Omg, How do you think Dazai, Ranpo, and Jouno (if you want you can add some people) react if their S/o is still stuck in the "Crush phase", like subconsciously smiling at them, sometimes forgetting to breathe (is that just me ?), hiding their face, you get the gist :]

Omg this is so sweet I cannot- I made it kinda sappy hihi let's get right into it♡♡♡ also sorry it took so long to post. school is killing me💀

°☆●

Me, blushing? Nah...

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐, 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

cocky bastard (affectionately)

teases you so much about it omg but does find it adorable

"Aww my bella's still flustered around me? Glad I didn't lose my charm"

no bcs if you catch him off guard; like if he sees you look at him with those big doe eyes he will defo get flashbacks of the times you first started going out on dates

he smiles so gently and he's so happy

like don't underestimate the love this man will have for you fr

You were currently sitting at a square table, tucked in the corner of your favourite coffee shop, with your loving boyfriend facing you. He's been listening to you talk about your insufferable colleagues at work for about half an hour.

You knew you were starting to get the facts mixed up in a jumble of incoherent sentences but you couldn't help it; not when Dazai was looking at you with those beautiful, chocolate brown eyes and that smile you loved so much.

And oh, how blissfully aware he was of the effect he had on you. It warmed his heart to see you act so nervous around him, because of him, after all this time...

He never thought the two of you would last. Maybe a couple of weeks or months, yea. But three whole years? And the relationship was still going well? He was the luckiest man of Earth.

"Aww is my pretty girl blushing again?" he cooed as he leaned over the table and pinched your cheek lightly.

"What? No, I'm not..." you whined in protest as you covered your face with one of your hands.

"It's ok bella. I know you'll never resist my charms. Now please go on talking. I love the gossip" he mocked again, but you caught the hint of softness in his voice.

Taking a deep breath in, you resumed your talk, hand subconsciously reaching out across the table for his.

Dazai intertwined his fingers with yours, meeting them mid-way. He listened carefully, sliding his thumb over yours like he did a countless times before- like he'll do until the end of time because he loves you- and he smiled, nodding at your words.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

cocky bastard part 2

much like Dazai he loves your reactions; it's a gentle reminder that you still love him the same way you did when you became a couple

also teases you a bit but let's be honest, he's probably stuck in the crush phase too

y'all are so giddy all the time really

Lost in deep thought, Ranpo swirled his tongue around a cherry flavoured lollipop; fingers mindlessly tapping against the cushioned couch in a slow rhythm.

"You see. Those people must've been hiding in the warehouses closest to the city. They needed a fast escape route so picking the ones on the shore would've made no sense."

For the past ten minutes Ranpo's been explaining to you how he captured a group of gun dealers, deducing the location of their hideout from a mere stain he found on one of the men's shoes.

As per usual, you listened patiently to all he had to say. Your boyfriend's stories never ceased to fascinate you; he was simply amazing. As you watched him nonchalantly explaining every step of his deduction, his signature grin stretched on his lips; a rosy tint rose to your cheeks.

"And anyway, that's how we narrowed down the possible options for the warehouses. Since the ones on the eastern side were patrolled more often, only the ones in the western side remained as- Hey, you still listening to me?"

His question snapped you out of your trance and you nodded eagerly.

"Yes babe. Sorry. I was just distracted for a moment"

Ranpo didn't fail to notice the way you averted his gaze from his and how your blush grew deeper when he leaned in, placing a finger under your chin to make you face him again.

"Then look at me when I'm talking, sugar. You know I can't stand it when I don't have all your attention."

"Sure Ranpo, sure. Now go on please" you urged him and he couldn't help but smile.

Your boyfriend indulged you, continuing his story from where he was left but his attention now shifted to you. He was speaking mechanically, focusing on your awed expression and trying his best to conceal his pride and joy. Even after all these years of being a couple, you were still so excited and giddy whenever he told you about a case at work.

He remembered your first date, when he accidently rambled on about some murder that happened in your neighbourhood and you stood these smiling, just like you did now, listening to him talk. That's the day he knew you were the one.

When he finally finished talking you clapped your hands, merrily swaying from side to side.

"That was great love. I'm sure I would've never figured it out. You're amazing"

Ranpo chuckled and placed a quick kiss on your lips, causing you to flush again.

"And you're adorable when you blush like that" he said gently, booping your nose.

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

he's so painfully aware of all your reactions

when your breath hitches when you watch him cook dinner for you? he catches that; when your heart beats slightly faster when the two of you cuddle? he doesn't miss that either

doesn't always want to admit it but he loves it

also doesn't tease you too often about it; he simply doesn't point it out because he knows he still reacts the same to you

congrats, you made his heart melt

Your boyfriend was minding his own business, typing away some reports at the kitchen table when you placed a cup of steaming coffee next to him.

"Here you go sir. A double shot espresso with no milk and no soy sauce." you said playfully, causing Jouno's lips to curl into a smile.

"You're hilarious, you know that?" he mocked as he rose the cup to his lips and took a sip.

And then he heard it: the faint thumping of your heart and your sharp exhale.

"Something wrong, love?" he asked cautiously, placing the cup back on its ceramic plate.

"No just..." you began, blushing furiously "You're really handsome when you work. I mean, you look so focused and all."

Your words came out a mindless babble, causing your boyfriend to smirk.

"Who knew you'd still be so giddy after all this time. You watch me work almost every day"

"Well, you're still as handsome as always so..."

He reached out a hand, motioning you to come closer to him and you closed the distance between you. Jouno swiftly pulled you onto his lap, relishing the way your heart skipped a beat when his arm wrapped around your waist. You were brimming with joy, like a kid in a candy store.

And little did you know that so did Jouno. He didn't want to admit it but he still got flustered when he took notice of the effect he had on you. It was a sweet, gentle reminder that, although your love had matured and changed during the two years you've been together, deep down you still adored him the same way you did at first.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, Jouno went back to typing his report.

"Just stay with me for a while, will you? Tell me if I make any mistakes while writing" he asked in a hushed voice and you nodded in response, adjusting your position on his lap.

'Perfect...' he thought to himself as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. 'This was perfect'

fluff, slight angst

Chan answers his phone to a panicked Jeongin on the other end of the line, babbling away in a mix of English and Korean, the words jumbled and incoherent.

"Woah, woah, woah, chill, calm, breath." Chan's trying, but it's two am, he's just been woken - he was asleep for once - and he is unprepared for a stressed out Jeongin.

"I did something stupid." Jeongin shuts up after that and Chan has no idea what that could mean. He's kinda scared to ask.

"Bud, what?" Chan's scrubbing his hand down his face, trying to shake the lingering edge of sleep that is grasping his mind.

"I think I did something really stupid." Jeongin is freaking out. Chan can hear him pacing on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." Chan is earnest and ready to listen.

~~

It is that bad.

It really is.

"You're a fucking idiot." Chan says first. Then: "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I-" Jeongin doesn't have an answer. "I didn't know!"

"How could you not know?!"

Jeongin's panicking. Chan's panicking and dumbfounded. How could he not know?

"You knew?!"

"Everyone knows!"

"What?!"

"It's obvious!"

"Fuck!"

There's silence for a moment and Chan fears Jeongin has passed out.

"I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying."

"I think I might be."

"You're not."

"What do I do?"

"Talk to her."

"You knew.."

"She told me." Chan can hear Jeongin's breath hitch and what sounds like his head thumping on a desk.

"I'm such a fucking imbecile."

"Just talk to her."

~~

Jeongin doesn't talk to you.

Jeongin doesn't see you for a week.

Then, suddenly, his Hyungs are leaving and you're standing in front of him.

"How dare you?!" You're pissed, but there are tears in your eyes and Jeongin's panicking again. "I tell you I love you and you fucking GHOST ME?!?!"

Oh fuck.

"I-"

"You pressed and pressed to know what I was thinking and you had to know and then when I tell you, you disappear!" Jeongin watches you pace, knowing you've gotta get this rant out. "I specifically told you I DIDN'T want this to change our friendship. That I was happy to just be your friend, because I love being your friend and you agreed! You said it was ok!"

Jeongin reaches out for you, but you slap his hands away.

"Who does that?! Oh that's right! My best friend, Yang Jeongin, does!"

He winces.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?!" He's never heard you so upset before and it kills him that he's the cause. "You-"

"I love you and I am so fucking sorry that it took me so long to tell you. I've known it for years and I've wanted you to love be back for so long but I thought I didn't stand a chance and then you told me and it was like the last thing I expected and I got scared and I let my doubts and insecurities worm their way into my head and I ignored Chan when he told me to talk to you and I should have talked to you but-" You slap your hand over his mouth, forcing him to shut up and breathe in deeply through his nose.

"You idiot." You whisper and then you're lips are on his and your hands are in his hair and he thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

He moves his hands to your waist, one circling around you to press on your back and hold you close to him. He pulls away - reluctantly, but he needs air - and leans his forehead on yours.

"I'm your idiot now."

THIS. THIS HERE.

THIS IS WHAT MADE HIM SO SPECIAL TO ME.

And i could go on and on about what the hell happened during his childhood and who hurt him and whatever philosophical ideologies he may or may not have and the entire concept of genetics but honestly i would probably never shut up if i did💀

…anyway cue me having a long ass rant here hehe

Ok so first off it’s like midnight at the time i’m typing this so what i say might be a little jumbled, i just wanted to let you know in advance

In future chapters it was revealed that he was treated horribly by his village and was practically an outcast because of his psychopathic nature. If you’ve already gotten to that part, you’d know that the flashback Garm had ended after he had killed a group of men. What happened after that? What did the other villagers do to him, if anything? What did he have to do in order to provide for himself? Did he have to travel? And if so, where did he go and what happened along his journey?

(Before we go further i want to clarify that whenever i say “psychopath” i’m referring to him most likely having antisocial personality disorder. Like, the one where he’s born without the part of his brain that lets him feel empathy. He physically does not have it. I see “psychopath” and “sociopath” getting mixed up a lot, so i just wanted to say this to clear things up)

There’s not a lot of concrete lore for him right now so it’s hard, but i do appreciate how he’s kinda, like… a symbol for birth? I can’t think of another way to describe it, but we all know without a doubt that he didn’t pick his genetics. He did not choose to be born as a psychopath. In fact, he didn’t even choose to be born at all. And there’s not much anyone can do about that—he’s not going to suppress(?) his emotions and force himself to feel things he doesn’t feel, and neither are the villagers going to smile and happily accept him biting off a kid’s ear. In a way, he’s a victim.

But i do understand how the villagers feel, especially considering the fact that VS takes place literally 1000 years ago and there was no form of psychiatric research (plus he… yk, bit off a kid’s ear and killed a group of men).

I can’t help but wonder… what would’ve happened if Garm was born normally? What if he was, hypothetically, somehow able to pick his genetics and build himself to become “perfect”… whatever that means to him. What kind of life would he live? How would his struggles then compare to the ones he has currently? But the one question i think of most is whether or not he would prefer a life like that.

From his current perspective, he might brush away his problems and say that’s boring. And maybe he’s right. But from a neutral perspective, i can see how someone would think he’d be happier living normally with a fishing rod instead of a spear in his hands. He would’ve been accepted by society and been able to do regular man things and live a regular man life. One that is, compared to his life of fighting, boring, yeah. But it’s much more consistent and doesn’t involve him having to constantly swing back and forth between living in the thrill of battle and wanting to die.

But he doesn’t.

He likes the rush and the insanity and the chaos, and i do adore him for that. But over long periods of time, isn’t that just so exhausting? Does he ever get a moment of peace? Does he even want that moment? I don’t know, my brain is in many different places right now and it’s hard to think.

If he had that moment, what would he do with it? Would he take the time to just simply enjoy it? Would he reflect on his life? Would he, without realizing it, throw it away and return to the chaos he’s always known just because it gives him an illusion of control?

…sorry, i’ll have to stop it here for now. If i keep going, i’ll just type a bunch of incoherent nonsense. Thank you for reading! And if you have any thoughts, please do share them!! I’d love to hear it!

most bi tenko hcs go like "tenko grows by realizing that Not All Men are bad uwu" "she is Cured of her Irrational hatred of men"

news flash, asshole, that's lesbophobic!

tenko's character is heavily reliant on a specifically lesbophobic trope, the man-hating lesbian, and, to a lesser extent, the predatory lesbian. plus the whole idea of her being Cured of her non-attraction to men is lesbophobic in and of itself

Hey bestie pls could you do a Chameron drabble where the other poets didn't know they were dating, and they find out :) Thank you! <3

"Cameron, you fink, why dontcha bother someone else with your stupid factoid." Charlie insults his roommate from across the cave.

"It's not a factoid, Charlie, all I'm saying is that if we keep-"

"I don't wanna hear it-" Charlie cuts him off again. "Anyway, Neil, go ahead, start the meeting." He tosses his eyes onto Neil, obviously concerned by the friction between the two roommates.

As they recited their opening poem, Neil tossed his own look back at Todd, shifting his eyes to Charlie and back at Todd to signal the subject of his worry. Todd, having built an amazing sense of telepathy with Neil, sensed the concern and signaled him that they'll talk about it later.

Later into the night, a bit past midnight, the poets returned to their dorm undetected.

Neil and Todd retired into their room, the one right across Charlie and Cameron. "What was up with those two, huh?"

"I dunno, I feel like Charlie and Cameron are fighting again." Todd said, sitting beside Neil on his bed.

"Maybe I should talk to Charlie tomorrow, y'know? I hate to see two friends fight, especially during meetings."

Todd shrugged nervously "Yeah, I hope they could stop being enemies for once."

"I fucking love you," Charlie says breathlessly as he closed the door behind him and Cameron. He started pressing gentle yet passionate kisses onto Cameron's cheek. His desperate hugs were enough to let Cameron know he was apologizing for something.

"Really? Seemed like you were really annoyed by me a while ago," Cameron rolled his eyes at Charlie.

"Look, I told you once, I'm not gonna say it again: When you tell the group random facts, I find you REALLY ATTRACTIVE. If you're gonna respect the fact I'm tryin' to hide my rabid attraction to you, you better stop being so cute in public." Charlie kisses Cameron's forehead.

Cameron rolls his eyes, smiling at how he even ended up with Charlie. Perhaps it was that one time he confessed to Charlie-- obviously, but perhaps it was that time he and Charlie got too close too fast during one argument that everything became warm and fuzzy.

Either way, he likes seeing Charlie like this. He was surprisingly affectionate and gentle with how he handled their relationship. He only really "overreacted" how much he hated Cameron in public, but he always made up for it behind closed doors. Charlie is especially cute when he tells Cameron about his entire day before they go to bed, and the fact that Cameron had enough space for all of Charlie's stupid stories in his brain was remarkable.

Charlie Dalton was, in his own words, whipped for Richard Cameron. He'd do anything for Cameron, if it meant making him realize he was sorry for all those years they fought or times he insulted him, or if it also meant trying to show him how much he wasn't as uptight as they both thought. Charlie tried his best to make Cameron see how much he likes him. But he just couldn't risk outing them both to their group. It wasn't fair. Cameron wasn't ready to show their relationship to anyone and Charlie was willing to wait.

One day, in another DPS meeting, the boys were huddled up by the cave again, listening to Charlie play his saxophone (he kind of pointed towards Cameron) and he would sway slowly along.

Something caught Cameron's eye, in his peripheral caught Neil and Todd's hands secretly intertwine while no one else was looking. And at that instant, Cameron didn't feel nervous or alone, or even embarrassed. If the two people he cared about (aside from Charlie) could possibly be in a relationship, then they'd understand him and Charlie. And with their influence, it wouldn't be too bad.

"Hey guys," Cameron started. Charlie lowered his saxophone as he slowly decreased his volume to listen to Cameron. "Did you know-"

Charlie blasted an incoherent jumble of notes to mask Cameron's upcoming factoid.

"That--"

Another louder jumble of notes.

"I--"

An even louder, more annoying jumble of notes. The others were starting to get pissed off.

"Damn it, Charlie, let Cameron finish!" Neil snapped. "I know he and you haven't been friendly recently but, Jesus, could you give him a break?" Todd looked at Neil and back at Charlie, shocked and embarrassed.

"T-thanks, Neil but-"

"It's okay, Cameron, go on, tell us anything, and we won't let Charlie butt in."

"Well, I was gonna say the fact that I love Charlie Dalton, but I was kinda hoping him to butt in and say it with me." Cameron joked sheepishly.

Everyone in the cave had their jaws drop. Neil and Todd, trying to process if he was joking, Meeks and Pitts watching Charlie's shocked expression, and Knox who was rapidly turning his head back and forth to get everyone else's reaction.

"I--" Charlie's eyes were locked on Cameron.

"I know I was ashamed to admit it before, but I think it was because I was ashamed that I wasn't good enough for you. I wanna be good enough for you, I wanna show our friends that I'm not a fink, or I'm not some arrogant guy against you all the time-- Charlie, I really love you."

Charlie soon stood up from his spot and made his way over to Cameron, holding his face fondly.

Todd looked up at his friend, seemingly dazed and impressed, before looking back at Neil. "A-are they coming out before us?" He whispered to Neil.

Charlie gave Cameron a simple kiss on the lips, and even if it embarrassed his red-headed (and red-cheeked) boyfriend, he didn't mind it at all. "You're more than enough to me, Cam."

"Oh my god I think they are--" Neil replied to Todd.

Despite the fact Cameron and Charlie stole their thunder, Neil and Todd welcomed their relationship, congratulating them, urging the others to join in, the rest of them unsurprisingly quite ok with it.

That same night, when Charlie and Cameron returned to their rooms, lying down on the same bed, holding hands as they try to sleep.

"I can't believe you just finked about our own relationship." Charlie said, bringing up Cameron's hand to kiss it.

"Don't worry, they're the only people I'd tell it to, for now." Cameron turned to kiss his roommate good night, giving Charlie shivers down his whole spine. "Just say the word, I'll do it, babe."

Charlie Dalton is very much whipped for Richard Cameron.

Pairing: Reader x Mark 

Word count: 1.2k

Genre: Comfort | Angst | Fluff | Married AU 

Summary: Mark holds you while you break down

Warnings: Depression

A/n: Hi lol. Uhh, kinda wrote this while I was feeling big sad. I’ve actually been feeling big sad lately, but writing this kinda helped (?) and I hope that maybe it can help anyone else who might need it. Everything’s been real big sad and w the fucking panorama pandemic shit going on right now, I hope that everyone’s coping okay bcs this shit is starting to break down my mental health lol oops. Sooooo, enjoy. Also, anon who requested this, I hope this was what you wanted <3 

Masterlist

Prompts: 

3. I don’t want to feel this way anymore  10. I would give up everything for the chance to see you laugh again

[19:03]

It could’ve easily been how your friends seem to exclude you out of things. Or maybe it’s the increasing load from work. Or it could be your husband having to spend more time working with how hectic things have become, but you don’t know why you’ve felt so down in the past month or so. So much so that even Mark has noticed despite how he’s spent a little less time at home than he usually would. However, when he is home, he watches you slug around your shared home silently. 

It worries him. 

Instead of pressing you about it, Mark just patiently waits until he finds the opportunity to talk to you when you’re not waddling around the apartment like a lifeless shell. But the opportunity comes to him when he least expects it. He hadn’t seen your natural glow in a while which worries him. You see, Mark isn’t the type of person who would actively reach out because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He waits until you come to him because then he knows that you want him to be there. Other than that, he’ll patiently be on stand-by until he needs to act. 

That doesn’t mean that Mark’s heart doesn’t ache for you, though. While he patiently waits, all he can do is watch. He doesn’t want to approach you at a time where you would push him away because he already knows that you’ll do that, but it hurts for him to just watch and wait as you slowly break down. So, when he comes home from work after what seemed like a relatively normal day, he feels everything freeze when he sees you bundled up in one of his sweaters and sitting on your bed. The only problem is that you’re crying, a lot. 

