#enough sleep deprivation to be about as functional as a drunk

[blaiddydbrokeit]

I don't talk enough about how Felix makes me go 🥰🥰🥰 but

#might delete later i'm frankly an emotional mess right now because i am exhausted and have not slept correctly in uhh #i'm not sure how long #enough sleep deprivation to be about as functional as a drunk #i think #sylvain might laugh and make this a future running gag but 🧡 foxy if you see this i love you too #come bother me foxboy i finished the lyrics for rad dogs 🫠

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

Hello Eeshu. Happy Diwali!

If you're still taking prompts could you write something about post cohf magnus coming home after getting drunk with cat and tessa and being all adorable and horny and Alec is amused and annoyed.

Happy Diwali Yana!!!!🌈🌻

I wrote an exact scene like this in LWSYF. But for you, here’s another because there can never be enough drunk and sappy Magnus/Alec scenes in the world.

_______________________________________________

“Knock-knock!”

“Knock-knock!”

“Knock-knock!”

Alec groans as the noise grows louder and louder. He turns his face into the pillow to ignore the noise but it keeps on getting louder.

“Aaaggh,” he groans before finally sitting up. He checks the time on his phone.

1:53am.

Who the fuck is disturbing him at this time.

“Knock-knock!” The voice repeats and all the lightbulbs in Alec’s brain light up.

It’s always your own who disturb you during the middle of the night.

Alec removes the comforter and steps outside the bedroom to get Magnus. He’s not sure why Magnus is yelling ‘knock-knock’ when he can just magic inside. He’s almost unsure why Magnus is yelling the words instead of actually knocking.

Weirder things have happened in their world which is why Alec’s isn’t surprised in the slightest that Magnus is already inside the house and there’s a mid-sized door right in the middle of their living room. And Magnus keeps on knocking on it with incessant yelling.

“Knock-knock, Alexander.”

Alec crosses the distance and stands infront of Magnus, or the door.

“Magnus?”

A huge smile appears on Magnus’s face. “Alexander!! Knock-knock.”

“You’re already inside.”

“Oh.” Magnus makes an o-shape with his mouth.

“And why is there a random door inside our house?” Alec questions.

Magnus’s face scrunches in confusion before the smile reappears and he explains, “So, that I can get inside.”

Alec rubs his forehead. “Baby, you’re already inside. And I’m sure you portaled here.”

Magnus steps around the door and moves closer to Alec, “I invented the portal. Did you know that?”

Even in his most sleep-deprived state, Alec can find it in himself to be proud of his boyfriend. “I know. It’s incredible.”

“You think so,” There’s a lopsided smile on the man’s face and he puts his right feet forward but missteps. Alec moves instantly as Magnus falls into his arms, his smile widening as Alec tightens his hold on him.

“Careful,” Alec chides softly as he wraps an arm around his waist.

“Sorry.”

Alec shakes his head in affection. He removes the hair falling on Magnus’s face behind his ears. “What happened to warlocks don’t get drunk.”

Magnus blinks before his eyes widen. He shifts closer to Alec’s ears and whispers, “I lied.”

He chuckles softly as Magnus plants a kiss under his ear.

“Okay.”

“Promise to not tell anyone my secret,” the warlock holds out his pinky figure looking all types of adorable and Alec’s heart softens.

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“You’ll let me out you to bed before you fall on something else and splinter your head in two.”

Magnus giggles, “I can’t break my head in two Alec. I’m not an egg.”

Alec rolls his eyes, even though he’s floored with affection right now. He’s never been particularly fond of drunk people, not because he has an issue with drinking but because people became annoying when drunk. Izzy and Jace always acted hundred times stupider when drunk and Alec had to carry their drunk asses back to the institute.

But with Magnus, Alec doesn’t mind even his drunk self.

Maybe it’s because he’s so in love. Or maybe, it’s because it’s only been a few months since they’ve been back together and Alec still treasures these moments like they can be lost again.

“You’re an idiot,” he exhales.

“Your idiot.”

“I’ll run you a bath.”

Magnus’s face beams at the words. Alec’s never met anyone who loves showers or bathing as much as Magnus. The man can spend entirety of his day there and wouldn’t mind.

Alec, who spent 20 years of his life taking seven minute functional showers is still getting used to the luxury of what a good bath can do for you.

He manages to get Magnus into the washroom. He undresses the warlock, with considerable amount of strength as the man keeps on singing and flapping his body all around.

“Join me.”

“Baby, if I ever say no to that, please shoot me,” Alec mutters.

Magnus chuckles at him and pulls him under the shower head. “That would be redundant to my plans.”

“What plans?”

His boyfriend snaps his fingers and Alec’s naked in an instant. Magnus closes the distance between the two and pushes their mouths together, but owing to his drunk self, he misses it by a second and is about to fall again but Alec catches him—again.

“You are so drunk.”

“I am. I had a lot of fun today.” Magnus runs his hand across Alec’s back, peppering quick, hot kisses on his neck.

Alec keeps a steady hold on the man but Magnus seems in a mood as he keeps getting closer, not interested in the shower as he rubs their bodies together.

