?”

“Duh!”

“I’ll admit it: it truly made my stomach hurt to witness such a sight,” Yusuke shudders.

Haru frowns. “Don’t be rude to Mona-chan.”

“I ain’t saying he’s ugly! I’m just saying it’s effin’ weird to see our not-cat actually not a cat.”

“He looks like he’d hold a skateboard but not know how to skate,” Futaba says.

“He looks like he’d be carded for a PG-13 film,” says Ann.

“He looks like he’s a throw-in for an up-and-coming J-pop band.”

Everyone turns to Akechi, who raises an eyebrow. “What?”

All at once, everyone bursts out laughing, the sound filling up the every crevice of the room.

“You’re all mean people,” Akira crosses his arms but is unable to keep the humour out of his eyes.

“Don’t act all high-and-mighty, leader,” Ann snorts. “There’s no way you didn’t think that human Morgana wasn’t insane.”

“I absolutely did not see anything insane.”

“Probs cause you can’t see, period.” Ryuji moves forward and pushes Akira’s bangs up. “Christ, how can you see with this mop in front of you?”

With his hair no longer obscuring his view, nothing is hiding Akira’s smug lilt of his chin, his eyes seeming to glow blue when he says, “Third Eye.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Impossible in the real world, dude.” Without seeming to realize it, his hand was combing back Akira’s thick locks. “You’re just too nice to that damn cat.”

The act seemed so gentle, so tender, so natural and unhesitating that it’s almost as if she shouldn’t be seeing it. Maybe it’s because Akira seemed to almost lean into his touch, or the way Ryuji reached out like he was drawn to him. Or maybe it’s because no one even comments on it, like this was so common that it wasn’t even worth mentioning. Whatever it was, it’s enough to make her look away.

Only to see Akechi bring up his phone.

“I have to take this,” he stands, grabbing his coat.

Sumire frowns. “Who’s calling?”

“Business,” AKechi pushes past the door, bell ringing as it swings back.

Yeah, right.

“That reminds me,” she says, pulling up her own phone (dead, but no one needs to know that). “I have to call my father.”

“You can head up to Akira’s room,” Futaba suggests.

“No, it’s alright,” she notes that she didn’t suggest that to Akechi, but Sumire can’t exactly blame her. “I need to speak to Goro anyway.” She stands and bows to everyone deeply. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”

Grabbing her coat, Sumire follows Akechi out, leaving the warm glow of Leblanc behind her.

—

Somehow, she isn’t surprised to find him at the rundown laundromat once more, back pressed against the unmoving dryer.

They regard each other for a long moment.

“It’s a little chilly, compared to the last time we were here,” Sumire says.

“No one’s using the bathhouse right now.”

“That’s a shame,” she walks over to the washer on the far right, and with a little hop, makes herself comfortable on the off-white steel. “I quite miss the scent that was here. Kind of like a gust of wind wearing perfume. Now it smells like… well, nothing really.”

“I never liked the scent. It made me prone to headaches.” Akechi crosses his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Your phone didn’t ring,” she says simply. “And you never put your phone on silent. Really, it was like a light in the sky that says ‘Goro is in trouble, send help!’.” She leans forward, propping her chin in her palm. “I’m just responding.”

Akechi stays silent as a brick wall.

“Why did you leave? I don’t know about you, but I thought it was going pretty well, all things considered. You hate them, I know, but you seemed to be… well, not repulsed by them at least. And they seemed to get along with you alright.”

“That’s why I left,” he says, expression impassive. “They just had their perfect reality ripped away, everything they could want, and they’re all in there pretending that they’re fine. Lying to each other. It makes my skin crawl. They fight for the truth, yet cower behind a mask, an act—”

Sumire’s gaze turns icy. “Don’t try and make them out to be like bad people. It’s not an act. You know it’s not.”

They study each other, and then Akechi’s shoulder drops slightly. “I know. It would be considerably easier if it was. That group…” his eyes slide sideways. “Is perplexing, to say the least. I don’t understand how they function, I don’t understand how their dynamic doesn’t turn vicious over time, and I especially don’t group how they can forgive Kurusu despite his—his meddling of their lives.”

It’s the most candid she’s seen Akechi without him bordering on a breakdown. Sumire chooses her next question carefully, one that’s been bugging her.

“Why did you ask Akira for help back then?”

“Here, you mean?” At her nod, “I told you—when he’s feeling cooperative, he can prove to be of value.”

“Why did you come back to Leblanc with them today?”

“Allies are advantageous,” he answers a hairsbreadth too quickly.

“Why are you still here, Goro?”

Akechi hesitates. That’s a first. “I don’t know.”

“You seem to always have an excuse, don’t you?”

“What are you getting at?”

A silence falls over the two of them, heavy like a weighted blanket. The vending machine whirrs loudly behind her.

“How long have you been in love with Kurusu-senpai?”

Akechi stares at her, long and hard, as if he was considering his handful of moves in a game of chess. And then he walks towards the other washer, leaving the middle one empty between them and jumps on.

“Not as long as you, I don’t think.”

Immediately, blood rushes to her cheeks relentlessly. (Of course he figured it out.) For all her insistence of teamwork, she forgets that this isn’t a one-way mirror. “That’s probably true,” she admits.

Rotating on the smooth steel, Sumire faces him. “It happened pretty much the day I met him. Damsel in distress, knight in shining armor—the works. He was nice, I was flustered. Ripped straight out of a textbook shoujo manga,” she chuckles. “Considerably less cherry blossoms and way more weapons, though.”

“I’ve never found the appeal of those,” Akechi muses. “Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever picked one up for myself.”

“They’re really sweet if that’s what you’re into. I have a collection at home, I can—” she stops. Clearing her throat, she instead asks, “And you?”

“Are you asking me to gossip with you?”

“Less gossip, and more a conversation.”

He hums. “Perhaps I should’ve corrected you before,” he shifts his torso to her direction. “Kurusu Akira is something of an anomaly. He’s on probation, an outcast, hated by his peers and authority in his life. Barely a penny to his name, he was a nobody living in an attic at the top of some cafe. And yet, he ended up leading the phenomenon, the internationally acknowledged and polarized group of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

His tone is flat, inscrutable when he says: “And I have never met anyone I hated more.”

The smile that was nestled in Sumire’s face drained as she watched Akechi’s expression: eyes glazed over and posture completely relaxed—like he was informing her of the weather next week. “By rule of the formula, he shouldn’t have had the success that he did. He doesn’t deserve the victory the Thieves did, the friends he made. Because if someone like him can possibly be more than the scum he is…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know if what I’m feeling towards him is love. It’s possible. But just as possible as that is a simple, unencumbered infatuation towards him, an unhindered obsession.”

Akechi crosses his legs, and the action makes him look younger. “Take that information as you will.”

“That’s how I figured it out. The way you spoke about him was very…” she struggles to find a suitable way to describe how Akechi speaks about Akira—it was loaded with backhanded compliments (heavy on the backhand). Every time he spoke about him, for or against, it was like a battle of semantics; he was almost arguing with himself half the time. “Telling,” she finishes lamely.

Sumire shifts from where she’s sitting, almost wishing that someone would go into the bathhouse if not to create enough steam to warm her up. Though she considers herself lucky to finally be having this conversation, the venue is much to be desired.

“Diction aside, you have strong feelings for senpai. Be it love or hate or some sort of amalgamation of the two. So why didn’t you wish for him? It would’ve been easy. You wouldn’t even notice the change.”

He considers this for a moment, fingernails tapping away at the hollow of the washer. “Do you know much of existential topics?”

Blinking, “Like those tarot card tables in Shinjuku?”

“Not quite. Moreso on topics such as karmic retribution, fate, ‘destiny,’” he air quotes, mouth twisting in mockery. “Basically, the idea that certain things are out of your control.”

“Sure, I know of them. I can’t say I’m anything more than a casual believer, if I can even say that.”

“When I was young, I was as well. But I learned early on that the concept of the universe providing aid is nothing more than a fever dream,” he fiddles with his glove absentmindedly. “So everything I have, I fought tooth and nail for: my reputation, my studies, who I am. I made it happen, not anyone else,” Akechi shrugs. “So why on earth would I start now relying on someone else to get what I want when I know that it won’t work? Clearly, the universe—if such a thing exists—doesn’t give a shit. ”

“Wow,” is all she could say.

“Wow indeed.” He runs his hand over top the panel and comes up with dust. “I have a question for you, now.”

“Go for it.” Admittedly, she’s curious about his question. Akechi simply exudes the aura that he just knows everything there is to know. She wonders if he calculated that into himself, along with everything else.

“Since what Maruki did was essentially getting your call answered by the universe, how did you get over your wish so easily?”

“I didn't.” Raising an eyebrow, “Did you think I did?”

Her question is answered by a lack of retort. She tries not to feel satisfaction from it.

“I’m not over it,” she admits. “Of course I’m not. I still struggle with it, when I’m alone. The guilt gets crazy at night, so it helps to keep busy. Busy is… busy is good, usually,” Sumire looks down and swears she sees blood on her hands—flashing in and out like bad reception. “It helps to treat it like a regimen. A muscle to train.” Looking up, the corner of her mouth quirks up at him. “Kasumi was always the one to remind me to stretch when I overdid it.”

“I never figured out how altruism like that works,” says Akechi. “How do you live, serving others even at the expense of yourself? What’s the point in all of this if it isn’t for personal gain?”

The way he says it so matter-of-fact stops Sumire from dismissing him right away. There isn’t an ounce of malice in his words or any intent on meanness—only pragmatism.

“I get it,” Sumire says. “But in a way, selflessness is easier. It’s straightforward, helping others. For many cases, people don’t even know themselves well enough to be selfish.”

“Can’t say that I can relate. Not knowing the end goal is practically a death sentence.”

Sumire hums. “Figures. It’s almost scary how sure you are of what you want,” her eyes meet his, red on brown. “Are you so sure that you’d die for it?”

Akechi’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “What are you really asking?”

“If we defeat Maruki and return everything back to before,” she swallows. “What happens to you?”

Surprise morphs its way into Akechi’s face like watching moss grow on timelapse. And then he suddenly snorts, startling Sumire more than anything they’ve faced in the past week.

Akechi clears his throat, but there’s still traces of humor. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

Despite how morbid the conversation has shifted, Sumire still feels her lips stretch wide. “Not like you gave me much choice.”

“Point taken,” he says. “How’d you figure that I’d die as soon as all of this is over?”

“Maruki mentioned something back then, about people losing their wishes if this was all reversed. And that, partnered with what Kurusu-senpai said back then,” she shrugs. “It’s hard not to assume.”

“You’d make a fun verbal sparring partner, Sumire.”

“Oh, no way,” she waves her hand, hastily trying to hide delight. It’s not everyday you can pull a compliment out of Akechi Goro. “I’m all about the practice—put me on the spot without prep and I’ll fold like a bad poker player.”

“Like Takamaki?”

“Worse.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Impossible.” Akechi rests his elbows on his bent knee, propping his chin up on his hand. “Are you going to ramble on with some mindless monologue to try and talk me out of it?”

“I don’t know. Probably not,” she admits. “You’re too stubborn to fall for something like an intervention.”

Sumire understands, though, the extremities of the situation aside. If she gained the ability of hindsight and saw herself still pretending to be Kasumi, she’d probably be revolted enough to choose death, too. “There’s a good chance that Kurusu-senpai would try to stop you though.”

“He can try,” Akechi sniffs. “It’ll be a waste of time on his part.”

She makes a noise of agreement, and they lapse into a comfortable silence once again (they’re starting to make a habit of it, but she doesn’t mind), with only the buzzing of fluorescence serving as white noise.

Whether he’s doing this for himself or not, his sacrifice would ensure that reality would return to normal for everyone, granted that they can stop Maruki. His intentions are self-serving, completely indifferent to how this would affect everyone else, yet his forfeited life would mean that everyone would get their reality back. Even if it’s a means to an end, an egocentric reason, Akechi is willing to act as a martyr to achieve normalcy.

She lets her eyes drift towards him, lost in thought yet posture still perfect; no doubt another addition to his handcrafted state of being, and wonders if his accidental philanthropy is enough to atone for what he’s done.

Sumire almost cracks a smile—she’s stressing more about this than he is, but she can’t help it; she sees herself in him. Not completely, but in chunks. Specifically how they see Akira—his pride would never let him admit it to himself, but Sumire has no such reservations. There’s a substantial way they both revere him, place him on a shiny pedestal complete with those red velvet stanchions wrapped around.

Everyone must see him like this, she thought. Like fog on a mountain, something impossible to grasp. But then she saw how Akira was with his group for all but one evening and realized just how wrong she is.

Stretching her legs over the center washer, her knee bumps against his ankle. He doesn’t jerk away.

“Have you really not tried reading manga?” she asks.

“No. But once, I picked it up and pretended to read it for a publicity stunt,” says Akechi. “Why do you ask?”

“Because everyone reads manga.”

“Clearly not.” A pause. “I’ve caught a few episodes of Featherman, however.”

Sumire claps her hands together. “Really? That’s amazing! My sister and I used to cosplay them when we were young.”

“Oh, I only started watching recently. In Leblanc, actually.”

“You have to watch it from the beginning,” she frowns. “How else do you understand the plot?”

“Are you implying that Featherman has a plot?”

Akechi is not a good person, in the grand scheme of things.

“Of course! How else do you feel the pain of episode eighteen?”

Because of that, any place that he may have had with the Thieves had been scrubbed clean.

“Death of a Condor? Did you actually feel anything when you watched that? I thought it was a filler episode.”

And for Sumire, she didn’t have a place there to begin with.

“Interesting. I thought you were a casual fan?”

(But maybe—)

“I know a trap when I see one.”

They can form a place for each other, instead.

Sumire’s about to retort when Akechi cocks his head. “Why are you here, Sumire?” he asks again.

“For good company.”

“You were with them.”

“I was,” she confirms. “And then you left.”

A palpable beat passes.

“You’re wasting your time, befriending a dead man.”

Sumire’s mouth curves into a bittersweet smile. “Maybe we’re both wrong about that. There’s always a chance that we’ll see each other down the line, you know.”

“In a cemetery, maybe. When has optimism ever worked for me?”

“It could start working now.”

“I doubt it,” he scoffs, and then his expression softens ever so slightly. “If that did happen, us meeting again down the line… I don’t think I’d be against that idea.”

Akechi gives her a warning look and rushes, “But odds are—”

“Let me worry about the odds,” Sumire says. “I think I’m allowed to spend my time doing what I want. I mean,” she shrugs. “That’s what we fought for, right?”

He smiles, just a little. “I suppose it is.”

Chattering and laughter can be heard from the inside of Leblanc, but they don’t bother to listen.

#goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #blinding lights #mine #im on LIMITED TIME #BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH #pegoryu #akiryu #its FIVE AM #kasumi yoshizawa #fic tag

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Sunshower 10

[1 of 2 parts]

Ilia:You see them yet?

Sun:Nope.

Ilia:Honestly, Neptune has blue hair. He should stick out like a sore thumb.

Sun:We’re on an island with every faunus trait imaginable. Doesn’t everyone sort of stick out?

Ilia:You have a point. Can’t see him, neither of us have the skill to smell him…

Sun:I mean I kinda do.

Ilia:What?

Sun:Smelling. My nose is slightly keener than most. Not by too much though.

Ilia:Hmm, the more you know.