“(Y/n)...?” Mark calls out gently as to not frighten you, but the sound of his voice makes you jump anyway. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Just the sight of him standing in the doorway, light from the hallway shining behind him and into the otherwise dark room just makes you feel more overwhelmed with your emotions. So, you start crying harder which makes Mark panic even more as he takes slow steps towards the bed, his hands outstretched in front of himself. “(Y/n), honey.” You open your mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out are incoherent whimpers as you reach out for him. The moment he sees you reaching out as well, Mark’s immediately moved onto the bed and pulled you into his arms. “I’m here, baby, it’s okay.” 

Your hands meekly wrap around him as you bury your face into his baggy Balenciaga t-shirt. Mark’s hand gently runs up and down your back to try and calm you down, but it does little to soothe your jumbled up thoughts. There’s too much going on around you. Too many things going wrong. Too many things in your mind. Are you broken? Why can’t you feel happy when you have almost everything you need? You have a home to call yours, a stable job, your fluffy white dog baby, and your loving husband. You have everything, but why do you feel so… 

Empty?

It took a while, but you’ve finally calmed down. Mark rocks you back and forth gently, humming anything that comes to mind to try and get your mind moving at a more calming pace. Your grip around him has loosened only slightly, but Mark doesn’t let you go even for a second. He still holds onto you, calloused hands gently running up and down your back while his cheek rests on the top of your head. The room’s gone silent, but your husband still doesn’t talk. 

“Mark,” you softly say, making him hum in response almost too eagerly; as though he was waiting for you to say something—waiting until you were ready to say something. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” Your voice has become a whisper that Mark almost misses had he not been on guard for your every word. But the way your voice cracks only adds to his pain for you. 

“What’s wrong, my baby?” he asks softly as he pulls away. 

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You don’t know what’s wrong. So, that’s what you tell him, “I… I don’t know.” Your grip around him becomes tighter when you can feel more tears prick your eyes. “I don’t know, Mark. I’ve just… felt so tired. I’m so tired, Mark. Of everything. I don’t know why.” 

“You need some rest, (Y/n),” Mark says gently as his hand moves to cradle the back of your head. He leans his head down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, a simple gesture that he does to let you know that he’s there. “I haven’t seen you truly glow in a while. It pains me to see you like this, baby.”  He pulls away slightly, hands moving to cup your face and angle it so that his chocolate brown eyes are looking straight into yours, “I just want you to be okay.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” Your hands clenched into fists, his shirt bunching up in your hands as tears start streaming down your face once again. “I’m so sorry, Mark,” you hiccup. It hurts to see him in pain because of you. 

“It’s not your fault, my (Y/n).”  Mark starts pressing more kisses to the top of your head when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I promise you, it’s not your fault.” 

“Then why does it feel like it is?” Your voice cracks and it makes him squeeze his eyes shut. “Why does it feel like everything is my fault? Why am I even like this?” 

“You can’t control how you feel,” he says, his body starting to rock you back and forth once again. “It’s okay to feel this way.” 

“But I don’t want to feel like this.” Mark goes quiet. He honestly doesn’t know how to respond. He only knows that he needs to be there to help you, but he doesn’t know the right words. “You being here is enough,” you say when you can practically hear the cogs turning in his head. “Your presence is enough.” 

“I want to help you, (Y/n). I would give up everything for the chance to see you laugh again.” He pulls away to cup your face and look you in the eye once again, “you can always reach out to me whenever. I’m always here. I’ll be here to help you if you let me.” Mark leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, your hands moving to hold his. His touch is so gentle as though you’re a porcelain doll that he might accidentally break if he’s too rough. 

“I love you,” you whisper. He presses another kiss to your skin, then another, and then another, until he’s just peppering your face with soft kisses. It’s enough to lighten your mood. “What are you doing?” you giggle. 

“I’m kissing you better,” Mark grins, happy that he’s managed to make you smile. “It seems to be working, so I’ll continue.” He presses another kiss to your nose and you respond by scrunching your face up. His thumbs brush away any stray tears, a small smile on his face as he presses his forehead against yours. “I love you, (Y/n). 

You’re my everything

as the morning sun rose

AO3 Link

It’s raining.

For half a moment, thoughts sleep addled, she thinks she’s back in Kamordah. The pleasant weight of a body next to her registers as Tori before it all comes back to her.

Beau gives a soft huff into the silence of yet another inn bedroom, staring through the darkness at the vague outline of the rafters on the ceiling as she comes to terms with the fact that she will not be falling asleep again soon. The rain drums a steady pattern against the windowpanes, a very distant rumble of thunder rolling over Beau’s senses. It should soothe her, should be enough to lull her back to sleep, but it isn’t.

The storms always bring about the chance of absence, of spiriting away the warmth that is occupying the bed beside her.

The inn’s bed isn’t necessarily big enough to host both Yasha’s broad shoulders and Beau’s wiry build, but they make it work. They make do with tangled legs and heads pillowed on shoulders and hip bones knocking through sleep clothes. Tonight finds Beau’s right calf between both of Yasha’s while Beau sprawls on her side, head cushioned against Yasha’s clavicle with her face turned up to the roof.

She’s comfortable, but she’s antsy—itching to get up and pace around. It’s not truly an inability to sleep, but that she’s too afraid to fall asleep again, lest she wake up and find Yasha missing from bed.

Beau sighs once more, starting to shift her position in miniscule movements as she tries to assuage whatever restlessness is born from her apprehension.

“Beau?” Yasha’s soft voice cuts through the thrum of rain and the otherwise quiet. “Are you awake?”

Shit.

“Yeah, sorry if I woke you.”

“I was already awake,” Yasha murmurs, arm beneath Beau’s head shifting so that her calloused fingers can trace lazy patterns on the bare skin of Beau’s lower back.

She shivers at the touch, still somewhat unaccustomed to being handled like she’s worth something—with care. The monastery hadn’t been harsh and distant like her parents, but they hadn’t coddled her either. They preached in learning by doing, and Beau was just the lucky son of a bitch who had already been well acquainted with pain by the time she was under their discipline.

Yasha’s warm hands, rough and weathered from countless hours wielding her great sword, brandished the softest touch that Beau had ever experienced. She had before spent several hours wondering if it was born of practice with handling the delicate flowers pressed between the pages of her book.

“What are you thinking about?”

Beau kept staring at the ceiling, her focus on the pads of Yasha’s fingers against her skin. She fixated on the grounding touch, the sound of the rain on the windows, the earthy and rain-soaked smell that Yasha seemed to carry everywhere.

“I don’t know,” Beau answered, eyes lost in the dim. She felt Yasha shift under her, turning to study the monk at her side curiously.

“You don’t know what you’re thinking about?”

“Yeah,” Beau breathed, fingers twisting absent folds in Yasha’s tunic. “My thoughts are kinda scattered right now. I’m exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep.”

“Maybe…if you said your thoughts out loud? It would help?” Yasha’s voice was quiet, hesitant. Beau could hear the catch in the other woman’s tone, the uncertainty of her own idea, like it might be rejected, shot down. Not only was that something Beau would never do, but that did sound like a good idea. Normally, she was the last person alive who would share her thoughts, but she trusted Yasha with them, knew that she wouldn’t handle them carelessly. Unbidden, she pictured Yasha’s warm, weathered hands cupped around Beau’s cheeks as she made sense of Beau’s incoherence, gentle and protective, and shuddered minutely.

Yasha’s hold tightened just a little. Beau spoke up before the inevitable, “are you okay?”

“I like having someone else in the room with me. Back uh…back in Kamordah, Tori and I would share a bed a lot, y’know? I would sneak her into my parents’ house just to have someone with me at night, or we would crash at an inn—anywhere that had a bed, really. That’s why it was so easy to take Jester up on her offer of sharing rooms every time we ended up in an inn on the road. And now uh…with you it’s the same, but it’s different?”

“In what way?” Yasha was still so quiet, her fingertips still tracing aimlessly over the slopes and divots of Beau’s back.

“Less like Jester and more like Tori, but also…also different from Tori?” Beau paused, thoughts far too jumbled to form into words that made any semblance of sense. Yasha waited out the silence with her.

“With Tori it felt a little like a performance, y’know? I really liked her—I loved her—but I also looked up to her. I felt like I had to live up to this criminal persona I built with her, even though it wasn’t entirely who I wanted to be. I mean a big part of it was who I was, but it wasn’t what I wanted to be?” It sounds like a question, but they both know there’s no answer to it, so Beau plows on and Yasha lets her, steady and stalwart.

“But here with—with you and the Mighty Nein, you all know the most honest version of me, so it feels…real. I feel real.”

“Is that a good thing?” Yasha whispers against Beau’s temple, and Beau could cry for how easily Yasha seems to understand her. Most people would hear Beau say she felt real and assume it was something worth celebrating. But Beau had spent so much of her life existing as a false entity that being given the chance to be authentic was terrifying and unknown.

“I want it to be, and I think it is. I’m still trying to figure out if…if the real me is a good person.”

“I think you are,” Yasha says almost immediately, her delivery so simple, automatic, and straightforward that Beau knows she isn’t lying. It sweeps her breath from her lungs and she can’t stop the hitched half-sob that breaks from her. Yasha’s arm stiffens slightly, likely afraid she said something wrong, but Beau chokes out a response before the Aasimar can get too lost in that assumption.

“Thank you.”

Yasha softens at her side and lips brush against Beau’s shaven hairline with a quiet, “of course, Beau.”

“Don’t go,” Beau chokes out, fingers already tangled in Yasha’s tunic tightening further.

The other woman pulls back a little, likely staring down at the monk curled against her. Beau’s gaze has yet to stray from the darkened ceiling above them; too afraid to move and break whatever spell of solitude they have hanging over them.

“Why would I go?”

“The storm,” is all Beau can manage.

Yasha quiets, her fingers going still against Beau’s back, and the monk hates herself for bringing it up. Beau worries that, since they’ve acknowledged it, Yasha might just go now. She would drift away like a storm cloud on the wind, carried to wherever her god bids her and return only when the thunder does.

But instead of the careful detachment that Beau expects, Yasha’s grip around her tightens, even as the other woman rolls to reach for something over the edge of the bed. Beau fights the urge to grip onto the Aasimar, beg her to stay, because she knows that no matter what she says, Yasha will have to leave regardless. If the Stormlord bids it, Yasha does not ignore him.

She’s just begun to prepare herself to say goodbye, to resign herself to sleepless nights, waiting for thunder and rain and flashes of lightning, when something warm and heavy settles around her. She blinks and pulls her tunneling vision away from the ceiling for the first time and looks down. Yasha is smoothing something over her, something thick and large that smells faintly of the Aasimar at her side.

It takes a moment for Beau to realize with a jolt, it’s Yasha’s shawl.

Her eyes snap to Yasha and Beau finds herself breathless at the sight of the celestial in the darkness. Her pale skin seems to glow in the dim, the white ends of her hair a stark contrast against her dusky tunic where the dreads and braids splay across her chest. Yasha’s mismatched eyes flash like lightning as Beau searches the Aasimar’s expression for…something.

Beau’s in the process of trying to get her mouth working to remind Yasha that she had once said she never takes off her shawl, when the other woman beats her to speaking.

“This is my promise that I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

The shawl’s weight suddenly feels a little heavier, a little more significant where it’s snug over Beau’s shoulders. She knows that this means something, likely does not understand the true depth and breadth of it yet, but understands enough. She settles further beneath the warmth of the fur and presses her face more firmly against Yasha’s shoulder, breathes her in. Yasha shifts, turning a little more onto her side so she can wrap both arms around Beau and press the monk just that much closer.

Beau’s nose fills with the smell of rain-soaked earth, sweat, and ozone—all of it distinctly Yasha and immensely comforting. She can feel the Aasimar’s heartbeat against her cheek and hear the steady drum of rain against the window waltzing with the dip and swell of Yasha’s even breaths. It’s a symphony of senses that sends Beau easily off to slumber.

When she wakes in the morning, the storm is long gone. Yasha is asleep at her side, and the shawl still tucked around Beau’s shoulders.

Echoes of the Past, Emperor Belos, and the Day of Unity

Spoilers,  please don’t keep reading if you haven’t watched this episode yet. The post is kinda long, so I’ll include a TL;DR at the bottom! Enjoy!

It’s five in the morning and I’m trying to get all of this out so I have bragging rights when Rebecca Rose puts all of this together in her reaction video, so sorry if it’s jumbled and incoherent. That’s just how I do- I made a Tumblr specifically to share this so I hope you enjoy! First of all, holy shitaki mushrooms, what an episode. This is exactly my favorite type of episode, the episode you’ll know you’ll watch later and know exactly what everything meant. I know we don’t have all the puzzle pieces yet but you can bet I’m going to try to put them together now. So, in this episode, they were clearly drawing our attention to this big mural. I have a lot of thoughts about this thing in particular. 

While I also have thoughts about the guy on the left, I’ll save that for another time. Let’s talk about the figure on the right. I think this is the Titan, or something related to the Titan.  Let me walk ya through why, because it’s for more reasons than “it’s big”.  First of all, look at the hand.

I know that there’s a finger difference, but that fourth finger could be hiding in the angle of the pose. It’s also worth noting that another depiction of what is presumably the Titan’s hand in the Unauthorized History of the Boiling Isles (top left illustration) gives the hand a completely different look and five fingers, so there are already inconsistencies in illustrations. Take this with a grain of salt. 

Another thing worth noting is that symbol on the figure’s chest. We have seen this before, in an incredibly interesting place. 

This is the top of Emperor Belos’s castle. Right before this shot in Agony of a Witch, Willow tells Luz that the castle was built as a “symbol of unity”. Considering that this castle is built in a chasm surrounded by bones, it doesn’t seem very... unifying. However, what if it’s literally a symbol for unity, an important structure for the Day of Unity? We don’t really know much about the Day of Unity- if memory serves, all we know is that it is the focus of Emperor Belos’s plans, that a date for it is fast approaching, that he needs wild witches to be “dealt with”, and that he needs the portal for it. Working with this limited information, it’s hard to figure out what the Day of Unity is. However, this new detail may shed some light on it. Stick with me here. 

Look at the way the tower was built, opposed to the rest of the building. It’s different, clearly added on later, as is shown by the fact that it’s sprouting from ruins. A bluish pipe- or vein, it’s difficult to tell with this show- runs up the tower, piping something in or out from whatever’s combusting at the top. Now, it’s hard to tell where Emperor Belos’s throne room that’s shown in Agony of a Witch is, other than the fact that it isn’t on the first floor, but for the sake of the argument, let’s say it’s at the base of this new tower, directly under it.

Above Emperor Belos’s throne is what we can assume is the Titan’s heart. Attached to it is a blue tubing of sorts. Obviously this is all speculation, but if that is the same tubing, then the Titan’s heart is connected directly the tower- the “symbol of unity”. I find the placement of this tubing on the heart rather interesting as well, as it is pretty much lines up exactly with where a witch’s bile sac is located.

I’m pretty sure we were already assuming- at least I was- that Belos was using the Titan’s power, not just communicating with it, as the powers he has displayed are unlike anything else we’ve really seen. We know that all magic comes from the Titan’s original magic- KIng alludes to it in the beginning of Young Blood, Old Souls (” [The Titan's] original magic was so potent, all life on the isles evolved to wield magic too”)- so we can assume that the Titan’s got a lot to work with.  Now, we circle back to the mural. The symbol of unity, as I’m going to refer to it, is seen in the center of the creature’s ribcage, right around where a heart would be. Emperor Belos’s castle was built in the Titan’s chest cavity, also where a heart would be.  So. What if this Day of Unity is a unification ceremony between Belos and the Titan, and with the power he has harnessed with this heart, he has made his entire castle into a glorified bile sac.  Think about it. The Day of Unity requires all wild witches to be “dealt with”. That means that they are either petrified or in covens, locking up magic into controllable channels. Magic originally came from the Titan. What if Emperor Belos is trying to gather all magic into his coven system, leaving all magic at his command, and what if this is necessary for the Day of Unity? He needs to return magic to the Titan, and he couldn’t do that when witches were harnessing magic for themselves without his control. So essentially, the figure in that mural isn’t just the Titan, but it’s the Titan after the Day of Unity? Not physically the Titan as in the bones the entire Boiling Isles is made of, but its spirit manifested and able to wield magic? Or maybe it IS its physical form, and the Boiling Isles is just doomed by this process. This would bring in the portal. While Belos is a... goal oriented dictator, maybe he doesn’t want to entirely doom a whole bunch of people? So his solution would be simple: bring witches to Earth- relocate them  It’s a bit of a stretch, I’ll admit it. But I can’t think of any other way to include the portal, and I wanted to address it in some capacity. He clearly needs it, after all, and I don’t think he’s human or trying to take over Earth.  Maybe he needs the myths that have spilled out into the Human Realm (i.e. giraffes) to come back to the Boiling Isles? I’m just spitballing now, so I’m going to move on. 

There’s another possibility to consider. What if that figure ISN’T the Titan? Now, I know, I just spent too long trying to prove that it was. I finished watching this episode two hours ago, I’ve already sunk a lot of time into this, so I’ll make this quick.  We don’t know much about Emperor Belos’s communications with the Titan. We’ve never seen it happen, and he’s apparently the only person that we know of that is capable of doing so. Now, he could easily be lying about this, but let’s pretend he’s telling the truth. This episode already played with the idea of a king truly believing a lie he’s been led to believe, with King believing he was the King of Demons. Emperor Belos being lied to about being a chosen figure, able to communicate with the Titan itself would mirror things in a way that I just LOVE. (Also they both have things over their faces with two horns, King has a crack on his horn, Belos has a crack on his mask, both Belos’s castle and the King’s guardians have a... fleshy quality to them, let’s say? These just feel like they’re Something but I don’t know what so) We’ve already seen a weakness in Belos’s ability to account for personal motivations. He believed that Lilith would continue to serve him after refusing to heal Eda. What if there is another entity out there, an evil one, that is looking to gain a physical form, and is using Belos to do so? I don’t have a lot of fact to back this up, other than the discrepancies mentioned earlier with the “Titan’s” hand, and the fact that the Titan’s skull looks different from the head shape of the figure, from what we can see, but it would be an interesting thing to see play out.  Anyways, all I have to say is that I have the feeling that if the mural wasn’t chipped on the head of that figure, we’d see two horns looking suspiciously like Emperor Belos’s mask. TL;DR: The figure on the right in the mural (top picture) is an entity, likely the Titan, that Emperor Belos is looking to merge with or gain control over on the Day of Unity. The symbol on the center of the figure’s chest matches the main tower of Emperor Belos’s castle, which is referred to as a “symbol of unity”. I throw a bunch of other stuff at this idea but if you’re in a rush, these are the two main takeaways.

Everything I meant

You’ll never ever ever see this; you won’t read it, you won’t think about it, you won’t care about it or mull it over or assault it. So I can say everything, all that I ever meant to.

The timeline is incoherent, ironically. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, I just have a load of junk and hearts.

1) You were hands down my favourite sexual partner ever, and I’m unlikely to ever find anyone as good. I’m coming to terms with that.

2) I used to tremble at night because I knew I couldn’t pleasure you, and threw up a few times at the thought of what that might make you do. I just wanted to be better, so I used to speak to you about it, like a grown up - you told me it didn’t matter, and I knew you were lying.

3) I believe that you truly loved me; I believe that you felt truly loved and adored BY me, but you had no idea what to do with all of those roses. You were neither prepared nor comfortable with it, right?

4) You were the only person I could reveal my tortured soul to.

5) You were the only person who could ever torture my soul by simply being absent.

6) Your family intimidated me, I’m not sure why - maybe because they seemed so stable and comfortable, which may have been their coping mechanism for dealing with past hardships. All I know is, it made me feel so unworthy for being so broken.

7) I knew you had cheated on me long before you told me. I could feel it, sense it, smell it. I used to cry rivers while I wondered how you’d tell me; how pathetic.

8) I hated it when he brought you gifts at work.

9) I hated it when he’d pick you up from work.

10) I hated it when you showed off your engagement ring at work.

11) I hated him, and he hadn’t even hurt me. I felt like a monster.

12) I cried out your name whilst screwing 3 different women, on separate occasions. I only got called out on it once, which I thought was kinda weird.

