#literally went 'i am not drawing all that' and did vague scribbles which looked good enough
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I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕
You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..
I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..
I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?
Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..
Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw
I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.
Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country
I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.
I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani
They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.
But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that
I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..
Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry
One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make
Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..
But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe
At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day
Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier
...
I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh
I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry
So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow
'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏
26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping
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lavender latte: iii
(T (for now!))
hawks | takami keigo x reader
ao3
chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 4
word count: 4.2k
a cheeky drink and some mutual sabotage.
warnings: oh no, they say s*x, fluff, pining, the usual, and a wittle angst on the side, reader smokes cigs bc its a salem trademarked fic thing
enjoy folks ;^) the whole of this piece is gonna be about? ten chapters. so. hold on tight!!!
beta read by @keiqos, heart EYES
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“Let that sit for a second or you’ll burn yourself—”
“Don’t need to tell me twice, angel. I know the drill.” Hawks replied with a wink.
You weren’t ever going to get tired of that.
You really expected Hawks to disappear out of your life. You really, truly expected him to run off for good. How many bigger, better, and more important things did he have to do? Even if you managed to speak to him and regard him like any other customer (or, perhaps acquaintance, and more recently, friend — ), your mind swam with insecurities that only seemed to get worse over time.
You were waiting for the metaphorical thread to snap.
You waited for the day Hawks simply would stop texting you flirty bullshit on a somewhat regular basis.
But, holy fuck, the dude didn’t.
You couldn’t think of why. You weren’t complaining about the attention, but you also were terrified of getting too used to it. Hawks was a part... bird (?) right? He was flighty by nature.
Despite this, Hawks continued to not only text you but also stopped by the shop fairly frequently for his special, quirk-fueled beverage fix. Politely, he’d text you the day before he planned to make an appearance to check and see if you were working, and then show up the next day like it was nothing.
He usually wouldn’t stay for long; the hero was ungodly busy and always on the move. But, he always took the time to flirt and get a full description of his drink before dashing out to save the world once more.
Most days he visited were his ‘hero work’ days. He’d appear in his costume, done up and dashing for a sip and a quick talk before disappearing once more into the skies. Every once in a while, Hawks had an ‘office’ day where he’d be confined to his agency to catch up on his insane backlog of paperwork. On these occasions, Hawks would talk (stall) at the tea shop for as long as possible. You talked and joked with him as long as he would let you. Sure, it put you behind on work, but no one at the shop was going to tell you off for fraternizing with the number two hero (whose repeated presence was drawing more customers anyways). You both reveled in each other's attention, drinking in the other’s slowly softening smiles and quick wit.
On this day, Keigo’s wings were the shittiest they had been in a while. Plucked and almost barren with how much he’d been working lately. Total exhaustion seemed like it was constantly on the horizon, tugging as his eyelids and weighing down his chest each morning.
It was easier to get out of bed when he got to think about seeing you.
Sure, your drinks were a perk. Very much so. He was getting so used to the artisan beverages you crafted that the taste of his normal canned coffee was starting to bother him.
But, what his real thrill in visiting the tea shop was that he got to see you, and that made his heart pound.
He sat across from you, looking down into your newest drink. It swirled between dark and milky, a heady, rich aroma billowing up with the steam it produced. He had requested something ‘surprising, new, and horribly caffeinated’ as deep fatigue was the worst villain he’d likely see that day. You had just nodded, cheekily starting to prepare his drink with a bounce in your step, pupils going wide.
“I feel like you’re gonna start running out of ideas one of these days,” Keigo laughed, adjusting himself on his stool, gloves and jacket removed. He almost looked like a normal patron.
You grinned to yourself, idly cleaning around you as you often did, “I dunno, I’ve got a lot.”
Hawks raised an eyebrow, “Tell me about them.”
“Nope, top-secret,” You shook your head, digging into your apron to flash him the small notepad you carried on you.
Scrawled in nasty handwriting, you carried your many ‘feeling’ ideas around with you. Different concepts and abstractions all scribbled down, a nice long list to look back on whenever Hawks would make his appearances and his own vague requests. Your backlog of ideas made it easy to find something more than suitable to make for him.
When Hawks saw your notepad his eyes widened, tilting his head and a devious smirk coming to his lips.
Your expression fell, and you stuffed the papers back into your pocket, hiding your hot face by idly cleaning some more.
You left yourself very open for teasing, it seemed.
(Not that you or Keigo minded.)
“You keep a little list of all of your ideas! I’m beyond flattered,” Hawks ran a hand through his hair, flashing a cocky smile for you.
“I have to stay prepared, can’t be disappointing my celebrity sugar daddy,” You winked as Hawks’s eyes went wide, half-hearing a choke get caught in his throat. (You loved it when you were able to get him visibly flustered. What a treat.) You nodded down to the drink, “Should be good to try now.”
Keigo really liked spending time with you. He knew it was always fleeting and short and consistently he wanted to find reasons to stay with you at the tea shop counter for longer and longer. Your quips and chides continued to get quicker and more clever and he was having an increasingly difficult time keeping his cool around you. Most of the time he smoothed himself easily, not showing a trace other than that which he neurologically couldn’t control.
But sometimes, you were bold enough and ballsy enough to get him to gag on his literal words and he was positive that you were the only person to ever have him break composure in such a way.
He covered his weakened poise by sipping the new drink, mindfully letting the taste wash over his tongue.
Increasingly, you’d been changing up the so-called ‘vibe’ of your beverages. It seemed like each time Keigo dropped in, you had something new and vibrant to show him.
This drink was particularly different.
The taste was rich, dark, and smooth, rolling into the back of his throat and down his spine. It coated his insides with a warm, low heat. Peeking through were sweet, light accents, warm but almost... teasing?
His dick twitched.
Hawks’s mouth dropped open, any and all professional veneers dropped as you just beamed so fucking smugly at him.
“What do you think?” You leaned a bit forward, bouncing on your toes with excitement.
“Is... Is this supposed to taste like sex?” Hawks asked, taking another mouthful to confirm. Based on the way his eyes briefly shut and some of the tension rolled from his shoulders, he thoroughly confirmed it.
“Technically, it’s crafted based on like... a late-night rendezvous. I left it fairly up to interpretation beyond that. The rest is on you.” You shrugged, still bouncing as Hawks took another chug.
“What the fuck, (Y/N),” Pleasant shock colored his features, but clear amusement stretched across his lips as he continued to drink.
“You wanted something surprising and horribly caffeinated. That’s a dark chocolate mocha with two extra shots, our in-house raspberry and rhubarb syrup, a bit of white chocolate syrup, and a few of my add-ins as well. It’s pretty different from what I’ve made you before,” You blinked at him, stomach twisting as his expression remained unguarded. “I... I probably should’ve asked before giving you a drink that definitely could’ve been taken as sex. That’s my bad. I can remake you something else if you’d like?”
Keigo shook himself from his stupor, shaking his head and quickly regaining his composure. He took another sip to emphasize his words, “No, nope. It’s okay. Definitely okay. The drink is really good. I’m just now wondering something.”
“And, what’s that?” You asked, reaching behind the counter to grab your own iced beverage.
“Can your quirk be used to manifest bad feelings and concepts, just like good ones?” Keigo asked. Normally, he’d add more nuance, but he was getting impatient and sloppy around you. He’d have to keep that in check.
Especially with the way your shoulders drew up and tensed. You turned a bit away from him, any and all potential for eye contact torn away.
He hit a nerve.
“The type of abstract feeling doesn’t matter, I can emulate it,” You replied, pulling at your nails. Keigo had long picked up that it was one of your habits when your anxiety spiked.
He dropped it, but didn’t forget. There were public files on quirks. Maybe he’d look into it. Maybe. It felt a bit invasive, but considering plenty of that data was freely accessible, it hardly was an invasion of privacy, right?
(Except for the fact that it obviously made you very uncomfortable to discuss the more unsavory potentials of your quirk.)
(He just wouldn’t tell you.)
Keigo switched topics, easily rolling away from the topic, “Any particular... event that inspired this one?”
You pressed your hands into the counter, leaning over it to glare at him, “Are you referring to something with that comment, Hawks?”
He shuddered when you said his name, but you don’t notice.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Keigo shrugged easily, going for another sip.
The drink was inspired by the several day cinematic, wine-bender you went on a week or two prior. An entire weekend with just you, your cats, three entire bottles of wine, and a backlog of movies to catch up on. You tried to consume lots of different types of media, but what had been catching your eye lately had been anything with gushy romance for fairly obvious reasons.
(There was an embarrassing amount of ideas for drinks that were a bit too romantic to properly indulge with your quirk. You’d never tested the limits of how certain feelings could manifest, and you weren’t quite ready to face the reality where you could make people nut from caffeinated milk.)
“It is good though, the drink,” Hawks smacked his lips together as if it would make his coming analysis more credible. “It definitely does taste like sex, but more so complicated. Darker.”
“Deeper.” You smiled. “Your palette is getting more refined. I’m proud.”
“Are you saying it was bad to begin with?” Hawks pouted, flashing you falsely weepy eyes and a puffed out lip.
You rolled your eyes, “Yes, you yourself have admitted this. You drink canned coffee still, so I can’t even call your taste good.”
Hawks gasped, putting a hand to his chest, “I’m hurt, truly wounded.”
“I’m sure you are, tailfeathers.”
“I really thought I had reliably moved up to ‘birdboy’, angel.”
You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, “Just goes to show how quickly the tables turn, tailfeathers.”
Hawks’s pager suddenly chimed, a familiar sign. He took a quick look at it and sighed, moving to re-robe. You were surprised by the speed at which he did so, and the way he became tense so quickly.
It made you realize that he was always tense.
(Unless he was talking to you.)
“I thought today was an office day?” You asked, a bit of a disappointment clouding your voice.
Hawks just gave a small smile, fully plastering back on his heroic facade, “Duty calls. Lots happening lately.”
He flicked his visor back over his eyes, slid you your normalized wad of cash, and whisked himself out the door, immediately taking to the skies from the streets.
He’s in a bit of a hurry.
He... didn’t even say goodbye.
Wonder what’s happening?
Truthfully, Keigo was a bit startled by the notice on his pager. The whole reason he’d started patrolling the particular neighborhood the tea shop was in was because there was word of a villain syndicate working nearby. It hardly seemed right for the neighborhood, but Keigo knew that villains hid anywhere. Whatever they were planning was still relatively shrouded, but it was clear that it needed to be treated delicately. That particular neighborhood was rife with pedestrians, businesses, and homes and any sort of villainous activity had the possibility of reaping a heavy amount of collateral damage. Keigo and the Commission had been on their guards about it, but things had been steadily becoming more intense over the past few weeks.
Plopping himself on a rooftop, Keigo took up residence to stake out his newest lead, watching figures and silhouettes in a nearby office building.
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Funnily enough, the rest of your week went horribly. Just downright shitty. You figured at some point, things would let up, brighten, but they didn’t. Each day brought some new, personal calamity.
The first was a trip to the emergency vet with one of your cats after she swallowed a hair tie. An expensive vet bill later, she was perfectly healthy, but you remained wracked with anxiety.
Another day, the owner of the tea shop paid a visit to chew you out for your newest tea blends not fulfilling his picky seasonal requests. You were relieved it had nothing to do with how Hawks monopolized your time. Still, getting yelled at easily within earshot of both coworkers and customers made your insides twists.
The final small disaster was when a particularly asshole-ish customer chucked a hot drink all over you and your cute white sweater. One of the younger openers had been dealing with a difficult patron and an incorrect order, nothing out of the ordinary. When you tried to step in and de-escalate the situation, the man ripped the lid from his cup and splashed you with the burning liquid. You held back any sounds of pain even as your skin stung like hell when you offered to remake his drink.