The two continued to walk along the increasingly crowded beach; their hands still together. Ilia led the way with a brisk walk that would’ve been too much for Sun if it wasn’t for his longer stride. He knew she walked fast but he never realized just how fast until now.

Sun:Uhhh in a hurry?

Ilia:What?

Sun:You’re bobbing and weaving in between people like a madman. My arm might as well be a limp noodle now.

Ilia:Sorry, just really focused on finding those two.

Sun:.....

Sun:Is being alone with me weird?

Ilia stopped dead in her tracks and turned to him. Sun wasn’t prepared for that reaction and couldn’t stop moving before being mere inches away; to the point he had to look almost directly down to see her. She looked into his eyes a bit panicked. A tint of red growing across her cheeks.

Ilia:N..no! That’s not why! Things are a bit awkward for sure but I don’t want to think-

Sun:Woah! Hey, I wasn’t being serious. Just trying to break the ice and all.

Ilia:....*squeezes hand*

Sun:Ow!

Ilia:Apology accepted.

???:Well look who finally decided to party!?

Sun and Ilia finally break eye contact and look towards the water to see their runaway friends. Judy waved enthusiastically as she approached them with Neptune behind them. The boy looked a little pale from what Sun noticed. It wasn’t long before Sun looked down and realized Neptune was walking barefoot. His feet were covered in sand. Wet sand.

Judy:Hey guys! Where y’all been?

Ilia:Looking for you two! What happened to meeting up by the boardwalk!!?

Judy:Oh yeah, both of you were taking your sweet time so I was showing goggles here a good time. We were enjoying a nice little walk by the ocean.

Sun:Nice huh? *looks at Neptune*

Neptune:Y...Yep. Totally nice and c...calming!

Judy:? Uhhh are you getting cold?

Neptune:I just need a minute. I’m fine. Probably need some food.

Judy:Oh ok. If that’s the case then Ilia and I can get some food real quick while you boys find a good spot to sit.

Ilia:Can’t we all go together? I don’t feel like losing anyone in a crowd again.

Judy:Well you’re definitely not losing one of us it seems.

Ilia wasn’t sure what Judy meant by that. Then, it hit her. She looked down and saw that she was still holding onto to Sun. Ilia looked back to see an intrigued look on the cops face and an even more invested look on Neptune’s. Sun acted quickly and shook his hand free and began explaining. Ilia wasn’t sure why but feeling him let go kinda...stung? She hadn’t noticed how cool the air actually was until he had let go.

Sun:Right Ilia?

Ilia:Hmmm? Oh! Uhh, yeah. What he said…

Judy:Gee, how convincing. Anyways,if you really want to all stick together that’s fine I guess. Just the four us. Getting food together. In pairs. At a party. Like a double-

Ilia:Sun and Neptune, stay here close to the ocean. We’ll be right back. *walks off*

Neptune:Wait! Get me away from the wa- and they’re gone.

Sun:Did Judy seriously manage to get your feet in the water?

Neptune:Dude, I can’t look like a wimp here. Especially in front of them. Judy is so cool!

Sun:We know a lot of cool people. None of them can get you in the water but me. You’re going all in this time.

Neptune:Pffft it’s not like that. *red*

Sun:If you say so “goggles.” Heheheh

Neptune:Oh so we’re teasing now? If that’s the case, what’s up with you and Ilia?

Sun:Nothing!

Neptune:Judy and I saw you two staring at each other and holding hands like if vows were about to exchange vows.

Sun:You’re ridiculous.

Neptune:Yeah okay. So what’s going on man!?

Sun:Literally nothing. We talked, got on the same page, and now we’re cool. Friends at a party that are having a good time is what’s happening.

Neptune:So it’s not awkward?

Sun:Of course it’s awkward! It’s only been like a day. Things are still fresh. Not to mention a bit….

Neptune:Sexually charged?

Sun:*red* I didn’t say that.

Neptune:Didn’t need to. I’m sorta a pro when it comes to these things.

Sun:You’re a virgin…

Neptune:I meant being uncomfortable ya jerk. I’m gonna let that comment slide though. Your brain is probably preoccupied with other thoughts right now. *smirks*

Sun:Shut up. Can we change the conversation?

Neptune:Sure. Oh yeah, how did hanging with Yang and Blake go?

Sun:Sigh...can we go back to the first conversation?

xxxx

Ilia:.....

Judy:*smiling*.....

Ilia:Please don’t.

Judy:That Sun fellow seems nice. Definitely cute.

Ilia:I said please.

Judy:We are in the middle of a food truck line. Gotta kill time somehow.

Ilia:Silence?

Judy:You’re no fun. Come on, something is up. They didn’t make me a cop for nothing.

Ilia:Funny, I thought they were just understaffed and needed bodies.

Judy:Ouch...cutting a little deep there. I’m only trying to see how you’re doing. Makes filing your reports easier.

Ilia:What does my love life have to do with my parole?

Judy:So he’s a part of your love life?

Ilia:I...no. Fuck you. You know my type.

Judy:Oh you’ve made it apparent multiple times. Does that mean I should expect to be spending the night? Again?

Ilia’s ears turned a bit pink as she felt Judy’s had touched the middle of her back. Quickly she grabbed the fox girl's hand and looked at her. Judy stuck her tongue out teasingly as they moved up in line.

Judy:The fact that you’re so defensive speaks volumes about something.

Ilia:Why is this so important to you?

Judy:It isn’t really. I’m only trying to satisfy my curiosity. You, Sun, and even Neptune all seem to be acting a bit strange. Surprisingly, Goggles knows how to keep a secret. Even when he’s controlling his fear of water.

Ilia:He told you about that?

Judy:No but every time he let out a small gasp when a wave touched his toes told me all that I needed to know. Looks like you made a good friend. Not surprising; your judge in character is typically good.

Ilia:That’s rich coming from my parole officer.

Dan:Next customer- oh...hey...

Ilia:You’re working at the food truck? Don’t you wanna party?

Dan:I like money, and don’t care much for people.

Ilia:Relatable.

Dan:We have burgers, hotdogs, and a variety of drinks. Also fries.

Judy:You know...probably should’ve asked them what they want-

Ilia:Two hot dogs and two burgers. All with fries. Iced peach tea, iced mango tea, and blueberry lemonade. Give this slacker water.

Judy:Hey!

Ilia:She’s buying as well.

Dan:Okay.

Judy:What!?

Ilia:It’s only right. All this free community service doesn’t do well for my bank account. Also the oldest should always pay. It’s only right.

Judy:*grabbing wallet* You’re lucky that I think you’re endearing.

Ilia:Cool. Dan, make that water a Coke.

Dan:On it.

Judy:Okay so I know that’s my favorite drink, but does that mean the other drinks you ordered are their preferences.

Ilia:Maybe.

Dan:Yes.

Ilia:Can you not?

Judy:You were paying that much attention to them huh?

Ilia:I’ve known them for a bit.

Dan:She’s seen them order it once.

Ilia:Dan we’re going to fight.

Dan:Or you can take your food now. *puts tray down* Enjoy the party.

Ilia:Thanks.

She reaches to grab it but Judy cuts her off and takes it. The two begin slowly walking back towards the water. Ilia can’t help but look at Sun sitting next to Neptune and laughing about who knows what. Sure he was admittedly cute; she wasn’t blind. Not to mention he was nice, but there needed to be more than that. Still,she couldn’t shake off their night together. Her heart pounded thinking about their conversation on the roof. It was so...liberating. So comforting, the way they confided in each other. Not to mention his tears. He actually cried for her. That was more unexpected than what came after.

That warmth. That mix of fear, comfort, and excitement. It was...new? Definitely different, but not bad; definitely not bad. Her face began to heat up thinking about what she could remember from their heated exchange. What was his take about his experience? Did… he enjoy it? Why did she care? What was this ache that hit the pit of her stomach every time she looked at his face.

Ilia:Judy?

Judy:What’s up?

Ilia:What if...something did happen? Something that wasn’t bad but isn’t exactly good either? What would you do to explain it?

Judy:That’s extremely vague but...I’d try to figure it out. Word of advice, your “type” is just like everything else in your life; it can grow and evolve. It’s even possible that you never really figured it out in its entirety. Take it from me, you never stop learning about yourself. Ilia you are young and at one of the best, if not the best place to party in Remnant. Have fun and take your time.

Ilia:Wow, that might be the most grown up thing I’ve ever heard you say.

Judy:Hehe, you’re not the only one who’s been doing some growing lately. Times are changing. Don’t stand still.

She hands Ilia the tray and winks as she nudges her a step forward.

Sun:*blushing* Dude I don’t need this.

Neptune:Anything happens at a party dude.

Sun:Except for that, unless I want it to.

Neptune:Or you’re drunk.

Sun:Shut up! I don’t need a-

Ilia:We’re back.

Sun:H..Hey!

Neptune:Gasp! Blueberry lemonade!

Ilia:Yep, got you a burger too, and a mango tea for Sun.

Sun:You actually remembered that?

Ilia:Is...that weird? It’s only been like a day or so.

Sun:I know that. I just didn’t think….never mind.

Ilia:O...kay? Everything cool?

Neptune:He’s still a little burnt out from his conversation at Blake’s place.

Judy:Oooo what’s that all about?

Sun:Nothing really.

Neptune:Everything actually. A little bit of a romance problem.

Sun:Basically I sort of thought there was something between us and maybe there might’ve been? Doesn’t matter now; she’s home with her girlfriend Yang and it’s gotten to me a tad bit.

Judy:You look like you’re doing well.

Sun:I got into a drunken argument with Yang and almost broke a guy's arm. Yang and I made up tonight but then I left the house right afterwards. Being around them right now is sort of…

Ilia:Numblingly irritating. Not in the fun way either. *bites hotdog*

Sun:I was gonna be nicer than that but, yeah. That’s sort of what I’m feeling too.

Judy:To think Ms. Belladonna had three different people gunning for her heart. Is that why I saw you completely hungover Ilia? Drinking your sorrows away?

Ilia:Something like that.

Judy:Tough break. I see how you got to that point but personally, I would’ve tried something different. The best way to stop thinking about one person is finding yourself around others.

Neptune:We all were sort of disjointed last night. A plan was in motion but it all crumbled.

Judy:Ah. Still, heartbreak and booze is dangerous. I would’ve just gotten laid.

Hearing that almost made Ilia choke. How was Judy tiptoeing around so many land mines by accident!? Sun was able to keep his composure but just barely. The two remained silent and continued to eat while Neptune was trying not to laugh. Looking at either one of them could be fatal. Pretending that he’s only being a shoulder to lean on for one and not the other was challenging. He could tell both were quietly screaming “help” in their own ways.

Neptune:(Guess I should do something.) You wanna dance Judy? (Why did I say that?)

Judy:Huh?

Neptune:Dance, everyone is partying around us. I’m feeling better and music is blaring. So let’s dance. Unless you’re scared.

Judy:Not at all. Let’s all get up and enjoy the festivities in a few minutes. Imma let this food settle real quick. After that, the fireworks should be about ready to go off in about another hour. Sounds like a good way to wrap the night up since a certain someone put a time limit on being out.

Ilia:You’re lucky I didn’t go back home the minute I didn’t see you all waiting for me.

Judy:Whatever. You’re happy you came. Now let’s party!

Judy hopped up and took Neptune’s hand then ran off towards the crowd of people. The poor boy barely had time to grab his lemonade. Sun Ilia couldn’t help but laugh at how easy it was for Judy to get Neptune doing whatever the fox faunus wanted. It was a good thing that Judy wasn’t the kind of person to take advantage of others.

The laughter quickly ended when the two realized that they were alone again. They looked at each other at the same time and didn’t do anything but stare for what felt like hours of uncomfortable awkwardness. A couple more seconds passed before gears finally started turning and they ran to catch up with their friends. Being alone was too much right now.

Though Ilia was reluctant to come out, she was actually happy she did. It took a little time but she was getting in the spirit of things. Neptune was still an atrocious dancer but Judy didn’t seem to mind one bit. He actually looked like he was getting a bit better at it if Ilia squinted hard enough. Sun found himself dancing a ton. The boy went from one dance partner to another; whoever was up to it.

Ilia was no exception. Eventually he ran buy and took her by the hand to move closer to the center of the party. He probably started with others in order to hype himself up she thought. Surprisingly, it went well. There was a bit of anxiety whenever they started but nothing major. She was having fun and he was too. It’s like what Judy said, it’s a party. Not having fun would be tragic.

The night continued with splendid music, food, laughs, and exactly one bottle of beer. Ilia caved a little on her self imposed rule. She needed a bit of liquid courage to the edge off. Thankfully Judy was there to make sure “a little bit” was exactly what Ilia got. Now all four sat comfortably on two benches. watching the dazzling fireworks display. All of them in pretty good spirit and exhausted feet. Sun had planned to sit next to Neptune but Judy dashed those plans quickly. Now he was next to Ilia. It wasn’t as weird as before yet he couldn’t help but feel his heart race a little. There wasn’t much room to sit so being a few inches apart was unavoidable.

Ilia was too busy watching the fireworks to really notice. She’d finally gotten swept up in the moment. Sun watched her gaze at them in peaceful bliss. Each one that went off made her eyes grow bigger; her skin constantly changing colors with them as they lit up the night sky. She wasn’t the only one changing colors though. Sun could feel his face getting red the longer he looked at her cheerful experience. Something about it was so….calming.

He would’ve stared at it for hours if she hadn’t tuned to him by chance and he was forced to act like he was watching the sky the entire time. Unfortunate for him, Ilia isn’t stupid. It was strange. She felt kinda happy he was looking at her for whatever reason. This initiated both of them trying to steal glances from one another. A game that didn’t go unnoticed by their friends.

Judy:I could be wrong but do I see a different kind of fireworks happening between those two.

Neptune:I wouldn’t go that far. Sparklers for sure. I hope they know it isn’t the most subtle thing either.

Judy:Not likely. But enough about them. So, tonight has been fun. Getting any fireworks between us Goggles?

Neptune:*red* That’s...I...your are definitely something bright and fiery.

Judy:What does that make you?

Neptune:Burning up and melting helplessly.

Judy:Hehe, I’m that intimidating? I know I tease but not that much.

Neptune:Pretty sure I’m over thinking a tad bit. A surprise date is, well, surprising. Trying to make sure it goes well.

Judy:Yeah I did kinda spring this on you. Well for the record, I’ve been enjoying it. Question is, are you more concerned about it going well or ending well?

Judy leans in closer with a devious smile. Neptune didn’t comprehend the words they spoke for a couple seconds but immediately got the message moments later. The realization noticeable from the blush on his face.

Neptune:Oh I...that wasn’t my intent...well it crossed my mind. Not that it was the only thing I was thinking! I thought of plenty of other stuff besides you. Physically I mean! You’ve been on my mind all night. That...sounded weird. Was-

His adorable rambling was cut off by their finger pressing against his lips. He wasn’t joking about burning up. Poor boy got to the touch.

Judy:This is the furthest you’ve gotten with someone hasn’t it? Be honest with me.

Neptune:More like it’s the first time in a long time that this felt more than just an act. This feels...real. In a sense. Like I’m not going through the motions.

Judy:Tell me Goggles, how do you want this night of yours to end honestly? Cause I can tell you how I want it.

Neptune:I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t love for us to spend the entire night together, but I’d also be really nervous about it the entire time.

Judy:(He’s so cute when he’s trying) Say, why don’t we continue this conversation back at your room? Talk more about the things we currently want, and see what goes from there?