“I can see that,” he whispers, his body tingling at the closeness. Always does when he’s this close to Magnus. “I’m assuming Tessa and Cat are in similar state.”

Magnus pouts at them, “seemed fine. Or maybe they got lost in the portal, would serve them right for challenging me like that.”

“Challenge you at what?” He asks, turning the warlock around. Magnus whines on losing the contact but a few seconds later, Alec is lathering his hair with shampoo and a soft sigh leaves his mouth.

“Don’t remember.”

Alec snorts as he turns on the shower and cleans Magnus’s hair.

He finds a soft robe for Magnus but he refuses to wear it. He goes inside the cupboard and comes out with Alec’s sweatshirt in his head. It’s a baby blue sweater that he hadn’t seen in a while.

“You stole another one of my sweater?” He complains.

Magnus rolls his eyes, “I’ve stolen most of your sweaters Alexander, deal with it.”

“Are you just pretending to hate my clothes?”

“No. I hate them,” Magnus giggles. “But they’re comfy sometimes.” He tries to put on the sweater but one of his hands get stuck and he whines. “Alecccccc, evil sweater is eating me.”

“Hypocrite and a child,” Alec mutters before pulling the sweater on the man. He helps get the warlock dressed and Magnus puckers his lips when they’re done. “Victory kiss?”

“For what?“ Alec asks, not that he minds. But drink Magnus isn’t something he sees very frequently so he just wants to annoy him.

“I put the sweater on,” Magnus huffs his chest.

“I put that on you. Are you having memory loss?” Alec teases.

Magnus blinks and then steps back. “I’m drunk. And you’re being mean.”

“Sorry. Sorry,” Alec mumbles, before leaning to kiss him.

They fall onto the bed finally and Alec turns to get into their usual position but Magnus stops him.

“I’m going to be the little spoon tonight,” he announces and turns around, so that his back faces Alec.

Magnus Bane can break and crush and destroy Alec’s life and heart and Alec would let him. This is something he’d known for the longest time now, since Paris, maybe even more. Maybe since the day Alec kissed him in the accords hall. He knows he’d let Magnus do anything to him. But this—this Alec can not let happen. This, is non-negotiable.

“No.”

“What no?”

“It means no. You will not.”

Magnus turns, a frown on his face. “Why?”

“Because I’m always the little spoon.”

“And?”

“And what?” Alec chuckles.

“And I want to be the little spoon today, Alec.”

Magnus shifts closer and pokes Alec’s cheeks. “You’re mean.”

“I’m not. I just like to sleep a certain way,” he announces, a mischievous smile on his face.

“This is my bed,” Magnus whines and in an instant, all the teasing and lightness leaves Alec’s body. He knows it’s a joke, he knows Magnus isn’t trying to make a point, he knows all of it inside his heart but the second the words leaves the warlock’s mouth, his chest hurts.

It’s only been a few months since they’ve been together and while Alec has been living here, he doesn’t live-live here. It’s a stupid little thing but the last time Alec lived here, he had to leave. He had to leave ‘his home’ and go back to the institute. He’s not sure if he’s ready to do that again.

He needs time before he can live-live with Magnus again.

Magnus instantly notices the change in his body because he climbs upwards and forces Alec to look into his eyes. “I didn’t mean that, Alexander.”

Even in his most drunken state, Magnus sees him.

“I know, baby.”

The warlock shakes his head and cups both his cheeks tenderly, “No, you don’t. This is your home. I was being an idiot because you were being annoying.”

“Wow,” Alec says in mock hurt, “You’re victim blaming now?”

Magnus swats at his chest, “Alexanderrrrrr!”

Alec wraps his arms around Magnus’s waist and turns them around.

“Ouch.”

“What?”

“Head hurts.”

“It’s all the alcohol,” he teases.

“Fuck off.”

Alec chuckles as he hides his face in the crook of Magnus’s neck.

They stay like that for a few silent minutes before Magnus whispers. “Alec.”

“Ssshhhh. I’m sleeping.”

Magnus hums. Then a few seconds later, he speaks again. “Darling.”

“Hmmm. Still sleeping.”

“Okay.” Alec smiles knowing that it’s only a matter of second before Magnus calls out for him again, which he does.

“Alexander.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I tell you something?”

There’s a hesitation to his voice that wasn’t present earlier so Alec pulls back a little and peers at his boyfriend. “Yeah.”

“Promise not to make fun of me?” Magnus requests, a sheepish smile on his face.

Alec runs his hand through Magnus’s hair before leaning down to kiss him again. “Promise.”

It’s another few moments of quiet and Alec knows Magnus is trying to find the words. Magnus is a master at words but Alec knows it’s difficult for him sometimes, to say the things that lie deep inside of him.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just me,” he assures as he runs a comforting hand over his chest.

“I was kind of miserable when we were broken up,” Magnus confesses. “Not just kind of. But, a lot, if I’m being honest.”

There’s something pushing at his chest, something similar to pain but not the kind that emerges from sadness. It’s the kind that blooms out of loving something so much that it hurts, in a good way. In the best way.