One of your managers luckily allowed you to go home early. Thank god.
By the end of your shitty week, you fell into your apartment and just cried. White sweater stained and day feeling fairly ruined, you let yourself have a good, solid sobbing session to just release how terrible things had been.
It would pass, you knew. But it sucked at the moment.
It also didn’t help that Hawks had been particularly absent after running out the last time he came around. He’d still managed to shoot you a funny text or two, but mostly, it was silence from him. You rationalized it by reminding yourself of how quickly he flew off at the end of his last visit, hero business forever more pertinent than you and the shop.
You reminded yourself to keep yourself grounded in Hawks obvious impermanence, even if you were starting to get used to (and really like) having the hero around.
You decided that your Friday evening would be good. You treated yourself to a hot shower, noting with a hiss the pink scalded skin that covered your chest from your collar bones to just below your breasts. You threw on a facemask and uncorked a bottle of wine you had been saving for a rainy day.
You clicked on one of your favorite shows, an older cartoon that brought you consistent comfort in times like those. Curled up with a knit throw blanket and your healthy cats, it did help soothe the burns, mental and physical.
That is until you got a bit too drunk on red wine and it turned into sad drunk.
So, you made your way to the roof.
You weren’t fucked up beyond belief, despite the fact that you were towing an open bottle of red in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the left. The cold would sober you up, along with the nicotine. You hoped it would force you out of your head.
Upon throwing open the door to your apartment complex’s rooftop, you were made very aware of its wintertime disuse. The gardens that grew during the summer were snowcovered. The chairs and tables for lounging were in a similar state. You didn’t mind.
The view was still nice.
You set down your bottle and zipped up your coat. Quickly, you brushed off the flurries from a rickety lawn chair and plopped yourself down. You threw on some music from your phone, playing some sweet, old songs that made your chest ache when you needed it to.
The city stretched in front of you, beyond the rooftop. You didn’t live in a particularly wealthy district, but there was no shortage of dazzling neon and bright street lights dotting the ground below. You watched how the rest of the city stretched far beyond your little pocket, still gleaming with multi-hued lighting and dazzling in the wash of the crescent moon.
You took a swig, fishing for your self-dubbed ‘sad cigarettes’ and lit up. With your exhale, you watched as smoke lazily swirled away, carried by the soft winter wind. If you were any less drunk, you’d be freezing.
A shadow, winged, fell across the snow.
“You know, I get nervous when I see pretty girls on rooftops with bottles in their hands,” You jumped at the voice, whipping your head to the source.
Hawks stood, scarlet wings fanned outwards, on the lip of the rooftop.
Your eyes widened.
You took another sip.
He gave an affectionate laugh, jumping down into the area where you were seated.
Keigo had just been out on his normal, nightly patrol. The leak had been correct and he’d been stealthily tracking the villains while completing the rest of his hero duties. He was able to laugh off his exhaustion, but it was starting to eat him. Several cans of coffee a day was hardly doing it for him. He hid his sleepiness and aches well, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. All the same, his typical roles had to be fulfilled.
He was surprised to see you, all alone on a rooftop with a lit cigarette between your fingers. Keigo let himself be surprised before noting that ‘ yes, you definitely probably live in this apartment building and you’re just outside to smoke’, but the sudden jolt of panic he felt was crushingly unbearable.
Mostly because it was personally protective and not heroically instinctual and he couldn’t start acknowledging that aspect of his feelings for you. Not yet.
Keigo walked towards you, asking, watching you blink blearily at him “You doing alright?”
Eyes downcast, you shrugged, “We all feel shitty sometimes. Just depends on how you cope, ‘ya know?”
“And how do you cope, (Y/N)?” Keigo asked, pausing before brushing off a chair. “Mind if I join you for a bit? I could use a second to rest my wings.”
You nodded, almost offering him the bottle, but quickly pulling it back to your chest before taking another inhale. Offering a pro hero alcohol while he was pretty obviously working seemed like a bad move, even in your tipsy state.
“Most of the time, I watch nice stuff and distract myself, like most people, ya’ know?” You exhaled as you smoked, relishing the nicotine buzz. “Sometimes, though, I just feel extra shitty and need to extra cope.”
Hawks hummed in agreement, sitting back in the chair. His wings were folded up and over its back, the longest feathers trailing in the small snowdrift behind him.
“Do you get cold, being in the sky all the time?” You asked, eyes going cloudy as you stared up at the lights of the city and higher into the sky.
“Most of the time,” Hawks chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head, “I’ve told you this, angel. It was one of our first conversations.”
Your eyes widened at the realization, mouth open with a hearty laugh.
It made Keigo’s eyes water a little. He blamed it on the wind.
“I’m silly, I can’t believe I forgot,” You nestled back into your chair, tracing the lines between constellations. “It’s the whole reason you came to the teashop in the first place.”
Your voice resonated, focus foggy. Somewhere else, old memories played in your mind, recounting your first few meetings with Hawks.
A warm, small smile stretched across your face as you traced the stars.
Keigo watched, enraptured. You were cute, especially like this. All bundled up in your winter coat, half-zipped. There was a lot less stress in your shoulders than he normally saw at the shop, especially as your thoughts were so far away.
He wanted nothing more than to commit the contours and shadows of your face in the white moonlight to memory, never forgotten in the blissful cold.
You interrupted his thoughts so beautifully.
“Thanks for talking to me.” You took a sip from your bottle just after speaking, half-drowning your words, but Keigo caught each one. “I appreciate you.”
“P-pardon?” Keigo couldn’t tell if you caught his stutter, but even if you did, you didn’t show it. The comment felt like a jab to his jaw, half-knocking the wind of him and turning him into a filthy masochist. He’d take any whiplash if it meant you saying such kindnesses to him.
How could you just say shit like that?
What exactly did you mean by that?
Why did your attention make his legs tremble?
You turned your attention from the night sky to Hawks, something like uncertainty bubbling in your chest, “I appreciate you, ya’ know? Coming by the tea shop still, teasing each other and shit, you humoring me—”
Hawks interrupted you, feathers tensing at his back.
“I’m not humoring you.” Hawks deadpanned, staring at you oddly seriously. The yolks of his eyes seemed even more intense in the neon and night light.
“You’re... not?”
There was utter disbelief in your voice, accented by the way your jaw was half-opened.
Hawks shook his head, standing in emphasis, feathers fluttering as he did, “ No, angel. Not at all. I visit because...”
I like you.
“Because I like your drinks.”
Because you make me feel good in a way I’ve never felt.
“You’re fun to talk to, too. Added perk.”
Because I want to hear your voice when I breathe and when I die.
“I enjoy it, you know? You're fun.”
Some feeling in your chest, something full of hope, crushed itself and compacted to the point of pain. You sniffled at his admission, blaming it on the cold. In a fucked up, sad way, part of you was so relieved.
He likes the shop. He likes your drinks.
He’s around because he wants to be.
But not because you’re special to him.
His words reminded you of your insignificance in Hawks’s life. No matter how much you craved his attention and words, and more recently found yourself staring at the plumpness of his lips and the curve of his cupids bow and daydreaming about how much you wanted to lean over the tea shop's counter and kiss the constant, teasing smile off his face—
But.
You don’t matter that much to him.
Sure, he likes you, but he’ll never feel the same way about you.
You made the decision then to make the most out of Hawk’s affections and sweet words. You’d take what you could get, even if it was fleeting and probably eventually heartbreaking. It seemed smart, to refuse to get your hopes up for someone so unattainable.
You let out a shaking sigh, “Thank you, Hawks. I appreciate you coming around. You really light up my day.”
Keigo saw the fall of your face and bottled himself up. Shoved down everything. Fuck his feeling, fuck how he felt about you, this was all fucking terrifying. It was getting to be too much and he had to try and control himself.
Just like he’d been taught so well.
He was just so happy to be around you. He could squash his feelings, even if they were fairly obviously somewhat mutual. God knows that he didn’t know how to handle anything like that.
On the gods, his pager beeped.
“Duty calls?” You said, standing up yourself and brushing off the stray snowflakes.
“Seems so.” Hawks sighed, nodding, “Thanks for letting me rest here. It was good to see you, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon, okay?”
You waved goodbye as Hawks disappeared as quickly as he came, launching himself from the roof with the heavy sound of wing beats.
Soaring away, Keigo risked a final look at you. He swore he saw tears in your eyes.
He forcibly repressed his feelings, reminding himself that your company, words, and quirk-made beverages were more than enough. The flutter in his chest when he thought of you wouldn’t rest, but he could learn to ignore it.
On the roof of your apartment, you felt fatigue in your bones and wetness on your cheeks. You ignored both in favor of smoking another cigarette, soft, melancholy music being your only constant, reliable companion.
You reminded yourself that he, Hawks, was a temporary fixture, more flighty than most and liked you just enough and for surface-level reasons. You could take that. You’d do anything to be around him more, even if it never amounted to anything.
You, just as Keigo did, pressed down any larger feelings.
(The thing about feelings, though, that neither of you was very good at remembering, was that they don’t go away. Sure, you can let them go, but that takes time or a practiced mind!)
(When you take feelings, big, aching, soaking feelings and shove them down into the deepest parts of you, they just tend to make you bleed. The ‘hidden’ feelings color your blood as it spills, even if you don’t notice when it falls and its change in hue.)
(One can only hope that both Keigo and you listened instead of lied.)
Both of your hearts ached, and neither of you fully understood why.
#salem writes#hawks x reader#mha hawks#bnha hawks#takami keigo x reader#keigo takami x reader#reader insert#mha x reader#keigo x reader#hawks x y/n#takami keigo x y/n#lavender latte#bnha x reader
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the most beautiful moment in life | viii
pairing: ot7? x reader
genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?
length: 5.5k
summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.
a/n: i realize i’m updating really slowly and the reason for that is online school which is taking up pretty much all my time BUT it hasn’t stopped me from writing at all. i actually have many different scenes written already, they’re just not in order, so i have to kind of make myself write the scenes that are happening first before any of those, which is hard sometimes cause i have so many ideas :)
i realize that the pace of the fic is also kind of slow and that’s because i don’t want to have such a big overarching plot (like some kind of mystery to solve or a big villain) but rather small subplots happening at the same time. it feels easier to me to develop characters and relationships and i get to include a lot of different plot ideas that way (and there is so much happening in hyyh). it’s also hard writing this cause the bangtan universe is really complicated when you think too much about it, and we don’t even know everything about it, so i have to work with what we have and what i know.
so thank you guys for liking what i’m writing! i hope i can do the hyyh era some (even if it’s the tiniest amount) justice, and i hope you guys enjoy it too. and if you have feedback or ideas, i’d love to hear it!
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Remembering details from a dream was a lot harder than a nightmare. Nightmares had you waking up in a cold sweat, sometimes plaguing your mind throughout the day if they were intense enough. Dreams, however, were only alive while you were asleep, and then they slipped away from your mind like they never even happened.
For the past few weeks, you’d been getting dreams that you could mostly or somewhat recall more often. Vague, obscure scenes or flashes that changed sporadically because even in your dream state, you had no control over your mind.
But you noticed that they tended to involve people in your life. Your mother, Sana, your old friends, and the seven boys you’d unconsciously formed a friendship with over the past month. Of course, it didn’t have to mean anything. But some of them strangely stood out more than others.