Her voice was low and like silk. She looked at him with such a playful yet honest desire as Judy’s finger trailed off his lips and down to his chest. Nervous wasn’t enough to describe Neptune’s current feelings; he didn’t even trust himself to speak at the moment. All he did was nod. After that, Judy took his and stood up eagerly. This night gave a lot of information about Neptune and it was checking off a lot of the right boxes. Ironic for someone who’s spent a lot of time trying to not be put in one. Neptune wasn’t exactly sure how things got to this point so fast. Parties are a thing of mystery. He wasn’t going to chicken out of what this night might hold for him and mentally tried to psych himself up before leading the way. He didn’t get far since….

Sun:Uh, where are you guys going?

Neptune:(Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be helping them. Gods damnit….) we were…

Judy:Fireworks are almost over and even though the party will probably rage on for several more hours, I think I’ve had my fill. So Neptune and I are going to his place and get to know each other a little more. Hope you don’t mind?

Ilia:What!? Is this an all night thing or what?

Judy:My, my, that’s a bit of a personal question don’t you think? Who’s to say really?

Ilia:Don’t get cute with me. At least go to your place. Sun needs a place to sleep.

Sun:Oh hey I actually didn’t think of that. Thanks.

Judy:No can do. My place is a mess and there’s sensitive files out that shouldn’t be seen by civilians.

Sun:Are you making that up? You wouldn’t actually leave something like that out right?

Ilia:She’s a workaholic; not to mention a clutter bug. There’s totally something left out on her coffee table right now.

Judy:And my bed, couch, probably the sink. His place is nicer.

Ilia:But-

Judy:If you care so much about Sun sleeping somewhere nice then take him to your place.

A massive firework shot up and lit the entire area with dozens of smaller ones. in a grand finale. There it was, the stinger to this entire night. Completely overshadowed by what Ilia just heard. Suddenly all the anxious, awkwardness, and butterflies in her stomach came rushing back. That one beer threatened to even come back up for a split second with how hard her gut dropped. She wasn’t facing Sun but she knew he was definitely feeling the same. Judy was playing dirty. What happened to taking things at your own pace!?

Ilia:That’s-

Judy:You have a futon if I remember correctly. Not to mention a bunch of pillows. He can sleep there and you sleep in your room. No fuss, no muss. Unless, there’s some reason that’s a bad idea?

Ilia:*mentally taxed*....

Sun:...I could go back to my room at Blake’s?

Neptune:Dude...

Ilia:But you don’t want to be there.

Sun:Yeah. Doing something that you’re not comfortable with and ruining their night sucks as an alternative. So I’ll-

Ilia:You’re coming home with me.

She said crossing her arms and giving him a look of dissatisfaction. The others stood quietly. They weren’t expecting the sudden shift in attitude.

Ilia:Seriously, I thought I told you that you have to stop drawing the short straw for the sake of others all the time. You don’t think I’d feel guilty putting you in a position where you’re miserable?

Neptune:She’s right. Be a little greedy for yourself sometimes man. No need to always bite the bullet.

Sun:I…*scratches head* my bad.

Judy:Well if that’s settled then we’re all set. Ilia, don’t worry about community service tomorrow. Take a proper morning to unwind. Leave the paperwork to me.

Ilia didn’t get the chance to respond before Judy left with a flustered and nervous Neptune. Once again, her and Sun were left alone. Only this time it felt like they were back on the pier. Ilia rubbed her arm and try finding anywhere to look that wasn’t his face. That stupidly endearing face.

Sun:So you wanna party a bit more before heading back?

Ilia:I think Judy robbed what energy I had left. We can start heading back and talk on the way.

Sun:Okay.

That might’ve been the plan, but it did not happen. Not exactly anyways. They did indeed leave behind the festive noises and laughter to finally turn in for the night but talking felt impossible. Sure there was plenty they wanted to say, but they never managed to find the words for them. Instead they walked as quiet as death itself on the way to Ilia’s house. Each with a thousand unspoken thoughts on their mind. Sun contemplated on if this was a good idea while Ilia tried her best to remember just how clean her house was. She’d never have a guest. Not even Blake. Ilia’s home was her escape from the world; her little piece of sanctuary in the chaos she called her life. Now she was about to share it.

Part 9

#sun x ilia #ilia amitola #rwby #rwby sunshower #neptune vasilias #sun wukong #rwby ships #rwby sunspots #this chapter was so long that tumblr said no #if this gains traction fast then the second part will be up fast

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chronicbatfictioner · 4 years

Text

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 10

The pretty boy in a tight leather suit was as good and pretty with his stitches as he looked in a tight leather suit, Jason observed. The older man, looking much more like a highly trained and competent fighter, but with a similar mental age as Damian, was having quite a success in entertaining the boy.

Overall, the accommodation was decent - no one could come in undetected, or get out unnoticed. He figured this was some sort of containment unit, originally; only later used as a safe house. It was located, ironically, near Jason's old home at Crime Alley. He knew the area well, even the underground side of it. If he were to escape this place, it would have been easy.

But the boy - 'Stray' - seemed earnest when he said the Oracle's name. Thus far, however, there was no presence of the Oracle themselves. Jason was still unsure if the Oracle was a man, a woman, or a group of people - and has settled for a non-binary pronoun in his mind.

Plus, he was receiving free, neat stitches without having to face some sort of legal authorities. He sincerely doubted that the Gotham Police would be able to provide protection or service quite like this, regardless of what he was told.

"What's the Oracle, by the way?" he finally decided to ask, his curiosity won.

Stray blinked. "Uh, an entity that holds numerous kind of information network to help the good people of Gotham take the city back from evil?" he replied.

"Did you rehearse that?" Jason quipped.

"No, thankfully, I'm a professional. That one came straight out of my sitting end." Stray retorted.

Jason barked a laugh. Stray beamed a little at him. "Sorry... just... it's been a while since I hear sincere sarcasm." Jason apologized.

"Heeey, I like this guy! You're a Gothamite, aren't you?" Talon commented from halfway across the room.

"I... how'd you know?" Jason didn't bother trying to deny it. He realized that only Gothamites would appreciate good sarcasm. "Are you?"

"He's not. He was a circus dude and got this mad skillz in figuring out where people came from." Stray replied. "I am, though."

"I could tell that one, actually. You both know how to fight well, yet you have no superpowers, and you helped a random someone and joined a brawl without wondering who was good, who was bad. Typical Gothamites." Jason snarked, only slightly regretting the rudeness.

Talon seemed unperturbed. "See, kitten? You should really reign in your tempers," he commented.

Stray sighed dramatically. "Seriously, dude. It was you who said something about the brawling party and you're not invited. I was just there to make sure nobody died." he deadpanned. "And by nobody, I meant those ninjas. He has a nasty temper."

"What can I say? I had to join in, we're heroes, man!" Talon quipped.

"Are you heroes like Superman?" Damian asked curiously. "You have colors, but muted, unlike Superman's... rather obnoxiously eye-catching uniform..." he added with a slight scowl on the corner of his lips.

"Costume. But hey, you know, he operates in the daylight hours. He has to be visible, right? Otherwise, people might think of him as a weather blimp or something. We, on the other hand, prefer to work nights because the bad people of Gotham City like to work nights, too." Talon explained; reasonably, simply, but not condescendingly. At least Damian bought the explanation. Jason knew how his tempers would flare if he thought he was being belittled.

He unconsciously sighed. The two 'heroes' have provided adequate meals in the form of Turkish fast food for them. The taste was... horrible, compared to the ones made by the League's cooks. But Damian had eaten them, anyway, after seeing Jason ate his. Jason himself wasn't bothered by the taste - he would never be bothered by the taste of food as long as they're hot and fresh; he'd had his share of eating cold discarded leftovers, anyway.

The bright side of consuming the high-carb food was that Damian was starting to sway on his feet.

"Damian, I believe it's time for me to turn in for the night. Will it be okay if you explain to these two what we're doing in town?" he told Damian. The latter blinked owlishly, obviously fighting his exhaustion.

"I... if you don't mind, Red, I would prefer you to explain to them while I repose. My mind does not want to compose words in English right now," he admitted, and Jason snickered internally.

"You want to go to bed?" Talon asked, a little oblivious of Damian's attempt to behave older than his actual age. "Would you like me to keep you comp--" Jason cleared his throat just in time, and blessed be, Talon seemed to understand and corrected himself, "...stand guard for you?"

"If you deem it necessary, then conduct yourself, Talon. I shall not attempt to escape this... establishment - not especially while Red is quite incapacitated. But I understand you have your orders." Damian replied. Stray coughed, and Jason would swear that he was hiding a giggle.

"So he thinks he's a prisoner." Stray finally commented once Talon and Damian walked out of the med-bay toward the bedrooms.

"I hope we're not since you've both been so kind and am not looking forward to popping a stitch," Jason replied. "at least not tonight. Such neat stitches, too," he added.

"You're not. We'll know if you get out, but we won't stop you." Oracle finally made its presence known, through a projection on the wall. Stray pointed at the area between his eyebrows, and Jason immediately noticed a camera located roughly on the projection's forehead. "So, now that we're all adults here... Stray notwithstanding, care to let us in on what's going on?"

"About the boy being Bruce Wayne's son?" Jason groaned.

"That, among all others. What happened to Ra's Al Ghul and his daughter, Talia? Why are they not here?" Oracle asked. "I have done some researches and found that both Ra's and Talia have disappeared. Care to enlighten us?"

"They're dead," Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. "They were murdered, and I've been assigned by Talia to send Damian to his father if or when she is deceased."

"And you're sure the father is Bruce Wayne?" Stray asked.

Jason shrugged, "Hey, it's not like I was there when it happened, right? Damian was three years old when I met him for the first time. That's what she told me, and that's what I'm gonna go by."

"If..." Oracle hesitated. "A hypothetical situation here: if you did get to meet Bruce Wayne and told him that he has a son, what's next?"

"I suppose there would be processes - DNA tests and whatnot. I'll remain by Damian's side, regardless. Talia has assigned me to be Damian's main Ghost. That is, the caretaker." Jason explained. "Are you worried that Wayne would not admit it?"

"That's one of the things I worry about," Oracle admitted. "What then, if he won't accept Damian?"

Jason shrugged again. "We shall convince him by all means. Otherwise..." he paused and inhaled sharply. "I can take care of him, legally or whatever."

"Jason Peter Todd, 19, has been a milk-box face for six years. You're a few months away before being declared dead in absentia." Oracle recited. Jason was not surprised. He knew that Stray had collected his blood - presumably for use of identification. "So I suppose you don't want to be declared dead, and thus you allowed Stray to take your blood."

"You're good," Jason smirked. "Talia revered you highly; said that you're the epitome of all that is good in the world. Even while being invisible."

"You're a charmer, obviously," Oracle quipped dryly. Stray actually snickered this time. "You didn't even ask who'd put your face on said milk box,"

"Must be some people my folks owed money to," Jason snorted. "Anyway, I was planned to return to Gotham prior to being declared dead, anyway. So that I can exist alongside Damian if... the scenario you mentioned above happened. It just kind of happened a little too soon." he sighed dejectedly. "I was taking Damian out on a training excursion when they attacked... We tried..." he paused, wondering just how much Oracle knew of the Lazarus Pit. "The damage on their bodies were too extensive. The perpetrators were... long gone when we got back."

"I hope by 'we' you don't mean just Damian and you," Stray remarked, looking a little pale even under his amber-colored goggles. "and who's 'the perpetrators'?"

"Oh, no, I meant me and a number of my trusted compatriots. Damian's guards. We're spreading out as we speak to divert attention from the League of Shadows, each of us carrying a child of Damian's size. League of Shadows is... 'the perpetrators'. They're a league of murderers and covert assassins that reneged from us to follow Lady Shiva, who was once one of Ra's Seven Men of Death." he explained. "Anyway, Houston, since you said I'm not a prisoner here, I think it would be fair if you answer my question this time. What was the problem Talon talked about to you?"

#JayTim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Barbara Gordon #Batless!AU #Red Robin #Robin #Nightwing #Red Hood #oracle!barbara #stray!tim #Talon!Dick #Bruce Wayne #batfamily

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salthaven · 5 years

Text

Stupid and in Love: Origins, Part Three

Chapter Three: Origins, Part Three

The moment Alya runs out of class, Marinette chases after her. Because Alya, in her crazed rush to go record Stoneheart (again), just had to leave her bag behind! The very bag, of course, that Marinette had put the Ladybug Miraculous in!

Seriously, Alya wants to be a superhero, then goes off and leaves her chance behind.

Marinette feels frustration and fear fill her as she darts out of the school. For a moment, she can’t find her new friend, and that scares her. Where did Alya go? Is she okay, did Stoneheart hurt her?

A flash of ombre hair allows Marinette to breathe, and she sprints after her friend, yelling the reporter’s name.

She’s so set on reaching Alya, she forgets about the cause of this whole conundrum. That is, until a Stoneheart is grabbing a car and throwing it at Alya, who managed to get his attention.

Marinette feels her heart stop as she sees the car being thrown. She trips as she hears Alya’s pained groan. She freezes when the Stoneheart spots her next, and moves to grab another car. Marinette can feel her pulse quicken, feels every bone in her body yelling at her to move, to get out of the way, to run far away. But she doesn’t move. She stands still, heart filling with dread.

She’s going to die, she just knows it. She’s going to be trapped and die and there won’t be any Ladybug to save her, there won’t be anyone to save her-

Stoneheart throws the car. Marinette cowers, pulling her arms up in a futile attempt to protect herself.

Suddenly, she finds herself being pulled away. Eyes opening in shock, she looks into brown eyes that search the city’s skyline as he hops from building to building. The mysterious hero holds her close to his chest as he leaps, and Marinette wraps her arms around his neck after realizing how high up they are.

Just because she was Ladybug for one day doesn’t mean she can survive falling now.

A few minutes later, her hero sets her down. Marinette stumbles, shaky from the sudden trip. Her hero is there immediately, catching her and holding her steady.

“Are you alright, br- beautiful?” He asks, and Marinette blushes.

“I am, thanks to you…” She trails off, unsure of what to call him.

He pauses, too, then grins. “Carapace. Call me Carapace.”

The name fits. Her hero wears a green and black bodysuit that reminds her of Chat Noir’s, but more...reptilian. He wears a hood to hide more of his face, and his eyes are covered by goggles that hide half of his face. A hexagonal pattern covers his suit, reminding Marinette of a turtle’s shell, and dark green boots hide his feet. On his back, he wears a shield that matches his overall ensemble, and a bracelet with a turtle charm hangs on his wrist. Clearly, he’s been given a Turtle Miraculous. Yes, Carapace...suits him.

Marinette feels her blush darken, realizing that she’s been checking out Carapace for way too long to go unnoticed. “I, uh, thank you! My name is Marinette! Thank you, again.” She winces. “I already said that, didn’t I?”

Carapace laughs, beaming at her. “You did, but that’s alright, Marinette.” He seems like he wants to say more, but then there’s a crash and a scream. Right, Stoneheart. Akumas. Carapace looks away, eyes widening, and then he glares at the source.

“Listen, Marinette,” he says, turning his gaze back to her. “You need to stay here. Don’t go near Stoneheart again, okay? Ladybug, Chat Noir, and I will fix this, just stay out of danger.” He frowns. “I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

The words are touching, and Marinette nods. “Of course! I’ll wait here right- right here. You, um, good luck? Defeating Stoneheart?”

Carapace smiles softly. “Thank you.” And then he’s gone, leaping into action.