He palms Magnus’s cheeks and bends down to kiss his eyelids.

There’s a lot he wants to say but doesn’t. Not because he’s scared but because they’ve talked about this enough. He knows it’s just something Magnus needed to say right now, he’s not expecting an answer. He’s not expecting a ‘me too’. He’s not expecting comfort, even.

It’s just something Magnus needed to say right now.

So Alec says the next best thing he can.

“I love you,” he whispers against the man’s mouth, one hand coming under his body to tighten the hold.

There’s a soft smile on Magnus’s face when they pull back.

“Hey, Magnus?” He says after a few moments of quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I’m still not letting you be the little spoon.”

#i feel like I forgot what I was planning to write halfway through #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

[burnbilel]

I was a really quiet child. It always made me proud, knowing that I never disturbed my mother sleep. I was quiet every time, everywhere, always. At home, at school, at family functions, at friends playdate. Playdates did not happened a lot, I was too quiet to make friends. I didn’t want friends, I was scared of them. Scared of being judged, being made fun of, but mostly scared of intimacy. I couldn’t let anyone too close, what if they actually end up knowing me? Knowing my fears? Knowing my desires? Knowing my secrets.

So i stayed alone, safe. I felt safe alone. I was left with my thoughts, sometimes scary one, inappropriate. I always judged myself so hardly, blamed myself for them. how coud I think of those things? Disgusting things? So i kept quiet.

I had siblings. An older sister that sheltered me, mothered me, protected me. An older brother, pretty close of age, not too old to completely live in another world like my sister did, but old enough to guild me in a world we were both navigating in, him ahead of me.
I trusted him, loved him, feared him. Feared him enough to never contradict him, So i kept quiet.

We shared a bedroom deprived of intimacy but it wasn’t an issue, I didn’t need one from him. One day he had a game idea, he said «  lets pretend to make babies ! » so we did. We played, innocently, for a few seconds, until we realized we mustn’t know all the rules to this game. It was a bad game, but just a game. So i kept quiet.

I wet my bed. I would wake up in the middle of the night in my urine soak sheets, embarrassed but incapable of moving. I lay there, in the inconfort of my pee until daylight so I could run to the laundry room and throw them in, in total discretion. I thought I was good at keeping secrets.

One of those morning, after finally waking up I reached my drawer for a clean underwear.

I paused, unable to move.

This vision, this last night dream, this unfamiliar man, naked, me on top of him and him inside of me. I must have been 7 at the time. I couldn't move, I couldn’t speak, how could I? It was my dream, my thoughts, my fault. So i kept quiet.

I grew up, I noticed things in me I didn’t see in other boys, I couldn’t really grasped my head over what it meant exactly, but I knew it was something I shouldn’t share with anyone. So i kept quiet.

I kept having dreams, disgusting dreams. But it wasn’t unfamiliar faces anymore, it was the face of a mother, a sister, a brother. I was ashamed, So i kept quiet.

I lost my virginity at 19 in a motel as dusty as the man I was with. I was drunk, he wasn’t. He finished, 4 time, I remember him announcing it proudly, I didn’t. I went back home and masturbated, alone, with only company my sleeping mother in the other room, So i kept quiet.

I never finished, with anyone. I didn’t want to make them feel unattractive, I didn’t want them to feel blamed, but I didn’t know what to say, So i kept quiet.

I couldn’t share this kind of physical intimacy just like I couldn't share any kind of emotional intimacy. I knew it was troubling, I knew it was a response to something. I questioned myself, travelled into my past but always came back empty handed. So i kept quiet.

This thought haunted me, but the quest embarrassed me. Did I need to find something else, someone else, to blame for my own behavior? So i kept quiet.

I didn't speak to my brother anymore, we grew apart. We were different, different interest, different goals, different life, different sexuality. I didn't feel safe being myself with him anymore, So i kept quiet.

Time past, he changed, I did too. he came back home yesterday so I decided to make us dinner. We ate, and we talked. We talked about everything and nothing, gender, sexuality.  « tell me, are you gay? » I felt safe, So i talked.

We talked about how when why, I felt safe, So i talked.

He asked if something happened to me as a child, I took offense, but still felt safe, So i talked. I said no brother, no-one raped me as a child and turned me gay if this is what you’re asking.

He paused, unable to move. « I did » he said. « are you referencing to that onetime innocent game we had? » I asked, He felt safe, so he talked.

He talked about his childhood, about this videogame he so wanted. About our older neighbor who owned it. He was older but just a kid. Our sister age. He was a kid but older, old enough to know the rules of games we didnt.

I have this memory, that visit me times to times. « if you do it to me I’ll do it to you » I remembered it as a joke, a test, a once moment to shame me for my obvious homosexuality that I was hiding as efficiently as I used to hide my wet sheets. So i said nothing, nothing more than a silent head inclination, I kept quiet.

Now I know it wasn’t a joke or a test, nor it was a once occasion to embarrass me but the end of a game we played many times before. I didn’t know, I couldn't know, but now we’ve talked, Now I know. And I don’t have to keep quiet anymore.