One time, you saw Namjoon standing in a dark area with a single white light illuminating his silhouette from above, and a cigarette slipping from between his fingers. Another time, there was Hoseok at what looked like a train station. He was walking along the train tracks at night like he couldn’t see you watching him. And then, there was a scene of Jungkook walking on to the road, changing almost immediately before a car swerved right into him. That was one thing you couldn’t forget. Because you remembered it had been you driving that car.
“Y/N?”
The voice of the exact boy you were thinking of broke through your string of thoughts. When you looked up, you suddenly remembered where you were.
There were a lot of nice vast areas of green fields that belonged to the Academy. With iron benches and tables and the smell of oak trees, it was an ideal setting for many fundraisers, picnics and outdoor events. You were currently sitting cross legged on top of one of those gray metal tables right beside a tall tree that cast a shade over you and the seven others sitting around you. Judging by the way some of them were looking at you, you must’ve missed something in the conversation.
“Hmm?” you asked, glancing at Jungkook who was sitting beside you, also on top of the table.
“See, I told you she wasn’t listening,” Taehyung said to the two taller boys on either side of him. “Face it, Namjoon. The books were boring.”
While Seokjin seemed thoroughly amused, Namjoon’s expression was just the slightest bit annoyed, so you could tell this argument might have been going on for a while. But his patience with Taehyung and the some of the other boys was astounding to you.
On the opposite side of the bench, Yoongi was sitting with Jimin and Hoseok, and quirked a brow in Taehyung’s way. “You literally said that you watched the Lord of the Rings a month ago.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So?” Namjoon repeated, and the tick in his jaw represented the snapping of his patience. “They have the exact same plot!”
You found yourself drifting from the rest of the conversation again, as some of the other boys began to chime in. On your lap was a notebook you realized you’d been scribbling in with a pencil while the others had been talking. It was hard to decide which was more concerning— the fact that you’d so effectively tuned out the boys, or that you were only vaguely aware that you’d been drawing at the same time.
You felt someone studying you in your peripheral vision. Jungkook decided to finally nudge you. “Not interested in fantasy novel series?”
“No, I—just spaced out for a second,” you answered lamely.
His earlier grin morphed into a slight frown. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? “Yeah.”
His gaze dropped to your open book, widening a little in mild surprise. “I thought you said you couldn’t draw.”
“I don’t. Art class was an ironic choice that way.”
“What are you talking about?” Jimin said as he leaned over Jungkook to get a better look. Slowly, the others turned their attention towards you too. “This is pretty good.”
Hoseok, who was one of the ones in closest proximity to you, stretched out his hand so you could pass him the book. “Woah.” He went through a few various facial expressions, a lot of them where he scrunched up his eyebrows. “What’s the inspiration behind that?”
“Probably not those dry as hell books,” Taehyung retorted.
Namjoon didn’t hesitate to shove the loud mouthed boy off of the bench, earning more than a few laughs from everyone. Taehyung shot him a glare with an offended hey!
“Nothing,” you answered him. “I just got distracted.”
The notebook was now in Namjoon’s hand and his expression was contemplative as he fixated his eyes onto the page. “You got distracted and absentmindedly drew this? With no idea in your head?”
“I had a dream.” You gave a shrug, stealing a few potato chips from Jungkook’s snack. “So, I drew it.”
“A dream like this?”
You looked back at him, trying not to frown. “Why, is it that weird?”
“Not weird,” he assured. “Just… a little unusual. I’ve never met anyone our age who would come up with stuff like this from their subconscious.”
“Who’s the boy supposed to be?” Yoongi asked after the book got rotated to him.
“I don’t know,” you answered. There hadn’t been a real chance to glimpse the boy from that scene. All you remembered was the black hair and the white shirt he was wearing as he stood looking out the only window in a plain room with only a mattress and white flower petals scattered on the floor. “Some random guy, I guess.”
“Everyone we see in our dreams are people we’ve seen at some point in our lives,” Namjoon said.
You gave this a considerative hum. Though you knew maybe thirty people who could fit in that description. “Well, I don’t remember then.”
“Let me see,” Seokjin said, taking the book in his hand. A moment later, his face morphed into something you couldn’t quite decipher. But it was like for that moment, he had understood something without realizing it.
“Why the hell are so many people out here at this time?” Jimin spoke up as a few students or groups of them began to appear on the field or pathway, spilling out from the building. “This is when it’s supposed to be the quietest here. I was looking forward to not seeing… pretty much everyone.”
“It’s not like we own this place,” Jungkook reminded him.
Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as the bright young things don’t show up…“
And just like on cue, the group of cheerleaders and jocks were walking on the opposite side of the field. You didn’t let your attention linger on the old group of friends you didn’t want anything to do with anymore. But as you glanced away, Yoongi caught your eyes as though he knew what you were thinking.
“Way to go, Jimin,” Hoseok said, giving the boy a light shove. “You just manifested it.”
Taehyung leaned back in his seat. “Seeing them this early in the day is really bad for my digestion.”
“Who told you to shove two chocolate muffins down your throat?” Yoongi said to him, referring to the now empty plastic container sitting beside you. You’d made a large quantity of them the other day and after recalling how Hoseok had liked your baking—and all his following requests over texts to make more— maybe the others would like something too.
The younger boy didn’t acknowledge the harmless judging tone he’d used. “My inner subconscious, which by the way, I have no regrets about.”
“It’s great how you can say that so confidently about something in your life,” Namjoon said with slight skeptical wonder.
“Y/N made those muffins for us with all her heart and soul—“
“Actually, it was just flour and sugar...” you mumbled though your voice was mostly lost under theirs.
“I was just displaying my gratitude,” Taehyung said finally.
“The muffins were actually really good,” Seokjin said to you as he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to you. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.
“Y/N’s a good baker,” Hoseok affirmed before looking at you. “How long did you say you’ve been at it for?”
“Not that long.” You twisted your dyed blonde hair into a bun and slid the pencil you’d been drawing with through it to hold it in place. “I just picked it up this year.”
Taehyung looked at you with a grin. “I guess I’ll have to annoy you enough at work to get stuff for free.”
You returned it with an exaggerated smile. “You come to work during my shift, I’ll have security ask you to leave for harassment.”
His mouth fell open. “B-but I’ll tip!”
You shook your head, chuckling a little. “You’re ridiculous.”
With his arms folded over his chest, he glanced around sombrely. “This is how brittle friendship is, I guess. Like a dark chocolate bar.”
Namjoon, hiding his amusement with an arched brow, said, “Taehyung, remind me to never ask you for poetry recommendations.”
“Hey.”
Everyone seemed to fall into a silence, realizing that voice didn’t belong to any of you. They turned their heads towards the new arrival, but you didn’t have to look to know who’d approached the table. At first, you thought you could get away without saying anything, but the rest of the boys were casting imperceivable glances in your direction. Finally, one of the others did what you didn’t want to.
“Hi,” Namjoon said to the boy who’d once been the closest to you.
Min-hyuk stood there, as though expecting you to eventually say something to him. Then he looked around the group, smiling his friendly, star quarterback smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Min-hyuk.”
“We know who you are,” Yoongi said, the cold undertones in his voice not going unheard by anyone. Leave it to him to keep things harsh but real.
Min-hyuk, probably not used to hearing that kind of tone with that sentence, stared at the boy, a little dumbfounded. “Oh…”
Namjoon—you reminded yourself to tell the guy what a blessing he was— stepped in again. It was probably good that it was him who was leading the conversation. You’d learned by now that none of the others were quite as sensible and level headed when they needed to be. “What he means is, do you need something?”
“Can we talk, Y/N?” Min-hyuk asked finally, the question you’d been dreading, because now it was explicitly directed at you.
You held back a defeated sigh and said, “I have class in a few—“
“It won’t take long, I promise.”
He seemed to be somewhat satisfied when you looked up at him and nodded just imperceptibly. He started to move away from the table, and you made a move to follow when a hand gently closed around your wrist.
“You know, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Jungkook said quietly but firmly. His eyes held something like concern, and gazing around the table, the others wore similar expressions.
“Yeah,” you said. “But he won’t stop until I do.”
Jungkook released his hand from yours, watching as you got up and walked over to where Min-hyuk was waiting.
You put your hands in your pockets, right away saying, “Let’s get right to point this time, shall we?”
“I left you a note the other day,” he said, not happy with your attitude, but not able to say anything to it either. “You didn’t reply.”
“That was you?” you asked, dumbly. “I didn’t realize.”
“Come on, Y/N. Who else would write you that?” He paused. “My mother said she saw you at the hospital yesterday. Is everything okay?”
You didn’t meet his gaze, instead mostly looking at the ground. If your eyes drifted around too much, you were afraid to see that other students were watching you like a movie scene. You knew that the seven boys you’d just left were certainly doing that. “Uh huh,” you answered, without any emotion.
Min-hyuk held back an impatient noise. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I just want to know you’re doing fine.”
This time, you did look up to meet his eyes. “Why?”
“Why?” He was partly taken aback with surprise at your response. “We might not be together anymore, but it’s not like I just don’t care all of a sudden.”
“You didn’t care before.”
He stared at your expression, like he was wondering if you meant it. “Do you really think that?“
“You were never on my side.”
“What?”
Before, this would’ve been hard for you to talk about, because you’d only ever avoided it. To think about it would make you think about all the times you knew you should’ve walked away, the times that you stood there and just took everything when you knew you deserved better than that. But maybe it was time to rip the bandaid off. How long were you going to go back and forth like this? How long was he going to try to hold on to you when you wanted out?
“You wanted to know where it all went wrong,” you spoke. “How about when you stood there and let everyone, even our own friends, say all those things about me. And when I asked you to trust me, you didn’t.”
“It wasn’t that simple.” He shook his head. At least he had the decency to look apologetic, to sound like he meant what he thought. “I–I wanted to trust you—“
“I think I see it now.” It was taking a lot of courage for you to finally say what you needed to say, and now that you finally found it, you didn’t even care that other people were watching or listening. “We were both so good at acting like everything about us was perfect. And as soon as I stopped, things changed. The difference between us is that one of us still pretending.”
“Min-hyuk!” One of his friends from the football team—one of your former ones— came up beside him, tapping his shoulder. He looked at you with the kind of friendliness that was reserved for any random student in the hallway. “Hi, Y/N. What are you guys talking about?”
Min-hyuk seemed to have nothing to say, his gaze on you fixed, but his mind on the words you’d spoken. You were glad you had the ability to leave him speechless, to see him actually opening his eyes to a world outside that bubble he lived in. The bubble that you’d also been a part of, but were now glad to have found a way out.
“Well,” you said to both of them. “I have class now.”
With your bag over your shoulder, you turned and headed for the building without paying attention to any of the stares that followed you.
By the end of the day, that courage and energy that had allowed you to speak up to Min-hyuk had dissipated. Hopefully, he wouldn’t approach you again any time soon. Was it asking too much to not be approached by anyone else at all?
Now, you were standing in front of the doors to the pool once again, looking inside, but not having the courage to go in. It was almost a metaphor for your life. You were standing on the outside of a part of your life from the past, not being able to actually go in and see it properly.
Yoongi’s figure materialized next to you, not saying anything at first as though he could tell you were deep in thought. So, you broke the silence first and asked, “Long day?”
“You have no idea,” he answered. “Guess which asshole of a teacher decided to assign us a 10 page paper due in less than a week?”
Glancing sideways at him, you grinned. “The one who probably has hypertension from having to teach you?”
He shot you a dry look, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little like he was also holding back a grin of his own. “You’re hilarious, princess. But also probably right.” He noticed your attention on the pool on the opposite of the doors. "What, are you not allowed to go in or something? Weren’t you on the swim team at some point?”
Instead of answering, you turned away from the doors and started walking down the hallway. “Weren’t you on the basketball team?”