Marinette watches him go, eyes trailing after him.

‘He saved me,’ Marinette thinks. ‘He didn’t even hesitate.’

He’s like Chat Noir, she realizes. He’s brave and courageous in the face of danger. He’s strong and protective, and willing to risk himself in order to save someone as clumsy and accident prone as her. He’s a real hero.

And he needs Ladybug’s help. They all do. And what did Marinette do? She tried to hide. She tried to shove her responsibility onto Alya, tried to force her friend into the danger instead, tried to be a coward even if it hurt someone else.

Something sparks in Marinette’s soul. She rips open Alya’s bag and opens the mysterious box.

Tikki flies out and smiles at Marinette. “I knew you’d stay!” She cheers.

“All I have to do to fix everything is catch the butterfly and use my Miraculous Cure, right, Tikki?” Marinette asks, already fastening the earrings back into her ears.

“Yep! You and Chat Noir just have to break the object again, catch it, purify it, and everything will be fixed!” Tikki hovers in front of Marinette, ready. “Just say the words, Marinette!”

“Carapace, too,” Marinette says with a grin, then shouts, “Tikki, spots on!”

This time, the flow of magic feels exhilarating. It feels right. It feels like destiny intertwining with her very core.

It feels miraculous.

Ladybug bounds away, rejuvenated and ready for action. She’s got an Akuma to beat, but first, she has a friend to save.

~~~~~

Stoneheart is at the Eiffel Tower, because of course he is. Why wouldn’t the giant monster guy go to the most famous attraction of Paris to reenact some weird Godzilla scene, holding up his crush for all of Paris to see (and the blonde bully of their class, too)?

Ladybug wants to appreciate the sight of Chloé being scared, because how often does she get to see that, but no, she has to focus. She’s a hero, god damnit, and it’s time she acts like one.

Carapace and Chat Noir are besides one another, trying to reason with Officer Roger.

“We can’t attack him!” Chat says, eyes narrowed. “There’s a person under all that rock! You can’t shoot him!”

“He’s terrorizing Paris!” Roger responds angrily. “And besides, it’s not like you’ve been any help! In fact, it’s even worse now.”

Ladybug scowls at Roger. Perhaps, in another world, she would have backed down when hearing these words. But she sees the fire in her partners’ eyes, and it fuels her own spark further.

“Don’t you dare blame Chat Noir for this!” Ladybug hisses out, stalking forwards. “This isn’t your everyday problem right here, this is magic! You can’t even stall Stoneheart, how would you expect us to know how to beat him right away?”

Roger snorts. “We don’t expect you to know. So step aside, kids, and let us show you how it’s done.”

Carapace scowls. “Dude, shooting him is only going to make him grow stronger. Didn’t you see yesterday, when Chat Noir and Ladybug fought him?”

But Roger is getting ready to command his squad.

Mayor Bourgeois stops him. “Roger, you cannot fire! My poor Chloé is up there, held by that, that monster!”

Roger huffs, then pulls out a megaphone. “Stoneheart, we demand that you return Chloé Bourgeois, or we will use brute force.”

Stoneheart growls. “You want her?” He booms, raising Chloé above his head. “Then you can have her!” To everyone’s horror, he proceeds to throw Chloé, who begins to scream as she falls.

Ladybug acts on instinct. Bully or not, she’s not letting anyone be hurt. So she moves.

A hop, skip, and a swing back to safety, Chloé is safe. The blonde clings to Ladybug, crying dramatically and praising the bluenette.

As soon as Chloé is safe, Roger turns to his men. “Draw your weapons!” He screams. Ladybug feels her heart drop, and Chat quickly distracts the men, yelling at them to stop.

A scream of agony gets everyone’s attention. On top of the Tower, Stoneheart falls to the ground, purple butterflies flying up above his head.

As Stoneheart roars, the butterflies turn into the face of a masked man. The man smiles demeaningly, then speaks. “People of Paris, listen carefully. I am Hawkmoth, and I come to tell you that you have been wronged. Ladybug and Chat Noir cause you to suffer. If they grant me their Miraculous, I will fix all of their mistakes, and Paris will be safe.”

Ladybug growls. How dare he try to flip the narrative, to hide the truth! If there’s one thing Ladybug hates, it’s liars, and a false truth is just as bad.

Smirking, Ladybug steps forwards, clapping. “Good job, Hawkmoth, but we all know who the villain is here. You see, Chat Noir and I are only here because you started terrorizing the citizens of Paris. Let me make one thing clear: we will not be giving you our Miraculous, you will be giving yours to us.” She leaps up to the tower, slashing her yoyo through the cloud of Akumas. Swipe by swipe, she catches them all, then turns to face the crowd. Staring straight at the horde of reporters, she states, “People of Paris, no matter how long it takes, we will find Hawkmoth and bring him down! You can always count on Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Carapace to help you!” She releases the swarm of butterflies, which have turned white.

She hears a groan behind her, and watches as Stoneheart gets back up. A purple outline covers his face, and then he swipes at Ladybug. She jumps back, and the Akuma starts scaling the Eiffel Tower, going higher and higher. Behind her, the other Stonehearts begin to climb the Tower as well.

“Help!” Mylène screams. “I’m scared of heights!”

The trio of heroes leap into action. Ladybug searches for a plan, searches for a clue to help her-

“What do we do, my lady?” Chat asks, knocking back one of the copies. “We can’t hit him, that only makes him stronger!”

“Well, we already know where the Akuma is!” Carapace responds. “Why can’t we just get that out of his hand again.”

“That’s in the hand where Mylène is,” Ladybug says. Then she gasps. “I got it! We don’t separate them, we bring them closer together! Boys, follow me.”

“Why do I feel like this is how things will usually go?” Chat asks, but he follows nonetheless.

Reaching the top of the Eiffel Tower, Ladybug stares at Stoneheart. If she can get the right angle with her yoyo, she should be able to make them kiss. But once the Akuma is purified...how will she save Ivan and Mylène in time?

“Ladybug!” Chat calls out. “Do you have a plan? Because we have lots of company.”

“We need to use our powers! Carapace, what does yours do?”

“I can create a protective dome, but it’ll only last for five minutes before I detransform!” Carapace climbs up behind her, trying to stay out of reach.

Perfect.

“Alright, let’s do this! Lucky Charm!” A flash of pink fills her hands, and Ladybug is left with, “a parachute?”

��This’ll do.

Without wasting a second, Ladybug swings her yoyo at Stoneheart, wrapping up his closed wrist, then tugs. The force causes Mylène and Stoneheart to kiss. In shock, Stoneheart opens his hand, dropping Mylène and the paper. Mylène catches one of his fingers, a yelp of fear escaping her.

“Chat! The paper!” Ladybug yells, and Chat Noir dives through the air, falling until he can bat the paper up to Ladybug with his baton. Ladybug snags it with her yoyo and rips it, freeing the Akuma.

“No more evil doing for you, little Akuma!” She catches it, and Stoneheart’s transformation falls. With it, so do Ivan and Mylène.

“Chat! Use Cataclysm to make a landing! Carapace, use your dome on the citizens to make sure they don’t get hit!” Ladybug leaps off the Tower, parachute on her back, and grabs Mylène. As soon as she has the smaller girl in her grasp, she pulls the cord on her Lucky Charm, opening the parachute. The two drift safely to the ground as Chat catches Ivan, and Carapace protects the citizens from harm.

When they reach the ground, Ladybug releases Mylène, who heads over to Ivan. Smiling at her partners, Ladybug says, “Only one thing left to do!”

Sighing, she releases the purified Akuma. “Bye bye, little butterfly.” Then she chucks the parachute into the air and yells, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

She doesn’t expect the swarm of ladybugs to fill the air, and watches in awe as the Eiffel Tower is fixed.

As reporters rush up to the trio, Ladybug feels...ready. She feels confident, with the two boys beside her, and knows that she can do this. She’s Ladybug, and she’ll save the day. She is a hero.

~~~~~

The next day, Ladybug’s courage runs through Marinette. It’s this courage that leads her actions, and causes her to pull Alya to her original spot.

Chloé scoffs when she sees Marinette. “Excuse you, Dupain-Cheng. What do you think you’re doing in my seat?”

Marinette smiles sweetly. “It’s my seat, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, right. Move it, baker girl.”

The bell rings, and Marinette doesn’t move. She just smiles sweetly. When Miss Bustier arrives and Marinette still hasn’t moved, Chloé scoffs again and stomps over to the spare seats up front, Sabrina trailing her.

Alya snickers. “Good job, girl! I didn’t know you had it in you!”

Marinette leans her head against her hand, letting one finger brush her earring. “It’s like you said, all that is needed for bad to prevail is that good people do nothing.”

Alya beams. “I’m glad you took my advice. Confidence looks good on you.”

Marinette smiles, then changes the topic. “So, did you end up making your Ladyblog?”

Alya shakes her head. “No. I think, if I make one, it’ll be more of a hobby. You were right, Chat Noir does deserve more focus, too. And then there’s that new guy, Carapace! Maybe I should do a bit on all of them!”

“Just a hobby? So does that mean you won’t be running into danger just to get recordings of them?” The idea is relieving, to be honest.

Alya smirks. “No, I don’t think I will. It’s not that smart to run in when you’re not a magical supergirl, you know?” She toys with a necklace that hangs around her throat, playing with the fox tail charm. “But it would be nice to write a few articles here and there.”

Marinette nods. “That sounds amazing! What will you call it?”

Alya hums. “I’m not quite sure about that, actually.”

“What about the Miracleblog? Or, hmm, the Miracublog?”

Alya grins. “Miracublog, I like it! Marinette, you’re a genius.”

No, she’s not. She’s just incredibly lucky.

Class starts, and Marinette knows that, in the end, everything will be fine.

-----

And just like that, Origins is completed!

Tags: @northernbluetongue @indecisive-mess-named-me @magnitude101999

#Stupid and in Love #Alya I see what you did there #ninette #god i love these kids

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shadedrose01 · 4 years

Text

Young God

Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Tags: idek how to tag this one, uhh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, kind of?, more like, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies with benefits?, Rivalry, Rivals with benefits?, Its hard to explain aodjsk, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Nothing shown tho, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, parkner week 2020, Day 2, Arguing

Prompts: “And i said ‘no,’ you know, like a liar” / identity shenanigans / iron lad

Notes: Day 2, everybody! Hope you enjoy! 💞💞

Read on ao3 Here!

He says "oo, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends,

I'm the king and you're the queen, and we will stumble through heaven,"

Peter sucks in a quick breath just before he crashes onto the rooftop, sliding across the sandpaper like tiles and feeling as it rips up his suit, the backs of his arms and legs, his hands as he claws and slows himself down until he finally stops, just at the edge of the house.

He stays still for a second, pants as he hears the mechanical whirrs and clicks of the robotic arms coming closer and closer to him, before he feels his hair stand up, and jumps backwards off of one rooftop to the other, just as Doc Ock crashes through the house below him, leaving only destruction in his wake. Peter listens sharply, for a scream or a cry but hears nothing, and feels a wave of relief knowing the family must not of been home, before its quickly wiped away as he instinctive jumps out of the way again, a claw crunching the stone he was stood on just moments before.

"Come on, Spider-Man," the man taunts, his bluish purple goggles gleaming in the setting sunlight. "Stop running away, and fight!"

Another claw, and another jump, except this time, Peter bounces off of the next rooftop he lands on, circling around and kicking the man right in the jawbone. "You asked for it!" He spits out as the kick throws him back, off kilter for a second, a moment that Peter tries to take to get out of distance again, out of range, but he's too slow, a third claw reaching for him, about to grab him-

Before its blasted to pieces by a bright purple light, and Peter cant help but to stifle the annoyed sigh that threatens to escape, the simmering anger that's been inside him all day starting to boil, to bubble up as he hears the familiar, way way too familiar Southern drawl call out, in all its mocking glory, "Hey squid boy, watch where you're throwing those things, someone could get hurt!"

Peter lands onto the brick wall, sticking into place and turns just to see Doc let out an irritated yell, and lunge for the bright red and gray suit, purple lights attached like lazor pointers to a cat, an easy target that never seems to faze the man no matter how many times Peter told him to tone them down. For once, Peter understands Docs anger, annoyance, as the suit weaves through his claws and shoots them apart with ease, laughing and mocking him the entire time. It makes his insides twist, and his blood boil, his heart racing and his teeth gritting together.

Peter throws himself off the wall just in time to kick Doc to the ground, all of his claws and weapons destroyed, and an affronted, almost insulted noise comes from the robotic suit flying beside him. "You can't just come in and steal the kill, that's not cool, dude!"

Peter doesn't even spare him a glance, webbing the villians hand, feet and then body to the ground. "What, like you did?"

"I did not," The robotizied voice cries out, like a child. "I was just helping you out, Spidey! You should be thanking me!"

Now, Peter can hear the smug grin on the man's face, and this time he can't help the bitter sigh that escapes, as he turns to send a heated glare. "Fuck off, Iron Lad."

He can practically see his eyebrows raise, even through the emotionless mask and the man laughs, loudly, his voice higher pitched with pure amusement as he says, "Oh ho ho, Man! What's got you in a piss poor mood, huh? Having a bad Spidey day, Spider-Man?"

Peter's nostrils flare, and he has to physically hold back the words that long to spill from his mouth, tasting bitter on his tongue, flames licking at his lungs. "Police?" He asks instead, glancing away to glare at the stones below him, his hands clenched hard into fists.

"On the way, eta maaybe two minutes?"

"Then let's go." Peter doesn't wait for an answer, shooting a web off into the distance and yanking himself away, huffing out a breath when he hears the very clear, "Sir, yes sir!" And the echo of replusors sound from behind him, following him like they always do.

"If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes,

I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight,"

Peter swings for a while, trying to ignore, pretend that the metallic sounds of blasters aren't following him, hoping that eventually, the man, that Harley would get the hint and leave him the fuck alone today, but after a while, he realizes that won't happen and lands on the top of a building, crashing to the ground a little rougher than necessary, feeling his bubbling anger, annoyance rising higher and higher in his chest.

"Finally," The suit groans out, landing right beside Peter on the rooftop before flailing his arms out dramatically. "I thought you were never gonna stop, jeez."

"I'm on patrol." Peter growls out, going to the edge of the rooftop to look down and focus his hearing, to make sure he doesn't miss any moments, any crime that he needs to stop, almost wishing, itching that there was some so he could get away from the man encased in metal. He doesn't know why his presence is bugging him so much today- he's normally annoying, sure but not this much, never this bad- but it is and Peter just longs to get away (even as a part of him begs to get closer).

The man just huffs, his neon purple eyes seeming stare into Peter's soul incredulously. "Thats never stopped you before." When Peter just ignores him, the man takes a step forward and his helmet retracts, the face of the one and only Harley Stark- son to Tony Stark, heir to Stark industeies and the main pain in Peters ass for the last eight months- scrunched up with a weird mix of childish annoyance and worry that makes him look constipated. "Seriously, Spidey. What's going on? Are you okay?"

The real concern that slips into the mans tone makes Peter's insides twist, but he ignores it as he spits out, "Why do you care? Thought you only cared about yourself?"

Its intentionally rude, and he knows it hits its mark when a pang of hurt runs across Harley's features before it disappears back into a blank slate so similar to the one his father wears for the same reason, to hide the pain. "You know that's not true." Even his voice has gone back to painfully neutral, and any satisfaction Peter anticipated to feel is overwhelmed by a sickening guilt that poisons him from the inside out, twists his stomach and makes him feel nauseous.