[obeymeluv]

Isnt devildom liquor weaker than human world liquor? Mc had beat Asmo in a drinking contest. How do you think it they'd act, completely hammered in the human world. I think harder liquor means stupider drunks.

Spoiler alert to the in-game MC’s “heritage” reveal. You know, the descendent/reincarnation thing. If you know, you know.

Below: Thoughts on Devildom liquor + the specific incident Nonnie is talking about with Asmo in game + THE ACTUAL ANSWER TO THE ASK. My bad, haha.

My thoughts on Devildom liquor at that point in the game:

The MC is not as affected because they are human/angel. Maybe the angel part fortifies MC and makes it harder for them to get drunk?

Maybe the HUMAN side of MC is what makes it harder for them to get drunk on Devildom liquor? Like...everything in the Devildom is made primarily for demons so maybe there are ingredients in there that specifically affect those with demon blood. Maybe humans don’t have the biology to be inebriated by those ingredients?

I am a little fuzzy on that point in the game but did Asmo pre-game? Like, a lot? Did we ever find out? I could see him being so emotionally distraught that his lovely MC is leaving that he just wants to be sloshed. Maybe he assumed MC beat him in a drinking contest because he forgot how much he already drank?

Maybe Solomon gave MC a heads up that Asmo was down for drinking and gave them a pre-game potion of their own to ward off the affects.

End hypothesis: Maybe Devildom liquor IS strong (for demons) but that potency just can’t translate in human bodies so the bros (Lucifer especially) don’t want MC drinking it because they’re not sure what it will do. They just ASSUME it will do to MC what it does to them.

Other thoughts: Because demons sprinkled little secrets to the humans over the course of history, gave them trinkets and magic and things, I’d like to think they gave humans the idea or process of alcohol-making but are TOTALLY not prepared for the end result. All the flavors, types, etc. 

As far as I understand it (at the point I’m at in the game), travel between the Devildom and human world was widely discouraged until Diavolo could make a program that united the three realms and improved the overall image. So basically everyone has been separated for thousands of years.

What if demons are equally bad at holding human world liquor? I could just see a drunk Asmo being like, “What is this? Sangria? This isn’t what I told them to call it.” as he’s trying to drink and (speed) walk away from Beel, who wants the fruit out of the pitcher.

I could just see them all getting TOTALLY wasted on human world stuff just because they thought “Ahh, we taught them this 5,000 years ago! Of COURSE we can handle it! We invented it!” (spoiler alert: they cannot). Like, I’d like to think their biology works against them here. They heal quicker and probably get over stomach aches and things quicker, so they probably metabolize alcohol quicker to restore bodily equilibrium so they probably get flash-drunk off of just about anything with a decent alcohol content. 

HOW THEY WOULD ACT (AKA: the real question)

The facts: 

They’re all going to be like drunk kittens, big bassy purrs and wanting to cuddle you or scent you. 

They’ll basically curl up in a pile together; you occasionally have to move body parts (so no one suffocates). 

Do a head count every now and then, give them some crackers/carbs when needed, and put water all around them like a summoning circle because when one of them wakes up, all of them will and they’ll act like big babies

Put a bucket near Lucifer and Asmo, they’re sympathy pukers.

Levi and Belphie need total sensory deprivation when they wake up. You may only breach the darkness to bring them things to settle their stomach and anything to kill the headache

Just give Beel bread and anything like Gatorade/Pedialite. He’ll help you with the others after three loaves or so.

Asmo will be especially pitiful and demand you take care of the others first. Once they’re decently able to take care of themselves he’s near teary-eyed, demanding tummy rubs and tell him he’s still pretty even though he feels awful. Please get him a sheet mask.

Mammon’s not functional enough to help with anything major but he’s standing the next day so he rubs that in everyone’s face. He’s the one shuffling around with a half-eaten sandwich, looking for any comfort item (heating pack, cold wrap for his head). He will demon screech at you if you touch any of the lights in the house.

As Mammon comes to, he demands dim lights and acts like a grumpy mom. He’s making porridge and they better shut up and eat it. Says it’s for him but there’s a suspicious amount of bowls nearby.

Satan just swears he’ll never drink again (like always). Dutifully waits for porridge. Spends most of his time letting cold water run over his head. Can’t spend too much time hunched over because he gets nauseous. Baby him a little. Find a way to let his head float in a bit of water where he can lay down and he’s as quiet as a mouse. 

Who can drink the most? (Best to worst - my opinions only)

1) Beel (body mass helps), 2) Mammon (party king), 3) Asmodeus (huuuge history with mixed drinks. Boy is READY), 4) Lucifer, 5) Satan (neck and neck with Lucifer - casual drinker only. Even wine is rare for him), 6) Leviathan, 7) Belphie (usually sleeping instead of drinking). 

Lucifer:

We’ve seen little gags about how ‘Lucifer got drunk and unplugged the router’ so this guy’s either going to be super cuddly, a hot mess, or both

You know the people who fluff their hair, comb it back, undo a tie or some buttons and just get comfy as they drink? That’s Lucifer.