As Yoongi walked alongside you, subtle surprise appeared on his face. “It’s been a while since anyone’s asked me that.”
“You were captain of the team too, right?” you asked. “That’s how I knew you.”
Something else flickered across his face, though you didn’t know what it was. To you, it was probably the face you wore when you were briefly and vaguely recalling something in your mind. “Well, it’s always nice to hear that my reputation precedes me. And not just as a gothic, underground rapper.” He ignored your subtle roll of eyes. “I played shooting guard actually.”
You hummed, remembering all the basketball games you attended in the gymnasium with your old friends. As part of the cheerleading team, you’d had an obligation to be there, but some of the games actually got interesting to watch. The first time you’d noticed Yoongi was when one time you’d been running late and had been trying to not fall behind the rest of the team. You remembered dropping one of your pompoms while trying to tie your hair up, and in passing, he’d picked up and handed it to you. You didn’t think he remembered it, and maybe it was a little embarrassing that you did.
“You were good too.” You stopped near the front doors, most of the students walking around you with no interest since it was the end of the school day. Yoongi shot you a slightly puzzled look. “I was a cheerleader, remember? I’ve been to a bunch of games.”
“I remember,” he said after a moment, and it didn’t sound like something you’d say to someone just to blindly agree with them, so that was why you ended up meeting his gaze. There was something underneath those deep gray eyes that you didn’t really understand, but somehow, still found it startling to hold eye contact.
You half forced a chuckle to move the attention away from you. “Besides, it’s kind of hard to miss the only guy on the team with dyed blonde hair.”
He chuckled. “I almost forgot about that.”
“How could you forget? You were literally my inspiration,” you said, gesturing to your own bleached hair. When he threw you a dubious side eye, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Surely, that would’ve tricked one of the other boys. “Alright, fine, you didn’t. You know, I definitely do not miss the 5 hour practices, or the tiny uniforms or Yuna screaming at some younger, clueless girl to stop slacking.”
“But the outfits were so cute,” Yoongi teased, and though you were glad the topic changed, you shot him an unamused glance. “It was a joke. On a related note… what did the ex-boyfriend want earlier?”
You arched a brow and held back an amused grin. “You can say his name, you know.”
“Yeah, but that would give him too much significance. Unnamed means unimportant.”
You hummed in agreement. “Nothing really.”
“Is that why you ditched us afterwards without so much as a word?” he asked skeptically.
You tried not to sound irritated about it, but you’d hoped you could make it through the day without having to talk about it. “I ditched you, because I wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated about it.”
“How quickly you assume we would interrogate you.”
“Well, wouldn’t you?”
“Fine,” he grumbled after some seconds. “At least 3/7ths of us might. Can you really blame us for being curious? It looked kind of intense.”
Folding your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a grin forming on your lips. “Remember how you said you didn’t care? Well, it’s starting to sound a little like you do.”
He scoffed. “Please. You mistake my blind curiosity for something it isn’t.” He watched you a little longer as you shrugged before saying, “Remember when you said I was good at deflecting? You’re not so bad at it yourself.”
A part of you thought that this was a good time as any to actually talk about it. About how you’d cut things off with Yuna and Min-hyuk, and why you’d wanted to. By now, you felt like you could tell any of the seven boys and they’d listen—actually listen—and Yoongi, despite coming off as aloof and indifferent, wouldn’t judge you or anything. But this recent bond with them felt like a new and good thing, and you just didn’t want to jeopardize it, like you did with most things.
"Do you a need ride home?” Yoongi asked when he realized you were too deep in your head to say anything else about it. “I’m giving Jungkook one too, so I can drop you off after.”
“You go ahead,” you answered. “I have some stuff to do first.”
At first, he seemed almost reluctant to leave you alone, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t insist or comment on it. It would contradict his indifference to most things. Only after he left did you turn and start aimlessly walking down the other side of the hallway. It wasn’t like you had anything to do. You just weren’t sure if you wanted to be around anyone with curiosity like Yoongi’s lingering above your head. Talking about yourself and your personal life was never fun.
Eventually, you ran into another familiar face.
“Hey, what’s up?” Namjoon said as he approached you in the hall.
“If this is about this morning, I’d rather not talk about it,” you decided to say immediately because if anyone could get answers from you by asking the right questions, it was probably Namjoon.
Fortunately for you, Namjoon could’ve read that from a mile away and wasn’t one to pry. He nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. Oh, hold on a second.” From his backpack, he drew out some loose papers tucked into a notebook. “I went through some of these to find whatever was legible enough.”
You scanned the writing briefly. “Your English notes?”
“Yeah, I remember you said the last class went over your head.”
“I just don’t understand why it’s bought and not buyed, but it’s walk and walked? Like why can’t they can’t follow the same rule for every past tense conjugation?” you complained, but still a little touched that he remembered something you’d probably said in passing. “But thanks.”
“Also, if you see Taehyung, can you let him know I can’t walk home with him today?”
You nodded. “Sure. Staying back for extra work?”
“No, I—I have a shift today.”
You wondered why he sounded reluctant to answer. “Where do you work?”
“It’s a library,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s on the other side of the city, so I like to leave a little earlier.”
You shot him an amused grin. “Were there no libraries nearby hiring? Because I know if they saw your GPA, they would not hesitate.”
“Uh, this one has a nicer collection.”
“Alright,” you said, deciding not to question his responses since he hadn’t questioned you. But for some reason, it felt like he was trying to hide something. “See you tomorrow then.”
Smiling, he said, “Thanks, Y/N.”
As he walked away, you had to stop the curiosity from getting to you. It truly was an ordeal to be so curious and not want to intrude upon things that didn’t concern you. You had to remind yourself that it was better that information came to you at the right time rather than forcing it. At first, the reminder was about other people, but sometimes, you thought it was also about yourself.
After exiting through the west doors, you noticed Taehyung at the bottom of the staircase right outside the building. He was leaning against the railing, hood over his head and concentrated on whatever game he was playing on his phone. You slowed your steps, approaching the stairs. “You’re still here.”
Taehyung glanced up at you, slipping his phone into his pocket as you came towards him. “Waiting for Namjoon. The kid’s a genius, but his punctuality could use a little improvement.”
You quirked a brow. “Kid? He’s older than you.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he said pointedly, “And I’m older than you. So how about you don’t question me?”
You had to bite back a smile at his antics. It was hard to believe sometimes that most of these boys were older than you. “He told me to tell you he has work today, so he can’t make it.”
He let out a loud and dramatic groan, practically cringing at himself. “For real? I probably look like some idiot, waiting on the stairs for his even more of an idiot boyfriend.”
You shrugged, not hiding the smile this time. “Just a little.”
He looked back at you. “How are you getting home? I’ll walk with you.”
He already started walking, expecting you to follow, so you didn’t get a chance to reply. With a defeated sigh, you decided to go after him.
Your first mistake was choosing to walk all the way home instead of taking the bus. Your second mistake was letting Taehyung take the lead, because that boy looked like he’d never had a plan a day in his life. While you somewhat admired the spontaneity, you were used to routine or a plan of some kind. Although you did suppose that this year, everything that had happened, and was happening now, was not planned at all.
“I’ve never gone this way before.”
The buildings were older and a bit worn away, but almost in an intentional manner, posters and signs on the gray brick walls. You passed several small shops and restaurants and cafes that despite appearing quaint seemed very cute. The people that walked by were all in their own worlds, not so much as glancing at you or anyone near them. It was something like a secret tourist spot or a hidden gem.
“Really?” Taehyung said. He walked on your right, but a little ahead. You wanted to say it was because he was leading the way, but that presumed he knew where he was going. “This street’s pretty cool. Hidden away from the centre, though, so you don’t really know about it until you come yourself.”
You removed your eyes from an old bookstore with a chalkboard sign outside. “You must do a lot of exploring, huh?”
“Whatever gets me out of the house.” He stopped walking abruptly. When you stopped to ask what was wrong, you saw a mischievous smile form on his face. “I just had a brilliant idea.”
“Why am I kind of doubtful?”
Despite the many, many questions you asked, Taehyung didn’t answer any of them. He could try and be mysterious if he wanted, but you wouldn’t buy it, was what you said to him. Instead, you waited outside while he went into a convenience store for a few minutes. You shouldn’t have been so surprised when he emerged with a plastic bag in hand, full of bottles of spray paint. You opened your mouth to ask what he was planning, but he just tugged on your arm and made you follow him around the corner.
The street you stopped at had to be somewhat of a visual arts scene, because you recalled passing arts and crafts places and small galleries, and the wall that stood in front of you now was a graffiti wall.
“This is so cool,” you said in awe, all thoughts of skepticism at Taehyung’s actions gone. Your gaze roamed over the various artwork and writing, painted on by different kinds of paint and people and minds. It was like an anonymous outlet for creativity and self expression, something like in the olden days when things like freedom of expression was outlawed, so people had to get creative around it.
“I love all kinds of art,” Taehyung said, dropping his backpack and crouching near the ground. “But graffiti has become more interesting recently. Here.”
You looked to see that he was holding out a can of spray paint for you. “This is vandalizing.”
He half scoffed, half laughed. “This is an artistic statement.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive, Taehyung.”
“Relax, Y/N.” He placed the can in your hand himself after he decided that you wouldn’t take it, then took another out of the bag for himself. “I’ve done this billions of times. You won’t get caught.”
Despite yourself, there was an urge in you to just do it, get your hands a little messy. That was why you liked to bake after all, wasn’t it? That was why you chose art class. You could make a mess and make something good out of it. You could control something instead of being controlled. But turning back to the wall of art and messages and stories, you hesitated. “I can’t paint like this,” you tried lamely.
Taehyung shot you a look. “I saw your sketch today. It was far from shitty.” After a minute of waiting, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll go first.”
The way he walked up the an empty section of the wall with confidence, how he shook the paint can and effortlessly began to draw strokes in red paint told you that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d done this a lot.
When he finished, he stepped back to where you stood, briefly appraising his work before saying, “Your turn. Don’t think too much. Just whatever’s on your mind, let it out.”
So, you found yourself closing your eyes briefly, and releasing a breath before stepping forward. You pushed on the paint can’s nozzle and let your mind take over for your hand and for a few minutes, all that was heard was the faint car engines in the distance and the spraying noise of the paint. Finally, you let your arm drop to see what you’d made. It was a pair of blue wings like a butterfly’s.
Taehyung studied the wall for a moment before humming, “Interesting.”
“By interesting, you mean awful.”
He shot you a look. “By interesting, I mean interesting. You and Namjoon might like to have second meanings to your sentences, but I’m a simple guy.”
“Uh huh.” You watched him move back to the wall and start painting something else. It was funny how before you’d known him, you had him pegged for some kind of reckless skater boy with a rebellious streak. He was actually more of an artsy boy with a rebellious streak. “I guess it would be easier if everyone wasn’t always pretending to be something they’re not.”
“Was Min-hyuk pretending to be a super nice guy again?” He only glanced over his shoulder at you when he didn’t get an answer. Of course this topic would’ve inevitable come up although you’d also assumed Taehyung would avoid uncomfortable conversations whenever he could. “None of those guys are all what they show. It’s good that you hit one of them. You might accidentally activate some part in the brain that knocks some sense into them.”
You nodded at this, slightly amused. “If that was how neurobiology worked.”
“Let’s experiment. Hit me over the head really hard and tomorrow, let’s see if I pass my math test.”
You were holding back a laugh when your gaze fell on part of his drawing. “Is that your signature?”
“Oh, that... it’s kind of like my alias,” Taehyung said almost like it was embarrassing for him to say. This must have been the first time he’d told someone about his side hobby. “For when I’m out painting.”