He should apologize, he knows, but he's still- he still feels the burning, the fire under his skin, in his bloodstream, charring his lungs, molten lava in his veins, and he can't stop the sour words from slipping past his lips, with a faint mocking laugh. "Do I?"

"I thought you did." He mutters, his usually bright, summer day skies eyes darkening as a storm cloud passes by, rumbling with a thunder that makes Peter's heart thump heavily in his chest. "I know you do. I know you don't really like me, I get that, but you normally aren't this much of a dick about it. This isn't you."

Peter just laughs again, bitter and twisted and wrong sounding, even to himself. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

He says, "oo baby girl, don't get caught on my edges,

I'm the king of everything, you know my tongue is a weapon,"

Harley's eyes just narrow more, his jaw clenching, and Peter can see his words are started to get to him, his fingers twitching and his shoulders raising. Good. "I think I know more about you than you think."

"Do you?" Peter snorts, shaking his head in exasperation as he glances over to the man, glaring, the fire burning brighter, flames licking at his throat. "Say, what do you know about me?"

"I know your kind," He starts, scowling, counting on his fingers as if Peter is a child that he's lecuring. "I know you're considerate. I know you put everyone else before yourself, because you think somehow, subconsciously that your life is worth less than others. I know you feel guilty for something that happened in the past, and try to better yourself because of it. I know you care, much more than you let on." Peter snorts, trying to ignore the emotions and raw feelings bubbling in his throat, and Harley just continues, ignoring it. "I may not know your name, or your face, or your- your identity but I know you, Spidey. And this," He makes a waving motion at Peter's body, "whatever this is, it isn't you. So Explain. What's going on?"

He's almost pleading, now, begging for Peter to tell him and the masked man almost longs to tell him, but honestly, he doesn't even know what's wrong. He's felt this burning, this itch for something since he woke up, and as the day went on, he grew more and more irritated, irate, a chemical reaction gone wrong, Harley acting as a catalyst and speeding up the reaction until now, its starting to explode, bubbling over the glass and creating a mess of emotions.

Peter can't tell him that, though, can't tell him that he's being a dick for nothing, so he just shrugs him off, looking away again and muttering a quick, "Nothing."

He can almost feel the tension in the air rise, turning thick as Harley bristles and flares, "Let me help you, for fucks sake!"

"Maybe I don't want you to help me!" Peter sparks back, whipping his head back around to glare at the man, the energy high, electric around them.

"There's a light in the crack, that separates your thighs,

And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight,"

"Oh, no. You do." Harley sneers, stepping forward, closer to Peter. "You do, you're just too much of a coward to admit it."

Peter rolls up his mask to his nose, and glares heavily at the man, taking a step towards him in retaliation. "Middle school insults, really?"

"Only telling the truth." Another step forward. "You're a coward who tries to hide his true feelings and pretend they don't even, even though you know they do."

"Oh yeah?" Another step, and suddenly, they're face to face, their noses millimeters apart, almost brushing in their proximity. "Say that again, I dare you."

Harley takes the bait, leaning in closer until Peter can feel his air on his lips, their breath mixing. "You're a coward, Spider-Man."

And Peter thinks he's going to punch him. His fists are clenched, his body is tense, he's bracing himself to do it. But instead, he finds himself grabbing his shoulders tightly and pushing their lips together, his mind whirling as the reaction bubbles over and the flame in his chest ignites into a wildfire, bright and untamable as Harley kisses back just as heavily, just as intensely, pressing him back back back until his back is pushed against a brick wall. Their lips don't disconnect, their heads turning and tongue swirling as Harley's hands roam up and down Peter's suit, over his arms, chest and abs, Peter's moan being swallowed into Harley's mouth, only to be reciprocated moments later.

The kiss breaks only to allow Peter to jump into Harleys arms, his legs wrapped around and sticking to the waist of the metal suit and his arms around his neck before theyre reconnected again, sucking face and groaning into each others mouths.

"My place?" The blond asks, voice muddled by lips and tongue and teeth, and Peter only nods instead of answering, pressing his face into his neck to leave marks, bites and bruises as the other man wraps his arms around his waist and under his ass, before the repulsors start back up and they fly away, towards the giant looming tower in the distance.

And I've been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, for a while now,

Drowning my thoughts out with the sounds,

Peter blinks awake slowly, hearing the faint whisper of a fan and a steady mechanical hum and feeling the satin, silk sheets beneath his fingertips. He turns his head slowly, his brain still groggy as he sees the other man, Harley beside him, his ryestalk hair askew and his face lax, more youthful than Peter's ever seen it, the sheet only covering to halfway up his chest, the rest out in the open, bare outside of the bright red marks still covering his skin. He flushes slightly as the memory's return from the night before, or, evening? He looks to the large, floor to ceiling windows beside the bed to see that it's still nighttime, the bright moonlight shining in through the clear glass, the pale blinds and illumating the room, casting shadows onto Harley's features and making him look... softer, ethereal, such a contrast to his sharp words and his even sharper personality. He finds he likes it, the softer, gentler look, and finds himself staring for a few moments, taking the moment in before he sits up slowly, making sure not to awaken the other man, and stands.

He finds a pair of pants on the floor, and a shirt he isn't sure is clean or dirty, throwing them both on before noticing a glass door, leading out into a balcony on the other side of the room. He had remembered landing somewhere early, hazily, though he obviously wasnt focused on it. It must've been there. He finds himself drawn to it, tiptoeing quietly over to the door and sliding it open before stepping outside, and taking a large inhale of the chilled air. He moves to the railing of the balcony, listening to the faint breeze of the late August winds, the car horns and honks in the distance, stares down at the still busseling, still alive city below them, not really focusing on anything, not really thinking, just breathing, feeling, living.

That must be why he doesn't hear the other man stirring, or hear him approch until the door behind him clicks open again. Peter doesn't turn around, doesn't have to, just continuing to watch the cars drive by until two arms wrap around his waist, gently, warily, until a, now clothed, chest is pressed against his back, and a chin rests on his shoulder. Peter just exhales, leaning back into the other mans grip, feeling more relaxed, more at ease than he has in a while, longer than he can remember.

Do you feel like a young god?

You know the two of us are just young gods,

"Do you ever..." Peter doesn't know when, or why, he starts to speak, doesn't think of what he says as he murmurs, hushed, low, a whisper, "feel like a young god? With these powers, the suits, the- the responsibility..." Harley just hums, faintly, and they start to sway, subtle, gentle back and forth motions, back and forth, like waves cascading onto a beach. "They all look up to me. The people, the city. They all-" Peter shakes his head, sighing lightly, airy. "And sometimes I just... sometimes I just don't know if I'm enough, you know? Sometimes I just..."

"Need a break." The other man finishes, murmurs, his lips brushing against Peter's cheek and sends tingles down his back.

"I-I guess so, yeah." There's a few moments, a few seconds where they just sit in the comfortable silence, where Peter glances up at the smog filled sky, seeing a few stars shining through, the almost full moon gleaming brightly down at them.

Before, "Let me help, baby." Harley whispers, pleads, and Peter goes to protest but the blond beats him to it. "You're burnt out, constantly saving the city, saving the world, constantly being the punching bag for everyone else, let me help. Please, Peter," And that was something new, too, Harley knowing his name, knowing his face, knowing him through and through, though he knows the other man won't tell, won't share, turning his head with easy fingers to look him in the eye, his ocean blues almost neon in the glow of the moon. "Let me help you."

They stare at each other, flickering from eye to eye for a few beats, a few thumps in Peter's chest, and he doesn't answer, not really, just lowers his head and places it onto Harley's chest, into the crook of his neck, but his lack of an answer is answer enough. The older man just presses a drawn out kiss onto the top of his head, and holds him closer, a non spoken thank you that sends Peter reeling, unused to the feeling of care, of concern, of love.

And yet, surrounded by strong arms and held closely to a firm chest, Peter feels at his strongest, feels comforted, known, feels safe. He closes his eyes, and just breathes, let's himself have this moment of calm and quiet in the arms of his love.

And we'll be flying through the streets, with the people underneath,

And they're running, running, running...

#parkner week 2020 #parkner #harley keener/peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu

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queertazsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

A gift for @paradoxgavel, created by @josscadeart!

Jake sat at the shore of a small lake on the edge of the Monongahela National Forest, hands - still not used to having fingers - closing methodically around a snowball. He looked out at the shimmering, frozen surface of the water in awe, mind lost in thought.

“Who’re you?” A voice called from behind Jake, startling him.

He turned his head slightly.

There stood a child, no older than Jake was at 11. Scrawny and scrappy, hair mostly hidden beneath a toque, save a few strands of brightly colored blue-green.

After studying them for a moment, he replied.

“I’m Jake. Who are you?” “I’m Hollis.” Hollis answered in return, stepping forward down the slight decline, careful not to slip.

“I’ve never seen you before.” Jake nodded, not looking up, instead focusing on the icy lake in front of him.

“I just came here a bit ago.”

His brow furrowed. “Mama said I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” Hollis laughed. “That’s meant for adults, not kids.”

They squatted down next to him, careful not to get their jeans wet with snow.

“Oh.”

“Why’re you out here?”

“Tired. Never seen something like this before.” “Seriously? You don’t have winter where you’re from?”

Jake shook his head.

“Not like this.” “It’s nice.” He said, after a moment of contemplation.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you out here, Hollis?” “Dad’s being a dick, needed some alone time.” “Oh. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. ‘S not your fault.”

Hollis took a moment to look at Jake, all fluffy blond hair, and pale skin mottled with freckles.

What truly confused them, though, was what Jake was wearing.

It had to be at LEAST 10 degrees out today, and he had little more than a spring jacket and sandals to keep him warm.

“How the heck are you out here like that? I’m wearing full winter gear and I’m freezing dude.” “I don’t think it’s that cold, is it?” Jake answered, a bit confused.

“You’re crazy man.” Jake unzipped his jacket, much to Hollis’ befuddlement, and after struggling a moment with the sleeves, held it out to them.

“Here! I don’t want you to be cold.”

Hollis felt their face heat up despite the chill in the air, eyes darting between the sincerity in Jake’s expression and the flimsy coat held out with the intent to keep them warm.

Hollis stood up sharply.

“Put your coat on, stupid, you’re gonna freeze to death.”

Jake attempted to protest, but Hollis turned to leave too quickly.

Jake slumped slightly with the rejection, but soon straightened back out with a smile with Hollis, carefully hiding their face with their scarf, asked,

“Am I gonna see you at school?” Jake beamed.

“Probably!”

Hollis nodded, turning to stomp back into the woods, leaving Jake to stare at the surface of the lake with a new sense of contentment.

—

1 Winter Later

A bell rang, not so far away from where Jake sat; atop a rock next to the play park on his school grounds.

“Put your damn coat on.” A familiar voice called, chastising him.

Jake smiles, not looking back.

“Hey Hollis!” Gentle flakes of snow fell from the clouds, and, to Jake’s delight, stuck to the ground rather than melting away.

“You’re supposed to be in Spanish right now.” Jake thought out loud.

“And you’re supposed to be in Math, but we both have better things to do, huh?”

Jake smiled, a quiet laugh bubbling from his lips. “Nah, I just wanted to see it. I missed the first snow last year, didn’t want to start a trend.”

“Why do you like winter so much, dude?

“I guess it just reminds me of home.” Jake shrugged.

“I thought you hadn’t even seen a frozen lake before you moved here.”

“No, it’s - We didn’t really have lakes. But that’s not the only reason.”

Hollis leaned next to the boulder Jake had perched himself on.

“Well?” “What?” “You’re gonna tell me the reason right?”

“Oh, uh.” Jake stammered.

“I dunno, it just feels like… Right? Everything just stands still for a moment. I can think about home without it… I feel like I have a second to breathe without worrying about life and stuff. It’s nice. It feels special.” Jake fumbled to find the right way to express it.

“You fuckin sap.” Hollis snorted, pushing Jake gently. “We’re in the 8th grade, man what’s there to worry about.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jake conceded.

“So are we going to class, or are we gonna sit out here in the cold forever.”

“Sit out in the cold?” Jake answered, hopefully?

“Go to class, man!” Hollis laughed, picking up the scant snow that had layered itself on the grass and haphazardly tossing it at Jake’s face.

That got him to laugh, and Hollis felt a bit of triumph.

—

2 Winters Later

During, not the first, but rather, a midseason snowfall, they met atop Mount Kepler for some fun on their day off.

“Almost got it, Keith!” Jake exclaimed, wiping snow from his goggles and grinning.

“You didn’t fall on me this time!” Keith cheered.

“Still ate shit, though.”

“Hey Hollis!” Jake called.

“Sick stunts, what’s that one?”

“It’s called a Buddy Bonk. It’s radical.“

"Nice.”

“Wanna try?”

Hollis hemmed and hawed, before nodding.

“Hell yeah, let me just finish this cig.”

Jake and Keith made a few more attempts; a small jump, landing on a buddy’s upturned board (laying down with knees Firmly on the ground, Jake explained.) and kicking off. Hollis would have been content just to watch them beat the shit out of each other, but as their cigarette burned out, Jake noticed immediately.

“Ok, done. Do you wanna be the Bonker or the Bonkee?” He said with a smile.

“Is the bonker the one that eats shit?”

“Yeah!”

“I’ll do that one.”

Hollis clipped themself into their board.

“So, why are we stunting?”

“Cause it’s gnarly.”

“So, what, you want to be a stuntman now?”

“God no. Well, yeah, actually, but not like a professional guy who jumps explosions and stuff.”

“So just a hobbyist stuntman.”

“Exactly!”

“Just join the local stunt club, stunt on the weekends with the boys.” Hollis chuckled.

“That actually sounds sick though?” Keith said, “Just get our buds together and just kick it.”

“Kepler Stunt Club, accepting new members now!” Hollis gestured the title to the air.

Jake grinned, and Hollis flicked the last of their well-charred cigarette butt to the snow, they pushed their knees off and slid on their heels to position.

“Well, as you are now the founder of the KSC, you need to teach me that Bonk trick., ‘kay Coolice?”

“Heck yeah!”

Jake walked Hollis through the steps of doing a Buddy Bonk

It was, surprisingly, a bit complex. Certainly explained Jake being just fucking covered in snow.

Satisfied in his teaching, Jake lowered himself onto the ground to be Hollis’ Bonkee.

Sliding forward, Hollis bent their knees, readied a jump, and absolutely beefed it.

Tip of their board catching on the ice, they tumbled forward and landing right atop of Jake.

Jake coughed the breath from his lungs as he took the full brunt of Hollis’ weight and fell to the ground. Hollis, frozen with shock, didn’t move for a moment. Concerned, Jake shifted his weight to turn around.

“Oh, crap are you ok?” He said, cut off quickly by a quick knock, as his forehead collided with Hollis’.

“Jeez, ow.”

Hollis found themself at a pause. Unsure of how long they’d been there.

The initial shock of the fall had gone fairly fast, but…

Hollis’ hadn’t been this close to Jake before, they didn’t think.

He had always been a bit cute, they guessed… Fuck, they shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Hollis?”

Fuck, how long had they been staring?

Hollis quickly scampered off of Jake, flushing brightly.

“Sorry, uh. I’m gonna go inside.” They shook their head, adjusting their board and taking off toward the lodge.

Keith and Jake watched as Hollis went.

“Wow they sure fucked that up, huh?”