He’ll smile a bit more, laugh a bit more, and there will be some color to his cheeks

He’s not sloppy, just cozy. 

Drunk Lucifer is not overly loud but he is honest. He won’t throw himself into groups or pester all the brothers, but he’s up for some accidentally-heartwarming one-on-one

When he’s drunk he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and let you play with his hair

Will not win any drinking games. Is actually a lightweight compared to his brothers (see best > worst drinker, above).

Mammon:

GO BIG OR GO HOME! MAMMON’S HERE TO PLAY FOR BIG MONEY! (AKA: bragging rights that he can handle more than his brothers)

He and Asmo are quick to get the drinks flowing because they want to try shots of everything. 

He and Asmo are pretty good at matching brothers to drinks and tasting subtle notes, things like that

Show Mammon beer pong once and it’s done. He’s betting the brothers he can whoop them and is somehow able to pull off ping pong ball math to get Lucifer shit-faced real quick (might do it even faster if Belphie or Satan slip him some money)

The type to be like “Bet you I can hit that cup right there--third row, second from the left.” and can do it flawlessly. You have to give him head pats or $5, that’s the rules.

He’ll be one of the bros you have to chase around and make put his clothes back on. Boy will try to strip and strut

Will definitely hoard his favorite bottle (picked it on smell) and spend a majority of the time trying to drink it and avoid the bros. (”YOU CAN’T MAKE ME SHARE IF YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”)

Leviathan

Not the best drinker. Not a frequent drinker at all.

His envy makes him drink because as he starts to go on a tangent about how ‘it’s not fair! Everyone’s having a good time!’ when he realizes it’s as easy as picking up a drink. Like...he can join in too.

Levi won’t grab himself an alcoholic drink because he’s a nervous over-thinker. Asmo or Mammon will just hand him a cup like the resident Liquor Fairy and he trusts their judgement

The first one to let his demon form out just because the liquor is a little warm in his belly and he feels like he’s flying? Also comfortable?

The excited drunk who goes on animated, slurred rants

The loud laugher

He’s honestly so adorably animated that anyone who knew him would be surprised? He seems far from a shut in

Trade off: he can’t hold his liquor well

Boy probably trips on his own tail or thinks something snagged his ankle to bring him down when, in fact, he just fell down

Sways when he sits

When he’s done, he just wants a nice comfy lap to lay in and maybe play with his hair. 

Like Lucifer, liquor will make him confess all his feelings. 

Watch out for the tail. It will be all over you when he starts to lose the ability to wrap it around himself.

Satan:

It’s a toss-up as to whether he gets drunk before Lucifer or vice versa. I’d like to think his tolerance is slightly higher since he might run in the same circles as Asmo, but he is a part of Lucifer so I’m sure it balances out

He’s a drink snob and this is what hurts him the most. He goes to fancy tastings and random things he’s invited to, but this is a drop in the bucket

He’s never gone hardcore before because he’s afraid he’ll be prone to anger

He’s not. He’s actually a lot like Levi. He just wants to smile and laugh and have fun.

The one who knows a lot of random/interesting stuff and has unexpectedly awesome party tricks

He and Asmo act as instigators and somehow con everyone else into getting drunk. It’s mostly because he wants blackmail material, but he enjoys the mind games

He’s the one you’re going to have to carry BUT he’s super chill when he’s having a good time. You want him to wear a lampshade? Okay, but only if you call him Enlightened One (get it?)

Makes bad jokes. Lucifer definitely laughs

The one that randomly dances with someone at the party. But it’s a fancy dance or slow dance, not something crazy

Will try to prove he’s not as drunk as he is by reading or reciting something and just breaks down into snorts and giggles

Cat Mode: Activated. He wants to be all over you. Hug him and play with his hair, please.

Asmo:

Asmo isn’t really different from his usual self.

He’s a little social butterfly, making his rounds and checking on people

He’s the silent, sneaky drunk. No one notices he’s drunk until his face starts getting red and his eyes get glassy

The quiet cuddler. Just progressively gets closer to you until he’s resting his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side and asking you to give him his drink.

Would be the happiest person on the planet if you literally just held his drink up to his lips and let him drink it when he wanted to. You just love him so much?! You’re so thoughtful?! He wants to cry

Guilty party #2 for ‘chase him around and make him put his clothes back on’

Next in line for ‘Liquor makes me tell the truth and my darkest secrets’.

Will try any activity at the party and will dance at least once with everybody

If he gets in a fight, that’s because someone doesn’t respect what he put on the party playlist. He knows good music, okay?!

Has a personal goal to steal one drink from everyone, drink it before they realize, and hand them back the empty cup as he slips away. Something about it just amuses him.

Wants to leave lipstick/lip gloss kisses on people. Thinks they’re the cutest accessory!

The one who loses something at the party and makes everyone look for it the next day

The one who’s passed out in a random spot and no one has the heart to move them but everyone checks on them to make sure they’re safe. When everyone’s turned in for the night, he is safely moved like the precious baby he is.

Beel:

The one who takes the longest to get drunk. You don’t know if it’s because of his build or how much he ate to offset the alcohol

Unofficial baby sitter of the group. Pays special attention to everyone but Belphie, Asmo, and Levi in particular.