“For when you’re out vandalizing,” you remarked.
He mocked the face you’d made earlier and said, “They’re not mutually exclusive, Y/N.”
You let out a scoff, but couldn’t hide your amusement. “What does it mean? The V?”
“It’s short for Vante.”
You hummed. “Interesting.”
“You mean interesting good or interesting bad?”
“I mean interesting,” you said, deepening your voice a little to mock him.
The side of his mouth curved into a grin. “Touche.”
Returning your attention to the wall, your eyes began to study the various drawings, fleetingly going back to another wall and another drawing. “You haven’t seen anything like the hwa yang yeong hwa we saw before, have you?”
“No,” Taehyung answered, then gave it another thought. “Not that I’ve been to a lot of graffiti places outside of this area. But from where I have looked around, it’s made me think that maybe this... Smeraldo person isn’t a regular graffiti artist.”
“As in, this was just a one time thing for them?”
“Maybe.”
“I guess that means it’s not just graffiti we should be looking at,” you speculated. “It’s definitely a start but could be any art form.”
“Or maybe the art is just a way to get it out there.”
You frowned. “Meaning what? Someone’s trying to say something? To send a message?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible, yeah.”
His attention refocused on the drawing he’d started, but your mind began to run through possible explanations. What if somehow someone was trying to say something? More importantly, what if someone was trying to say something to you?
The sun was beginning to lower by the time you reached Taehyung’s place. You didn’t even realize the two of you had been out for a while with his detour idea.
You tilted your head up to observe the apartment building complex. Since you’d never been to this part of the city before, you couldn’t say much about it. But by the oldness and the obvious low maintenance of the building, you guessed that the rent was affordable. Taehyung, like you, wasn’t one of the richer kids of the Academy. You supposed that the talent that had gotten him in was art related, if not painting specifically.
“Is this where you live?” you asked to break the silence.
“Yup,” Taehyung said, popping the sound at the end. “Home sweet…” He trailed off a little as his faraway gaze crossed the building, instead turning back to you. “Do you live close by? I can walk with you.”
You made a dubious face. “Are you sure you want to walk there and then all the way back?”
“Hey, I may be lazy, but I’m not that lazy.”
“I don’t need protecting, if that’s what you were going to say.”
He scoffed. “Obviously not. You broke a guy’s fucking jaw!”
“It wasn’t actually broken,” you muttered before shaking your head. “Wouldn’t you rather go home? Your parents are probably waiting for you.”
“No one’s waiting for me.” Before you could say anything, he waved it away, his long hair hiding the expression on his face you were trying to read. “It’s fine. Forget it.”
But he didn’t make a move to walk towards the complex’s stairs that led up to the first floor. Even as you stood there for another minute and he just stood with you, you realized he wasn’t about to head home regardless of if you left now or stayed. And for a moment, you wondered if this was what he had meant that day weeks ago. No one’s waiting for me. It was a thought that had held a place in your mind for a long time too.
It’s better not to force information you don’t even need to know, a voice in the back of your head reminded. Finally, you said, “Are you hungry? I could go for some coffee, and the Brew’s not far from here.”
Taehyung turned to look at you. If he was grateful for the chance to avoid going home, he didn’t show it. “Will you give me a discount?”
“If you stop talking, I’ll pay for your entire order.”
The carefree smile that stretched across his face as he started dragging you towards the next street was enough for you to know that he was, in fact, at least a little grateful.
chapter vii // chapter ix (coming soon)
#bts#fanfiction#fic#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts angst#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts fluff#bangtan x reader#ot7 x reader#hyyh#hyyh au#hyyh era#romance#drama#bts series#bangtan#seokjin#namjoon#yoongi#hoseok#jimin#taehyung#jungkook#v#rm#jhope#suga
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Deal’s End (8)
I'll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me and love another
You'll regret it all some day
-You Are My Sunshine by Jimmie Davis
(Read on AO3)
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Marinette didn’t see Felix again before she went to bed. Her confusing thoughts from earlier only grew with his absence. Before when the thought of him leaving had felt bittersweet the idea that she wouldn’t be able to talk to him again hurt deep in her chest now. She liked Felix. She liked being around him and having fun with him. She liked talking with him and walking home with him.
Perhaps this was a form of Stockholm Syndrome. Wanting your demonic roommate to stay with you because you now see them as a friend. She doubted that anyone else could relate to her though. And she couldn’t talk to anyone about this since no one knew of Felix’s true nature. She was stuck alone in a dark room with her racing thoughts and heavy heart.
Maybe...maybe he could visit after he left. She hadn’t heard Felix mention that he was confined to Hell unless he was summoned. Maybe he would be able to pop up once in a while to say hi. They could grab lunch...play a game of Mecha Strike.
“UGH!” She buried her face in her pillow. Why was she getting so worked up about this now? Yeah she kinda saw Felix as her friend but there was no use worrying about life after he was gone when he was still very much in her life.
But for how much longer though? Once she was Adrien’s girlfriend Felix would be gone.
She forced the thoughts out of her head. This was not the night to worry about this. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.
The next day was a lazy day spent inside. The weather had taken a bad turn and a torrential downpour soaked the city. Marinette spent it in her room catching up on work and reorganizing. Pretty much anything to keep her mind busy and off of the looming worries for the future. Felix had reappeared in the morning though he was far quieter than usual. He mainly kept off to the side scribbling stuff down in his notebook. Randomly he would tear a page out and burn the paper instantaneously in his hand before starting again.
Marinette had asked what he was doing to which he gave a vague answer of ‘stuff.’ She tried to peek over his shoulder but he hid the page from view. “Nosy girl.”
“Why won’t you let me see what you’re doing?” Marinette asked.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Will you show me if I get you eclairs?” she smiled as the bribe hit its mark.
He looked up at her, his eyes widened at the promise of chocolatey foods. “How many eclairs?”
“As many as it takes for you to show me what’s on that paper.”
“I want ten eclairs and one of those red velvet cupcakes from the bakery.”
“Okay.” Marinette started heading downstairs. “It better not be something stupid!”
She grabbed the snacks from the bakery and went back up for the trade. She held out the box to Felix who reluctantly swapped it with his notebook. On the page was the start of a rough sketch hunched over a table. “You draw?” Marinette smiled as she took in the new information. “I didn’t know that about you.”
“It helps pass the time.” He shrugged as he downed another eclair.
She looked closer at the figure trying to figure out what he was going for from the rough outline. Then she saw the pigtails to the back of the hunched figure’s head. The box on top of the table...it was a sewing machine. Felix had been drawing her work.
She wanted desperately to ask why but figured it was for the best she not let on she knew it was her he was drawing and handed the notebook back. “It’s very good.”
“I’ve barely started.”
“Yeah but I can tell.” She plucked the half eaten eclair out of his hand. “That being said try not to get crumbs all over my chaise.”
“That was mine!” He made a pathetic grab for the bite of eclair she held.
“Not anymore.” She popped it into her mouth. “That was a nice break but I need to get back to work.” She sat down at her machine and picked up where she had left off. She wanted to talk to him about what happened last night but thought it better for another day. Or maybe she was too scared of what answer he would give to ask.
The rest of the day passed by without incident and with it their weekend off came to a close. Monday was upon them and so was Felix’s vigor to throw Marinette head first into situations with Adrien. She had gotten better at handling the sudden interactions. Maybe spending more time together had finally neutralized her utter terror of being alone with him cause now she could talk to him almost normally. Heck, she was even cracking jokes!
“So did you want to hang out after school?” Marinette asked Adrien.
“I’d like to but I got a photoshoot today.” Adrien sighed, “Maybe next time.”
“Oh okay.” Marinette smiled despite her disappointment. She went to Felix with a small shake of her head. “He said he has a photoshoot and can’t hang out. His dad must have penned it in last minute because I had no idea.”
“That sucks.” Felix paced the back of the classroom. “But you look really good today and you have confidence in talking to him. I don’t want to waste either of those.”
“But he’s going to be working and there’s no way his dad is going to let him out of it. Let’s just go home and try again tomorrow.” Marinette stared down at her toes. “This is kinda fortuitous cause I wanted to talk to you about the other night--”
“Wait! I got it!” Felix grabbed her and pulled her out into the hall. Everyone was filtering out of the school building including Adrien. “Do you know where the photoshoot is?”
“Uh, the weather is nice and summer is on the way so they’re probably doing a summer shoot in the park. Why?”
“Cause we can still work with this. Follow me!” Felix dashed out of the school with Marinette shortly behind. Sure enough they got to the park and the shoot was being set up.
“Okay, we’re here.” Marinette panted as she caught her breath. “What now? You’re just going to walk onto the set?”
“That was the plan.” Felix started walking towards the workers. Adrien’s security guard stopped them from getting closer to the set.
“Excuse me sir,” Felix said, “Could you move aside? We’re here for the photoshoot.”
The bodyguard remained in place. “You see, I am one of the models working today so I kinda need in.”
The bodyguard nodded and moved out of the way. Felix pulled Marinette through. “Felix, you’re not a model.” She whispered.
“Harsh, I think I’m pretty good looking.”
“That’s not what I meant. You are literally not a model employed by Gabriel Agreste. How long do you expect that excuse to work?”
“As long as possible. Demon powers, remember?”
“Right!” Marinette had almost forgotten. “So we’re okay?”
“We are golden.” They celebrated their little infiltration before Adrien noticed they were there.
“Hey guys,” He greeted them, “What are you two doing here?”
“I got called in last minute to fill in for a sick model.” Felix lied smoothly.
“Oh, I had no idea you were a model too.” Adrien breamed instantly taken in by the lie.
“Minor. It helps pay the bills.” Felix shrugged. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Marinette. Seeing as how she loves fashion so much.”
“Not at all.” Adrien waved to her, “Guess we get to hang out after all.”
“You two have fun I need to find wardrobe.” Felix wandered off. Wait, was he actually going to do the shoot?
“Did you know Felix was a model?” Adrien asked Marinette.
“I didn’t have a clue until he dragged me over here.” She said. She looked over Adrien’s outfit. White tee shirt with blue pants and tan shoes. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this is part of the ready made summer collection you’re dad’s putting out this summer?”
“That it is. What do you think?”
“I would kill to be able to work with grade A material like this all the time.” Marinette sighed as she felt the cottony texture of his sleeve. “I just blew all my money buying organza for a dress I’m making.”
“Oh really? Were you commissioned or is it just for yourself?”
“For myself. It’s a sheer overlay that is supposed to sorta party wear with a low-key formal vibe.”
“How far have you gotten?”
“Pretty far actually. I started pinning it together on my dress form not too long ago. I’m using strips of silver ribbon to sew onto the hem and make a little criss cross pattern across the bust. The most nerve wracking part was that I decided to make it a high-low silhouette and I knew I only had one shot to cut it correctly so I am so relieved it’s turned out okay.”
“I hope to see it one day.”
“Hello, I am back,” Felix joined the once more. “Now, I know I look amazing but neither of you swoon in my presence.”
“Oh yeah, you look so good.” Marinette rolled her eyes before she finally actually looked at him. The sarcastic remark turning bitter as she realized that he did in fact look pretty darn good in the outfit they had put him in. It wasn’t anything special, a blue button up shirt with white pants and brown shoes. What struck Marinette was that the whole time she’d known Felix all she had ever seen him wear was primarily reds and blacks. This was the first time she had seen him in something so light.
“Something on your mind, love?” Felix smirked at her when he caught her staring.
“Shut it.” she tweaked his nose. “But I will say you do look...what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Devilishly handsome?” Felix suggested.