13) I hated that I was your emotional cushion, but you still preferred his cock. I felt like I had to escape from that, the image used to keep me awake at night.

14) I used to tell everyone that we loved each other, that you were having a rough patch, but it was only a matter of time. They told me to stop being stupid.

15) My friends wrote me genuine, hand-written apologies when you came back.

16) When you left again, they rolled their eyes and reverted to type.

17) I only went to see you at the restaurant, where you and big dick worked together, because I wanted you to remember that you loved me. I’m not sure if it ever worked.

18) I bought the ring because I wanted to propose to you; I’d never been so sure of anything in my life.

19) I still have the ring. It’s engraved, and so worthless

20) When I spent all my money on gambling, booze, and drugs, I contemplated selling the ring. I remembered it was worthless and opted not to.

21) I wanted to raise the coolest motherfucking kids on the planet, I wanted to do so with you by my side.

22) When you said you had been pregnant, and lost it, my heart was overwhelmed with both sadness and joy. You told me it was impossible, and I had resigned to it; suddenly there was such possibility, and yet such overbearing heartbreak.

23) When I wanted you to watch Love Actually, it was because I believe in true love, and I believed we truly loved each other - I actually thought having you watch a goofy film might have made you pick up on it too.

24) I never understood why you wouldn’t leave your fiancee for me.

25) I never had the courage to ask.

26) I left my first job because i couldn’t handle anymore the reality of loving you so much and you seeming not to care. I spoke to my doctor at the time about the stress this was causing.

27) Since you came back into my life, I have never once slept in the bed without you being present.

28) I’ve fucked people in the bed, but I’d sleep downstairs instead.

29) Being alone on a couch is easier than being alone on a bed.

30) I didn’t like that you’d put a bit of weight on, but you seemed intent on pizza and wine, so I thought it better not to say much about it.

31) It kind of turned me off, honestly. Until we actually got to it, then I remembered how great you were in bed, and I got over it. (cause it’s the type of thing that only matters ‘physically’)

32) One night, I climbed on that garage roof next to the White Lion. I stayed there for like 6 whole hours. I watched you from afar, there were lots of reasons why:

32A) I wanted to see if you looked like you missed me.

32B) I wanted to see if he would turn up.

32C) I wanted to see if you would leave for his house.

32D) I wanted to see if you were happy, so that I could hate you if you were, to give my brokenness some kind of legitimacy.

33) I felt terrible about it and like I’d done a really awful, creepy thing. I had.

34) I left you to have my house key because I thought you were coming back.

35) The night I came to collect it, I had been drinking heavily - I saw you and he were back together, and I cried all the way to your house.

36) When you didn’t answer my calls and texts that night, I thought you had some weird kind of vendetta against me, that it was your way of getting back at me.

37) My favourite holiday ever was the one we had together.

38) I hated the last part of that holiday, when it became clear you didn’t want sex with me and were desperate to fall out with me. I now know that’s because you’d already cheated and hate yourself, but I couldn’t understand at the time why it felt like you hated ME.

39) I love you.

40) I like you.

41) I love your company.

42) I love being serious with you.

43) I love being silly with you.

44) I miss you every day.

45) I love you.

46) I love your style, I love your attitude.

47) I love you.

48) I never felt worthy of you; you’re kickass, and you’re a straight up babe - I’m a loser with stained teeth, no future, and bad habits.

49) I begged every night that you’d forgive me for being shit in bed.

50) I wanted to spend time through the day with you more cause I felt like I sucked at being your nighttime companion.

51) I considered asking if you wanted me to watch other men fuck you because I couldn’t do it right. I decided against it.

52) I love the way you are with strangers.

53) I love the way you were with Lily.

54) I love the way you were with my mum.

55) You always seemed to know what to say.

56) I hated you being drunk when I wasn’t. Usually, the reason was that I was skint, but I didn’t want to tell you that; I already considered myself a bottom-dwelling male who didn’t deserve you, I didn’t need more of it to deal with in my head. So I just pretended i didn’t want a drink. I wanted to get pissed and have fun with you, just like we always had. But I’m always skint.

57) I wanted to see all the really cool places in the world with you, places nobody else would ever bother going to with me - Peru, India, New Zealand. I don’t know how I intended to pay for it.

58) I still love you.

59) I still miss you.

60) I used to dream about our little baby, and what might have been.

61) In the dreams, we were fucking great parents. You never listened to your parents, and I never listened to mine - instead, we raised them in our own way, and it was the most beautiful glorious thing ever.

62) The kid always loved you more than me. I don’t know if that means anything.

63) I forgave you for everything.

64) I didn’t know how to forgive you and also make you realise how hurt I HAD been.

65) I see now that your drinking and abuse was your guilt. At the time, I thought it was you pretending that nothing was wrong, and I felt violated.

66) I regret not sweeping you off your feet sooner.

67) I also felt incapable.

68) I just want to spend some time with you, watch a stupid movie, go for a stupid long walk, smoke some stupid cigarettes, have embarrassing stupid sex, and hear your stupid laugh.

69) I told all my family in Ireland about you, how much I loved you. They still ask me about you, which is why I haven’t spoken to them - I don’t know how to explain to them that such powerful amazing love could end in such failure.

70) I feel like a massive failure.

71) I don’t know what it is about me that could make you love me.

72) Yet I do believe you love me. It’s really weird.

73) I just wish we could go back in time, be simple again, and work our way up from there.

74) We’d have a house and a family by now, our own space, our own freedom, our own life.

75) I fucked up just as much as you did, and I never knew how to get that across.

I just want you back in my life again. I want to hold you, laugh with you, travel with you, feel you, fuck you.

I’m resigned to the fact that I can’t do any of that, or have any of that. And it will never feel okay, it will always feel like a huge, unnecessary, depressing failure.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be. But hear me, honestly - I’m still fucking desperate to be him. But I can’t be, can I?

I’m just not good enough.

Not good enough.

Not enough.

Not.

hyunsuk as your boyfriend

word count; 3.3k i’m sorry 

warnings; hmm i don’t think anything but possibly swearing i can’t be sure!! 

requested; no uwu i’m a new blog :) 

(also to gif makers; if you don’t want me to use your gif for any reason please just tell me and i’ll remove it!! apologies in advance if that’s the case!!) 

gif credit; bggon on tumblr!! please tell me if you’d like it removed :)

ok so uh let’s just give it a lil background

you decide to go out n get some new clothes bc u know. u got some extra money to spend why not

and you take some of your friends!! and you’re shopping and having a good time and everything is great

until you see this cute lil blue dress and you’re like ‘that’s The One, i need that dress……very necessary to my daily life’

so you tell your friends that you’re just gonna go find your size and they’re all “yes!! get the cute dress!! we’ll see you at the check-out!!”

so you’re about to grab the dress when you see,, the exact same dress except this time! it’s in red

so now you’re completely torn obviously because :// do you want the blue one or the red one,, they’re both cute,, but what’s gonna look nicer on you,,

and you’re just kinda stood there staring at them both because it turns out both colours have your size and now you don’t know what to do with urself

n just as your about to pout and go find one of your friends to help you pick you hear a Boy VoiceTM  

and it’s just a quiet lil, “you should get the red one!”

but it makes you turn around because whom said that to you

and you see….a cute boy….just kinda smiling at you while he looks at a shirt or something,, and he smiles even bigger when you look at him and just kinda shrugs before saying, “it’s a prettier colour!!”

part of you is like ?? i’m not gonna get the red one just because a random stranger thinks it’s a cool colour

but the other part of you wins because it’s like “:) you’re right red is a rlly cute colour :) i’ll get this one thank u fashion advice stranger”

and he smiles back at you before he turns back to the clothes he’s looking at and you know you’re supposed to just grab the dress and go now

but. you,, want the cute boy stranger to turn around again,, so u grab another random two articles of clothing and tap him on the back to be like “what about out of these two??”

and you just. keep doing it. and he keeps answering,, to the point where he doesn’t even turn around anymore because he’s giving you all his Focus

so now you have an armful of clothes that ur not gonna buy and he’s offering to carry some for u while u get them checked out and ur like “haha! of course! this is a great idea!”

and like. he isn’t dumb he knows what ur doing so he’s like. hyping himself up in his head like ‘come on!!! she’s clearly into you!! you’ve got this!! just…ask her out and if she says no! it’s all good! we’ve got this bro!’

so he takes a deep ass breath (n u think for a second that you’ve done something wrong) n is like “or…u could like idk man just…idk get the cute red dress and wear it…when i pick you up for a date…maybe like…tomorrow or something…” and in his head it sounds really smooth n nonchalant

but in reality it’s just a jumble of incoherence but you heard date and tomorrow so you’re like “yes!!!!!!!!!! yes this is Very Good i am free tomorrow pls do that” n give him your phone to save his number in

and he’d save it as ‘fashion god (a.k.a hyunsuk)’ with like fifty hearts next to it

((also as a side note you’d have to text him ur own name because he wouldn’t even ask for it in the store…… a charismatic king))

and that would be the story you’d have to give to your kids one day about how you met their dad :) very romantic

anyway! with that being said! let’s get into actually dating him

hyunsuk is a Loud Boy and is most of the time a Happy Boy

and he would constantly try and make sure that you’re feeling equally as happy as him because!! he really just hates the idea of you being upset or down

he hates it so much when your upset because of something outside of his control (like school, work, college) because he just doesn’t know how to fix it?? and he’d resort to doing really dumb stuff to get you to smile at him !! because seeing you :( makes his heart physically hurt

honestly he would melt if you did the same thing for him…..like….if you showed clear concern for him or hyped him up in anything he does the babey smile you know the one loll and feels his heart go zooooooom

i don’t think he’d actively go out of his way to show affection in public but it would definitely just happen

like. sometimes he’s just walking and the next thing he knows he’s tangling his hand with yours and giving your knuckles each a lil kiss

or you’re standing in front of him and his arms just kinda outstretch and pull you really close to him and he’s burying his face into the crook of your neck

or you’re just stood next to him minding your business when you’re tugged into his side and feel him leaving lil kisses on your cheeks while he calls you cute

all of his friends are Disgusted and beg him to not do that right in front of them 24/7 but like. he genuinely doesn’t notice until he’s already done it

however! if you initiated affection (in public) he,,,, blushes,,

in private you two are always attached somehow so it’s more unusual for you two not to be touching

his favourite form of affection would be when you were cuddling and you snuggled your face into his chest ! he’d literally go blank for a second before he’d yell something abt u being cute

i also personally see hyunsuk as someone who would wanna talk about so much all the time??? like…his mind is just buzzing with stuff all the time and he’d love having someone to share that with

and you’d have to do this late at night a lot (because of his schedule) but when he’d come to yours and if you were still awake, you’d both kinda just lay facing each other in bed with ur pinkies linked really loosely while you talked about a bunch of different stuff

they’d be long conversations too!!! you wouldn’t need to ask each other what you’d been up to that day because you’d be talking pretty much all day oof

so you’d be talking to each other about random stuff you thought of!! he’ll ask you about your views on stuff like ghosts and aliens and conspiracy theories, and you’ll get to hear his, and he’ll talk to you about his favourite songs and why they’re his favourites and he’ll really want you to explain yours too, he’d also ask dumb stuff like “do u think fish can see water” and would want a genuine answer 

but overall those would go on for hours and you’d only know he was ready to finally sleep when he curled an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him

speaking of cuddling!! hyunsuk would go between being the little spoon or having you lie on his chest to sleep

he loves being the little spoon because,, it’s such a warm experience,, so safe,, and bundled up,, and he’d definitely wrap himself up in a blanket before doing it for Maximum Comfort

but! he also loves having you sleep on his chest because “you’re my baby!! you’re so small it’s where you belong!!” (even if you’re taller than him hyunsuk what) he just,, loves how close you feel to him when he knows you can hear his heartbeat and he can feel how warm you are and he can see you falling asleep and it makes him feel so !! warm inside

he’d definitely introduce you to his friends really quick into dating you lol because?? what if you guys don’t get along?? they literally mean The World to him??

but of course you would i mean. what’s not to like

and they’d tell you embarrassing stories about him (seunghun would go into immense detail of how hyunsuk talked about your first date, including an oscar worthy rendition of hyunsuk talking about your first kiss)

you’d probably tell hyunsuk that you were scared of byounggon and hyunsuk would CACKLE

he’d be like “him?? he?? he’s a Baby! he’s the Sweetest Boy!” and then place all of his efforts into getting you and byounggon to be certified best friends

and like. it would work but more because you and byounggon had to bond over who would take care of him in his chaotic inventive ways to get you and byounggon to talk and communicate (including: accidentally locking you two in the practice room so you’d talk through ‘your issues with one another’ which would literally end up with you showing byounggon dumb pictures you had of hyunsuk on your phone and him giving you music recommendations)

[a/n; using that as a way to talk about something else,, writer of the year :)] we all obviously know that hyunsuk is very music orientated as a person!!! and he wouldn’t hesitate to share that with you through either his performances, his producing, or just music he likes

he’d make multiple playlists for you that would be for different things! (songs he wants to show you, songs that remind him of you, songs he wants to you to listen to and tell him whether performing them would be a good idea etc.)

he’d also love for you to show him your favourite music because he’d personally see music sharing as something very intimate and special!!! and if you ever told him about songs that reminded you of him he might actually have a heart palpitation

but i think in general he’d wanna be involved with something you’re interested in because you supported him so much in his passion!! if you were into art, he’d wanna know all about what you were drawing/painting and he’d find cute museums to go to together! if you were into writing, he’d wanna know what you were writing about and he’d wanna find you cool notebooks and stationary to use for it! he’d just wanna involve himself in any way possible to let u know he cared about it too!!

now onto his other Big Hobby

he…is now your personal stylist…a fashion king…he will not let you change his name in your phone…

he wants to go shopping to find cool clothes all the time! and now he has someone else to take with him! and someone else to try and dress!

i know there’s like the dumb Boyfriend Trope of ‘no :( you can’t wear that because it’s revealing :(‘ but like………hyunsuk wouldn’t care lmao

he sees something he thinks you’d look cute in?? he immediately jumps to get you to try it on for him!! it’s not a weird thing he’s just a fashion king and needs everyone to know that you two are the Best Dressed Couple

speaking of which! dating hyunsuk would be such a healthy thing !

he’d be a lil heavy-handed at first just because he’s not 100% on what he’s actually supposed to be doing

but once he figures out how dating actually works, it’s over for literally everyone else

like, at first, he might get jealous quite a lot because :(( what if u find someone better :(( but then he’d kinda re-evaluate and be like ‘i could…literally talk about this…what’s stopping me…’

and then you’d have a conversation about it where you’d reassure him that he’s your man!! you like Love him and stuff!!

from then on i think dealing with issues that came up in your relationship would just,,, get easy to him??

like, you’re jealous over someone else? that’s okay, you guys can talk about it and work it out!! he’s stressed and tired and just wants alone time? he’ll explain it to you in a calm n rational way without snapping at you!! you snap at him because you’re stressed and tired and just want alone time? he understands, but he tells you to tell him next time!!

he just can’t comprehend that any of the things you two work through are actually genuine problems for other couples because?? he finds them so easy to avoid

that’s not to say you two wouldn’t argue, because like, everyone does. but arguments would just,, end so quickly because

first of all: he hates there being tension between you two, and hates the idea of upsetting you even more

and second of all: he’d calm down quick enough to talk things through calmly and discuss a good way for both of you to fix your problems

and ! the relationship would never ever feel one-sided

you’d support him so much!! you’d remind him to get sleep, and to eat and drink regularly, and to not take the criticisms too harshly because he knows how good he is

((a side note: you’d probably Go Off at some point about yg and how gross he is for being so mean and never complimenting hyunsuk because you knew it upset him and you’d be ranting and gesturing around with your hands and probably yelling a lil bit and hyunsuk would just be looking at you like (✿╹◡╹) because his heart is so warm while you’re talking about burning the yg building down for him))

and he’d support you just as much!! he’d remind you to not overthink things, and to take breaks if you had studying to do, and would call you at least once a day if his schedule was packed just to get a quick run-down on how your day was going

also, on the topic of phone calls, sometimes he’d just call you and leave the call going while he did other stuff

most of the time it’d be while he did writing or producing

but if he wanted you to ‘be there’ during his dance practices he’d facetime and just kinda,,, leave it going while him and everyone else did their routine

and you’d either be doing other stuff or watching but either way you’d hype them all up for how well they were doing

and hyunsuk is（￣ε￣ʃƪ）because oh boy!! he loves you a whole bunch

onto another topic but he’d really wanna have you meet his family only after he knew it was gonna be serious with you two !

and he’d already know his family would love you so he wasn’t stressed (you definitely were, but he was just like “no!!! they’ll love you because they love me!!!”) and from then he’d really love for you to be close to his family

but oh boy meeting your family. he’d have a heart-attack

what if they didn’t like him?? what if they thought he was a bad influence?? he couldn’t handle that

(you’d go to meet them and you’d be calming him down because “you’re literally the cutest sweetest most charming boy i have ever met?? how could anyone ever hate you??”) and he’d still be super nervous but. two minutes into being through the door he has it! he’s got ur whole family just as whipped for him as you are by the time he leaves

he’s like the meme of ‘your mum asked me to ask if you wanted to come to dinner with us at your house tonight :)’

hyunsuk is also definitely the type to wanna get you guys a couple item!! and he’d try and find something really ugly because he’d think it was funny to see your reactions to the cringy couple shirts and hoodies

but then one day he’d come over n be like “hello i have done it again!!”

and ur like “oh no. why. what did you do. i’m too young to go to prison hyunsuk pls”

and he’s all “:) no silly we finally have a couple item”

and ur immediately like. “no. i won’t have it. take it back! no more micky and minnie mouse matching hoodies!! i won’t do it and you can’t make me!!!”

but he’s like “no i promise it’s a good one this time :( please”

so u allow him one chance…..just one….to prove himself…..

and boy! does he do it!

he gets out a cute lil box n he’s chanting like a lil kid when he gives it to you and he’s like, “open it open it open it!!”

and you do and :(( it’s this cute lil locket and you look up at him like :O

and he’s grinning so big and nodding for you to open it and when you do there’s your favourite picture of him in it and you’re !! so happy that you don’t know what to do with yourself

but then he’s like “wait! that isn’t even the best part!” and he shuffles about for a second and wham! he’s wearing a matching one

and ur like :O this is the cutest thing in the entire whole wide world

but ! he opens it up and he’s grinning at u n he looks like he knows something you don’t and there!! is a picture of you where you’re in a shirt of his and the lighting’s kinda bad because you’re kinda sat up in ur bed and ur grinning real big at something

and ur like “:/ hyunsuk that is the ugliest picture of me”

he would be. genuinely offended. he would pop off ! he would be gesturing around with his hands and rambling about how “that’s so dumb??? u look so happy?? and so cute??? and it’s my favourite picture of you ever???”

from that day obviously you wouldn’t take yours off because uhm that’s so cute

but like you just think he’ll wear his when it fits in with whatever the current days LookTM is

but………he wears it All the time…..(but he does take it off to sleep n shower because he’s scared to damage it!!!)

also i firmly believe hyunsuk isn’t the type to get jealous very easily anyway, but as i said earlier he wouldn’t find talking about it difficult

like,, if there was a situation where someone was being too touchy with you and it made him uncomfortable then he’d wait until later and then tell you kinda like, “hi idk what u think of this but it just made me kinda uncomfy :// can we talk abt it” and you would !! and you’d find something that worked for both of you !!

i mean hyunsuk really is like. that boyfriend

i know this is super long already so i’m gonna go into a quick fire bit;

he would completely and totally buy you chapsticks whenever he saw any !! like now he just buys two of each as a natural reaction to seeing them

leaves u notes if he has to leave early however they’re not like ‘ily see u later mwah’ they’re more like dumb jokes he thinks of or drawings of weird animal combinations he thinks of

totally accidentally steals the covers in the night if you guys move away from each so he buys you the cutest most fluffy blanket he can find as an apology

also!! his kisses would be the best ever?? he loves giving you lil cheek and forehead kisses 24/7

has to give you one (1) kiss every time you have to leave and one (1) kiss every time he sees you  

but he gives you two (2) kisses every single time you compliment him!!!

overall! i think hyunsuk would be one of the most relaxed and easy-going ((and best but you didn’t hear that from me)) boyfriends anyone could ever have

thank you for coming to my ted-talk

Slightly longer incoherent post instead of five separate shorter incoherent posts

So like I wanted to point out a couple things.