Not super loud. Just vibes and enjoys time with his family.

He’ll participate in the party activities because he does have that competitive streak but he’s not as invested in it as Mammon. If he wins at least once he’s proved his point and is on to something else

Surprsingly, #3 to ‘you might have to chase him and make him put his clothes on’. Drunk Beel is convinced he’ll get over the alcohol faster with less clothes because of temperature regulation and something that doesn’t really make sense because he’s slurring

Will drink more if Belphie is nearby or if he can hold onto Belphie. Taking care of Belphie and knowing he’s okay (in a tactile way) makes him a little more carefree. 

Doesn’t really confess like the other bros but he’s the one no one can really hear talking because his purr takes over everything. His purrs are so loud and deep! Big boy is truly happy

Drunk Beel is affectionate as ever and this is where you learn that demons can express affection by licking people. Most of the bros end up with a Simba-style mohawk. It’s just one lick but Beel’s got a long tongue and it fucks with hair real good.

Will jump in for a song or two if karaoke is a thing at the party. A really good singer but wouldn’t do it unless he had a decent amount of alcohol in him.

He’s the type to trip over stuff trying to help clean up. If he falls down he says he’s just ‘taking a break’ and will ‘help in a minute’. Might not get up again.

Once Beel lays down, Belphie, Satan, and Levi drunk crawl/stumble/slither over to him for warmth. This is how the cuddle pile starts.

When he lays down, if you get anywhere near him, he’s begging you to lay down with him. Wants to whisper little compliments and lovely things. A big sap. Handsy but will definitely know when to lay off and will listen if you get uncomfortable. 

Belphie:

Honestly, doesn’t really drink. He’s more interested in the nap.

His biggest motivation is to get the others drunk so everyone’s quiet and he can sleep. Definitely wants Lucifer blackmail.

He’ll have a few things but he prefers a lot of something mild versus a mix or a few shots of something super potent

Will try the funnel drink challenge.

The third enticer. He wants to work everyone up (Lucifer especially) and get the booze going.

Borrows off of Beel’s body mass and ability to handle alcohol here and there, but it all catches up with him eventually

The type to have really diluted drinks because he’s already sleepy by nature and doesn’t want to faceplant with a shot glass.

Will slow dance with Asmo. When Asmo starts to struggle with his weight as Belphie gets cozy and sleepy, Beel steps in and you just see the twins purring and warbling to each other as Beel just scoops him up and lets him sit on his hip like a toddler.

Another one who wants to slither into your lap and take all your attention.

The type to do random shit like boop your nose and giggle about it.

The one who doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. If he’s laying on you then the others need to leave you alone. It’s not hard to understand!

#Obey me! #Obey me! x reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Levi x Reader #Satan x Reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Asmo x reader #Beel x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Belphie x Reader #Belphegor x Reader

[azenkii]

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

#holy cow this ended up so much longer than i intended #atla #avatar #zuko #firelord zuko #headcanons

[queerfictionwriter]

Trauma in Fic

I've been kicking around in fandom for a long time, and one of the beautiful things about it is that it doesn't hesitate to give characters who've Been Through Some Shit the PTSD they absolutely should have in canon. Or exploring what that means when the PTSD is canon. The same is true for other mental illnesses, but I need to talk about the PTSD for a minute, here.

Trauma is not a superpower, okay? It's not. I keep seeing it depicted that way, and as someone with PTSD, it's frustrating and sometimes even hurtful to see these depictions. I know it doesn't come from malice, just misunderstanding. I know that no one is obligated to do research before writing fanfic, and that the freedom from having to research is part of the draw for some people--it's just a hobby that people are doing for fun and sharing for free, and they don't owe anyone even more of their time and unpaid labour doing research on medical conditions.

But.

There's nothing romantic about being a strung-out, jittery mess because you're coping with the after-effects of an adrenaline dump post-threat. Or post-perceived threat that turned out to be a false alarm, which happens fairly frequently if symptoms are severe. There's nothing particularly attractive about losing weight and muscle mass as your body eats itself because of the amount of stress you're under, and as dramatic as fainting spells and touch-starvation are, they are real problems with real physical and psychological consequences. If the trauma symptoms are dialled up to 11, you need to understand that this character's body is tearing itself apart, because going for days without sleep, or even just trying to survive on 3-4hrs of sleep out of every 24 does not make your character a ninja. It makes them a messy drunk with slowed reaction times and a rapidly-rising risk of brain damage, in addition to more-or-less assuring that they're going to hallucinate, have memory problems, and are constantly sick and aching because their immune system is in the toilet.

Human bodies need sleep to function, to heal minor injuries and recover from normal day-to-day activities, and human brains need sleep for everything in the grey matter to work properly. Without that, injuries don't heal--or they don't heal correctly and suddenly, you've got chronic pain. That kind of stress also triggers inflammatory responses, which spikes your blood pressure and puts you at risk for heart disease and stroke, and the longer the stress goes on for (and that can be the traumatic events themselves, or the unchecked symptoms afterward), the more likely it is for the trauma-fried character to develop an autoimmune disorder or other chronic illness. The cumulative effects of ongoing traumatic stress + not enough sleep also raises the risk of dementia/Alzheimer's, including early onset.