“I was gonna say, angelic.” Marinette smirked right back at him.
“Oh really?” Felix gaped at her with an open smile, “Alright, if that’s how you want to play this.”
“Is this an inside joke I’m not understanding?” Adrien asked clearly confused as to why Marinette’s compliment had been met with such good natured disdain.
“Yeah.” Marinette laughed. “I won’t bother trying to explain. It’s a long story and you’d really have to be there to understand it.”
One of the assistants ran past the three teenagers and pulled the photographer away. That was weird. A minute later the photographer came back with a pained expression. “Something wrong, Giuseppe?” Adrien asked.
“The female model for the shoot is sick and can’t make it. We will have to reschedule the entire shoot if we cannot find another model to take her place.” The photographer rubbed his temples.
“I have a suggestion,” Felix spoke up. He cast a wicked sideways glance towards Marinette. Oh he had better not! “Our friend Marinette here isn’t half bad looking. Could she fill in?”
“Felix!” She warned, “I’m not a model. I couldn’t possibly--”
“Oh please, mademoiselle,” The photographer begged. “It is a small shoot after all. Could you fill in just this once?”
“I don’t--”
“You should do it.” Adrien encouraged. “I think you’d make a great model.”
“Well…” She looked back at the manic photographer and sighed. “Okay.”
“Perfecto! Ladies!” He shouted for the stylists. “Get this girl through make up and wardrobe now!”
Marinette was carted off and put into a small tent area to change. She sat in a chair as the stylists quickly but masterfully did her hair and make up before kicking her out onto the set. Unlike the boys were sporting white and blue, Marinette was dressed in a soft yellow sundress that floated around her gently in the breeze.
“There she is!” The photographer pushed her out to where the two boys were already staged. “Now, the look for this shoot is that you two boys are the sky and clouds and our pretty girl here is the bright sun between you. Dewy smiles, relaxed positions, I want you three to move around naturally so we can get some natural shots.”
The boys seemed to understand immediately what they were supposed to do but Marinette stood in the middle stiff as a board. Why had she let them talk her into this? It was probably Felix influencing them with his powers to let them agree to this.
“Darling,” The photographer locked eyes with her, “Can you please move around and give us a smile, hm?”
“Oh right,” She put on a smile and tried to copy what the boys were doing but she just felt ridiculous. The boys noticed her struggling and suddenly she was being spun around really fast by Felix.
“Whoa!” She almost stumbled but was caught by Adrien. “Sorry!”
“It’s okay. Loosen up,” Adrien gave her a slower spin, “This is supposed to be fun.”
“Fun.” Marinette took a deep breath, “I can do that.”
After that things went smoother. It didn’t feel so much like posing but messing around with two friends. At one point both of the boys picked her up so she was sitting in the air with arms around either of them. The photographer really liked that shot.
“Alright,” The photographer set the camera down, “Signore Adrien, you are done for the day.”
“This was a lot of fun.” Adrien turned to Marinette and Felix. “These shoots can be pretty boring but having you guys here was so much better. Hopefully I’ll get to work with you again sometime.”
“It was fun after I got used to it.” Marinette said, “But I gotta say I think I prefer making clothes instead of modeling them.”
“Darling, Signore,” The photographer waved to the teenagers, “If you two could come back to set. I wanted to get some shots of just the two of you.”
“Who? Us?” Marinette pointed to her and Felix.
“Yes, it is time for Signore Adrien to head home but you two have such good chemistry. That is if you do not have anywhere to be.” The photographer said.
Good chemistry…
“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Felix looped an arm around Marinette, “And I know you don’t. How about it?”
“Uh sure.” Marinette said bye to Adrien before joining Felix back on the set.
“The model lie work a little too well?” Marinette asked under her breath so only Felix could hear.
“I can’t help it that we look good.” Felix responded. “Also, you’re now going to grace magazines and media dressed like a ray of sunshine and sandwiched between two extremely attractive fellas. Do you have any idea how envious people are gonna be of you?”
“I don’t want people to envy me. I just wanted to have a fun time with my friends.” Marinette sighed. “But a little exposure in any way can help down the line.”
“Friends?” Felix paused his posing for a second to stare at her.
“Yeah.” Marinette grabbed his hand and stretched to twirl him. “We are friends...aren’t we?”
Felix smiled once more and picked Marinette up and spun her around. A surprised laugh leapt out of her throat as she spun the air in his arms. “Felix!”
“And to think you wanted to get rid of me!” He laughed too. “No take backs either, love.”
“Put me down!” Marinette playfully swatted him on top of his head. He set her back on her feet as she tried to slow the spinning of her head. “You are so dramatic.”
“Well I’m sorry. You don’t get a whole lot of friends where I’m from.” He held Marinette straight so she didn’t sway. “I got a little excited.”
“Obviously.” She ruffled his hair. “Which means you’ll need to come visit after you leave.”
“Leave?” Felix looked confused for a moment before the understanding parted the clouds in his mind. “Oh yes, of course.”
“You will be able to come back and visit, won’t you?” Marinette pressed. Felix gave her a sad look.
“Marinette…”
“I think we have it!” The photographer stepped forth waving his camera excitedly. “Your pictures were perfection, darlings! The expressions so sincere! The poses and body language between you so natural! These will grace magazines and billboards all across Paris!”
“Oh great,” Felix nodded. “Does that mean we are free to go now?”
“Yes,” The photographer stepped aside to let them go get changed. “And if either of you want to make a career out of modelling I know a wonderful agency that would take the both of you in a heartbeat.”
“Thank you, sir.” Marinette stayed to look at a couple of the photos he had taken before going to change.
She was in the middle of pulling her pants back on when Felix popped his head in. “Hey are you--” he noticed her stooped over with her pants around her ankles and snorted. “Are those dumplings on your underwear?”
“GET OUT!” Marinette hiked her pants up and chased him out of the dressing room forgetting her shoes and bag behind her. She chased Felix around the park in her bare feet. “You are so dead!”
“This isn’t very friendly behaviour!” he shrieked as he ran from her.
“Neither is what’s gonna happen when I catch you!” Marinette let out a hysterical laugh as they played their game. Questions she had and answers she feared still sat in her mind but she let them alone for now. She didn’t know how much longer she was gonna have this with Felix and she wanted to make it last while it did.
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(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (9)
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(tagged)
@sannsibarr @miss-mysterys-blog @maribug-adrienoir @mermaidreject @corabeth11 @goblinwhoships @symwinter @yourgeekysister
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Til the End of the Night / Ch6: In which Roman has company
Previous / Masterpost / Next
Summary: The Dragon Witch finally shows up in person.
Warnings: manipulation, breaking things in anger
A/N: Roman wanted more page time. And by wanted I mean demanded from me. So I gave it to him. :)
Read on AO3
Roman watched through his full-length mirror as his friends entered the forest. All the walking wasn’t very exciting, but watching it was better than doing nothing. He had finally worked out how to zoom in on the stupid thing after tinkering with it (and shouting at it) for most of the day, and jeez was he ever gonna have to have a talk with those three about their clothing choices. Virgil at least looked the part, although it was the wrong part. And, okay, yes, Patton was freakin’ adorable, that was a given. Logan, uh… yeah, he had nothing there. Even his face- which was, of course, identical to Roman’s own face, and Roman looked good in anything- still couldn’t save that outfit. Back to the point, though, if they were going through the forest, that meant they were taking the same route he himself had a few days ago. Which meant… hmm.
He flopped on the bed to think, staring up at the ceiling. When he traveled that path, he was always presented with challenges- three of them, to be exact. Adventuring was his way of testing himself, making sure his improvisation skills were kept sharp, as well as his swordsmanship. His friends probably wouldn’t be fighting much, though, given that they had no weapons and wouldn't know how to use them if they did. No, they were more likely to face obstacles suited to their individual strengths.
“But what might those be?” he mused aloud. Not that he didn’t know what their strengths were, but how did, say, Patton’s emotional intelligence and caring nature translate into anything that might pop up in the normal course of a heroic quest? He tried not to dwell on the fact that he should have known, that he seemed to be losing control over his own dreamspace thanks to their presence and truly did not know what would happen. “I mean, I’ve certainly never heard of anyone defeating a dragon with hugs.”
“Have you ever tried?” He sat up in surprise at the sound of another voice, light and teasing, yet underlaid with a dangerous sharpness. The Dragon Witch herself, stepping through the mirror. He dismissed the images quickly and laid a hand on his sword, jumping to his feet. “It’s been a while, Prince.”
“Not long enough, witch, and I believe the attempt would only earn me a knife in the back,” he pointed out, eyebrow raised. She laughed, tossing her intricately braided dark hair over her shoulder.
“You know me too well. How are you faring, all alone in here? I know it must be difficult for you, what with the lack of adoring imaginary subjects and all.”
“You’ll be disappointed to hear that I am perfectly fine.” Actually, he had never been so bored in his life. Now that the reality of his situation had really settled into the Imagination’s framework, he couldn’t conjure anything fun anymore. “Enough small talk, what are you planning? You must have a reason for wanting me out of the way.” His weapon was drawn now, and they circled each other, Roman holding his sword at the ready, the witch’s hands giving off a warning glimmer of magic. They both knew better than to attack first, so a wary peace existed for the moment.
“Oh, taking over your kingdom, terrorizing the populace, the usual. I do wish you’d give me more complicated motives once in a while.” The witch was one of Roman’s earliest creations. He wasn’t entirely sure when she had become self-aware. It was a bit worrying, if he was honest; sometimes he wasn’t sure if she was really under his control or just playing along for her own amusement.
Roman bristled at the insult to his creativity, clapping a hand over his heart in offended shock. “You dare presume to tell me how to craft my stories?! I wish you wouldn’t imprison me in my own architecture, but we can’t always have what we want, can we?”
“Point taken. But that reminds me, I didn’t just come to indulge your love of antagonistic banter.” She took a step towards him and he raised his sword defensively. “Oh, put that down, I’m not here to fight.”
“Maybe I am,” he retorted, and, well, with an opening like that, what was he supposed to do? He lunged at her with a shout, only to find himself suspended in midair, surrounded by green and gold light. Stupid magic. His sword floated out of his hand and over to her while he was immobilized. She finally released him from the spell after catching it and he thudded onto the floor in a very unprincely manner. He glared at her and stood up, brushing himself off and trying to look at least a little bit dignified.
She responded as if nothing had happened between his last statement and this one. “No, you’re here to wait for someone to save you from my evil clutches, but since I doubt that will be happening any time soon, right now you’re going to help me with this.” She produced a rolled-up parchment and showed him a vague drawing of a castle. “I mean, it’s definitely missing something, right?”
He blinked, taken aback and briefly forgetting to be angry. “Pardon?”
“The design of my castle,” she said, as if it should have been painfully obvious. “How am I to take your place as ruler of this realm without anywhere to rule from?”
He really shouldn’t be helping her with that, but dangit, the temptation of having something to do was too strong. It wasn’t as if she would have time to actually construct the thing, after all, he certainly wouldn’t be lending any assistance there, so there was no harm in merely planning it as a mental exercise. And he really wanted to draw a castle, okay? He snatched the paper and spread it out on the table, conjuring a pencil.
“Alright, you’re definitely going to need more spikey bits here… No, no, this is all wrong-” he erased an entire section of the building- “this should be over here, and then maybe some spires… Oh, and of course there’s got to be a wall with a nice, intimidating front gate…” Without her noticing, he also scribbled in a small back-door entry. No impenetrable stronghold would be complete without a way to sneak in, obviously.