1, I was in an earlier post talking about how my parents used to tell me to pull it together when I was younger. And I realise that from that post without context it might seem like they have been emotionally abusive towards me or something. And I just wanted to point out that this is not at all the case.

Basically my dad is a poster boy for undiagnosed Asperger's syndrome, he was abused and neglected as a child and he has lost 3 out of his 4 children, and my mum is a half-orphan who grew up with no mum of her own and a dad who never got over having lost the love of his life and so he couldn't really be there for my mum when she needed him most. Looking at them through this lense, yes they are two incredibly damaged people with their own respective plethora of psychological issues, but they have honest to god tried their best to raise me in as loving and caring of an environment as possible. What caused most of the troubles is that I was a special needs child and they were most likely not equipped with the skills required to fulfill those needs. Basically, no matter how hard they tried, what they could offer in terms of caregiving was not aligned with my needs as a child. Probably, someone of a different temperament would have turned out perfectly fine, and it is an unlucky coincidence that in my case, this turned out to be severely traumatising. I do have some repressed memories, so I can't speak for this with a 100% certainty, but as I remember it, our trauma didn't come from direct abuse, but from a series of way more subtle, but nonetheless traumatising events, that involved being physically sickly, having been in painful accidents in early childhood that required long periods of hospitalisation and frequent isolation, having difficulties setting and understanding my own boundaries, social isolation, cultural context (e.g. no availability of child psychiatry, obtaining a diagnosis, mental hygiene professionals etc.), the misalignment of my and my parents' love language and like a ton of other shit that one by one seems like small crap but in total it managed to fuck me up for life.

2, I keep thinking about system roles. Like, the thing is, for the past 5 years I locked myself away from all information on OSDD/DID and on other systems' experiences, because I know how suggestible I am and I didn't want to accidently make things worse for myself by adding a layer of maladaptive daydreaming and pseudo-symptoms to my preexisting condition. But by now we're relatively stable as a system, so I thought, what the heck, let's see what the literature and the people of the internet say. And while I'm still trying to figure out the popular terminology and stuff, what I've learnt so far has provided me with enough context so I could start overthinking analysing my own situation and thinking about ourselves in a whole new, systemic approach. (See what I did there? What I DID there? Holy fuck Brain, go to sleep.)

So yeah, different roles. And like, what the fuck is even going on with our other alters because ACTUALLY while we're trying to pretend that it's a very small and neat system of two people, that's very much not true and in general, we're like a fucking mess. So I guess quick system rundown follows:

The Actives

Fox - Host/primary. Xe's what we call a fighter/survivor. Fox is the product of some extreme stress and xe represents the part of us that fought xyr way through all the life-or-death crap we've gone through and that's what xe thrives on. Xe has a hard time these days because life is lovely and stable and it's kinda giving xem a full identity crisis... So I guess in a way xe could be considered a protector?

Bunny - our very own little, and an absolute cinnamon bun. She is a soother, and while she never fronts alone, she's the only one of us who can co-con and she mostly comes out when I'm in distress and she just hugs me until the world is all better.

The Dormants (these guys don't have animal aliases so I'll just use their real names)

The Demon/The Bitch - she's a terrorist, or what people call a persecutor, if I understand it correctly. She used to be able to co-con and apparently had all of our memories, and her sole role was to torture and threaten us, sometimes actually breaking into front and making a very bad job of pretending to be one of us to confuse/manipulate our loved ones, but she couldn't resist making a mock version of us, so it wasn't super effective. She's been very active for a while, but mostly dormant for the past years. Maybe we just realised she was just a scared little girl and hugged her to death...

Emily - she used to be some weird form of a protector. Like, the kind that threatens you with the coconut she wields as a weapon because that was the first object she could grab and she shuffles into the bathroom to barricade herself in just so she can call it job done and go away again. She was kinda problematic and one-dimensional, and while she has been fully dormant for the past 3 or so years, I definitely "inherited" her jumpiness and way of getting startled by literally anything and everything, so I guess we kinda fused together accidentally or something...? Like, did I eat her? Ugh...

Dylan - she was a short-lived one, and mainly a reaction to a certain life situation, where we lived in deep poverty, starvation and extreme daily stress, so her singular goal was to have fun. We basically denied her a chance to front because... Well, because that was what seemed to be the right thing to do at that moment.

Alice(?) - I actually don't know anything about her, I'm not even sure she ever really existed, I just found some clues in a journal (that's where the name is from) and some stuff none of us claimed afterwards, so I suspect someone was there at a point but I'm absolutely unclear on any of the details.

The Confusing Shit

Brain - I was recently told that not everybody's brain is talking to them and that Brain might actually be some sort of system-related stuff, but basically it's just there to entertain me with horrifying, but kinda endearing and/or absolutely hilarious shit. And to torment me with anxiety voices but you know...

The Chorus - just a bunch of jumbled internal noise that keeps screaming static at me every time I'm too stressed.

The Hollow - it describes itself as a sort of autopilot, or rather, "whatever remains when you strip all personality from the body. It's a collection of physical functions and its goal is to keep us going when noone's fronting. It keeps us fed, hydrated, safe, and periodically puts the body to sleep so maybe one of us can re-enter front.

TP (myself) - so yeah, as far as roles go, I'm like... What, part protector-part persecutor-part trauma holder-part little-part host like wtf am I even?! I know that everybody has a blind spot for themselves, but like does any alter ever know what the fuck their function is supposed to be?! I'm just so fucking confused pls someone explain my system to me?!

3, about the excessive posting today. I dunno. I really just cannot stop, but I'm also more out of it than I have been any time in the past like ever, and occasionally I'm not even sure it's me or who am I so I'm deeply sorry for the verbal diarrhea. I guess I'm partly doing this because I'm sure I won't remember any of this later, like I keep "waking up" and it's been like 50 years and it's still the SAME MOTHERFUCKING DAY AND IT'S BEEN LIKE 5 SECONDS since the last post I've written the day before yesterday, so I guess it's also like my sense of time is absolutely fucked, but seriously I've just lived a lifetime of incoherent torment this day, like, did I just die and go to hell and this is what hell is? Seems plausible.

Renatus (4)

Summary: (y/n) finds herself in a very unusual situation where her fate seems to be woven with Hades himself, who’s too much of a jerk for her to even admit that sure okay he’s kind of really good looking.

Pairing: Hades!Yoongi x reader

Warnings: still none yet, some cussing. I should mention, there will be eventual smut (nope still not there yet.)

Chapters: one two three four five

 Never had a weekend felt so unbearably long before this one. By the time Monday morning finally came you felt like you had to have aged at least a few years, if not a full decade. You had never been the type to act like a babbling incoherent schoolgirl in front of anyone you had liked before, in fact thinking back you had never really been much the type to 'crush' on someone before. After your last relationship (which had been well over a year ago) you had figured you were doomed to spinstership with a hoard of cats to keep you company. Butterflies, sweaty palms, being unable to form coherent sentences when around attractive people had never once been a problem for you. Usually, past relationships had been initiated by the other person and you typically agreed more out of boredom. Hades had changed all of that. Upon your realization that you didn't maybe but you certainly did like the god of the underworld on Friday you suddenly felt like a different person.    The weekend had been a complete mess. You prayed that Yoongi would return to his previous quiet, sarcastic self who spent all of his time with the departed. Instead, he spent the entire weekend in close proximity to you. He was there at every meal, he read in the library while you tried (and failed) to study, he had even taken you shopping after you made a comment about being out of your favorite pens. While he wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows, his lack of ever-ready argument starters made it even harder for you to form coherent sentences. You tried (and again failed) to be snarky, instead you usually just said a jumbled mess of words and had caught yourself staring at him constantly. The worst part was that there weren't really any conversations, and the few that he had initiated you were a freaking mess. This was mainly caused by the fact that Hades decided that he now wanted to be called Yoongi even in the underworld, you assume that his time speaking with you back on earth could be the cause of this. The one thing you couldn't really understand though was that you had received another promotion from girl to (y/n) and that was presumably the biggest reason why you were malfunctioning every time he spoke to you. By Sunday you were contemplating throwing yourself into the Styx or hoping that a hellmouth would open up underneath your feet and swallow you whole so you wouldn't have to deal with trying to figure out what you needed to do next.    The only good news to all of this was that Monday had indeed come at long last and that Yoongi was so incredibly dense he had assumed that your new behavior was due to a bad cold over the weekend. The best news was that Hoseok had returned and was the one who would be taking you back to school. You nearly cried when you saw him, the sweet relief of finally being able to be away from your own messy thoughts was actually in sight. Unfortunately, Hoseok had noticed in record time your unusual behavior and didn't hesitate to ask you about it.    "Good gods, (y/n) what happened to you? You look awful!" His usual smile was replaced with concern. If you didn't already feel like you looked like a train wreck you certainly did now.    "Less talking, more transporting. Come on Hermes, help me out here I'm begging you." Begging didn't work, at all. Instead, he only grew more concerned and was walking around you in a circle, as if afraid that you might burst into flames (gods how you wished you would.)    "Listen, if you would just please get me out of here I promise I will try to explain everything." If there was anyone you could talk to about this, it would be Hermes. Hoseok was a great listener, a better hypeman, and he wouldn't rat you out for the sheer joy of it the way that Jungkook most certainly would.    At first, Hobi seemed hesitant to do as you asked but you finally found yourself gulping in the frigid air right outside your campus entrance just moments later. "What's going on? Yoongi didn't threaten to throw you into the Styx again did he? You've got to believe me, he threatens everyone with that but he never actually does it, well okay he did do it once I think, but that was a long time ago. After all, he'd be the one who would have to process the soul afterward and that's more work than just emotionally torturing you." Had that actually been your fear his words of intended comfort still wouldn't have worked.    "No that's not it...listen, I've got enough time before my first lecture. Can we just go sit down, grab a coffee maybe?" He looked even more concerned at this point but finally relented.      Once you were eventually back in the same coffee shop (and at the exact same table you were on Friday) with another Matcha latte in front of you, you mustered up the courage to try to explain everything. "I...I think I like Yoongi."    "WHAT???!? OH MY GODS WHY HOW WHEN???" The only flaw in your plan with talking to Hoseok about this was that you had forgotten how loud he could be, at the very least you weren't in Hades but you were panicking that at this volume Yoongi could still hear Hoseok's panic all the way from the underworld. Quickly you tried to shush him and once he stopped hyperventilating he took a large gulp of his coffee. "Did you...did you say...I can't...really??"    "Wow, way to make a girl feel great about her choice in men. Also isn't he your friend?? Shouldn't you be like hyping him up or something?" He shrugged at that as if to say 'what's the point in lying.' "I know it's strange okay, but I mean...he's actually...not that bad and he does the obnoxious thing where he bites his lip when he's concentrating and his hands are really pretty and his smirk is actually kinda cute but he's also super considerate and when he smiles his eyes turn into these really cute little moons and he has this really gummy smile when he laughs andIdunnowhyI'mdoingthistomyselfI'mdoomed." Annnd you're back to being a jumbled mess again. Apparently, he doesn't even need to be in the same room for you to turn into a blathering mess.    "That's...you're...but he??" Hoseok was at the very least also a mess and while he was supposed to be helping you it was comforting to know that you weren't the only one who was unable to function over this revelation. "You've got it bad, huh?"    "Yup. I'm doomed." You sighed as you took another slurp of the latte, hoping that it would somehow magically cure everything. If all else failed you always had the Styx river to throw yourself into.    "Have you told him?" Hoseok seemed to finally start thinking straight, good, at least one of you could.    "How could I? Hi, Mr. Scary God Of The Underworld I'm kind of crazy for you, no please don't devour my soul? I mean, is he even interested in dating? Or Women?"    "Well not telling him isn't going to change anything. Also as for dating and women, the two of you were technically supposed to be married and he did have me send flowers to your doorstep every year."    "Point taken but you don't understand. Even if I could I can't. I can't even form words when I look at him, it's like my brain turns into TV static."    "Listen, you've got to try to tell him. Sure he's...moody...and usually angry...and a workaholic who usually forgets to eat...and sometimes terrifying but buried under all of that there's actually a really nice guy somewhere deep deep deep deep deep-"    "I get it Hoseok, I think you could have stopped after the third deep."    "Sorry, anyway, what I'm trying to say is that there is absolutely nothing to gain from saying nothing but you might gain something if you try. Besides, he let you live down there, agreed to all of your conditions, and he actually makes time to talk to you which is more than he does for his own brothers. That can only mean that he likes you too. We both know that he's never going to admit that so you're going to have to be the first one to try."    Your brain malfunctioned so badly after he said that you don't remember any of the rest of the conversation or how you made it to your first lecture or what anything was about. When you looked at your notes you just saw a blinking cursor taunting you.    While you had spent the entirety of the weekend relishing your freedom from Yoongi that would arrive with Monday you had failed to understand that you couldn't just magically dump your brain of everything. Focusing in class had never been this much of a problem up until now and autopilot was something that while you were apparently equipped with it was very faulty. You had made it to all of your lectures, had managed after the first one to take some notes, but your brain was still constantly going back over the idea that maybe, just maybe you had a chance. You were also grateful that you had never felt this way about anyone you previously dated because this had been a complete and utter nuisance. Never again would you make fun of those people in romantic comedies, you were by large worse than them and you weren't just a character. Gods, feelings suck.    By the end of your last lecture you were trying to psych yourself up for what would probably be the lamest confession of all time but you couldn't bear the thought of having to deal with being this much of an idiot for another day. Halfway to the west exit, your thoughts were interrupted by Kihyun calling out to you. You had completely forgotten about your promise to work on the essay with him. "Kihyun! Oh man, I'm so sorry I totally forgot."      You failed to notice the short-lived downcast look in his eyes before he gave a cheery smile and said, "Mondays suck, huh? Do you still want to work with me on the paper?" In all honesty, you had already completed most of your essay over the weekend while trying to avoid Yoongi but you were pretty sure that it would be as much of a jumbled mess as your head had lately been. "That would be great! Is the library okay with you?"    "Yeah, sure the library sounds great!" And with that, you began walking back through the campus. The usual winter weather had returned in full swing after Friday, the crisp air snapped through your jacket and sweater as the two of you silently trudged your way across the icy paths.    "So, what did you do this weekend?" Kihyun interrupted the silence and you turned your body a little too quickly when you looked over at him to respond. Your boot slipped on just the right section of iced over cement and you felt your knees buckle and your backpack push forward in just a split second. You splayed your hands out in front to try to spare your face from the impact as your eyes squeezed shut, at the same time you felt yourself being pulled back up from your waist.    "If you aren't feeling well you shouldn't push yourself. Hobi told me that you looked like you were in bad shape and you almost bashed your face in just now. Honestly, you need to take better care of yourself, you should have just stayed home." You felt a tingle run up your spine as you felt his warm breath next to your ear. You glanced down at the hands and over to Kihyun who was standing shocked next to you and then finally craned your neck back to see that Yoongi had appeared just in time to help you from your own clumsiness.    Both you and Kihyun stayed silent as you gawked at Yoongi, Kihyun finally seemed to snap out of it before you and spoke up. "I'm sorry you aren't feeling well (Y/N), I didn't even notice. You should go home and get some rest, we can figure out another day to do the essay." Before you could even respond he quickly scampered away.    You glanced back down to see Yoongi's arm still wrapped around your midsection. It felt like you were back at war with your own conflicting thoughts. Half of you wanted to stay in this position, it was warm and comforting. The other half of you was growing more and more embarrassed that Yoongi witnessed your clumsiness and had saved you from almost breaking your face and you wanted to flee the scene. Another part of you wanted to find Hoseok and strangle him for getting Yoongi out of Hades to come to get you. You eventually decided that if you did try to flee or move too quickly you would just wind up breaking a body part.    "(Y/N), are you okay? You aren't saying anything, or moving. Are you even breathing?" Yoongi looked down at you with concern.    "Yeah, yup, yes mhmm I'm totally fine." If that hadn't already sounded unconvincing the fact that your voice was two octaves higher than normal had solidified that you most certainly did not sound fine.    "...Let's go home." His arms left your waist as he turned back around and took a step forward before looking back at you and holding out his hand. "Hold my hand, I don't want to carry you out of here with any broken bones and I don't trust that you'll make it all the way there without me guiding you."    "I would be perfectly fine without your help, that was just a one-time incident. A fluke. And besides, I have cat-like reactions I would have totally been a-okay." Your actions betrayed your words however as you grabbed his hand. You couldn't help but marvel down to look at your hand in his and your heart started to swell with warmth and those obnoxious stomach butterflies were back in action and stronger than ever.    "Mhhmm, sure whatever you say. Glad to hear you can still have that mouth of yours though, you were really starting to scare me there. Humans get sick too easily, you really should take care of yourself. There's no point in pushing yourself too hard and running yourself down. If you don't feel good you need to rest until you feel better. You should stay home tomorrow and rest. And it's too cold for you to not be wearing a scarf and gloves. Honestly, as an adult human you should already know this, should you not?" Just a few days ago hearing him say human that many times in a sentence would have caused you to almost foam at the mouth but now you were too focused on the idea of him being concerned about you to care. Maybe Hobi was right, maybe you really did stand a fighting chance.    You wrestled around with your thoughts as you trudged through in silence. How exactly were you supposed to confess? How did one confess to a god? Do gods even date? You tried to stifle a giggle as you conjured up an image of Yoongi thrusting flowers at you with murderous intent over a dinner table.    "(Y/N)...(Y/N)? Are you ignoring me on purpose or are you just daft?"    "Hmm, what? I'm sorry, I was just thinking..." You glanced up at him and realized that you had already made it to the back of the tree.    "Honestly, you really should get some rest...anyways...are you ready to go?" His voice softened slightly, his earlier exasperated tone gone.    "Ah, yep! Totally good, totally ready! One way stop to the underworld here I come!"    Yoongi raised an eyebrow but decided not to comment as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. Just a moment later you found yourself back in front of the entrance of Hades. Even though it's been nearly a month of doing this twice a day five times a week it never ceased to amaze you how the Gods could just wish their way somewhere and suddenly be there. You made a note that you had to ask Yoongi how it worked someday.    Before you could even move you heard a loud crack and the sound of someone groaning. Immediately pulled you behind him and seemed to go on the defensive before quickly relaxing again. "Ah, Namjoon, I see that you still are rather abysmal at transporting yourself. What brings you here today?"    You peered around Yoongi and saw a man, no definitely a god if he got all the way here, sprawled out on the floor rubbing the back of his head and smiling up at the two of you. He promptly got up and dusted himself off and seemed to ignore Yoongi completely as he cocked his head to the side and seemed to analyze you, his smile growing wider. "This must be (Y/N). I've heard so much about you from Hobi and Kooki! Speaking of Kookie," He looked back over at Yoongi after you croaked out a small 'hello', "I actually came here to tell you that we're trying to throw a surprise party for Kooki's birthday. I know you always refuse to come by for any of our events but I figure at least once every thousand years isn't so bad, right?"    Yoongi glared at Namjoon as he mulled it over. Finally, he asked, "And when exactly is this party?"    "This weekend, it starts Saturday. It's at Jin's place, he's really pulling out all the stops this year. Oh and, (Y/N) you're also invited!"    Your eyes widened as you looked back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. "Why? I mean, I'm not a god..."    Namjoon waived his hand while laughing, "Oh who cares. Any friend of Jungkook should come, that means you (Y/N) and hopefully you too Yoongi."    Yoongi scratched his head and muttered something about having too much to do before letting out a frustrated sigh and glancing back over at you. "Do you want to go (Y/N)?"    "What? Oh, well...I'm not much of a party person but I would like to be able to be there for Jungkook! Besides, it would be nice to meet your brothers and friends..." You let out the last part more quietly as you felt heat creep over your cheeks.    Yoongi let out another sigh before looking back over at Namjoon. "Fine, I'll go too. Under one condition, you go straight back after this. It took me ages to try to fix everything after your last accidental fire."    Namjoon gave a more embarrassed laugh this time but his smile didn't disappear as he said, "Sounds like a plan, stan!" Another loud crack and he was gone.    "I'm not Stan.." Yoongi muttered as you both started walking away. You couldn't help but laugh at that.    "It's a human saying Yoongs. So who was that guy?"    "Namjoon? Oh, you'd know him as Prometheus. He's interesting to talk to but I highly recommend you don't give him an easily breakable object. He could give Perses a run from his money on his job title."    "You know that reminds me, every time I ask Jungkook what his God name is he just laughs. Who is he?"    Yoongi's eyes narrowed at mine for a moment as he stopped walking. Finally, he lowered his head down to the ground as he slowly started forward again, "Jungkook is probably known to you as Apollo."    "I never took the god of music and sun as much of a trickster but that's interesting...so I suppose I'll get to meet your other friends at this birthday party?"    "Mmmm. I suppose if that's what you would call them."    "Well, what would you call them?"    Yoongi glanced back over, a smirk on the edge of his lips. "Annoyances, idiots, trouble-makers. If they are only close friends of Jungkook then this should be interesting, if it's many of the gods then you might want to be careful..." He stopped for a moment as he looked at you intently, his face hardened and the fleeting playfulness just a second earlier had vanished. "Not all the gods are as understanding about humans forgetting most of them. Many are petty and jealous, and most have never tasted defeat especially at the hand of a human. They might want to wage a fight...I don't think that will happen...but... I would rather that you stay close to me, many of them do not understand death and they fear me so you should be safe."    "They fear death, or they fear you?"    Again he held a steady gaze as he mulled the thoughts over. "Both for some, mostly just death. Gods can die, but it is not common and unlike humans, we will not walk again. The time that we have can be eternal, but we can also be broken and slaughtered. There used to be brutal wars of Gods fighting each other, but we finally have all come to a relative peace mostly because they fear death so much. You ask interesting questions <y/n>, but I again would rather that you ask them to me and not to the other gods. It's safer that way..."    You tried to give a smile to Yoongi as you turned back to him. "Thank you...really...I appreciate that you listen to me and answer me....and I look forward to uh...going to the party with you. Well...I uh...I suppose I should get something to eat."    With a courteous nod and the ghost of a smile, Hades left you at the entrance of the house to return to work.