No matter how severe the symptoms--no matter how much sleep disturbance and insomnia, nightmares or night terrors--there comes a point where the body pulls rank and makes you sleep because your system just can’t cope with the deprivation anymore. And that is true regardless of the amount of stimulants your character might be on, the situation they’re in, and how much practise they’ve had at coping with the effects of sleep deprivation.

And that's just exploring the consequences of sleep deprivation, never mind everything else that goes along with PTSD. Because of course there's more. There's the way that trauma impacts libido, often shutting it down completely for days or weeks or sometimes months at a time, even if the trauma that caused the PTSD wasn't sexual in nature, simply because the nervous system does very specific things when the fight-or-flight response kicks off. And, even if desire is present, trauma can cause all sorts of other sexual dysfunction: through dissociation, inability to orgasm because the body reads it as a loss of control, or having severe mood swings during that mean your character is ugly sobbing or possibly having a panic attack because the intimacy and intensity of the moment triggered something big emotionally. Having sex isn't some big sign of healing, and isn't necessarily healing in and of itself. Sometimes, it’s a coping mechanism (which can be relatively healthy, especially when stacked against certain other options that are self-destructive, like substance abuse), and sometimes it’s a distraction. It can also be a way of grounding, or returning to the body through positive experiences--or, at least, experiences the character can control.

The big point I want to make here is that humans have very real limits, and there are permanent consequences to pushing past them--PTSD is, itself, a consequence of being psychologically pushed to the breaking point and then beyond it in the absence of compassionate care and time to recover after trauma. The human body’s limits are often unforgiving--it’s very easy to wind up permanently disabled by chronic pain or illness after pushing too far, or simply having your abilities be reduced to a fraction of what they once were, especially when PTSD is wreaking havoc on the body and mind. There are consequences to severe, untreated PTSD, and “gaining superpowers” isn’t on that list.

Of course, all of this is addressing and aimed at the depictions of severe, untreated PTSD, which is what I’ve most often seen in fandom. But symptoms don’t have to be dialled up to 11 out of 10, and your character doesn’t have to display every symptom listed in the DSM to both have PTSD and to have symptoms bad enough to interfere with daily life. Even symptoms that clock in at a 5 or 6 on a scale of 1-10 is still representative of a lot of struggling in and disruption to day-to-day living, and is a lot more accurate to what people actually living with PTSD experience.

Sincerely, Someone Who Studied Psychology & Has PTSD

#long post #K speaks #Twist loses her shit #mental health #mental illness #PTSD #invisible disabilities are still real disabilities #disabled people #disabled life #trauma #triggers are real #disability politics #representation #fanfic #fandom #fandom life #writing #writing community #writing is hard #writing reference

[amarimaryllis]

Sleep-Deprived (Daichi x Reader)

Pairing: Daichi/Reader Prompt/Summary: Daichi overhears you spilling all your feelings about him to Kiyoko. Tags: Fluff Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Extremely self-indulgent (made this fic just to scream over Daichi) Warnings: Mild swearing, Slight mentions of insecurity

You had a lot of terrible ideas, and pulling an all-nighter just to study for an exam is one of them. It isn’t exactly the worst idea you could muster from three working brain cells, but it’s still terrible. Honestly speaking, it would’ve been fine. It seriously would’ve been fine if you didn’t open your mouth. It was one of the few effects that sleep deprivation had on you: losing whatever filter you had. Words slur from your mouth in your sleepy state, and it never passes through your brain for approval or disapproval. It just goes straight out of your mouth.

It was a team effort though. If only your lovely friend, Shimizu Kiyoko, had not talked you up when you were drunk on the lack of sleep, then maybe you wouldn’t be stuck in your current predicament.

“Y/N?” Kiyoko lightly tapped you on the shoulder, your sleeping form sprawled out on your desk as you try to squeeze in a few minutes of sleep before class starts. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

You shift your head, turning to look at your friend with droopy eyes. “Around“, your yawn interrupts you mid-sentence, “an hour?”

Kiyoko sighs as she pulls her pens out of her bag and arranges them neatly on her desk. “Why did you stay up so late? It’s not like we have a quiz today.”

Your eyes shoot open, a dark look in your eyes as you look at Kiyoko. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” Kiyoko looks at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she tries to make sense of what you’re trying to say. “Did you think we have a quiz today?”

You shot up straight in your seat, feeling slightly betrayed as you thought back to a certain grey-haired setter’s words.

‘I heard that Takahashi-sensei is giving a surprise quiz tomorrow.’

You move back to sleep on your desk, mumbling insults lowly as you shut your eyes. “Sugawara told me that we had a quiz in Math.”

Kiyoko stifled her amusement, not wanting to add insult to your injury. “You actually believed him?”

“Yes.” You answered curtly before proceeding to grumble as you shifted to find a comfortable position. “Evil monster. How could he do that to me?”