“It’s a hard trick, we hadn’t even gotten it yet, why are they so upset?”

Jake wondered.

“I dunno.” Keith shrugged.

Jake furrowed his brow.

“I’m gonna go make sure they’re ok.”

Jake followed to the ski lodge, sticking his head into one of the recessed booths they usually frequented..

“Hollis?”

Hollis said nothing, staring at the table, and scratching at a spot of coffee stained to the surface.

“Hey, it’s ok that you didn’t make the stunt, me an’ Keith hadn’t gotten it either.”

Hollis mumbled something beneath their breath.

“Come on, Hollis. We can practice more if you want? Or we can work on an easier one first. I really want to learn how to Eurocarve…”

“I don’t care about the trick, Jake.”

“You don’t?”

Hollis shook their head.

“Why are you upset then?”

Hollis grumbled.

“Come on, you can talk to me about anything, you’re like my best friend.”

Jake said, tilting his head to meet Hollis’ downturned eyes, smiling softly.

Hollis met his eyes, searching his face for… Something.

“Fuck it.” Hollis sighed, as they leaned forward, as their lips met Jake’s.

Jake’s eyes widened, but didn’t pull away until Hollis did.

After a few moments of silence, Hollis clenched their jaw.

“Well?”

“Oh.” Jake said.

“Was that ok?”

“I have no idea.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how I feel about that yet.”

“Neither do I!” Hollis grumbled.

Hollis could see the gears turning in Jake’s head, before he too leaned forward and gently kiss them.

“I think I like that.” Jake smiled. “But I’m ok if you just want to figure it out.”

A small smile creeps onto Hollis’ face as Jake’s becomes infectious, just in time for a voice to interrupt their moment.

“Hey, you doing ok?” Keith asked.

Hollis looked up. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

—

3 Winters Later

The Kepler Stunt Club was roaring to life, with most of the teens in Kepler either being on the roster, or simply hanging with the club from time to time.

It had gotten more chaotic than Jake would have liked.

“Hey Hollis, can I like, talk to you?”

“Yeah babe, what’s up?” Hollis said absentmindedly.

“Like, in private.” Jake clarified quietly.

Despite his low tone of voice, he was overheard by the club members loitering about.

“Ooooh!”

“Get it Hollis!” A smattering of people hollered.

“Sure.” Hollis agreed, glaring at the one who had interrupted.

Soon, they were alone, out behind an old building surrounded by evergreens wearing heavy coats of snow and ice.

“Is something wrong, Jake?”

“Uh, yeah I - sorta.”

“What is it?”

“I was talking to Keith earlier and he told me what happened last night. That you and him, and some of the guys had been out and decided to spray paint the sheriff’s office.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Hollis - “

“He was already up our asses when we weren’t doing anything illegal. What’s a bit of teen rebellion?”

“Yeah, but he was mad that some of the guys were grinding on the park benches. Not that we were committing illegal crimes.”

“It’s just graffiti, Jake.”

“It isn’t - It’s not cool. I don’t think that’s the right thing to do. Kepler Stunt Club was just supposed to be us doing cool tricks with our friends, not - “ wildly gesturing “this.”

“Seriously Jake, are you really getting worked up about this?”

“Yeah, Hollis, I am. I don’t like Dominic and rest of them thinking we’re a bunch of delinquents or whatever and using our club to do crimes.”

“It’s not crimes Jake, jesus.”

“Well what is it Hollis? Because I don’t think I want to be a part of this.”

“You don’t have to tag anything.” Hollis said, as they lit up a cigarette. “I just don’t see the big deal. They already looked at a bunch of kids and decided we were assholes, so why not get in their shit back.”

“Not just the tagging, Hollis.”

“What, like you’re quitting Stunt Club or something?” Hollis snorted. Jake couldn’t be serious, right?

“Maybe?”

Surprise caused Hollis to cough.

“You’ll quit Stunt Club, because Dom wrote his name on a building, and Keith and I just happened to be with him.”

“Hollis, I just-.”

“Fucking seriously, Jake? You’ll ditch your friends, you’ll ditch me because of this shit?”

“I didn’t say anything about ditching you Hollis, I just don’t want to have this stuff attached to me. Mama would kill me if-”

Hollis squints.

“Fine, whatever.” Hollis, giving up on the cig, plunged it into a snowbank, putting out the embers, before sticking it into their pocket.

“Hollis, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, Jake. But I’m not sure if I want you attached to me either after this.”

Jake faltered, hurt. “Really, Hollis?”

Hollis steeled their nerves, and didn’t react, stepping away carefully, leaving Jake without a goodbye.

Jake walked back to the car he arrived in, past the KSC, before getting in the passenger seat of a car and slumping in the seat.

“Dani, I think I fucked it up.”

“Yeah?”

“I think Hollis broke up with me.”

“Well that sucks Jake, I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s for the best… I don’t know what I can do for them right now. I’m not going to crap on my morals, but I don’t think I handled that well at all.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No. I’m going to give them space. It’s the least I can do right now.

—

4 Winters Later.

A bright, sterile hospital room.

It’s a few days after the Hornets assisted the Pine Guard, and the residents of the Amnesty Lodge, fight off the Quell. There were no casualties, thank god, but a few injuries.

Hollis is hurt, laying on the gurney with leg in a cast, bandages around their ribs; a side effect of taking off and landing in a thicket of rocks and branches.

Keith had been keeping them company. He’s a good guy, a good friend.

They had been shooting the shit, talking about nothing to keep Hollis’ mind off their injuries.

There was a quiet rapping on the door, accompanied by a soft “Hey Hollis.”

“Hey Jake.” Hollis answered.

They stared for a moment, Jake not moving past the threshold of the door. “Hey Keith.” Keith said, interrupting the silence.

“Give us a minute, Keith?” Hollis asked.

“Yeah fine, whatever. I’m gonna get some hospital pudding.” Keith smiled, giving Jake a semi-friendly shoulder punch on his way out.

Jake sat down next to the bed.

“You okay Hollis?” “I’ve been better.” Hollis replied, gesturing to their broken leg.

“Yeah, same.”

It wasn’t awkward persay, to be sitting alone in a room together. It had been too long to be awkward anymore. But it wasn’t fully comfortable, like being away on a long trip, and coming back to a couch that had gotten used to not having you sit in it anymore.

“So, a seal, huh?” Hollis said, trying to clear the air.

Jake took his hat off sheepishly, and fiddled with the edges to have anything to do with his hands.

“Yep.”

“Not what I would have pegged you as, but make sense.”

“Yeah.”

Hollis smiles, and lays back down.

“Jake I-” “Hollis I-”

“Oh, no you go ahead.” “What was that?”

“You first Hollis.”

“I - ok - I don’t think I ever apologized, did I?”

“For what?”

“For what I said to you when you left the Hor- the Kepler Stunt Club.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I want to. I don’t think that I was necessarily wrong,-”

“I don’t think that’s how apologies are supposed to start, Hollis.” Jake laughed.

“Shut up” His laughter was still infectious. Hollis couldn’t help sharing a chuckle with him.

“-But I didn’t think about how you felt about it and why you would want to leave. It just felt like a… Betrayal? When you said you wanted to quit the club,” They tried to explain. “It was something the three of us started, It felt like you didn’t want to be around me anymore because we were ‘Bad’. It felt like how Sheriff judging us as bad kids without reason felt.”

“That not how I meant that Hollis.” He said softly.

“I know,” Hollis leaned over to pat his shoulder. “But, like. I get it. I get why you wouldn’t want to be an actual bad kid, because that’s where the rest of us were going.”

They sighed.

“I was angry, Jake. Not with you, just with life. And when you came and told me that I, that my anger was wrong I just. I couldn’t deal with it. I certainly wasn’t in a place where I could even start to deal with it. So I lashed out. I left you before you could leave me. And I’m sorry. Looking back, I don’t think you would have left me. But I do think I would have gotten more distant, and shitty, and cause you a whole lot of problems. I wish it hadn’t happened that way. And I get why you were upset for so long.”

“I was hurt, yeah. But I was a bit selfish too.”

“You really weren’t, Jake.”

“No, I was. I didn’t really get why you were angry. I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t think about why you wanted that.”

“We were 17, Jake, we were both stupid shits.”

“I think we’re still stupid, honestly.”

Hollis snorted, harder than they meant to, hurting their injured rib.

They sucked in a sharp breath, holding their side, and Jake quickly got up before stopping himself from getting too close and sitting back down.

God, he was still so nice.

“I missed you Jake.” “I missed you too.”

“I’m glad I risked my life to safe this shitty town. If I hadn’t then maybe we wouldn’t be finally having this talk.”

Jake beamed.

“I’m happy too. Do you think we can be friends again?” “Yeah, I think we could.”

“Are you guys done yet?” Keith called from the hall.

“Yeah I think so.” Hollis said.

“Thank god, I was about to drop this.” He said, carrying an extra chair, with pudding and snacks on the seat.

“There. Now we can both sit.” He said, as he set down the chair and dumps the snacks onto Hollis’ lap.

“I’m not a table, Keith, what the fuck.”

Keith shrugged as he grabbed a pudding cup and held it out to Jake.

“Thanks Keith.” Jake accepted, peeling off the lid.

For once, Jake thought, all is well between them.

Except for Hollis’ bones.

“So, can you do that seal thing at will?” Keith said between mouthfuls of chips.

“Yeah, I just have to take off a bracelet.”

“Take it off!” Keith hollered.

Jake laughed as he took off his wrist cuff.

“God you’re so fucking big Jake.” Keith laughed.

—

1 Winter Later

“Ok, so you’re going to be in charge of bunny hill lessons, ok?” Hollis said, checking their clipboard notes.

“I’m nervous.” Jake admitted.

“Don’t be, you’re the best pizza french fry-er I know.” Hollis tilted their head with a smile.

“Aw, thanks.”

“You’ll do great, babe.”

Jake got ready to get going, but Hollis grabbed his hand to pull him back, and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Jake squeezed their hand back.

“Oh god, your hands are cold Hollis.” Jake said, frowning, picking a lump of fabric off the office chair. “Here’s my jacket, I don’t want you to be cold.”

Hollis grabbed the coat, throwing it right back at Jake, with a wide smile and a faint blush.

“It’s the middle of February, Coolice!!”

Jake grins, giving Hollis two thumbs up before heading out into the snow.

And they were happy.

#paradoxgavel #josscadeart #queercandlenights #taz #the adventure zone #jake #hollis #jake x hollis #fic #submission

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years

Link

Things get darker right before they get brighter in the end, something three plucky teens are about to learn. Sometimes you just want that darkness to have never had a reason to come for you in the first place. One has to be careful what they wish for, of course.

Welcome to the end, friends

Danny was on the ground, unmoving.

The ghost left with a cheerful wave, saying, “Tata!” Like he hadn’t just ruined their lives worse than the first time Tucker had heard Danny’s screams at their loudest. Like it was simply a wonderful day and they had engaged in the most wonderful of conversations, not a fight that ended with one of them-

Danny was in Tucker’s arms, unmoving and pale.

Tucker was trying everything he could think of, removing most of Tucker’s tops and trying to perform every life-saving action he knew off, pressing against his chest, trying to breathe more breath into his lungs, keeping pressure on the bleeding and burnt wound when he saw it.

Danny was in Tucker’s arms, unmoving, pale, and bleeding.

Tucker knew everything was blurry because tears were clouding his vision. He knew he was crying. He knew he was shaking with the force of his sobs and for once in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to give half a damn about that because Danny-

Danny was in Tucker’s arms, unmoving, pale, bleeding, and his heart wasn’t beating no matter how long Tucker listened for it.

Sam was doing something, pulling out Danny’s weapons, and Tucker wanted to scream at her that she’d done enough with Fenton weapons already. He wanted to scream and rage at her for what she had done so far with Fenton Tech. He wanted to go to the Fentons and rip them all a new one for making what they made.

Because Danny was dead in Tucker’s arms, and screaming and crying were the only things he could do about it.

But he didn’t scream at Sam, he just watched as she pulled out one of Danny’s paintbrushes and dipped it in the ectoplasm of the cartridge in one of his guns. She started drawing on Danny’s face, his arms, his chest, and then pulled out another cartridge of charged ectoplasm in another gun and poured it in Danny’s mouth, tilted his head so that he would swallow. “Chant with me. Chant with me Tucker, we have to fix this!”

Tucker didn’t know any Hebrew, decided he’d learn both because Sam was his friend and because apparently, she could do things that could save their lives with it. Tucker didn’t need to know what he was saying to say it, and he did say it, over and over again for the next 10 minutes, until the drawings on Danny’s body lit up like fire and every ray of light rushed toward him and everything went dark. Tucker could hear the song of the universe dimming in his ears and knew nearly for a fact that Danny was sucking the ectoplasmic energy into him along with every other flavor of power within blocks of him. Tucker would let the sun itself go black just to hear Danny’s laugh again.

The darkness faded, Danny’s body was outlined in light, the markings were gone, and Danny groaned. His chest rose and dropped, his heart was beating, color was coming back to his skin, he was as warm as he’d been since the accident. Danny was alive in Tucker’s arms, and Tucker wanted to cry even harder than he already had. Instead, the put Danny’s binder back on him, Sam grabbed his shirt and jacket, and Tucker carried Danny out to their hoverboards. They flew to Sam’s house, Tucker staying as high and close to the sun as he could to let Danny soak in all the light he needed. When they got to Sam’s house, Tucker didn’t let Danny go until he was being set on a love seat on Sam’s balcony.

There were, of course, jokes to be made about the way Danny curled up in the fleeting October sunlight and how his fluffball curls and height combined with this to make him much like a kitten. Jokes about him being a cross between Superman and the Martian Manhunter could’ve also been made. Danny was a white-haired anime boy, that could be remarked upon with laughs aplenty. Tucker made no such jokes.

Tucker put to use the information he’d gathered at his last LARPing session at furrycon after a shank attempt by a guy who’d wandered into the park where he’d been LARPing at that took their cosplay a bit too seriously. That being that leather was wonderful armor, silk blocked stabs fantastically when a blade slid through said leather, and that one should always wear cotton under silk anything because sweating to death after a fight near to death wasn’t fun. He’d smacked a crazy guy upside the head and gotten a useful lesson out of that. Tucker’s older cousin could supply the leather, Sam could order fine silk jackets and pants for all of them, Danny had cotton shirts already, and Sidney offered to use intangibility to fuse the two together. Tucker commented that the leather would look fitting on Sam since she was more of a punk anyway. She called him a furry, he called her a weeb, and they both explained the concepts to Sydney.

That was all fine and dandy against most blunt force, stabbing and slashing that even a ghost could probably do, but against ghosts and their intangibility, there were few places to go. Sam had her magick book but Tucker didn’t want to touch on anything supernatural for a while and unless she could prove that her wards were working, he wouldn’t exactly trust Danny’s life with them. Convincing Jack Fenton that he needed some easily worn and hidden accessory to prevent possession was almost sadly easy, the only condition being that Tucker had to wear one of those horrible looking hazmat suits. Tucker let it hang in his closet, as he had no intention of matching Jack Fenton’s fashion sense.

One might feel that Tucerk and his friends were being a bit excessive in their measures to keep Danny padded up against the world, but such an individual hadn’t seen their best friend since age 1 die in front of them by the same person’s hand twice so that particular person could kindly go shove their opinion where the sun don’t shine in Tucker’s very polite opinion.