+++    Unfortunately, the rest of the week went by far too quickly. Your head had been a mess and while you had managed to at least refocus and get back in routine at Uni the hours outside of it were spent with you trying not to shout out that you kind of sort of technically had a date with Yoongi. While he didn't say he was going because of you, he did say to stay close to him and as Hobi pointed out he also agreed to come after you said you were going. Your brain was practically a fireworks show when that thought first came to your head but as the days grew closer you were starting to feel heavy pangs of anxiety. There was the thought that you were just a human that constantly taunted you, the understanding that you had to come clean and tell Yoongi soon, the fear that this bizarre little haven in the underworld you had quickly grown attached to might no longer be there. It wasn't even so much of the fact that you might never come back, it wasn't even the easier lifestyle, it was the thought that once you finally told Yoongi everything might come crashing down.    Hobi had told you that you should just get it over with and tell Yoongi as quickly as possible, and also warned you that Yoongi desperately hated parties and to not tell him the day of or the day after as he tended to be far angrier then. While the words were in a sense helpful, they were not comforting.    You weren't sure how but you had gotten Yoongi to agree to pick you up and get coffee with you again on Friday, and the feeling of butterflies and anxiety had melted together in your stomach until they formed deep knots as you awkwardly gazed at him over your matcha latte. You had tried to form a plan, at the best of it you figured that you would tell Yoongi everything over coffee far away from the Styx and hope that all would go well. The last few mornings Hoseok had been hyping you up and you were starting to finally feel prepared. Hoseok was right, there was no sense in waiting and hoping that something would happen. If you wanted something you would have to grab it yourself.    "So...how's school?" Yoongi's words stopped your thoughts and you squinted down at the drink as you tried to remember English.    "Ah, good. Say Yoongi...I uhh..." You wanted to listen to Hoseok's warning of 'just say it outright, he's too thick to understand otherwise' but you felt suddenly unsure and afraid as you looked across at him. "So, this party tomorrow. Umm..Namjoon never said what time it begins. When should we leave?"    Yoongi's gaze darkened as he looked down into his coffee. "Hmm...well they never really set a time. You just, kind of show up. I would probably say to leave after breakfast, I'm assuming that's when everything will begin. I should warn you, they'll want this to go on overnight and things can easily get out of hand...if you are ever uncomfortable just let me know and we can go. Under no circumstances do you have to stay if you don't want to, and you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I want you to understand that I'm here to help."    The knots seemed to loosen and a comforting warmth rushed through you at his words. "I...thank you Yoongi. I really mean it. I know you don't like these kinds of things so if you want to leave too, I'll go back home. It won't be much fun without you, and...I would rather be with you..." You concentrated down at your now empty cup as a blush climbed up your chest all the way up to your ears. Finally, you stole a quick glance and saw the most radiant gummy smile directed at you. While you had failed to confess and in that sense, this coffee 'date' had been a failure it had at the very least succeeded in melting away anxiety. No matter what Jungkook's party would bring, no matter the fact that you were just a human, no matter the fact that he didn't know he liked you, you at the very least had Hades by your side and that made all the difference.   

+++++ A/N

Okay, so I know that this is both rushed and also moving slowly but I’m already buried in homework and I wanted to get something out instead of just sitting on this forever. I actually had planned for this to be more the ‘big confession’ moment but it seemed too rushed when I did that. That being said the next chapter will most def. have some smut. Thank you for the love and I really appreciate you guys reading this mess!

Also for those who had to scroll by this in mobile, I’m hoping that the staff fixes the update so that the read more option works again soon!

I’ll Take The Blame, You Take My Conscience- Ch 8

“You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Panic burned the back of Shiro’s throat as his eyes widened at the statement. He had known his feelings for Keith for some time now, but he knew better than to act on it, aware that he was nothing more than a friend in his best friend’s eyes. It was better for everyone if he just kept it to himself. At least, that’s what he had thought. Then he’d started noticing small things, like how sometimes Keith would let his hands linger on his skin for a fraction longer than he needed to, or how he could feel his gaze tracing the long line of his body when he thought Shiro wouldn’t notice. He’d been planning on telling Keith how he felt at the party. It was amazing how quickly things could change.

“Let him go, Shiro. He’ll need a tool, not a lover. And your love will only make him weak.”

AKA the one where Keith is the leader of a Yakuza clan, Shiro is his ever loyal tool, and they’re caught in a gang war.

Amazing commission by prllnce!

Previous Chapters

AO3

YAAAAAY FOR THE NOVEMBER UPDATE! Sorry again for things getting cut back during the holidays. Great news, the 12 Days of ODM are coming along nicely :) 7 out of 12 have been completed!

Anyway, no warnings other than a lot of mental anguish. This chapter is a necessary evil chapter. The kind that is setting us up for the finale. After this, there's one chapter and an epilogue left. also this one is the shortest chapter of ittb and i feel kinda bad for that but also it was literally just a set up chapter so please forgive me

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I’m sorry.

The apology weighed heavy on Keith’s chest as he choked on the blood that had filled his mouth. Everything was the flavor of rust as its metallic tang filled his senses. Bright pops of pained light blinded him as his nails scratched against cool tile, searching for a weapon he knew wasn’t there. For one of the first times in his life, Keith felt the cold stab of fear as it wrenched its jagged deep into the bone of his sternum. It was the kind of raw emotion that sunk through every nerve of his being until he felt filleted with his insides exposed as he bled out for all to see. His breathing stuttered out of him in one long shuddering gasp as he continued his frenzied search for anything to defend himself.

Love can turn people into monsters as easily as hate.

Coran’s words screamed in his mind in an unending cadence as the panic tasted bitter at the back of his tongue. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Keith had had a plan, even if it had been entrenched in the bitter rage that had fueled him since Shiro had been taken. If it was a monster that was needed to beat a monster, he would turn himself into the hungriest one of all. Only, monsters never won. In the end, the whole point was lost because there was no such thing as a happy ending for one that had given themselves over to the darkness.

Another sharp pain of despair drove the barb further into his chest as he attempted a kick that was easily blocked.

He was going to lose.

Keith was going to die here on the floor like a dog, and no one would know until the Akuma sent his body back to his clan wrapped up with a neat little bow.

Shiro wouldn’t know until he saw his head detached from his shoulders and staring up at him from the confines of a box.

And I don’t want to lose you. So, please. Wait.

He didn’t deserve this. Had never deserved this. They should have met in a different time, in a different place. One where love would have been lauded. One where they would have been able to let it cultivate and bloom outside of the confines of the shadows. Shiro had deserved that. God, how he wished he would have allowed himself to stay behind. If only he had stayed.

If only he had said everything he needed to say.

Another sharp kick to his ribs sent his thoughts shattering across the ground in a smear of crimson as his insides heaved warm blood passed his lips.

“Is that all you have, Little Lion?” Zarkon growled, using the heel of his shoe to push Keith onto his back so he could stare down at the younger leader. An angry fire raged in the depths of the Akuma’s darkened eyes, his pupils wide with bloodlust as he fixed him with a glare. Fear and regret were a volatile mix low in his gut as all the words that he’d left unsaid screamed through his mind.

I need you.

Shiro.

I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost you.

Shiro.

I love you.

His gaze flitted from the devil glaring down at him to the white skin of his knuckles as he tightened his grip on the blade in his clutch. Zarkon’s smile was filled with frost and razorblades as the cool light above them glinted off his sword. In another panicked motion, Keith threw an arm out to pull the oyabun’s leg out from under him so that he would lose his footing and he might be able to regain some semblance of an advantage. A sharp sting erupted across his palms as instead of the warmth, clothed leg, he was met with the flat of a blade. The defeat of it sent his mind reeling as his thoughts began to swim together, bleeding into each other in an incoherent jumble punctuated by storm filled eyes and warm hands on his skin.

Zarkon placed his foot on Keith’s throat, pressing his weight into his trachea as he smiled down at him. The pain of it sent a roaring throb coursing through his body like an angry tempest looking to tear him apart from the inside out. Keith’s eyes widened as he stared up at his death, Zarkon’s mouth forming words he didn’t hear as his thoughts continued to batter against his skull. There was only a moment before his body took over, his fingers clawing at the foot that had pressed down into him as his very being fought against the agony and lack of oxygen.

I’m sorry.

Black spots started to eat away at his vision as he glared defiantly up at Zarkon, his body continuing to twist and writhe beneath his foot. He shouldn’t have left. Now he was going to do to Shiro what he had feared most.

Now, he was going to die.

It was as Keith threw the last of his fear filled energy into another hopeless jab at the oyabun, that Zarkon’s blade caught the light as he lifted it for his next strike.

I’m so sorry, Shiro.

***

Before.

Shiro watched the makeshift meeting that was taking place at the foot of his bed, only vaguely aware of the words that were flying quickly between the waka gashira and Keith. Though he had officially awoken from his coma two days prior, his body still worked against him as if it were trying to drag him back into the darkness he’d been lost in. It left his head foggy and his limbs heavy, the ghost of his right arm the heaviest of all.

The doctors had all explained to him in too many terms exactly what the loss of his limb had meant. Had laid out in great, agonizing detail the result of what the Akuma had done to him, their long drawn out sentences and ten dollar words all simmering down to one, painful fact.

His arm was gone.

They’d quickly followed up the damning realization with words of encouragement and an array of paths for him to choose from, all in which fell on deaf ears as he’d quickly lost himself to the swirling darkness of his own despair.

They’d broken him.

His arm was gone.

The only thing that gave him any solace, was the deep amethyst of Keith’s gaze, his jeweled eyes attempting to provide him any sort of lifeline to keep him anchored. He’d watched as his best friend nodded along to the words the doctors continued to regurgitate with all the finesse of machines working down a mundane list, having already heard what they had to say about rehabilitation and the future. Instead of listening, Shiro had allowed himself to trace the sharp line of Keith’s nose and attempted to count the dust of freckles that decorated the bridge. He had let his gaze shift over the dangerous curve of his best friend’s mouth as it struggled to keep in a disinterested line, as if he didn’t notice the way Shiro was drinking him in with all the vigor of a man avoiding all else.

Even with the angry shadows that marred the skin under his eyes, Keith had still managed to ease the ever growing panic that had twisted sour bile in his gut. All of his instincts had screamed out for him, urging Shiro to be selfish for once in his damn life and ask the oyabun to stay in the one place he had always made it clear that he wanted to be in. Worry and the mundane drawl of the doctors were the only things that had left him any sense of self. Without them, he may have ignored his careful inspections that had unearthed the fact that Keith himself still had not recovered fully from his own wounds.

"You need to get some rest, Keith,” he’d said after the doctors had finally left, taking their crushing words about recovery and prosthetics with them.

“I can rest here,” Keith had replied, rolling his eyes as he retook the recliner as his throne, leaning into the caress of the cheap faux leather. If Shiro was anyone else, he might have missed the way Keith had winced, the movement of it such a subtle twitch it could have been played off as merely an aborted blink. He wasn’t anyone else, though, and learning Keith’s nuances had been something he’d done for the majority of his life.

"In a real bed,” Shiro had deadpanned, recognizing the tightening of the oyabun’s jaw that meant all his arguments would be fruitless before he slammed the door on the topic with two words.

“I’m fine.”

Since, Keith was an ever present force sitting by his bed and providing every distraction Shiro could have needed to escape the harsh truths of his new reality.

Shiro was broken. He had always been, his damage once tucked beneath the surface where it could be hidden. Now, the evidence of it stood out for all to see.

Now, everyone would know.

A barely there brush of fingertips over the back of his hand pulled him up from the inky mire of his darkened thoughts as he looked up just in time to see Keith’s worried gaze before it flickered away from him and back towards Pidge.

“With what Hunk overheard, the Akuma have a new deal going down at the Port of Nagoya with the Mafia,” she explained, pointing to the port’s location on the map tacked to the wall opposite Shiro’s bed. Ever since he’d awakened, the four other Raion had taken it upon themselves to turn his room into their new meeting space, though if it was because they truly wanted him in on the planning or because Keith refused to leave, he wasn’t sure.

Not that his return to consciousness hadn’t been met with tears and excitement, each of the waka gashira welcoming him back with open smiles. Their joy to see him was so genuine, it had almost masked the concerned glances they’d cut towards Keith. When he’d asked about it, the oyabun had just brushed it off, merely stating that they hadn’t exactly seen eye-to-eye on some things. The excuse was so flat and uninspired that Shiro hadn’t even pushed the subject, knowing Keith well enough to be aware that the oyabun wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

“Tonight we should catch them off guard,” Pidge continued, voice clipped as her hazel eyes bore into the man just to the left of his bed as she spoke. There was a undercurrent of insubordination lying beneath her tone as if she didn’t agree but had given up saying anything. It was enough to cause Shiro to tear his own gaze away from the map and coinciding photos and towards Keith, who looked nonchalant as he returned her look. A moment passed as they silently communicated, their heated conversation of steeled glares only ending once Pidge finally looked away.

“So it’s me and Hunk coming from the side?” Lance asked, leaning against the wall near the entrance to Shiro’s room as if he was a guard. He had been the most obvious in his worry, lurking by the door and carefully regarding Keith during each meeting. While he had done that, Shiro had watched him, making a mental note of the way his mouth turned further down with each meeting as if he was trying to hold back whatever was weighing on his mind.

“Yes, and I’ll be alone and cover the back entrance,” Keith confirmed with a swift nod, turning his attention towards their friend with his shoulders steeled as if waiting for an argument that never came. The words continued to sling back and forth, creating a constant hum as they pieced together a plan, all the while shooting each other silent cues that all seemed to dance around both their oyabun and his saiko-komon.

An uneasy tension was cresting over the room and working its way under his skin as he observed the scene around him, not missing the way each of his friends would quickly look away from him whenever they caught each others gazes. Even as their voices began to rise, Keith pushing against his waka gashira with biting words and harsh orders, they continued to avoid his questioning look.

At least, until Hunk caught his eye before he followed behind Pidge and Lance, who had effectively stormed out. It was a moment of hesitation when he focused on him, his mouth pressed into a line as his chocolate gaze flickered over the stump of his arm before dragging up to his silvered gaze. In that moment, Shiro understood.

You’re broken.

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice was soft as he said his name, drawing it out into a question as he turned away from the now empty doorway. He was vaguely aware of the way his name curled gently from his tongue as he tried to focus on his breathing instead of the acidic thoughts that had begun to eat away at his insides.

You’re broken.

You’re useless.

You’re no longer needed.

In his condition, Shiro wouldn’t be able to protect Keith. He couldn’t protect anyone. Hell, he couldn’t even get himself out of the bed, and suddenly it all came crashing down around him. The Raion would walk into a battle without him, and he would be useless to do anything outside of sit in his hospital room and wait.

Wait for word. Wait for a sign. Wait to lose one of them.

Wait to lose him.

The bed dipped under the weight of a knee placed by his side as Keith hoisted himself onto the mattress, carefully straddling his hips as his fingers gently ghosted over his skin until they cupped his face.

“Shiro,” he breathed, voice calm as he looked at him.

His weight was a welcome distraction as he pushed closer, his hands soft as if they held something precious in their grasp.

“Come back to me, Shiro,” Keith said as he gently brushed the pads of his thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to pull away. Nothing good had ever come of giving into his desires, especially when his heart was beating so angrily against his chest, each spike caught by the heart monitor. But that close, with Keith’s starry night eyes filling his vision, he couldn’t stop himself as he closed the distance between them.

Pressing into the kiss, Shiro caught Keith’s moan on the tip of his tongue before he returned it. His hand found the small of Keith’s back as he nipped at his lips, pulling him even closer so that they were chest to chest. Everything was fire around him, the very space where their skin touched becoming the very fuse that ignited the world around them. He let out a long breath as he pulled away enough to move his lips to the line of Keith’s jaw, dragging chaste kisses over the bone until he found the soft tissue of his neck.

The corners of his mouth twitched downward as he gently bit at his best friend’s pulse before soothing it with his tongue. It earned him a moan as he continued to work his way down the path of Keith’s neck, only stopping once he made his way back up towards his ear.

“Don’t go to Nagoya,” he whispered into his skin, voice raw with his plea. “Wait for me.”

Shiro felt him tense under his hand as soon as he spoke, Keith’s hands sliding down over his throat and to his shoulders as he pulled back enough to fix Shiro with a weary look. For a moment, he didn’t recognize the man before him as a look of something caught between unease and fear flashed over his eyes before it was replaced by something else. He could see him going over the words and arguments as to why they couldn’t wait for him to move on the Akuma, and saw each time he discarded them for search of anything else that would let him down easier.

That almost made it worse.

You’re damaged goods.

You’re no good to an oyabun like this.

You couldn’t even protect Keith before.

The vicious thoughts weaved through his mind, masking themselves with the oyabun’s voice and slowly tearing him apart from the inside, all within the span of the few seconds it took for Keith to decide how to continue forward.

“Shiro,” he finally sighed, leaning away from the half halo of his arm as he looked over the saiko-komon with impossibly sad eyes. Longing spread through his chest at the sudden loss of Keith’s warmth, his hand resting on his hip as he tried to maintain any contact at all. The sharp spike of electronic noise alerted him to the heart monitor picking up the stutter of his heart.

“We can’t risk you getting hurt again,” Keith said lowly, as if he was trying to keep the conversation caught in the space between them. His words battered within the distance that separated their chests, their weight beating against his flesh and leaving open wounds in its wake. Beneath his palm, Keith’s hip was warm and overtly solid, the shape of it explicit in its very existence. If he allowed himself, he could move his hand upward just enough for his fingertips to ghost over the skin there.