Soon he was flipping the paper over to sketch different angles on the back, and then unconsciously summoning up more, so absorbed in messy floor plans that he didn’t notice when the sun went down. The witch watched over his shoulder as he muttered to himself, smirking at how easy it had been to get him going. Eventually, he finished off one last illegible annotation with a flourish and stepped back proudly. “Done! Beautiful, right?”
She stepped around him and shuffled through the papers. “Oh, yes, you’re so talented!” He preened. She glanced sideways at him, a glint in her silver eyes and a smug smile tugging at her lips, and he faltered, realizing he may possibly have made a slight mistake. “And so, so incredibly easy to manipulate.”
Her eyes flashed green. He gasped and braced himself on the table. It felt as though someone had wrapped a hand around his internal organs and given a sharp tug. Something was torn from him, forced violently out into the world. His closest reference point was a dream gone wrong, the feeling of nightmares forming themselves from his creative power against his wishes, only so much stronger. He couldn’t breathe for a second, and then the witch flicked a hand at him before he could try to move, walking away and leaving him frozen in place. He could only watch as she oh-so-casually opened a wooden door that definitely had not existed before, on the opposite side of the room from the window, and stepped out into a long torch-lit hallway, taking his sword with her. “Thanks for the castle, Princey,” she sang while closing the door. There was the metallic sound of a key in a lock, and he stumbled a bit as her magic dissipated from the air around him.
“No,” he said out loud, surprising himself with how angry he sounded. “No! How could I be such an idiot!” He swept the papers off the table in frustration, and the look he gave them as they fluttered harmlessly to the floor should by all rights have burst them into flame. “I finally get a chance to do something in this story, the story I was supposed to be the hero of, might I remind you-” He appeared to be reminding the lantern. “-and the one thing I’ve been able to do in like a week, it all goes completely flipping pear-shaped! It’s not fair!”
He was vaguely aware that this was the literal definition of throwing a tantrum, but given that no one could see him anyway, he didn’t particularly care. In fact, he decided to go ahead and throw a pillow, too, while he was at it. Then he accidentally knocked the lantern off the table, again, while pacing angrily around the room, and then the pillow he’d just thrown was on fire and so were the drawings, and the lantern survived but he burned his hand retrieving it and at that point he was too frustrated and tired to clean up properly, so he didn’t. He just fell into a convenient chair and glared at nothing in particular, trying to get himself under control before his burning anger morphed into hot tears. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He couldn’t tell how long it took him to calm down. When he felt like sitting up properly again, it was really dark outside, and that was all he knew. The lantern was flickering, because a lot of its oil was now pooled around the charred remains of paper and fabric and fluff. He simply snapped his fingers to get rid of that mess, now that he was stable and not at risk of making it worse instead. While he was at it, he cleaned himself up and changed into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping, red flannel pajama pants and a soft t-shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed, dropped his head into his hands, and sighed.
“Am I… losing control?”
The room didn’t respond. His own thoughts tried to answer him instead, and he didn’t much appreciate what they had to offer. The evidence was beginning to add up, as Logan would say, probably while dressed as Sherlock Holmes for some reason. Getting stuck here in the first place could be dismissed as a fluke. The others having influence over his realm, well, that made sense, given the way it responded to his thoughts, although that didn’t mean he liked it. But the Dragon Witch hijacking his power to bring an entire castle into existence? That should not have been able to happen. He created her. She was a figment of his own imagination. Why was she suddenly doing things he didn’t expect, or understand, or know how to stop? It was… scary. He had never been genuinely afraid of anything here, always knowing on some level that none of it was real, but this scared him.
He wanted to conjure up a new pillow, but was hit with the probably-irrational fear that it wouldn’t work and he would have proof that his power was fading. Maybe leaving him entirely, stranding him here, never to return to Thomas except in dreams, where he would desperately try to get a message through each night only to have it forgotten upon waking and okay no this was not a hypothetical narrative he needed to follow to its conclusion, that was only making things worse, stupid brain seizing on anything it could turn dramatic and taking it way further than necessary. This was exactly why he needed the others to get here soon. Logan would bring him back to what was real and actually happening when his thoughts ran away with him like that, and Patton would surely give him a hug and believe in him so hard he’d forget he ever doubted himself, and Virgil would make him feel better just by being there, ready to stop him if he tried to do anything else stupid for the sake of showing off. He and Logan were basically 85% of Roman’s impulse control, but Virgil was the one willing to literally tackle him to prevent a bad decision. He’d never expected to miss that.
This wasn’t getting him anywhere productive, and he couldn’t sleep with his thoughts in such turmoil. He gave up after fifteen minutes of trying and sat up. The room was nearly pitch-black, but there was a dim sliver of light coming through the crack under the newly-extant door, making the mirror appear to glow. Maybe he would just check on them once more before going to sleep, just, you know, to see how far they had gotten since last time. They were almost certainly asleep by now, but still. He felt his way carefully across the darkened room and pressed a hand against the cold glass of the mirror, focusing his thoughts on his friends.
#sanders sides#sanders sides fic#roman sanders#i dont know what else to tag this as... the others arent really in this chapter#so uhh filler to get past the first five tags so i can do the organizational ones#my post#my writing#til the end of the night
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Karkat trying his damndest to bake dave a apple pie and Dave literally crying when he receives said pie. He doesn't even taste it at first, just cries cause no ones ever baked him something before and-"Oh god Karkat I love you marry me and have my babies"
“You know,” Jake said, as though his input was at all invited or even slightly welcome, “Watching that thing in there is most definitely not going to finish it any faster.”
“Funny how I don’t remember asking you,” Karkat ground out through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes defiantly on the innards of the electric baking device.
“I know you’re trying your absolute hardest,” Jake went on, blithely, “But I figure when your books talk about melting glares and looks that could melt steel and all that they’re not being precisely literal.”
“I am not –” Karkat cut himself off, straightened up and growled low in his throat. He refused to turn around. “Fuck off!”
“I admit I question the purity of his motivations,” a new voice chimed in, and Karkat groaned, helplessly, resting his forehead against the wide handle of the device. It was almost too warm for comfort. “But Jake is right, Karkat. A watched pot never boils, you know.”
“I am not watching a pot,” Karkat said, speaking slowly, enunciating every word as clearly and kindly as possible given the situation, because he had to admit, he wouldn’t have made it half this far without Jane’s help in the first place. Human cuisine was far too fucking complicated. “Neither am I waiting for water to boil, so thank you, Jane, I’ll file that tidbit away for the future, when it might be even slightly relevant.”
He heard Jake snort and Jane sigh, and god, the seconds were taking fucking hours to pass, and still the crust of his stupid pie remained woefully pale. It was like, six thousands fucking degrees in there, how could it take so long to cook?
“Have it your way,” Jane said, and Karkat did steal a look over then, a momentary panic blasting through him.
“Wait, are you leaving? What if something goes wrong? What if –”
She laughed at him, and he snapped his mouth shut immediately, telltale heat climbing up his traitorous cheeks. “You’ll be fine, Karkat,” Jane assured him. She had her eyebrows up at him and was wiping her hands absently on her apron, smiling faintly. “All that’s left is to let the darn thing finish! You’re managing to make even me nervous, just standing there waiting impatiently like that.”
“See?” Jake said, nudging his chin in Jane’s direction. “She knows her stuff. You’d best follow her advice. You wouldn’t want to go serving a certain someone a defective pie, would you?”
“Oh, stop teasing him,” Jane said, but there was absolutely no vigor in it. She was practically laughing at him.
“Never,” Jake said, solemnly, and Jane whipped at him with her apron tassels. Jake crossed his arms and stood fast against this fabricated assault, and in response, Jane picked up a rolling pin and brandished it at him threateningly. This received the expected response – Jake immediately turned tail with a half-sincere yelp, and they both went scampering out the back door one after the other, letting it slam behind them.
Which left Karkat alone with his fledgling attempt at human baking and an entirely too enormous surplus of time, most of which he spent fidgeting aimlessly and feeling like an idiot, because Dave was going to laugh his guts out at this ridiculous gesture even if the thing didn’t turn out – well, defective.
An hour later, he was fully armed and loaded with a frankly absurdly hot fruity human confection… and he very nearly meekly deposited it in the garbage before he could go embarrass himself by actually presenting it to its intended recipient. But, no. Dave loved apples, and he loved pies, and Karkat was absolutely sure on at least several separate occasions he had tried unsuccessfully to charm Jane into combining the concepts for him exactly like this.
He’d like it.
Probably.
Jane had told him to let it set for a few hours before taking it off the rack, but the thought of doing so made him want to die, so here he was, buried in baking mitts up to the elbows, carrying out a steaming platter to find his frankly undeserving boyfriend before he lost his nerve.
Said nerve ebbed slightly with every step, and truth be told, he almost didn’t find him in time, after all.
And when he did, he didn’t know what exactly to say or do. There was no occasion to hide behind. No excuse to hold up like a shield and pretend had forced him to do this extremely stupid thing. Dave looked up from a desk covered in eye-searingly shitty scribbles and Karkat could see his brows hunch together even behind the idiotic shades.
“What the fuck?” Dave said, and Karkat nearly, so fucking nearly just chucked at him and ran.
Instead, he ground his teeth and held it out, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I got tired of you constantly debasing yourself in front of John’s mother,” he said, deciding on the angle on the fly, “so I thought I’d spare you at least some measure of future humiliation by putting together a… um,” he stumbled a bit, fuck, he was losing his conviction fast, “Hopefully… acceptable substitute, for you know, it’s not going to be nearly as good as the shit she puts out, but it’s my first try, and I probably should have left it on the fucking rack like she told me to but you know what, fuck that, what kind of precious fucking nourishment needs to set for twice as long as it needs to fucking cook?”
He stopped. Swallowed. Dave was just looking at him, head titled slightly.
“Fuck,” Karkat muttered. “I’m picking up all your shitty ramble habits.”
Dave stood up, and he was frowning, and Karkat’s stomach dropped straight to the floor, but he just kept standing there holding the stupid thing because what else was he supposed to do?
“You, like, made that? Yourself?”
“Uh, yeah. I just fucking said that, didn’t I?!”
“For me?”
“Jesus Christ, Dave, I’m not repeating every god damn word I just projectile vomited all over the space between us! Please just take this stupid shitty thing and do whatever you want with it, okay? Toss it out, for all I care! Just take it!” He held it out, insistently, and then his eyes widened and he snatched it back, half turning away. “Actually, don’t do that, you’ll burn the shit out of yourself. Let me just –” Fuck, this was going so much worse than he’d imagined it would. “I’ll just put it here,” he mumbled, stepping fast around Dave and setting it on the desk atop a discarded set of shitty, shitty drawings. He pulled the gloves off and threw those down, too, and then turned to flee – and ran right back into Dave, who had somehow silently moved directly behind him.
“Fuck,” Karkat complained, “Move your ass, I need to go crawl into a hole and never come out, now.”
“Why?” Dave demanded, and Karkat winced back with a panicked shrug.
“Because I’m fucking embarrassed, okay? I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea! Can you please just let me retreat with some modicum of dignity intact, please?”
“No, I –” Dave’s expression darkened even further, and Karkat narrowed his eyes at him, glaring. “I just mean, I don’t get…” Dave looked from him, to the table, and back again. “Never mind,” he said. And he just stood there. Karkat shuffled his feet, uncertain.
“I can take it away,” he said.
“Nah,” Dave replied, but he still didn’t move. He was standing, in fact, very, very still. Karkat studied him, brows knitting, watching his lips flatten and the muscles in his throat spasm suspiciously.
Oh.