Danny himself was groggy for most of his recovery time and had clearly caught on that they were being extra protective of him. While Sam was introducing Sidney to anime and videogames and Tucker was showing him the best comics and music, Danny always had whoever wasn’t with the others within arm’s reach. He was jumpy when it came to his ghost sense telling him that Sidney was there, had his hood up whenever they were outside, and even though they’d been near forcing Agatha’s cooking down his throat at every meal they could, Danny had yet to Go Ghost. Sam brought up the idea of taking down the shapeshifter and Danny balked at the topic, bringing up the frogs, the latest anime that she had shown Sidney or really anything else when she did this. Tucker was more than fine with this since no ghost mode meant no seeking out danger which meant that the only fights they were dealing with included Dash, Kwan and Dale making fun of them for being a furry, a weeb and a Fenton. Seeing Sam put her martial arts to use when Dash tried to stuff Danny in a locker was worth the detention he got for tripping Dale as he rushed in to help. He spent it with Sam anyway so that was fine. If wanting Danny safer than Amity was selfish then Tucker was as far from selfless as possible.

“Hey, Danny,” Tucker said while he worked on finishing up the Spector Deflector that Dr. Fenton had started for him in Danny’s workshop. “There’s a swap meet coming up in Harrison Park this Saturday. Wanna come with? I’m gonna get a set of dice if I can and see if I can show Sidney DnD. Maybe we all can play even.” He grinned. “We can get you a new bowling ball so you can destroy Sam in bowling.”

“Bro, you’ll be wrecked with her,’ Danny challenged from where he drew in his art book instead of doing his homework. Tucker was procrastinating by making ghost hunting tech, he couldn’t blame Danny. “That sounds cool.”

“Awesome.” Tucker set down his tools and pulled up his safety goggles. “Can you come over and poke this? Very lightly and just a little in case I’m as done as I think I am.” Danny obliged and there was a loud SNAP accompanied by a yelp and Tucker patted Danny’s shoulder. “Looks like I’m done with the internals. Now all I gotta do is adjust it so that it can ignore your ectosignature, and Sidney’s and Agatha’s, and it’ll really be done.”

“Done for your armor idea, right?” Danny scoffed, slugging Tucker in the shoulder while he looked for the blueprint he’d downloaded of the part that’d track ectosignatures in the Fenton Finder. “Sidney told me about it while we were watching Star Wars. Or should I call it his guard duty shift? Cause I know what you guys are doing and while I appreciate your concern over my safety, I’m the one with powers here.”

“20 hours straight of unconsciousness and tears say that superpowers don’t mean you don’t need protection against people with the same superpowers.” Tucker huffed. “If we’d been wearing some armor like we’re making then that fish thing probably wouldn’t have been able to bite through me like it did. Silk and piercing ya know.” He bumped shoulders with Danny when he went quiet and forced his lips up into a smile. “And besides, your parents have literally no fashion sense. A leather jacket lined with silk? Leather pants, probably with studs in it since Sam is involved? Dude, that’s cool as fuck looking. You’ll be the best-dressed ghost out there.” Danny laughed and shook his head. Tucker got to work setting up the design for the Fenton Fabricator™ to make for the Spector Deflector. He also considered asking for a cut of the royalties when the belt inevitably became a Fenton Brand item, since he’d finished it. “You think putting on clothes in ghost form will invert their colors like your suit?”

“Fuck you, Tuck, now I have to find out.” Danny huffed and Tucker snickered. For a moment everything was quiet, and then arms were wrapping around his middle. “Thanks, Tuck. For everything.” Tucker looped an arm around Danny and smushed him against his side.

“That’s what bros are for, man.” The room was a comfortable quiet after that. The Fabricator and the generator were humming softly at the edge of Tucker’s once again human limited hearing, the only other sound was their breathing and - Tucker could swear - their heartbeats. The air was charged with something more than ectoplasm and electricity and Tucker wasn’t sure if Danny knew that as well, but he knew that he could hardly know anything else right then. So naturally, Tucker lowered his hand at Danny’s side and started tickling him. Danny squeaked, squealed out some giggles, and phased out of his grip when wriggling didn’t work.

“You dick! Get over here!”

Danny appreciated the effort Sam, Tucker and Sidney were putting in for him, he really honestly did. Sidney still went to his therapy session with Jazz which Danny could tell were helping him by how bright his aura had gotten, and between him and Jazz at school there were at least a few bright auras to go around, but with how things were going, Danny felt at least a bit suffocated.

Half the auras at school - both student and teacher - were dim enough that Danny almost couldn’t see them. Dash and company had been especially vicious as of late, calling them every name under the sun and getting into actual fights with him, Tucker and Sam. Between the three of them they managed well enough - being dragged to martial arts lessons with Sam and fighting eldritch abominations from the afterlife did things for your confidence in facing up to bullies - but it hadn’t ever been this bad before. And while Tucker and Sam both were clearly brighter than everyone else emotionally, they were skirting around things in the most unsubtle way imaginable and Danny wondered how they kept anything hidden. Sam tried to get him into ghost form to see how fast he could fly, Tucker changed the topic from anything ghostly to something nerdy and Sidney seemed to stare at him as much as he did the movies they were watching. Sure, Sidney was keeping his eyes on the screen but Danny knew ghosts could see more than just with their eyes and the feeling of being constantly watched was getting more than unnerving.

Saturday was a breath of fresh air. Sam was maybe coming down with something and Sidney was off exploring the city on his own, so it was just Danny and Tucker buying the stuff they’d come for and laughing their heads off at their dumb jokes. It was sunny, the crowd was bright with positivity abound, and he was having fun with his best friend in the world. It was nice.

Of course, a ghost attack ruined it.

Cotton candy erupted and flooded the place, and Danny slid under a table while the crowds stampeded away, yanking Tucker under as well. He reached inside, past the void of darkness into the soft and splintered light at his center. It exploded out to the surface and in a flash of silver glass, shimmering shadows wove his hazmat suit around him and unraveled gravity’s hold on his body. He shuddered, glitching out of reality - or what he was so very hopeful and sure was reality anyway - and gave Tucker a smile. “Wish me luck.” He slid down into the ground and forward, rising out of a mound of cotton candy as big as himself. There was a woman with long black hair, dark green skin, and blue scarce clothing floating over the sweets and stretching her arms. “I understand a sweet tooth and all that, but this is a bit dangerously Much.” Danny held out a hand with a smile when a sneer was turned his way. “I’m Danny Phantom, hopefully nice to meet you.”

“ I am Desiree,” she said in some accented blend of every language that Danny knew. It was headache-inducing and he definitely didn’t like it. “ This confection explosion was hardly my intention boy, I am cursed to use my power to grant the wishes of all those who make them. ”

“What, like a jinni? If I find and rub your lamp and say ‘I wish I had a dick’ do you complete my tra-”

“ So you have wished it, so shall it be. ” Her hands went up, green smoke curled around him, through him, within him, caressed that inner light and warmth that was his human body, and Danny shuddered in the wake of power well beyond his ability to fully process. Before the smoke even cleared, Danny could hear Desiree speaking through gritted teeth. “ Yes, boy I am a Jinni. One of your kind cursed me, both to be trapped in that infernal bottle, but also to use my power for all who catch my ear. ”

Danny was reeling when the smoke cleared, giving himself a mental review of what he could feel on himself and gawked when he realized what had happened. “Um. Wow.” Desiree was clearly unimpressed. “Uh, well, I know a way I can he-” a ball of ectoplasma, charged up with energy, raced into Desiree’s gut and knocked her back and Danny really wished that people would stop interrupting him.

“Stay away from him, damn it! Can’t we have one nice day?” Tucker readied another shot and Danny waved his arms to tell him not to. “I wish I had stopped you from going into that stupid fucking portal! Then we wouldn’t be in this mess!” crud.

“ So you have wished it, so shall it be. ” FUCK . Green mist filled Danny’s vision, and everything went dark.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Bertrand #Tucker Foley #Sam Manson #Sidney Poindexter #Desiree #fanfiction #fanPhiction #Phanfiction #fanfic #Phanfic #fanPhic #Phanphic #PhanPhiction #Monstrous Chosen Spellslingers #Mundane to Monstrous Ghosts #Monstrous Mundane Magick #Rexy Writes

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aka-willow · 4 years

Text

When We Come

gif

Words: 1298

Characters: Willow Wren, Father Jake, Gooblin, Pip, Pingu, Burr, Spark, Danny, Manny, Dew, Fanisimo, France, Sabbath

Prompt/Tag:

“have you lost your mind?”

“I’m a monster.”

Summary: Willow creates a new game plan, one that her siblings oppose

Timeline: December 2015

Song: Little Drummer Boy - Low

A/N: is my “raised catholic” showing? oop thanks fam

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I left that same night, Christmas Eve. The bombshell of a discovery on the flash drive was enough to get me running again, and now, I felt like I couldn’t stop. I had never felt this angry before. This robbed. My time as a kid… gone. I’m never getting that back. Those weren’t even assassinations… those were just murders. That family… they were innocent. They made us do that and we didn’t even fight back, we didn’t even try to stop them. All for whatever fucked up 4-D chess game they were trying to play.

I packed my bags and my laptop, zipping my coat shut for the freezing flight back. I could feel the wind gathering at my hands again—I was close to losing it.

“Are you seriously leaving now?” Pip asked. “Right now? After all…”

“Yup,” I said. “The only thing that’s going to make me feel better is a few more old Facility agents down. I’m going.”

“We should stop that plan,” Danny said. “I think we should put a pause on the Rat Revolution.”

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “They’re still out there, possibly hurting other people, other experiments. I know we’re not the only ones. You’re going to sit there and say we should stop?”

“It’s not safe,” Manny, said, agreeing with his twin. “We have to look out for ourselves.” He sighed. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I just… I need time.”

“Pingu,” I said, turning to her, the friend that always seemed onboard with my schemes. “Can you talk some sense into these guys?”

The look she gave me nearly made me lose it then and there. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m done trying to save the world. I’m so tired. This isn’t the way to do it.” Pingu looked up at the sky, then back at the sparks leaping from the fire. “The best thing we can do is live our lives as normally as possible. Put all this behind us. Don’t be what they made us.”

“Whatever, I’m going,” I said, again. “See you on the front-page tomorrow.”

“Are you out of your mind?” France said.

“We are what we are,” I said. “They gave us these gifts and they’re going to regret it.”

“No,” Pip said firmly. “This isn’t us.”

“I’m a monster,” I said. “You’re a monster. That’s what we are. That’s what they made us to be. You saw the files just like me. You saw what we did. So, instead of being useless and tapping out, it’s time to balance the scales.” I snapped my fingers, trying to remember the phrase. “It’s like in the Bible,” I said. “Penance.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” said Burr. “I love you, but I’m not doing this. Pingu’s right.”

I stared at the Lab Rats in disbelief, even though some part of me always knew this was coming. Even back at the Facility I had been the one with a grudge, the one who refused to give up on a fight. It’s what got me put in isolation so often. It’s the reason I remember being put in that chair so often. But I didn’t fight back on Monster. And now I have to.

“Well, I’m leaving. See you guys.” I started walking towards the open clearing beyond the tower, looking for a place to take off and start on back to my base. It was around nine at night, still early. I bet I could get another two agents out by tomorrow. There were footsteps in the grass behind me, someone running, and when I turned, I saw Fanisimo jogging after me.

“Wait, Heckergal, wait.”

“Are you coming?”

He cast his eyes down and shook his hand, his mouth turned downward. “No. But I have the chip for you. To inhibit your powers. Let me at least insert it before you go.” He held it out and I watched as the metal glinted in the moonlit.

“No,” I said quickly. “I changed my mind. I don’t need it.”

“Look, you really should…”

“No!” I said again. “I’m fine. I’ve got it under control.”

Fanisimo sighed and dug into his backpack. “Then at least take these.” He passed me a pair of goggles, metallic and built to last, well-made. “It’s for when you’re flying. You know, for the wind. I know you used to use all sorts of things. These are better, and there’s a bunch of screen functions on these too. Super useful.”

I took them from Fanisimo and tucked them over my head as I took a breath. “Thanks, dude.”

He ran a hand through his black hair and scratched under his nose as he looked down at the ground. “Yeah. You know we’re always here for you. Stay safe?”

“I’ll be safe,” I said, but as I took off, I had a feeling it would be a long time before we met again.

I flew back to New York City in record time, the goggles allowing me to go faster than ever without my eyes completely drying out or being sealed shut by the wind, and I played around with the display as I shot across the sky, the wind like a cannon around me. I looked up two more agents from my files. Oliver and Lisa Bassi. Married, met on the job, based on their shared Facebook account. Home for the holidays. Merry fucking Christmas.

I had too much nervous energy that night when I got in, around midnight, and instead of sleeping, I stood in the back of Father Jake’s midnight mass at St. Giles. I hadn’t been in a while, but if I was going to do what I planned to do, I should at least make an appearance. I knew I was spiraling, on a collision course to disaster, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was going to find Doctor Turner. Destroy the Monster Book. Those were my only objectives. What happened after didn’t matter.

HYDRA made a mistake. I have nothing left to lose now.

In the back of the candlelit mass, I said a prayer, even followed along in the second-hand bible that Father Jake had given me ages ago. This is what they wanted. This is what they’ll get. After the service, I found Father Jake back at the altar, long after everyone else had left. He put out the remaining candles and nearly didn’t see me in the deepening gloom of the church.

“Willow?” he asked. “You’re still here? Santa’s not going to come if you’re still up.” He chuckled a little at his own joke, but then sobered up. “Is everything okay? I know you’ve had a rough few weeks.”

“I don’t think Santa’s coming for me this year,” I said, reflecting back on his previous statement. “I guess… I just wanted to… I don’t know. I have a lot of things I regret and I don’t know what to do, or if was even my fault. I… found out about it. Tonight.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really,” I sighed. “Um… when it comes to penance, you’ve mentioned it before, what do I have to do? I mean, what do you usually tell people to do?”

“Do you want to do a confession?”

“Not really.”

The stained glass above the altar seemed to glow as the moonlight poured in. “Well, it comes down to serving others. What can you do to help others? Will that make it right?”

Oliver and Lisa Bassi were dead by seven the next morning. Two bullets from Heidi Rye’s gun. Two more HYDRA agents gone. By eight, I was visiting the old lady to deliver her daily grilled cheese sandwich and wish her a Merry Christmas so that she would not be alone.

#ww writing #willow wren #father jake #gooblin #pip #sabbath #spark #burr #pingu #danny #manny #france #fanisimo #dew

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years

Text

Athenas Masterpost

This is going to cover everything Athenas, like the official page and trailer, both new trailers, the art book preview, and some stuff shown in the ign trailers. It’s a lot.

There will NOT be endgame spoilers in this post. If there’s anything that comes up that I want to discuss, you can find it in a spoiler post I’ll be making soon :) I DO discuss a thing that occurs during the first 3 hours of BL3, though I think that’s pretty okay with y’all lol

tl;dr: there’s too much to summarize. 13 days until bl3. lmao im screaming on the inside.

“A misty, tranquil planet that has recently attracted the wrong kind of attention. Athenas is mostly uninhabited, save for a sect of monks known as the Order of the Impending Storm who have made their home in the high peaks of the mountains. What secrets do they guard here, inside ancient walls that were built long before humans set foot on Athenas?”

We definitely got a lot less info for Athenas than the other planets, and I can see why. They want to keep it mysterious.