Instead, Shiro drew it back.

“I’ll be fine.”

He watched as Keith’s eyes flicked a barely there glance towards the hand that was no longer holding onto him. They both ignored the flash of hurt that turned his gaze a darker shade of mauve.

“That’s what we thought before, and look where that got you.”

The words were tempered steel, so finely sharpened he hardly felt their sting as they worked their way between his ribs. Unmistakable pain turned Keith’s voice brusque as he lost what little authoritative edge he had desperately clung to. The true extent of his grief from the past week came crashing out of him like a wave crashing through the walls of a dam. Its rushing waters took everything with it, including Shiro’s breath.

“Keith,” his name was a soft exhale. Fixing his eyes on a point just above Shiro’s shoulder, the oyabun began to worry his lip between his teeth as he worked to regain his composure. As if pulled toward Keith by a gravitational pull, his hand met his cheek, fingers brushing softly over the crest of his cheekbone and earning him a soft hum as he pressed into the touch.

“This wasn’t your fault, Keith,” he murmured as he he catalogued the gentle caress of Keith’s hitching breath on his wrist deep in his most private thoughts.

“This is what our life means. I—” Shiro paused as he searched for his next words, feeling himself nosing towards the thin line that they’d silently drawn between them and solidified over the years. “I knew it could happen.”

Tension ran through Keith as he spoke though he still didn’t pull away.

“Just wait, Keith,” he continued, brushing over the line and stepping onto the other side. It was a low blow. An underhanded trick to break down the brick and mortar that Keith had erected in his absence in an attempt to keep everyone out. He was a force of nature, his bitter rage constantly burning beneath the surface of his jeweled eyes, but not with him. Shiro knew that Keith would let him in if only Shiro let him in first. He heard Coran’s voice clearly as he let his next words fall from his lips.

Let him go, Shiro. He’ll need a tool, not a lover. And your love will only make him weak.

“That’s all I’m asking. Just, wait for me.”

Honesty colored his tone with heavy handed gilded that he had hoped hid his true intent. All he needed was for Keith to wait long enough for him to be able to protect him. Shiro might have been tarnished, but he needed to find a way to do that much. He needed to—

“We can’t wait, Shiro!” The sudden exclamation broke the moment in two as Keith pulled away further and sat back on his haunches, careful to keep his weight off of him. His breath was a hiss as he exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut as if to block him out. In that moment, he was Atlas as he struggled against the weight of the world.

“This isn’t an opportunity we can afford to miss.” Keith’s voice trembled as it fought between exasperation and authority, the war between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do coming to a head before Shiro’s eyes. A hollow ache began to blossom in his chest as he looked at the oyabun who was so close, but hadn’t ever been so far away.

“There will be another.” It was a plea that hung over their heads like a guillotine.

Time stretched until it was an inconsequential concept, seconds stretching into hours and hours becoming days as the silence thickened. Something shifted as a static current accented the deafening quiet. Shiro watched the way Keith’s chest rose with his deep inhale as he made a decision, his eyes opening as his hand dropped to his side. Fixing his burning amethyst stare on him, he spoke again, this time his voice tempered with a decisive fire.

“Shiro, it could take months.”

Keith cut straight to the bone with the finality of his statement. It was a knockout to counter the one Shiro had dealt, the only difference was that Keith’s had landed and left him reeling.

It could take months.

He didn’t mean another opportunity.

All of the air was sucked from the room as he picked apart the meaning behind what Keith said, his mind snatching it apart until his truth was laid bare before him.

You’re broken.

Keith would have never blatantly said it, Shiro knew. He wouldn’t even ever mean it as anything other than a blatant fact. Everything the doctors had said came roaring back like the screaming winds of a storm, and suddenly the only thing that mattered was hearing it from Keith himself. Everyone had acknowledged the obvious, except for his best friend, who had only sat in silence beside him the entire time, offering silent reassurance that had originally placated all of Shiro’s fears.

If Keith never spoke the words, it couldn’t be true.

Only now, it felt like his silence had been something else that that needled him, causing his chest to heave with a simmering anger waiting for any kindling that would send it into a full blaze.

Now, he needed to hear him say it.

“What could take months?” The saiko-komon asked forcefully, pushing the question passed the cage of his teeth. They tasted bitter on the tip of his tongue as he spoke, tone charred and darkened by the flames licking their way up his throat. Shiro watched the shift that rippled over Keith’s skin as he continued to stare at him with his cutting gaze as if he could answer the question simply by the sheer force of his gaze. After a moment’s pause, he repeated the question, biting out each word as he spoke.

“Keith. What could take months?”

With a huff, the oyabun pushed himself off the bed, lithely hopping off the edge so that he could stand off to the side with his back turned towards him. As he waited for the answer that he wasn’t even sure would come, Shiro allowed himself to trace the outline of Keith’s tensed shoulders. Caught amongst the embers of his own rage, a cool ache of yearning stood out amongst the pain of it as his fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to bring Keith close enough again to touch. The opposing emotions melded together until they created something else entirely that left a hole gaping in his chest.

But he still needed to hear it. Needed to hear Keith say it.

“God dammit, Shiro, until you’re better!” He finally growled, turning on his heel, hands coming up in a half clawed form as if Keith didn’t even know what to do with them. His next words were terse as his eyes darkened.

“And even then they can’t guarantee you’ll ever get back to your full range of movement.”

There it was, laid out before Shiro, tinged in poison and darkened by dread that only served to twist everything he knew into curling, shadowed figures of the truth. With one admission, the reality of it came crashing down around him and it was as if he’d been punched in the chest.

You’re broken.

“So that’s it,” he breathed to himself.  “Your tool is broken, and you, you no longer need it.”

Keith snarled angrily as he turned away again, his hands finding the armchair that he’d taken as his home away from home and shoving it away, the force of his outburst sending it crashing to the ground and into the wall.

“You know that isn’t the truth,” he snapped, his shoulders heaving with labored breathing as he attempted to calm himself.

“Then what is it?” Shiro demanded, ignoring the way his voice cracked. Even to his own ears, he sounded defeated. Up until that point, he hadn’t realized that the Akuma had taken so much more from him than just his arm. Quick as a crack of lightning, Keith was back in front of him, one hand fisted in the fabric of his hospital gown and the other clutching at the pillow behind his head as he pushed their foreheads together.

“I can’t fucking lose you again,” he whispered, his breath dragging the words over Shiro’s skin. “I won’t.”

His hair was was soft as it pulled through Shiro’s fingers, his palm pressing against the flat of Keith’s neck as he held him where he was. An eerie blanket of calm had settled over the oyabun as he spoke and everything within him screamed at him to try and make him stay.

“And I don’t want to lose you,” Shiro said just as lowly, working his fingers gently into the nape of Keith’s neck. “So, please. Wait.”

For a single, heart stopping moment, he thought he had done it. Thought he’d managed to placate the monster that had glared back at him from the black of Keith’s eyes as the man before him sucked in a shuddering breath. For that single moment, he had hope that he’d changed Keith’s mind.

Then he was gone.

Pushing away from Shiro’s hold, Keith turned away for a last time.

“No, Shiro. I’m ending this.” His voice was flat as he made his way around the bed, unaware that each word sent another crack across his sternum.

“Keith,” Shiro started, voice urgent as he tried to pull forward from where he sat, only to be met with the angry sting of the needles in his arm pulling at his skin.

“You’ll stay here,” he deadpanned, not looking back as he reached the doorway. “That’s an order.”

It was the first time Keith had ever given him an order that he hadn’t already wanted to do. A stone began to form in the base of his throat, effectively choking him of air as he tugged on the IVs again, only managing to shake the machines with a metallic rattle.

“Keith!” But it was too late. Shiro was alone and all he was met with was the sound of Keith’s order hanging in the air.

***

An ominous feeling akin to that of the air before a storm had been working its way through Lance ever since they’d left Shiro’s room earlier that day with their plan sketched out before them. It raised the hair dusting his arms and along the nape of his neck with its tickling presence, running its creeping fingers over his throat until he was choking on it.

There was something off about the whole deal. From Hunk gathering the information from an overheard conversation to the lack of opposition they’d been met with when they’d arrived, it was all wrong. Lance’s stomach turned as he and Hunk had made their way further into the warehouse.

It all just seemed too easy.

Nothing had ever come so effortlessly with the Akuma, at least not without something in exchange that was almost always a higher price than what they got in return was worth. Hadn’t they learned that much with what happened to Shiro in the first place?

Now the saiko-komon was handicapped, and may never return to the man he once was, all because they’d fallen into a false sense of ease created by insatiable revenge. A revenge that had blinded their leader to every obvious sign that something was amiss. Every single one of Lance’s instincts were telling him to cut and run. Keith, had said otherwise.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit convenient?” He’d asked just shortly after Shiro had woken up and the bitter fire burning deep in the oyabun’s eyes had returned.

“It was about time something convenient happened for us,” Keith had returned, his volley full of misplaced malice as he’d stared back at Shiro’s room. “We’re doing this, Lance. Call the others.”

The oyabun was beyond negotiating, having decided during his time alone with Shiro’s sleeping form that this would be their final retaliation against the Akuma. Normally, Lance would have been all for ending this fight once and for all. But now, striding through the empty warehouse with Hunk at his side and the hair rising on the back of his neck, he wished they could have a little more time to figure out what was really going on here.

When they’d come to the dock, ready to bust another human trafficking deal, this time between their rivals and the American mafia, Lance had been certain they would be met with force. Any other time they’d moved against the Akuma, there had been patrols and gunmen. There’d been tents set up and shipping containers filled with humans ready to be sold off like cattle.

Here, there was nothing more than an empty warehouse and his and Hunk’s echoed footsteps.

“This is weirding me out,” Hunk hissed as they made their way towards yet another door down yet another hall.

“You’re telling me,” Lance replied, finger twitching over the trigger of his pistol as he took a steadying breath. After a brief pause at the entrance to the next room, they pushed their way in only to be met by silence and a hollowed out warehouse room.

“Dammit.” The word was a sharp growl as Hunk walked further into the room, surveying the vacant area for any sign of people or a trap. An edge of anxiety danced its way over Lance’s spine as he followed the weapons specialist. There should be a sign of something here if there really was a deal.

Anything.

Where was everyone?

“What’s it look like on your end, Keith?” Lance asked, eyes scanning the open area of the warehouse as if he would find some answer that would quell the bitter unease that was burning the back of his throat. The soft sound of static was the only answer he got.

“Hey, buddy?” Hunk tried after several moments, lowering his gun as he pressed the bud of the earpiece further into his ear in some useless attempt to hear better. His heart started to pound loudly against his sternum as they both waited for a response that never came.

“Keith?” Pidge’s voice sounded urgent as the distant click of keys started to clack rhythmically in the background. “Keith,” she tried again after getting nothing back but the crackling silence of a deadened line.

“Pidge, do you have eyes on him?” Lance asked, as he turned on his heel, grasp tightening over the grip of his gun as he made his way back towards the only entrance into the empty room. The sharp taste of fear coated his tongue as he tried to scramble for any explanation as to what was going on. It felt like there was just one piece of the puzzle missing, the one that would have formed a full picture and given them their answer.

It was right there on the tip of his tongue.

“I’ve got nothing. I don’t—” Pidge’s voice was strained as she spoke. “I don’t even know if he ever made it to the building.”

His stomach dropped at her words as Lance stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening as it all came together.

I don’t even know if he ever made it to the building.

Keith had never meant to make it to the building. He’d been adamant that he be alone with Pidge back in her position as their eyes and Hunk and Lance being paired together on the opposite end of the building. He had been the one that had asked Pidge for the maps of the area so he could plan it all out. Had even been the one to ask her where all the cameras were so that they could avoid any surveillance the Akuma may have been doing on their own.

While they’d been planning for an attack on the Akuma, Keith had been planning his chance to get away from the their ever present worry.

“Looking for your oyabun, Raion?” A smooth voice asked, its timbre low as Sendak settled his shoulder against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared them down. His grin pulled his lips over his sharpened canines as he looked between Hunk and Lance, a sick joy glinting in his eyes as he watched them piece everything together. Lance saw Hunk raise his pistol out of the corner of his eye as he tried to swallow the fear that was eating away at his throat.

“Where is he?” Hunk demanded, only causing Sendak’s smile to widen. It was a sinister thing, all barbed wire and acid as he stared that the two Raion. When he answered, his voice was even darker, filled with a macabre humor that raised goosebumps along Lance’s skin.

“I suspect he’s where he can find exactly who he’s looking for.”

***

After.

The bright glint of the metal against light was a starburst as Zarkon swung the blade downwards towards him. Time slowed as he watched the sword slicing through the air in a seemingly unending arc of silver, and for a panicked moment, he wondered why he hadn’t seen his life flash before his eyes. It wasn’t until he saw the sharpened tip coming ever closer that he realized it was because he’d left his life alone in a hospital room waiting for him to come home. His breath caught in his throat as he scrambled for anything, and only coming up with the same two words, repeated over and over like a mantra.

I’m sorry.

A shadow cut across Keith’s vision, blocking the sight of the blade as it met its mark, sending a spray of warm crimson across his face. Only one name etched itself deep into the silence of his mind as he took a shuddering gasp of breath.

Shiro.

*****************

Stormb*tch

Before I begin my unsolicited recap of the episode, I beg you to please excuse the disorderliness of the piece and lack of direct quotes. I’m at work at the moment and I can’t fact check the quotes right now, so this post is pretty much based off of my impressions of last night and general scrolling through Tumblr. Please excuse the following incoherent jumble of thoughts.

Dragonstone

Ok. First impression, Fire Beast Castle is straight up sinister. It gives me the creeps. It’s all dark and brooding and I don’t know how those poor Targs of Valyria the Old were holed up in there for 100+ years. I would have gone crazy.

D is headed down the path of insanity and I HAVE NO REGRETS. Her little speech to Varys was vaguely threatening AF. Be my dude and bow at the altar of my greatness, and you may live. Poison me like you advised Good King Bob and I will feed you to my dragons. Tell me, o readers, is this what one calls a kind, benevolent, and just queen?  It’s becoming clearer and clearer just how opposite Jon and D are. One is, like I said, just and benevolent, and the other is ruthless, power hungry, and much much much too self-confident.

I gotta say, though, I have a soft spot for wise old ladies, and I loved the little conversation with Olenna, and how she inspired the great and mighty Mother of Dragons to listen to her sage advice. Ignore the men and you’ll survive. Advice that I wholeheartedly agree with, though at this point, I’m kinda rooting for D to disregard said advice because *whispers*I don’t want her to survive. There. I said it. Make it quick, GoT Fandom. I don’t want to suffer.

And don’t even get me started on the Lady Mel’s sudden appearance! Did you see how D’s eyes light up when she hears that the prophecy may not necessarily be referring to a prince?? That lady is headed down the rabbit hole and I am here for it. And D, from one gal to another, you are NOT Jon Snow’s QUEEN until he kneels to you (which I hope and pray that Jon will not be stupid enough to do). He has his own kingdom and until he decides to proclaim you as such, you really need to get a hold of that self-titling obsession you’ve got. It’s not pretty.

Ok, but GWxM killed me. KILLED ME. “I have one weakness” ahjdhflhlsfhlgsjlgsjlgjslg. But to be honest, you know how it is when you play the Game of Thrones. They’re both basically walking corpses now :(

King’s Landing

“In Essos, her brutality is already legendary. She crucified hundreds of noblemen in Slaver’s Bay. And when she grew bored of that, she fed them to her dragons.”

Cersei, pal, I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with you, lady. I agree with you! This woman knows of that which she speaks.

@heathergee25 has a Tarly theory that looks to be on the right track. Go check it out!

Otherwise, idk, bored.

Oldtown

Ew, Samwell, ew. That scene was basically me browsing through another window on my screen while crackling flesh and unholy grunts made their way through my headphones. Poor Jorah and his love letter to his Khaleesi.

But I love the fact that, as JBW pointed out, bookish, shy Sam was never good at anything, yet here, in the library, here he finds his battleground, and I firmly stand behind all those underappreciated BTS players who ultimately save the day!. Sam “I killed an actual White Walker with a blade of glass” Tarly is not here for your “no can do” attitude. Looking at you, Maester Slughorn.

Arya

My baby Arya is going home!!! Hot Pie called her pretty!!! I think that’s the first time in her life she’s been called pretty and she liked it!! And her face when she finds out that her beloved Jon Snow is now King in the North!! Damn you, D&D, making my baby Starklings just miss each other. Can’t say I’m surprised, though.

I don’t cry often when watching things, but I literally had tears of joy welling in my eyes when Arya spotted Nymeria and she let herself be petted. Man, that wolf if huge! And then, of course, when Nymeria backed away, my heart cracked just that wee bit. *sniffs* WHY?????

Somewhere in the Narrow Sea

I’m not one for battle scenes, so I didn’t really follow along. Sorry if that’s your thing. BUT, Yara and Ellaria get it on, obviously, mere moments before their ship is ransacked by Pirate Uncle Euron. Obviously. Never really cared for the Sand Snakes, so I’m glad they’re gone. And Theon. I don’t know what set him off, but that guy has some serious PTSD and that breaks my heart. Are you dead, Theon? Please don’t be dead, Theon. I have so many questions.

Winterfell

Saved the best for last. *rubs hands gleefully together* Let’s get down to it!

I’mma be honest  here for a sec, we got wayyyy too few North scenes and they were much too rushed.  I would be happy to watch an entire 8 seasons of just my Starklings home in their ice castle. But that’s just me.

Boy, they are really laying it on thick with the Ned/Cat parallels. They’re not even trying to be subtle at this point. The first scene begins just the way the Ned/Cat scene begins in S1. An arrow hitting a target with the lord and lady figures looking down from on high. I swear though, that’s a scene straight out of a Jonsa future-fic. Mother and Father gazing down proudly as their Stargaryen babies become the best archers and swordsmen in the land.

Jon looking to Sansa for her take on Tyrion great and if you still think StarkBowl is an actually feasible possibility as cast and crew love to claim, just watch the episode. You’ll have no doubts whatsoever.

Ok. Meeting scene. I know that we all may not agree with Jon’s decisions all the time, but he is just, benevolent, and decisive. All good things in a king. Now, if he would only listen to his platonic-hot-sister-wife-hand-queen, that would be even better.

He makes his decision with listening to the dissenting voices and you know what, I understand him. “The North is my home. It’s part of me and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds”. Jon has no desire to meet D. He has no desire to bend the knee. He needs the dragonglass and that is the one and only reason why he is going south. Sansa knows that he needs the weaponry and the army that D can provide. She knows that the WW are the biggest threat right now. But she protests because she’s SCARED. The last two times that the Starks rode south, they never returned. Also, kinda awkward that one grandfather roasted the other one. Oops.

But that look when Jon turns to Sansa, looks her straight in the eye, and says “I will accept”, did me in. It’s like no one else exists in the room and Hubby just asked Wifey for her consent in their secret married language. But what absolutely killed me was Sansa’s face when Jon leaves her the North. Props to Sophie and Kit, you guys, I have no words. Sansa haters will say that this is all she wanted, for Jon to leave her in charge to do with Winterfell what she wants. I say no. Sansa has been through so much, and as another blogger pointed out, they both have been constantly told that they know nothing. To suddenly have her experiences acknowledged and validated, and to be put in a position of trust by the ruler of Winterfell, I think that is the most gratifying, humbling thing she has ever experienced. And that all is clearly written on her face. Sophie, I love you.

One last thing. When Sansa gives her speech that Jon is abandoning the North, his people, etc, I SWEAR it’s on the tip of her tongue to say “you’re abandoning me”. I swear it. Fight me. 