He felt himself deflate. Not with disappointment or shame or anything, just – relief, almost? Okay. He understood this, he thought, although Dave probably didn’t want to hear it. He crossed his arms. He stared at the floor, because Dave probably didn’t want him watching, well, him.
“It’s funny, right?” Dave said, finally, a few minutes later, and there was no sign anything had happened at all except his voice was a little off, maybe. Karkat envied him that. His face always got all puffy and wet and frankly disgusting when he cried. “It’s just a fucking pie. Not that, uh. I mean. I don’t mean –”
“I get it,” Karkat said, quietly.
“Thanks,” Dave said, and Karkat nodded.
“You’re welcome, idiot. But please remember, it’s probably really fucking bad. Defective, really.”
“I don’t give a shit what it is,” Dave said. “It’s goddamn perfect, whether we have to eat it ourselves, or trick John into eating it instead.”
Karkat laughed. “Yeah, okay,” he said, warmth spreading all through him, along with the vague notion that maybe this hadn’t been a completely idiotic idea after all. “Excellent point.”
#dave strider#karkat vantas#davekat#asks#prompts#jake english#jane crocker#look i just want more karkat cr w jake let me live#Anonymous#op#ficlet
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Trump’s Bad Day 3: The Kids Are All Wrong. Sad!
Within the deepest reaches of the White House in a room designated by a hastily scribbled sticky note as “The War Room”, the President himself sat alone. His face was illuminated only by the flickering of a desk television tuned into Fox News and his hands constantly fidgeting while he desperately tried to think of a way out of his latest predicament.
It had not been a good couple of days for President 45. First, a group of liberals attacked his most loyal fanbase and while they got what was coming to them when one of his brave soldiers ran some of them over with a car, a bunch of cucks have shown themselves furious over the matter and started to attack his fans!
Following that, the fake news media actually wanted him to condemn the protesters as if they had done anything even in the slightest wrong. Wasn’t the left supposed to be the ones championing themselves as the advocates for tolerance and yet, here they were acting as if those tiki totting protesters are bad people for just disagreeing with them. Sad!
For the last several days he had been pestered non stop by the media and peasants who demanded he respond to the event as if that were a job of the Presidency. Obama would have issued a statement condemning the attacks minutes after it happened and what these people don’t understand is that he isn’t Obama! He wants to undo everything Obama has done and if that means not responding to one rinky dink death, so be it!
Alas the brave warrior couldn’t keep up his defense for long. In a matter of days of being strongarmed by the media and people, he finally made his first press statement in months. He insists he was the most clever orator, if he knew what that word was, that the world has ever seen for his unparalleled wielding of words to turn the argument away from his supporters and to the counter protesters. By using the most dishonest use of the “But both sides” argument since the pathetic attempts at shielding Islam whenever a cartoonist or apostate is killed, Trump managed shed some humanity onto the card carrying neo-nazis who proudly saluted him and have shown the world what real Trump supporters look like and the might they carry.
The absolute rush he felt during that speech must have been what Hitler himself felt when dictating his own rise to power. Granted, even people who absolutely hate Hitler would concede that the man was indeed a skilled orator, the subject of his speeches aside, while Trump is a bumbling idiot who can’t string together a coherent sentence to save his life...but what do they know? They’re a bunch of libcucks!
Unfortunately, it didn’t work out as planned. Even though he made a speech just like they were all bitching about for days, they were still mad. It just goes to show you should never try to do what’s good for the country because they’re never be satisfied. Lobbyists on the other hand always praise him when he does things for their benefit.
But even then he felt a shiver when thinking of those wonderful groups who only want even more money. The plans of repealing Obamacare have failed time and time again and now he has to sabotage it from the inside. That’s more work for him when he should be golfing and sniffing Ivanka’s underwear! Why won’t the poor just kill themselves so he doesn’t have to spend so much time trying to pass legislation that will do it slowly?
At least Fox News was there to set the record straight. He enjoyed watching the bumbling automaton on the screen recite conservative talking points to defend him. Sometimes he saw a hint of humanity in their eyes where it seemed that the host was having trouble believing their own lies, but no, that was just the screen.
Of course he couldn’t just sit down and watch Fox News all day like he could before. That fucker Robert Mueller’s investigation was closing in on his family now and he still wasn’t allowed to fire him. He promised Jeff Sessions that he’ll kill all the jews if he gets to fire Mueller but he only got some crap about “Having to follow the law on this one” as if Republicans or the rich ever cared about the rule of law. That’s for the poor people!
In order to save his family, he’d need his family’s help. It’s not relying on others because they’re still Trumps and thus have his genes in them. Unfortunately, he isn’t shoving more of his genes into Ivanka at the moment but that will have to come later.
Mere minutes after texting, Donald Trump Jr, Eric Trump, and Jared Kushner were in the room and waiting to receive orders. People say slapping around your kids doesn’t work, but it’s clear that these subordinates aren’t going to turn against him any time soon.
“Alright boys, we need to find a way to get that fuck off our case. We have the best cases, believe me. When Putin looked at my case, who I didn’t visit or talk to, but when I went to him and told him to look at my case which was my hotels, he said it was the best and I believe everything he said because he can’t do no wrong, but I’m not friends him with, understand?” He pointed at Eric, “Jr, fucking fix this!”
“Daddy, I’m Eric!”
“I don’t fucking care, Kushner.”
“Uh, Father, I’m Kushner.” The farthest to the right pipped up.
“I don’t give a shit, Billy, just figure out how to get Comey off my back.”
“Comey isn’t in the picture anymore, dad” Jr mentioned. “You fired him months ago. That’s why Mueller’s even here to begin with.”
“Do I look like I give a shit, Eric? Fucking fire Obama already!”
“Daddy, I’m Eric!”
“Did I ask you who you were, Barron?”
“I’m not Barron, daddy, I’m Eric!”
“Then where the fuck’s Barron?”
“He’s outside playing with his fidget spinner, father.” Kushner was getting tired of this.
“Why the fuck is a ten year old playing with his penis?”
“Father, a fidget spinner isn’t-”
“THAT WAS MY FIDGET SPINNER! TELL HIM TO GIVE IT BACK, DADDY!” Eric was on the verge of tears. He hated his younger brother because the kid was always bullying him.
“I don’t care who’s penis it was, damnit! If anyone’s penis should be played with, it’s mine anyways!” He slammed his tiny fists on the desk and immediately pointed to Kushner. “How the fuck do we get Mueller out of here! We’re going to end up in jail because of this and by we, I mean you because I’m not going to jail. I never get in trouble! I’m not in trouble but you are and I’m not because I don’t get in trouble!”
“Have you been able to make any deals with anyone in the FBI? Someone could tamper with the evidence so it can’t be used against you, take the fall for it, and then you pardon him. Easy as that.”
“Kushner, I make the best deals. Believe me. The best. Why when I made a deal to win the election and remove sanctions from Russia with Putin, he agreed it was the best. I never talked to him, but he knew it was the best deals. Not like Obama’s deals. His deals were bad. Bad deals. Sad! He didn’t make the best like I can. When I made a deal, it was-”
“Did you contact anyone in the FBI or not?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Oh my fucking God!” Kushner was ready to leave the room and see if he can’t fly down to Russia himself for help at this point. “Alright, father, what about the media. Can’t you get Bannon to get Brietbart to shame Mueller into submission?”
“Oh Bannon? I fired him earlier.”
“YOU WHAT?”
“Everyone was saying he was the president, Jr, but I’m the president. Me. Donald Trump, who I am and not Bannon, is the president which he isn’t. If he’s the president, why did he get fired? Only I can fire him because I’m the president so all of those cucks will have to admit that I’m the president.” Leaving over and tapping his forehead, he gave his son in law a creepy wink. “See, smart.”
“Wouldn’t Bannon be upset, dad?” Jr was now getting worried. Bannon had a lot of dirt on him and didn’t want it to get out.
“Well he did mention something about stringing us up like a bunch of niggers when he left but he was probably just playin, y’know? I have the loyal-ey-ist people out there. Everyone I hire, they know who’s the boss. They listen, believe me, they know I’m in charge.”
“So we don’t have anyone in the FBI and we don’t have a direct link to the media....”
“Sure we do, Eric! The Enquirer!”
“Daddy, I’m Eric!”
“Shut the fuck up, Tiffany. Anyways, I can get them to write articles about Mueller easy! Believe me, they write the best articles. That’s REAL NEWS! The real stuff. The best stuff. Why, when I tell them to write something, they know I’m right so they do it. Just like when Putin tells me to do something, but I don’t know him, but I do it anyways. The SAD! liberal media, they don’t have good journalists like the Enquirer. I’ll get them to write about how awful Mueller is and it’ll be done by tomorrow, believe me.”
Kushner was ready to faint. There’s a level of irony about the man complaining about fake news having ties to a publication that routinely publishes such tripe that only the non-Trump understood. Meanwhile Jr was deep in thought.
“What if we release literally everything before the fake news can? That’s what I did with my meeting with the Russians and the New York Times were totally embarrassed because they couldn’t talk about it anymore!”
“Jr, they ran the story anyways. It even meant that you couldn’t say it was fake news because you released it!”
“Sure I could, Kushner.” He tapped his forehead. “I’m smart, remember?”
Trump was pleased for the first time that night. “You see, Kushner, this is the kind of smarts the Trump family has to offer. Jr here, he has good genes. The best! Not like those blacks and jews.”
“Father, I’m Jewish. Remember?” Kushner stressed.
“AND I’M ERIC!”
“What the fuck do you think we should do?”
Eric reached to the floor and picked up a large crayon composed drawing. Various stick figures were situated in odd places among two vague masses of land. One was labeled “The Untied States” and the other “North Corea” which was succumbing to massive squiggly explosions.
“What if we nuke North Korea to get them to stop bullying us? See, that one’s you.” He pointed to an orange stick figure called ‘Daddy’ on the page, “And there’s me. I’m Eric!”
“Where am I, Eric?” Jr was looking around but couldn’t find himself.
“I ran out of room on the America side so I put you on the North Korea side. See, there’s you there!”
“Well fuck you too, bro.”
“I’m not bro, I’m Eric!”
“That idea sucks, Eric. I’m done with all of you losers. You kids couldn’t come up with a decent plan to save you lives. Sad! I’ve got to do it myself so I will. My plan, it’s the best. I already had it before you came it. I was testing you and you failed. Loser kids can’t make a good plan. Sad! So here’s what I’m going to do, because I’m smart, you see, the smartest ever like Putin said, he knew a smart man when he sees one. I’m first going to call someone in the FBI and tell them to destroy talks between me and Putin, then I’m going to call Bannon and tell him to report on how Mueller likes to watch underaged hookers pee on his bed, and then I’m gonna release literally everything between Putin and I but I don’t because as you can see, it was already destroyed. Finally, I’ll nuke North Korea and then people still stop talking about the fake news and start talking about how presidential I am. I’m the most presidential person ever. Well, after Lincoln, but he helped black people so he doesn’t count. Me, I’m the best as presidenting. The best. Believe me, when I’m president, things work. My team is the best because I only hire the best people. When they see me, they know I’m the best and if they get hired, it’s only because I hire the best but they’re not the best because I’m the best, believe me.”
“That’s a....good plan, father.” Now Kushner really wanted to know flight times to Russia.
Jr was sad that his father was going to steal his idea again but didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to get slapped anymore. Meanwhile Eric was digging around his pockets trying to find his fidget spinner.
“Now get the fuck out of here. I need to watch clips of Ivanka I got using a secret camera in her room!”
“Wait, what!?”
“Get the fuck out of here, Kushner!”
“Can I stay daddy?”
“I said get the fuck out, Kushner.”
“I’m Eric!”
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