Also, I’m not saying I totally called it that the pyramid was Eridian, but I totally called it. I am surprised it’s implying that the entire area was built by them, but what can ya do 🤷‍♂️

Anyway, since this post is long overdue, let’s just jump right in!

The Athenas video is nearly half the time of the Eden-6 one, so there’s not a lot to cover unfortunately:

We’ve seen this shot multiple times before

also the emphasis that Athenas is ‘tranquil’ and ‘peaceful’ ahahahaha no it’s not.

i love these dudes! Order of the Impending Storm!!! I wonder if their funky goggle things have anything to do with Sirens, like how they have Siren-trackers. I also really love their outfits. lowkey want one of these robes.

a great overview look of the area leading up to the pyramid. I got more to say about this... but it’s probably best if i leave it for later on in the post after we get more info

also, note the water and the rocks and stuff on the left there. This will come into play later... not even in this post. a later post.

also i totally called this being an ancient aliens reference lol

Vault logo on the flag there. definitely shows how much these guys worship the Vaults

This!!! I have so much to talk about here!

alright so now that we know what the vault keys look like.... this doesn’t appear to be part of any of the Vault Keys we’ve seen. especially not the Promethean one. not even the pyramid shaped one.

im mostly interested in this because this is obviously a monk, her robes match the ones we saw above with the hood. she doesn’t appear to be Eridian because we’ve seen the Watcher and the other Guardians, who are built in the image of the Eridians, and she looks wayyy too human. We’ve also seen statues of the Eridians in that one shot of the Pandora temple.

so it seems like the monks have gone inside the pyramid before and... built this statue? for some reason??? It’s interesting that she has an extra pair of arms as well. I wonder if she is like the Siren ancestor of Amara. which could prove my theory that the next successor of Amara would have another set of arms... it might also explain why Amara’s tattoos are everywhere on the buildings (outside of her being the Tiger)

it would also explain this shot, the skeleton with the book, which we now know we’ve seen before with Maya:

so even though they’re protecting the pyramid/temple, i don’t think they’ve been avoiding it entirely- at least not for the first time after discovering it. maybe they stopped going in after they discovered something bad, somethin like iunno... the Rampagers?

it would be Really Weird if the Eridians built that statue, especially when they probably didn’t know what humans looked like at the time. unless of course they helped shape humanity or smth. meaning they probably personally created Sirens. oh that’d be wild... i wonder if we’re going to learn about how early Sirens shaped humanity in that case. discovering fire could be entirely different lol

“hallowed land”

i wonder if this is where we’ll have anointed gear explained to us... i imagine the order is still worshipping Eridian/Siren stuff, so them having all sorta knowledge of this stuff would make sense

more Maliwan. you guys notice we see cultists purely on Eden-6 (outside of the crashed ship), but Maliwan purely on Athenas? a mix on Promethea, tho that’s bc we’ve actually gotten gameplay.

So my guess is Maliwan has joined up with the cult (be it through whatever means: Maliwan is in) and they’re looking for the Promethea key. which makes sense. they’re attacking Rhys on Promethea, so when he helps us out, word probably gets back to Maliwan (somehow) and they swap from wanting to take over Atlas (either by defeating them w/ Zer0/that giant space laser/whatever or just changing priorities) to wanting to open that fuckin Vault. Teaming up with the CoV is the best way to ensure that happens. I’m sure there will oodles of betrayal going on between the two parties.

I LOVE THESE THINGS

THEY’RE AMAZING

GOOD BOYS

in all seriousness, actually, im curious why we don’t see these good boys on Promethea. maybe they’re only for the top-tier squads? (mechanically, probably higher-level enemies) they look super high tech, so i would not be surprised if Maliwan thought Atlas would be an easy takeover so they didn’t send everything they could have

Nog! not much to say here tbqh

“Protect Athenas Before It’s Too Late”

I imagine before Maliwan gets the Vault Key or some other wild power, like power over the Rampagers. seriously, in the We Are Mayhem trailer, there’s a rampager are fighting on the side of Maliwan (altho if this is The One Rampager, or just One of Many is hard to tell. it could morph depending on which element it is. we just don’t know. personally i think there’s 1 per planet... i’ll explain later)

From the Art Book Preview:

Alright yes. “Maliwan forces have already seized control of the monastery, where part of the Promethean Vault Key has been located, turning a simply recovery mission into a vicious firefight...... A large and foreboding crypt built into the side of the mountain was also designed, and might perhaps have housed the Vault Key fragment deep within its gloomy interiors”

i don’t think this means the crypt is like an actual area. it would be interesting to discover that the pyramid is a giant crypt because... jesus. it would fit with the whole pyramid theme, at least. altho im wondering if this is more like a labyrinth situation where they’re trying to keep a Rampager inside as well as the treasure... which MAY be a Vault Key Fragment

Actually, this brings up a great point: did Atlas spread the Vault Key out throughout the planets? Is this where Typhon originally found that Key fragment? wtf was in the Vault that Atlas needed to disassemble the Key and return its fragments? oh boy i hope it’s something scary

From the Moze Eden-6 E3 Gameplay:

oh ye this. okay so this is definitely 100% Eridian. I’m guessing we get this from Athenas because this seems like a fairly important object and, well, Athenas is all about Eridian stuff. When we go through the next few videos, keep an eye out for the temples. You’ll see the glowing red diamond shape constantly reappearing there.

one of the devs admitted that there are hunks of Eridian Writing left around the world that will ‘open up’ things for the players, so I imagine this is exactly what we’ll use to get to it. If this IS only for endgame stuff I’ll be slightly disappointed. I know we have access to this before Eden-6, since there are gameplay videos that show the player breaking the Eridium chunks with this thing. the above one is from the Moze Eden-6 gameplay, tho I’ve also seen newer footage from the Balex gameplay with this same tool

The following clips can be found in this video:

im mostly interested in the wall art here

what looks like a sun or a planet

this symbol which makes an appearance elsewhere

these two are the same area, im imagining this is the fight up to the pyramid, with Maliwan forces and barricades everywhere

the sun again in the background (middle top)

this cool piece (bottom left of the above pic) which looks like a hand covered in glowing blue. i imagine this is some sorta representation of Phaselock? mainly because of the blue orb in the palm of her hand

not much to say about this area tbh. looks like a residential area to me, so possibly not in the residential district

writing on the top mid-right.

idk why i just noticed these trees are green and not red but yeah, that’s interesting. so probably a different area from Amara’s trailer aka: not Partali

and yet we see amara’s tattoos on the building in the back right. sorry for such terrible quality btw, tumblr ate these images and spit them back out

These clips can be found in the Borderlands are Yours trailer:

looks like the small building we see directly next to Maya and Ava

altho very clearly not the same exact area so im curious what these are supposed to represent. tbh im kinda reminded of graveyards. i really hope there aren’t corpses in those omg

another better look at the two pieces of art. i imagine the one on the right has something to do with the eridians given its in a diamond shape, which we know has something to do with the eridians now

also im not playing amara first (possibly last. depending on how i feel fl4k may go last) but HOLY SHIT her action skills are beautiful

THIS FUCKER

i know he’s probably a vault monster but like...

idk i feel its kinda sad gearbox is showing off a VAULT MONSTER of all things in so much promo material. like why is he fighting with Maliwan/the cult in the We are Mayhem trailer??

sup with that?

does he have multiple stages?? is that’s why he changes elements? goes from two heads to wings to extended necks. like wtf is up with this guy?? he definitely looks like he can be elementally charged given his eye sockets aren’t glowing when he emerges like they do

here but then

this dude looks like he has an entirely different skull like...

this dude is a corrosive one who also seems to be working with Maya (who i guess IS probably the corrosive aligned siren)

and we’re guessing the nuclear charged one is the one from Athenas... for reasons i’ll explain below

AND honestly i've been thinking and maybe the fire one is actually from Promethea? and maybe there’s another that’s on Eden-6 and another on Pandora?

alright so i have 2 reasons for this. one involves spoiler talk with the cloth map, so that won’t be discussed here (but if you see the map and the planets, you’ll understand what i’m alluding to here, most likely). the other is that in this screenshot of all the quests from the Eden-6 demo:

we see immediately after “hostile takeover” is the quest “the impending storm”. which is, indeedy, a reference to the Order of the Impending Storm. We know they’re on Athenas, so I imagine we run over to Athenas to get part of the Vault Key. We’ve established from the art book that’s where it is.

but then after The Impending Storm, Space-Laser Tag (which we all know is that giant-ass laser thing in the asteroid belt), and Atlas, at Last, there’s a quest called Beneath the Meridian.

And we know this area... is definitely underground. we’ve seen with the fire-y boy that the ceiling is just rocks

then we see this shot with the nuclear (?) one where the window outside is clearly showing off mountains/sky, which we know is kinda Athenas’s deal

and we know these two areas are the same v ^

since there’s the same ‘Vault’ in the background

so my only problem with this entire theory that there’s multiple rampagers is that

we see the twins killing/absorbing the red/fire one’s power which is also on athenas since the background is the same as the vault area from the above two pictures. unless there’s a similar vault-thing on promethea and eden-6. we know there’s one on Pandora, but that one is outside so.

so i guess they are the same beasty boy but... why why why show us one of the vault monsters

it’s so cool going in blind and not knowing what you’re going to get out of it.

so im going to say this is a minor vault monster (especially given it’s not exactly the same rock-like design as the other vault monsters) and the ‘vaults’ are actually something smaller. maybe they hold keys, or the pieces of the keys, or they’re part of that teleportation network i keep talking about (and i guess i should just make a seperate post about it) but i don’t know if these are actual Big Boy Vaults. especially when the Rampager doesn’t match actual Eridian-created Vault Monsters

that said given we see a bunch of dead guardians on the floor, its possible the rampager killed them? but i get the feeling we might actually be the ones to pull the trigger cause... combat is fun

so. yeah. if the rampager is guarding something that’s fine. i wanna believe teleportation network. i’d love to see the twins come in, walk out of that vault, absorb the rampager’s powers, and then walk out after locking us in like ‘peace’ and we have to use the teleportation system to make it back to promethea with the vault key fragment or whatever

[im here after the cloth map reveal like... uh huh. i see. u dumb bitchard.]

idk i just thought this was a fun screenshot lol

BoRdErLaNdS

ah yes

that’s eridium

this also appears to be in the temple, but, like, again if there’s more than one temple this could also be on Pandora or even Eden-6. Kinda leaning towards Pandora. HOWEVER since we only know for certain this sort of temple area is on Athenas (from that one statue shot), we’re gonna analyze this bad boy right now (also lowkey think this is Pandora because of the varkid nests but shhh)

what do i actually have to say about it? uhhh not much tbh. i think i’ve said all that needs to be said concerning the twins mutating cultists with slag/eridium.

i will say im pretty shocked at, like, the eridium HORNS and shit. so maybe this is just some cool little miniboss. (okay not mini because look how big he’s gotten!! just like Bloodwing :D)

you know what, it looks like he’s standing on one of these

floor tile things, and now im super curious. is the fire part of a trap? is it powering this lad up? i definitely know he’s a cultist because he’s got the neon light tubes on his shoulder pad

see here

you can see these on other cultists like goliaths and such and such

also this is pretty similar to what we’ve seen in the LLE (especially the powersuits) given their bodies also form eridium crystals when they’ve ascended

i feel like its powering him up

you know during the fight with bloodwing when Jack powers up bloodwing using the elemental flamethrower things? would be interesting if this is similar to that.

like dis

yeahhh

the radiation boy is back and he’s actually elementally charged this time

huzzah

also i love the chest mouth lmao

has anyone here seen stretch armstrong? like that one episode where Gabe (crostini man) gets turned into a bunch of flexarium monster chunks

but yeah, awesome mouth my guy.

im curious if it’s being elementally charged to cryo or if it’s stopped being charged. if this is like a cutscene between different stages in the fight, etc etc.

this also looks fairly similar to this area here

but red this time. which... may tie into the elemental stages. which maaaaay tie into those floor platforms elementally charging that demon baby up above. bloodwing 2.0!

You can find the following clips in the Official Guide to the Borderlands:

god i keep telling myself to be on the lookout for athenas clips but i get so distracted by the gorgeousness of this fucking game i forget and have to keep going back

if that dude in the back floating was t-posing i would have lost my shit

new Siren tattoos!!! we haven’t seen these before. they’re very flowy, i love them. i hope we get to meet the siren with them!

i also loooooove this area in the back. i hope we get to climb it and explore. i would love to just be able to climb to high up areas in bl3 and look down and see the area i just came from. it’s possible! we have the technology! thousand cuts / bnk3r ascension 2.0!!!

more of amara’s awesome looking powers

zane has 2 trans pride skins im so happy 😄

also look at how teeny tiny that ‘Vault’ is in the back!!! it’s only like 2x the size of Iron Bear!!! gimme BIG vaults!! GIANT VAULTS

also also

the VOID vault

i get a feeling these are connected somehow.

sniper spoooot

not much to say about this tbh. zane’s claw things look fucking dope tho. i want one irl.

we’ve seen this shot a few times before already

alright before you get mad, let me explain why i think this is athenas

you see this picture

this maliwan jackass. the building to his left is 100% athenas architecture.

the rocks in the top picture look identical to the ones next to him. plus we’ve seen water in the distance of some of the areas of Athenas

it could also be Eden-6 (which honestly i would not be surprised if it is instead) but given the ivy and the rocks i felt it was worthwhile to put in. plus the moving eridian structures are so cool looking. i feel like that’s going to be a puzzle.

oh oh also

maybe that area leads into/exits from here? because they’re both underground in cavern-like areas

but like... it could also be eden-6... because of that one shot of the temple area in the side of the cliff ASDFHDGJFJGFHSD

still radiation charged.

also seriously this ‘Vault’ is wayyyy smaller than a regular Vault. like... the one in BL2 that you can walk right up to... huge. and nothing even comes out of it. the Warrior climbs up from over the edge

the bl1 is much bigger than this one, too. also the vault of the traveller, i would argue is the biggest out of all of them but eh

for the Vault of the Sentinel, the actual arch we see... i’ve already gone over why i don’t think that’s a ‘real’ vault and that its all more of a simulation, but you can read that whole thing here bc i am trying my damndest to not get off topic for this post because holy fucking shit. this got long.

Alright so. Onto the website pictures

another cool shot of the academic district, really showing off the pyramid in the background. god i wanna know what that is. could be the temple (underground things notwithstanding). it’s probably holding that statue with the vault keys in either arm

you know the one, it’s at the beginning of this post. but damn that thing is huge!! i am hoping it holds more than just the promethean vault key.

did i already talk about how there are siren tattoos written along the edges of this area??? because... damn.

also the symbol for what is probably Vault Key sitting right smack dab in the middle??

also sorry i just noticed those blue shapes are moving. like a fountain or something?? weird light.

i mean... the trees are also warping in the background. wonder wtf is going on here...

anyway whatever she’s holding actually doesn’t match up with any of the vault keys we’ve seen so... wtf are you???

a very nice shot overlooking the water. also a wind turbine in the background. i think the area on the left is where we’ve seen ava and maya? but dont hold me to that lol

definitely looks the same. even has the tree

another shot of that area i think we’ve seen Amara fighting in

big shot of the pyramid with the vault symbol everywhere. and the planet with the beams coming out of it. which in retrospect...

anyway that’s spoiler talk so let’s talk in another post.

another shot of athenas from a slightly different angle, we’ve seen this one before, too, and i remember because i complemented the road signs

annnnd im tired. good night everybody.

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #athenas

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