THE SCENE which I have literally been looking forward to since the trailer came out was everything that I could have wanted, and more! Jon staring teary-eyed at the statue of his “father”, LF creeping up behind him like the creepyfinger he is, muttering unnecessary nonsense about Cat and how she never loved Jon. Jon is all like “why are you here, tho. Go away, asshole”. And as he’s about to leave, LF let’s slip about Sansa. And Jon FLIPS OUT. My lords and ladies, let me tell you, LF had a suspicion and that suspicion was just confirmed. The most fascinating thing about this episode, TBH, was watching Jon’s face transform from calm, annoyed indifference to snarling dragon-wolf hybrid ready to attack. I mean, his lip twitched and he actually snarled! I am always here for baby Jon going all Crazy Grandpa Aerys when somebody insults his platonic hot sister wife. Always here. And that smirk on LF’s blue face as Jon exits the crypts in a huff, that man knows things.

Not gonna lie, super bummed that we got no formal goodbye scene, and Jonny galloped out of Winterfell way too fast. But I do have some thoughts on what we did get. That wave. Now, I don’t remember the Jaime/Brienne scene, but seeing the gifs floating around, yep, I agree. But what I got from that brief moment was that there was a general feeling of controlled, conscious restraint. Sansa agrees that it’s necessary for Jon to leave. But she’s freaking terrified, and I think that if she lets slip something more that a curt wave and shy smile, the whole dam will break loose and she’ll never recover. That’s what I got.

Ok, time to wrap it up. Thanks for getting this far, hope you enjoyed my ramblings, and tell me what you think.

Love ya, Jonsa fam!

193: shared

For as long as he had known Celegorn, Iriel had known about the Words. That a central part of Cel's daily rituals was the Writing of his Words. That for one blissfully peaceful hour, the Bosmer would retreat to his room, lock the door, and vanish from Ire's consciousness, save for faint scribbling sounds, and occasional screeches for someone to fetch him more paper or pencils. Later, Iriel would hear him emerge, arms laden with paper, heading for the furnace, where he would stuff them all inside. If anyone tried to read them, he would twitch his ears and hiss.

Insomuch as he gave the matter the slightest thought, Iriel had assumed he wrote poetry. Probably the angry, incoherent kind favoured by some of Ire's edgier friends in the Imperial City, involving a lot of swearing and capital letters. Or perhaps political manifestos, which, in Ire's mind, were indistinguishable from the poetry. As it turned out, he'd been wrong. Cel's words were just that. Words. "Sometimes he gets one stuck in his head, yeah?" Bodu informed him, digging an elbow into the yielding armrest of his sand-moulded beach throne. "And then he can't get it out till he writes it enough times. Then it comes out, and he can burn it, he says." Leaning on the outside of the sand-throne, cupping a pipe in his hands, Iriel wrinkled his nose. "Like when you write a word so many times, you start to doubt whether it's really a word, and not just a meaningless jumble of noises and letters?" "Kinda." Bodu extended his jaw, the better to scrape something off his tusk with a thumbnail. "Except kinda the other way around." "What?" "Ah, forget it." Since the Ahemmusa had no paper, and refused to spare him animal hides, Celegorn had been forced to adopt an entirely new paradigm. For the first time, he was making his words public. Now, everyone could share in the Words. "BODU!" Cel's shout echoed up from the shoreline. "How many Bs?" Bodu squinted down the twilit beach, to where Cel had scraped the letters GIB across the damp sand, with a stick. "Two, bro," he called. "Then it's, like, an E, I think?" He slid a glance at Iriel, who nodded. Celegorn's prized Imperial Dictionary of the Tamrielic Language hadn't made it to the Grazelands, but he was making up the deficit with crowdsourcing. "I don't see why it matters how he spells it," Ire muttered to Bodu. "As long as he thinks it looks right, who cares what the dictionary says?" He took a final drag on the kreshweed, and passed the clay pipe to Ulabael on his other side. Bodu yawned. "Nah, pal, he's got to get the letters right, that's part of it." He scratched vaguely at the back of his head. "He says it's somethin' about forcing the sounds back into a normative ontology an' trapping them in a coercive framework of imposed meaning." Ire stared at him, until the smoke burned his lungs, and he broke into an explosive cough. "You two are fucking weird," he choked. Celegorn finished "GIBBET" and started on "SPOONS", his pale form swaying and spinning against the darkening sea. Shani was next to him, hair aflame with the last of the sunset, dancing in and out of the surf on her toes. She claimed not to read, but when Celegorn let her, she would help him copy out the words, imitating the letter-shapes in the sand, until he was satisfied. Doing it this way had been her idea, once she'd understood the purpose. "You can make them," she'd said, "and then let the sea eat them, when the tide comes in. I do it with pictures all the time." "IRIEL!" Ire winced, but flailed an answering hand in Cel's direction. "The fuck d'you want?" "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU SPELL 'CHITINOUS'?" "Wha' the fuck makes you think I know how the fuck to spell 'chitinous'?" "You fucking look like a fucking man who knows how the fuck to spell 'chitinous'!" "Fuck you!" Cel maintained that yurts were fundamentally flawed, in terms of security, and he refused to trust them with his valuables. As a result, some fourteen knives, of various shapes and sizes, hung from his belt. (As did a small pair of shorts, to Ire's infinite relief.) Julan had asked, once, where one of these knives had come from. Cel had beamed at his interest. "This pretty thing," he'd said, "I found buried deeeeeep, six feet deep in the mud at the bottom of the Balmora river!" "What in Oblivion were you doing down there?" Julan had demanded. "Looking for knives!" Julan had ground his jaw. "That... checks out," he'd said, reluctantly. As Cel sprinted up the beach towards him, arms held out, Ire began frantically chanting letters at him like a warding spell. With a gleeful hop, Cel returned to the surf, twirling his stick like a majorette. He no longer had access to moon sugar, but endless space to run around and scream in, coupled with the sea air, and Ulabael's equally endless supply of kreshweed, seemed to be providing some counterbalance. He looked happier than Ire had ever seen him. Bodu passed Iriel the bottle of greef. Ire was about to hand it on without drinking, when the knot of worry in his chest twinged and tightened, changing his mind. He took a long pull, swallowed, almost retched, then spat out a fly. "Here," he told Ulabael, as he passed it to him. "I sieved it for you." Ulabael nodded his thanks from the sand. He lay flat on his back with a serene smile, long black hair fanning out around him like a halo of void. "Ads is far too mature for beach drinking," Ulabael had smirked, when Iriel had asked if his partner Addammus would be joining them. "He is the old and sensible one, and I am the unrespectable youth with the bad habits." Shani was running towards them, now. "Hey!" she shouted at Bodu. "You're in my throne! Get out of my throne!" "Ah, c'mon..." Bodu protested, as she pulled at his arm. "You weren't using it!" "Get out, before I kick you out!" "You'd kick a guy with broken legs out of a chair? That's cold!" "I'll break his arms, too, if he's not careful! Out!" Much giggling and squabbling ensued, Shani forcing her way into the chair, while Bodu tried to sit on her lap, until the entire thing disintegrated into a heap of sand, limbs and howls of laughter. Iriel got up and slouched away, suddenly feeling very old, or at least, like the only adult present. Perhaps he should have stayed in the camp with Minabibi, and helped her chop herbs. Or followed Rakeem's lead, and marched back to camp with a disapproving frown, as soon as Ulabael had produced the liquor from his gather-sack with a flourish. Only slightly unstably, he left the circle of tawny light flickering out from the ramshackle driftwood fire. He wouldn't dream of interrupting Celegorn, so he turned inland instead, towards the point where stones and dry, leggy grasses began to clog the dingy little beach, until it was the Grazelands again. As he climbed a dune, the wind caught the back of his top - the pinkish sleeveless thing he'd found in Gnisis. It billowed out, making him shiver, and regret leaving his scarf on the beach. The day had been so hot, he'd forgotten how fast the temperature could drop, by the sea after dark. It was Last Seed. Late summer, and a full year since he'd arrived in Morrowind. In another moons' turn, everyone said, the camp would move again. East, to where the grazing was worse, but there was more protection from the winds, and they would arrive at Vos in time for the yearly guar trading meet between the clans. Kausi was already grieving over which of his babies he had resolved to part with, changing his mind five times a day. "He's not allowed to come with me to the trade meet any more," Sen had said. "Or he tries to buy them all back in worse deals, as soon as my back's turned. One year, he lost his damn shoes." For now, Ahemmusa camp lay in the distance, the amiable glow of the buglamps and the gently clashing chords of the wind chimes inviting him closer. He was a welcome guest, he knew, had been for over a week, now. He was still uneasy around the elders and some of the more boisterous warriors, but in general, people were polite, or left him alone. Besides, he had friends. All in all, there was no reason for him to stumble around alone in the dark, fretting over things he couldn't control. He caught his foot on a tussock, steadied himself again on a boulder. Yet here we are again. The area around him, between the camp lights and the beach fire, was quickly shadowing into an expanse of black nothing, a hole to lose himself in. He held up a hand: barely visible. Who needs illusion spells? Even now, it's easier here, being hidden, slipping safely into the cracks between real places, solid states. Perhaps it always will be. But... as long as I know I'm here... know who I am, and where I should be... I can keep myself together. Even when I'm alone, I can be enough for myself. But... He looked from the beach to the clustered yurts. Then he wrapped his arms around his chest, and sighed. "Iyaaaa!" came a distant shout, and even with his hair braided back tighter than usual, he knew Julan's silhouette. By the time Iriel reached him, Julan had dropped his pack and shield to the grass, the better to embrace him properly. Ire fell into his arms, beaming and breathless. "You shitbag!" he exclaimed. "It's been three fucking days, I thought you were dead!" "Sorry. Between leaving the cavern with the bones, and taking them to Sinnammu, I went to see Mother. Ended up staying longer than I meant to. We... had a lot to talk about." Iriel didn't just police his tone of voice, he subjected it to military occupation. "Oh?" "Yeah, I..." Julan huffed warm breath into Iriel's neck, kissed his skin then pulled away. "You're gonna hate it, but... I forgave her." His eyes shone dimly in the dark, with a brighter flash as they lifted to meet Ire's. "I don't hate it." Ire wasn't sure if Julan could see him smile, but he did it anyway. "I said I'd support your decision. Anyway, whatever my thoughts about your mother, I'm not going to... project things. True, the only thing I want from my mother now is for her to pretend I don't exist, but... you and your mother aren't me and mine. I do realise that, you know. And I understand you might want different things from yours." Julan shrugged, and made an exhausted gesture. "I don't know about any of that. I only know I want to forgive her. No, not even that. I know I want to be the sort of person who forgives her." He attempted a laugh. "I guess it's pretty selfish." Iriel hugged him again. "Good." "I said she'd have to accept a few things. That I'm not going to be living there with her any more. That I'm an adult, I get to make my own choices, and she can like it or shut up. That one of my choices... is you." "What?" Ire's chest turned to water, shapeless and spilling. "You... told her?" "Ah... yeah. She took it... better than I thought. Eye twitched hard, for a minute, then she pretended like she already knew." Ire's chest was bubbling, now, fizzing into his throat, bursting into a grin. "As long as she keeps to the 'shut up' part of the deal, I don't care." "Actually... I think she likes you. That's a new one. I... really don't know what to do with that." "Oh gods." Ire dropped his forehead onto Julan's shoulder. "You do realise, that's twice as terrifying as her hating me?" At this point, Shani and Celegorn, bored of watching their handiwork get swallowed by the sea, caught sight of them, and for a while, all chance for private conversation was lost. The next few hours were spent around the fire on the beach. Iriel stretched himself out across the sand, head resting on Julan's thighs, while Julan described his journey through the Daedra caves, answering Bodu's eager questions, and parrying Shani's reflexive mockery. Celegorn and Ulabael snored gently, leaving Ire to monopolise the kreshweed pipe. Ahemmusa life began early, however, so it was well before midnight when Bodu whistled for Pasha, and Shani shook the others awake long enough for them all to help each other stagger back across the grasslands to their beds. Technically, Julan no longer being Mamaea's patient, he was still outcast, and should sleep at his mother's camp. For his part, Ire had a borrowed bedroll in the yurt Ulabael shared with Addammus. Ire liked them well enough, but the fire was warm, and now that he and Julan had the beach to themselves, neither was in any hurry to move. Julan had been staring into the flames for some time, jaw sliding slowly back and forth. Ire reached up and poked him. "You OK, n'wah?" he rasped, in gruff imitation. Julan blinked at him, eyes slowly refocusing into the present. "Ah... yeah. I just... thought I'd feel different, you know?" "About what?" "My father. I thought if I found his body, I'd... I dunno... feel some kind of connection. That bringing his spirit home would make me feel like I was really his son, or something. When I was in the cavern, I did feel like he was... close, maybe. Trying to... I'm not sure. But later, when Sinnammu guided his soul through the Waiting Door, she told me he... said things." Ire tried to sift the emotion from Julan's vacant tone, but obtained too little to analyse. "Bad things?" he ventured. "No! No... good things. Things a father should say. That it should make me feel better, to hear, but..." "You think Sinnammu was making it up, to placate you?" "I think... it doesn't matter. That I'm glad I brought him back, for the tribe's sake, but none of it really makes him my father. He's just this man I hardly knew. But... maybe that's all right." His eyebrows jerked upwards. "Anyway," he said, breaking into a grin, "some of my relatives are easier to find. At my mother's, I met Fedura." "Who?" "My grandmother." "Oh! You mean Talammu?" Julan laughed. "Talammu's not her name, that just means 'grandmother'. Although, from what she told me, it's as accurate as any other of her names. Seems like deceiving your children runs in my family." Ire wrinkled his nose. "I thought she was supposed to be some sort of... kidnapped Redoran noblewoman, or something." "I know. So did my mother." Julan was wearing a smirk of indescribable smugness. "Funny story, actually. Turns out, she was never any kind of noblewoman. She was a slave, owned by an Ald'ruhn clothier, whose cart overturned in the Ashlands, leaving her the only survivor. When she saw the Urshilaku coming, she put on the fine clothes they were carrying, in the hope they'd seek a ransom, instead of killing her. By the time the tribe realised no one was coming for her, she'd charmed half the camp, and the ashkhan made her his wife." Ire glared up at him through a haze of kreshweed smoke. "Julan, if anything, that makes her story even more horrible than it already was! Stop looking so happy about this, just because your mother was lied to!" "Ah, but that's not all." His eyebrows waggled, mysteriously. "I always hated my name, because it wasn't Velothi. All Mother would tell me was that when she named me, she was furious with her own people. She'd been exiled by both the Urshilaku and the Ahemmusa, and she decided she'd name me for Molag Bal before she'd name me for any of them. The only people she still cared about were her mother and sister, and, well, I was a boy. But she remembered her mother used to tell stories about her brother, who'd been a brave and noble warrior, and whose sudden death at a young age broke her heart. So Mother named me for him, instead." "Hold on. Your grandmother was a slave, but she somehow had a noble Redoran brother?" "No. She lied about that, too." "You were named after a lie?" "Not exactly. Julan existed, Fedura told me, but he wasn't her brother, and he wasn't Redoran. Did you never realise, she asked my mother, that Julan isn't a proper Dunmeri name? What do you mean, my mother said, it is city-Dunmeris, it means 'benefit', or 'blessing', like the name of the gah-julan armour style. And my grandmother made this odd face, and said, well yes, technically it means that. But in the cities, the most common usage is something closer to 'servant', or 'helper'. Or 'the help'." Realisation dawned, and Ire's eyes widened. "It's a slave-name." Julan's teeth flashed again in the firelight. "An Argonian slave-name. Mother was horrified." Ire snorted. "Ohhh, I see. So that's why you're happy." "I'm not just happy because Mother got a scrib up her skirt! I'm happy because I never wanted to be named after some fancypants Redoran noble. This is far better. Especially as it means so much to my grandmother. Julan was no warrior, she said, but he was brave, and he did die young, in the cart crash. They'd grown up as slaves together, and she loved him a lot. She was deeply moved that I shared his name, even if it wasn't his real, Argonian one." "I'm happy for you," Iriel told him. "Especially since you'll have plenty of time to become the Ebon Crest, now that you don't have to be Nerevar any more." The joke was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but fortunately for Ire, Julan didn't flinch. He even laughed, weakly, then quietened, a pensive look returning to his face. "I mean... that's over," Iriel prompted, suddenly wary. "Isn't it?" "What is?" "All this prophecy guarshit... everything that's not... not lying in your lap, a little drunk, and a lot high, all under some very pretty stars." Julan didn't reply for a while, his fingers slipping into Iriel's hair and idling across his scalp. Then: "Why would it be over?" he said softly. "Aren't you going to show the Moon-and-Star to the Urshilaku, and--" Iriel's head jerked out of his lap, twisting to stare at him. "Why the fuck would I do that?! Sweetheart, I told you! It's a scam, a piece of empty metal!" "So you say, but... how can you be sure?" "Try it on yourself, if you don't believe me!" "And if you're wrong, and I die? Explode into a big, bloody mess of 'Told you so'?" Ire let his head fall back. "Gods, I wouldn't put it past you, just to spite me. No, I suppose you'd better not try it. That scheming shitbag Azura would zap you herself, purely to teach us a lesson." "Better watch your tongue, or you'll be the one getting cursed." "She can come and do it to my fucking face, then." Iriel narrowed his eyes at the constellations, sprawling out above them in all their wild, deceptive beauty and mindless cosmic machinations. "Fuck prophecies," he said. "Fuck stars, fuck bloodlines. I've changed my mind about a lot of things, you know, but nothing will ever convince me that any of us was born to do anything, or that the circumstances of your birth dictate your existence. And you know what?" He wobbled a finger at Julan "That would still be true, even if one of us was Nerevar reborn. Even if we had his soul, it wouldn't fucking matter, it wouldn't mean we had to do anything! Let alone climb a fucking live volcano and try to kill a diseased demigod!" "OK." Julan stroked his hair in a soothing manner. "Let's say I believe you." "Good." "Let's say you're completely right about everything you just said." "Thank you, I am." "Let's do it anyway." "Exactl-- ...what?" Julan's hand slid down Ire's brow and traced the side of his face. "What if we didn't do it because of a prophecy, or a curse, or Imperial blackmail, or anything like that. What if we did it because it was the right thing to do, and somebody has to?" Iriel looked up at him, transfixed by the flame in his eyes, the steel in his voice. He said nothing, but pressed his own hand over the rough fingers cupping his cheek. "We could do it," Julan was saying. "We've done so much already, climbed so many mountains, what's one more? We've broken into Dwemer vaults, defeated great evils." His voice softened. "There's so much suffering. I know we can't fix everything, but we can't fix anything, unless we try. Don't you want to change things? You said you were too scared, but that's not true. You're the bravest person I know." Iriel's brow contracted in disbelief, but Julan smoothed it with his thumb. "You're scared all the time," he said, "and you do things anyway. So let's do this, Iya. I can be strong when I'm with you, and I know you can, too. Together, we can be strong enough." Ire stared at him a moment longer, then closed his eyes, giggling helplessly. "Gods," he gasped. "You almost had me! With that ridiculous romantic cliché! You just looked so... heroic, there, for a moment!" Julan's mouth pulled into an embarrassed half-smile. "It's funny," he said. "I grew up believing I had to be a hero, but I didn't know how. And now--" "Because real people aren't heroes!" Ire interrupted, a reckless gesture sending his pipe flying out of his hand. "Heroes are symbols, fictional characters! Even the ones based on real people probably bear no relation to who they actually were!" "I think you're wrong. I think it's like what you said about kindness. Being a hero is when you don't have to do something, when it's not your job, or your duty, or your responsibility, but you do it anyway. And even if you’re right, even if heroes are just symbols in stories... maybe Morrowind needs this story. Maybe the Nerevarine needs to be closer to the Ebon Crest than... whoever Indoril Nerevar really was, when he was alive." "I'm too fucking high for this. Or not high enough. What are you suggesting, exactly?" "Neither of us is Nerevar," Julan said slowly. "Because whatever happened to his soul, Nerevar was a certain person, at a certain time. He was unique." "Right, and he's dead! Gone, disappeared, body decayed to ashes and rot, memory dissolved into magic and void! Let him stay dead! Why can nobody be allowed to rest, in this country?" "Iya, just listen. We aren't Nerevar, but we don't need Nerevar. Morrowind needs the Nerevarine. The Nerevarine is a hero, but if you're right, and heroes aren't people, that means the Nerevarine doesn't need to be a person. At least... not one person. It doesn't matter who they are, if the story is what will be remembered. We could... do things that leave the right legend behind. We could create a Nerevarine." Iriel's expression could have tangled wool. "You make us sound like those horrible children in Ebonheart, with a fake corpse in a cart." "Hah! Maybe! I don't think either of us could do it alone. It's going to take both of us to push it." "You're... that's..." Iriel gave up on finding the right words. "Listen, love," he said. "You know I don't say things like this lightly. But you're completely insane." Rolling out of Julan's lap, he went hunting for his pipe, and stonewalled any attempt to return to the topic. As midnight came and went, Iriel lay on his side, watching the pale ash-ghosts of the driftwood crumble, and the embers fade. Julan was behind him, an arm curled around his waist. Without turning to see his face, Ire wasn't sure if he was still awake, but then the arm tightened, and Ire heard: "I brought the things you left at my mother's. We could sleep right here, it's not going to rain." Ire recognised the hidden itch in his voice and grinned. "Why don't I believe this has anything to do with sleeping?" "Well..." Julan pressed against him. "It's been too long. Feels like weeks since--" "Oh, so you've already forgotten about when Mamaea went out for marshmerrow, and I--" "Too long since I did something for you." "Ohhh, I'm so sorry!" Iriel squirmed in his grasp, enough to tease, but not to risk actually breaking free. "I forgot, it's all about yielding, isn't it? So competitive, so martial. You want to be the winner at sex, do you?" "I want you." "Never fuck on a beach, you said. Always a disaster, you said." "I've got a blanket, in my pack--" Julan broke off, laughing. "...not that it ever helps." He yanked Ire's hip towards him, rolling him onto his back. "D'you know how I know it's always a disaster?" He pushed up Ire's shirt and began kissing his belly, scraping teeth along soft skin that tautened as Ire arched his back. "Because," Julan said, indistinctly, "I always end up doing it anyway." Iriel was veering between giggles and moans. "Surely," he gasped, "things can't get too disastrous, with just hands and mouths?" Julan paused, halfway down Ire's buttons. "Say that again when I've got so much grit on my tongue, you feel like I'm sanding you down three sizes." "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll just... hh...  pretend you're a Khajiit." Later, swaddled in the blanket with Julan dozing against his shoulder, Iriel gazed up at the night sky again. "You know," he said dreamily, "some people believe that everyone has a soulmate. One person in all the world that is completely perfect for them, hearts joined in destiny by the stars. Romance novels are full of them." Julan stirred. "Mhmm?" "And... I want you to know, my love..." Iriel twined his fingers in loose strands of Julan's hair, escaping its braids across his collarbone. "...if yours ever shows up for you, I'm going to hit him with a rake. Or her, I won't be sexist about it. They're going to have to fucking fight me." A sleepy chuckle. "Thought you weren't the jealous type." "I'm not! But I am very selfish, and I was here first." "Uh huh. So what happens when yours turns up, then?" "Did I say I was selfish? I meant to say I'm very generous. You can share me." "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." The night passed. The stars, whatever their qualities and influence, faded away, and the sun rose. Iriel shifted awake. His head was buried deep inside the blanket roll, but when he moved, he felt cold, clammy sand grind against his bare toes. Other things began to percolate. Racer-cries, the smell of woodsmoke, and a soft, scraping, clinking sound he couldn't identify. He sat up, fighting his head and shoulders clear of the blanket, eyes scrunched against the light. "Morning, love." Julan was sitting a short distance away, fully dressed and bent over something. "I dug out the kettle, so there's tea brewing." As his eyes adjusted, Iriel saw Julan had a set of small, redware bowls in front of him. One held water, freshly boiled, judging by the steam. The others were more mysterious. The one in Julan's hand contained a greasy, black paste, which he was stirring with a thin, bone-like implement. "When you're ready," he said, "I'm gonna need you to help me with something." Iriel mashed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "Help...?" Julan put down the pot, and took up a small, sharp knife, which had been resting in the water-bowl. "Yeah, I need you to hold my wrist steady for me. Stop the skin moving on this part of my forearm." "What?" Iriel blinked. "What are you doing with that knife? And what the fuck have you got in there?" "Ink! Well, ashes and shalk-oil, but I'm pretty sure this is the right mix." Frowning, Iriel leaned closer. "I thought I heard you discussing ink with Ulabael, last night." "Mm. He dropped by this morning, before he went to check his scrib-traps. Lent me his kit, told me the basics. You mark lines with the dagger, and dots with the awl, then rub ink into the wound, so it binds into the scar. Slowly, so you can't use healing spells." "Sweet Mara." Iriel watched in horrified fascination, as Julan rolled up his left sleeve and skimmed the fine hair off the back of his forearm with the blade. "You're really going to... wh..." Abruptly, he narrowed his eyes at Julan. "Is all this because you're still scared the Urshilaku might want to mark me, and then I'd have tattoos before you? Because I never agreed we were even going back, so--" "No! ...OK, maybe. But only a little. It's almost completely not about that." "I see. So... what are you going to... mark?" Julan picked up the bone-thing Iriel supposed must be the awl, and washed it off in the water. "I was thinking... sort of an arrowhead design. Kind of like a hunt-band mark, representing a bond between people who've fought and killed together. I don't have a hunt-band, but... I have you. I want to mark it." "I don't want you to define our bond by who we've killed together!" Iriel's face was such a picture of distress that Julan almost laughed. "It's not really about that!" he said. "It's more about... I dunno... success and failure. Mistakes, too, and guilt. Shared blood and spilled, and bearing the consequences." "Is that a real Ashlander thing, or did you just make all that up?" "I'm a real Ashlander, so if I made it up, it's a real Ashlander thing." "You don't need to make your own up, now. You'll have proper ones, someday." "I know. That's why I want this one to be first." "Wait, so... shouldn't I have one too?" "Well... only if you want. I know you hate pain, so I wasn't going to--" "Of course I fucking do, stop coddling me." "OK." "I'll scream and cry, but you have to ignore me." "OK." next: 194: dusk previous: 192: living beginning: 1: numb

New Year, Same Queer (Camren One shot)

Camila hates crowds. ­

There are always too many people trudging through her personal space and she gets pushed a lot. (One of the many perks of being small and not wearing heels.)

She doesn’t really recall how she ended up in Times Square to watch the ball drop, but she had a faint recollection of Dinah abandoning her midway through this party (after having forced her to go in the first place).

Honestly, she would rather be a curled into a tight, warm burrito roll and read something than be out here. The Polynesian, however, came home to trash all of the small girl’s plans as she threatened to have a party at their place instead, if Camila didn’t agree to go with her.

(Normally, these kinds of threats seem baseless, like who could invite enough people at hours’ notice to throw a party right?

Camila made the mistake of brushing Dinah off once during spring break and awoke to the sound of drunk strangers doing it in her bed. Right next to her.)

The petite brunette sighed and struggled to remain rooted in her spot, against the tide of people who were constantly trying to push her back. The chilly wind made her shudder and she wound the hoodie around herself even more, straining to focus on the stage, a few rows in front of her, where Mariah Carey was trying to lip-sync to her songs and failing miserably to the point, it made no sense. Just like this fucking year.

Abruptly, she experienced a soft pinch on her butt and whipped around to see a middle-aged, balding man throwing her a disgustingly, smug look and a cocky wink while hurrying away, before Camila had a chance to react.

Not that she would have, no. Camila wasn’t exactly timid but she didn’t want to attract further attention to herself by slapping the man. And with her, there were no gentle slaps. She would have slapped him hard enough that the Times Square Ball wouldn’t have been the only ball dropping. But, people would have turned around and noticed her and she really wanted to make it through the night without having a panic attack.

Instinctively, she leaned forward to create some distance between her and the stench of alcohol, the creep had left behind, and rested her face against a cold, smooth surface. It smelled like leather and strawberries. How peculiar.

“Watch it,” the strawberry-scented leather rasped. Leather can talk? Camila’s brows furrowed in confusion as the surface pulled away from her, causing her klutz self, to lose balance and hurl ahead.

She snapped her eyes shut, waiting for ache of her fall to spread through her torso. Instead, she felt warmth and a very soft cushion, encompass her face.

Is she dead?                                                                                                                              

Her extra, dramatic self was quick to assume the worst had happened. She pictured Dinah’s face struggling between wanting to laugh and cry over the (very) expected nature ­of her death; tripping over her own two feet. At least, it was painless and now she was in a warmer, spongier place. A reflexive sigh of relief escaped her lips and she snuggled further into the softness.

“Er, excuse me?” And just like that, the tepid bliss left her. Perhaps, Jesus had remembered that one time she ate Dinah’s bananas and convinced her the monkeys stole it or when she had that girl bent over her desk, screaming the Lord’s name in vain; both equally valid reasons to be expelled from Heaven. She opened her eyes and promptly frowned.

Of course, the exact same place where she had died would be Hell.

(At this point, even her brain would have face-palmed if it had hands… or a face…)

Or worse

(Finally Canola.)

…Oh no...

She hadn’t fallen down and died (the more the realization kicked in, the more she wished she had), but instead, fallen on top of somebody and snuggled into their…Oh God…

She grimaced and wished with all her heart that the Earth would crack open and devour her.

A cough and a gentle tap on her shoulder, made her wince, quite audibly. She still refused to look up at the person who was wearing a really nice pair of combat boots. They had such a nice, greenish tinge to them overlaying the jet black. She could already tell by the shoes, this person was one of those really cool people, one would stare at from the distance and sigh, wishing they could know them or be friends with them. (Or bone them.)

A soft but firm squeeze on her shoulders made her realize that the person wasn’t going to walk away without an explanation. Drawing in a couple of deep breaths and trying to form coherent words of explanation, she looked up to see the most enchanting green eyes. She had never felt so naked, then in that particular moment, and the shivers that ran down her spine, weren’t because of the cold. She was so consumed with the eyes that she did not register the movement of lips or the gentle shaking of her shoulders.

“I am so gay.” The small brunette blurted out, what was supposed to be an internal monologue. If her face was red before, it would probably looked like a ripe tomato right now. Her body grew exceedingly hot and her tongue formed knots, as she waited for a probable slap or screaming.

And then the unexpected happened.                                                                                      

The sound of loud laughter followed by a little snort, greeted her ears instead. The mystery girl threw her head back and Camila snapped out of her trance. She took in the dark hair, covered with a maroon beanie, with long curls cascading down the shoulders; full lips dissolved into a fit laughter; a black leather jacket fitting perfectly over a plaid dress. It’s like this girl walked out of a movie.

“At least take me out on a date first, before you get to second base,” the raven-haired beauty spoke in an unwaveringly, raspy voice as she let her green eyes trail over the petite girl’s body, quite shamelessly. And Camila felt so incredibly under-dressed, with her plain black hoodie, tattered denim jeans and dirty Converse.

“Huh- buh- I- er-,”she tried to respond but it’s like her brain had departed her body (probably saying “gotta zayn”). Her own warm, brown eyes widened significantly as she fiddled with her fingers, feeling an anxiety attack about to set in.

But then the smirk on the other girl’s face faltered, and her emerald eyes dilated slightly, as she placed her hand on Camila’s shoulder and spoke in a soft voice. “Hey, are you ok?”

Unable to form words, Camila just nodded and began to draw in large gulps of air. The hand rubbed her shoulder tenderly, and usually a stranger doing so would cause her discomfort. This, however, felt really nice, in a manner that she would willingly be rubbed all over by those hands.

(She made a mental to thank the Lords for preventing her from vocalizing those thoughts.)

After a bit, she finally looked up to meet the captivating eyes and sighed. “I am so, so very sorry. I just tripped and…Jesus…and bananas…” Honestly, how does one explain the situation she had gotten herself into? Hey, this creepy guy touched my butt and I moved forward to get away from him and rested against your back. But then I lingered because you kinda smell like strawberries. And then you moved away, so given how clumsy and extra I am, I fell onto your boobs and thought I had died and gone to Heaven, so I snuggled closer. You have really nice boobs btw.

Before either of them could say anything, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Camila?”  

She turned around and was mortified to see her ex beaming at her. The girl looked gorgeous as ever, with her high ponytail and flawless, sculpted face; nestling against the arm of the guy she had dumped Camila for on the day of her birthday. The guy, on the other hand, looked like a bearded egg; with his jeans hanging so low, you could probably see his ass crack, (Ok maybe, she is a little petty) and he had this expression on his face that screamed he would rather be anywhere else.

“It’s so nice to see you!” Ariana lunged forward and gave her hug while doing those really weird, side to side (heh), cheek-air kisses. She stood still and forced a smile when Ariana pulled back under her boy’s smelly armpits

(Karla Camila Petty Cabello Estrabão).

“Oh my God, I never thought YOU would be out here,” the smaller girl flicked her silky hair with a jerk of the wrist and giggled. “I thought you’d either be third-wheeling with Dinah, making stupid jokes or reading a stupid book.” She rolled her eyes and huffed playfully.

“Uhh,” Camila was dumbfounded. She has never been good with voicing her thoughts. She could have the sassiest of comebacks but every time she would try to say them, her words ended up being a horrendously jumbled and incoherent mess (like that book, Fifty Shades of Romanticizing-Abuse-and-Misogyny-as-Long-as-The-Guy-is-Hot).

“I never got to thank Dinah for inviting Mac to your birthday party.” Her ex beamed at her boyfriend who just shrugged and scratched his head, giving her an egg-hausted (P E T T Y) smile in return. “Never would have met my sugar pumpkin, if it hadn’t been for her.” Ariana continued all the while Camila wished a sword-wielding ninja would just come and run the sword through her heart. That would be less cringey than witnessing this cheese-fest.

“Oh I’m sorry boo,” The light haired girl, fake-gasped and looked at her, pitifully. (Clearly, mistaking Camila’s disgust for jealousy.) “I didn’t mean to make you sad…I mean, you’re the only girl I’ve ever been with… so that’s comforting, yeah?”

The English dictionary lacked the words to describe how much the Cuban hated Dinah Jane Hansen. This wouldn’t be happening right now if she hadn’t forced her to go a party and then abandoned her to suck face with some hot, chocolate bae.

(To be honest, the girl had a killer body. Who wouldn’t forget their 16 year old best friend to make out with someone like that?)  

She should have just gone home instead but that was more than ten blocks away and something had pulled her to this stupid place; where now her single-self was being pitied by her ex and her ex’s boyfriend, Humpty Dumpty. She has never hated being single, more then at this particular moment. God, she really hated Dinah. Not really. But she would kick that Polynesian butt tomorrow for this horrible start to a new year.   

“Hey babe, we’re gonna miss the countdown.”

If the girl hadn’t been standing right next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Camila would have thought she imagined the words. Or that Macaroni, here, had a really feminine voice. But she titled her head and saw the green eyes, glinting with a hint of mischievousness and understanding.

“Who are you?” Ariana said bitterly, while raising her brow. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, diverted his attention to the new girl and grinned, nodding his head in approval, as he checked her out.

“Oh, I’m Lauren.” The full lips curled into a smile as she gave Camila’s shoulder a light squeeze.

Lauren. The brunette couldn’t help but smile at how the name fit her like a glove.

“Camila’s girlfriend.” With those words, Camila’s breath hitched in her throat and the warmest sensation spread through her stomach, threatening to erupt like wildfire, inside her. She was already in love with the way her name sounded, rolling off of Lauren’s lips. “And you are?”

Hoo boi. The way Lauren said it; the dismissal and boredom in her voice as she looked at Ariana, made the brunette want to grab her by the collars and pull her in for a kiss.

“Ariana. Camila and I used to date till I met sugar pumpkin here. She must have mentioned me, I’m the first girl she ever dated.” The small girl flipped her hair again and pursed her lips, slightly narrowing her eyes at Lauren.

“Hmm, nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.” Lauren shrugged and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Camila’s head before moving away.  “Nice to meet you though, Sabrina.” She said and shook Ariana’s outstretched hand.

Hoooooooo boi. Rainbows were erupting inside Camila’s heart, unicorns galloping, an immodestly dressed Lauren, with a rose between her teeth, sitting on top of a mountain of bananas; the whole shebang.

The hazel eyes narrowed further as she gritted her teeth. “It’s Ariana. An-” she spoke, but was cut off by the sound of the speakers.

“Everyone grab your special someone and get ready. It’s the final ten seconds!” Ariana squeaked and wrapped her arms around Egg McMuffin’s neck, who placed his hands on her butt cheeks and squeezed them. She slipped a side-glance at Camila who sighed, knowing her jest would be up when her ex sees that she didn’t kiss Lauren.

10….9…8…. The brunette turned to walk away, not wanting to be embarrassed publicly, until she sensed fingers, curl around her wrist, gently and tug her back.

She fell straight into Lauren’s embrace, who secured her hands around Camila’s midriff and smiled.

What

7… Camila’s breath became erratic as she felt the intense emerald gaze piercing her soul. And no, she was not being extra.

6…Lauren drew a little closer and placed one hand on Camila’s cheek, brushing the side of her cheekbone.

5…Camila felt like she would faint when Lauren’s eyes fell to her lips.

4…Lauren ran her tongue, very slowly, over her lips. Camila thought it was rather deliberate.

3…Camila, finally wrapped her arms around Lauren’s neck.

2…Lauren moved her face closer and Camila joined in midway.

1…Lauren bumped her nose slightly with Camila’s and said, “Nice to meet you, Camz.” And any tension Camila felt, evaporated into nothingness.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

She barely heard the announcement or the screaming, as the supple lips were placed against hers. It was tender and yet firm enough for her to lean even closer into Lauren’s body, who tightened her own grasp around the brunette’s waist. Camila’s fingers curled through the dark hair, lightly scratching the scalp; an action that caused Lauren to open her mouth a little further and run her tongue over Camila’s bottom lip who responded a little to enthusiastically.

If Lauren hadn’t pulled away, she would have kissed her for an hour without moving. But the taller girl disconnected their lips without moving away, and Camila never thought she’d ever miss kissing somebody. The incredibly sappiness of the situation disgusted her and warmed her heart at the same time.

“At least take me out on a date, before you move to second base,” Camila whispered, resting her forehead against Laurens’, whose lips twisted into a playful smirk as her own words were being tossed back at her.

“I think kissing is first base. Snuggling into someone’s boobs though…” She grinned and the brunette winced a little, at the memory.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry I just…” Once again, the brown eyes widened and the words became chaotic in her mind.

“Jesus and bananas? I know.” The taller girl laughed and Camila forgot to breathe for a minute. “Perfectly valid reasons.” She nodded and gently tugged at her beanie, smiling earnestly.

It was now or never.

 “So about that date…you wouldn’t maybe wanna… you know like…um, you can say no if you want to, it’s no ob-” Camila tried, she really tried to be confident and her start was pretty smooth, but her brain was a little bitch and tends to desert her every single time she tries to flirt. It’s a wonder she even managed to get with Ariana. (Probably because Dinah talked her up and she wasn’t as bad with her hands as she was with her words.)

“I’d love to, Camz.” The green-eyed girl smiled brightly and placed her hand over Camila’s, who entwined their fingers; the nickname making her smile, giddily.

How disgustingly adorable are they.

“Thank God, I thought we’d have to hit all the bases before you agreed to go out with me.”

It was such a terrible joke. Really bad. Ally would have rolled her eyes and Dinah would have punched her but Lauren, once again, threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. And somewhere, deep down, Camila knew she had fallen for that laugh.

With hands linked, they walked away and Camila made a mental note to thank Dinah for dragging her outside and leaving her.

A/N: AYE I AM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY PUT SOMETHING UP!! I hope you guys like it. Please be gentle, I am new to the writing world.

IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER PROMPT REQUESTS PLEASE LEMME KNOW ON MY TUMBLR “adolescent-writer”

Also I love reading comments, they motivate me to write more <3 P.S. I LOVE ARIANA AND MAC THIS WAS ALL FICTIONAL AYE.