“Well-“

Kiyoko is interrupted as her phone buzzes. She grins a little as she looks from the message on her phone to the female hunched over the desk. “Sawamura’s asking if I have notes from Takahashi-sensei’s recent lecture.”

Y/N, despite her sleepy state, makes an effort to play it off coolly. Her eyes remain shut as she mumbles out in reply to Kiyoko. “And?”

“Didn’t you study for math last night?” Kiyoko states as she replies to Daichi’s text with a ‘No, but Y/N has. You can borrow hers.’

You nodded as you tried to calm the racing of your heart. Just hearing Daichi’s name had you feeling all sorts of giddy.

“I told Sawamura he could borrow your notes.” Kiyoko held back a small smile as a plan formulated in her head. One where it would end with her two friends together.

If it was even possible, your heart started racing even faster. Daichi? Early in the morning? You were so happy and nervous at the thought of seeing him that you couldn’t stop your mouth from running. “Oh, he can borrow more than just my notes.”

“Why don’t you just confess?” Kiyoko asks you in a straightforward manner as she opens up her notebook. The girl had known both for three years already, and in those three years, they’ve been doing nothing but dance around their feelings.

At that same moment, someone walks into your classroom. “Kiyoko, where’s Y/N-“

However, neither you nor Kiyoko notices the newcomer, stuck in your little bubble.

You sat up at Kiyoko’s question and went into your rant before you could even worry about who could hear you. “Daichi’s just so perfect? What does someone like me have to offer him? He’s strong, reliable, sporty, smart, and it doesn’t help that he’s really attractive. Sometimes I just wanna go to his mom and say ‘Thank you, ma’am, for giving birth to this god amongst men’. I’m so whipped it’s pathetic!” You huff as you turn to look at Kiyoko. “Like who even gave Sawamura Daichi the right to be this damn fine-“

Your words stop short as you notice the figure standing a few meters behind Kiyoko. “Oh shit. Am I dreaming?”

Daichi stood a few meters away, a blush on his cheeks as he looked to the side and rubbed the back of his neck.

All color drains from your face as the situation hits you like a brick chucked by a world-renowned pitcher. You had just poured your feelings out about your crush and said crush just had to overhear it.

Kiyoko looks at you weirdly before asking. “What’s wrong?”

You’re unable to reply, just staring at Daichi who looked like he didn’t know what to say either.

Kiyoko follows your gaze and turns her head around, and she stiffens in her seat. “Sawamura, you’re here.”

Daichi gulps, his Adam’s apple moving visibly. “Yeah.”

Kiyoko stands up without a word and walks out of the classroom, and you can only gape after her.

“Traitor.” You mumble under your breath as you slam your forehead on the desk with a light thud.

A million thoughts are running through your head. Your brain is working faster than it ever did before, and you’re kind of bitter at how it only works this fast now and not when you actually need it to function. What would happen to you? Daichi probably thinks you’re weird now. Anyone would be weirded out at the thought of your mother receiving thanks for birthing you, right? What if Daichi is so disgusted with you and he just goes away? Worse, what if Suga finds out and never lets you hear the end of it? Oh, the constant torment from him would be so bad that you’d never go to school. Your education would be at risk! All this because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

You were internally screaming, and it was so loud that you didn’t notice Daichi moving to sit in the spot that Kiyoko was in just a few seconds ago before she betrayed you and left you with Daichi right after you made a fool of yourself. You wanted to run away so badly, but you were just frozen on the spot. You could only clench your fists on your lap and squeeze your eyes tightly and hope that Daichi walks away.

The chair screeches loudly as Daichi pulls the chair he was sitting closer to your desk.

You could feel your heart beating even faster because you could sense how close Daichi was, and damn was he real close. As you clench your fists tighter, you could only wish that the floor beneath you opens up and lets the earth swallow you whole.

Warmth spreads through your wrist as a calloused hand encircles it. “Ease up on the grip, you might hurt yourself.”

You turn your head and look at where Daichi is holding you. You couldn’t even look him in the eye as he unfurls your fingers slowly. You relax your hands but the rest of your body is tense, unable to comprehend the situation. Your eyes grow wide as you watch Daichi gently bring your hand to press on his chest right above where his heart is.

His heart is beating really fast, you noted.

You sat up straight and just stared at Daichi, not knowing what to say or do as he gazes at you intensely.

“Can you feel how fast my heart is beating?” Daichi asks as he stares into your eyes as if he was searching for something.

You could only nod in reply, unable to trust your voice in fear that it may come out shaky. Your mind was blank. You couldn’t think of anything. All coherent thoughts were consumed by Daichi’s presence and the feeling of his hand around your wrist.

“Do you know why?” Daichi asked softly as his thumb gently stroked the back of your hand that was on his chest (MAN WAS THAT MAKING YOU FEEL ALL SORTS OF THINGS).

Once again, you were filterless. Even embarrassment was not enough to sober you up. “You’re afraid of me cause you probably think I’m weird after overhearing the things I said-“

Daichi shuts you up by moving the hand that was your wrist to your forearm and tugging you to him before he gently presses his lips against yours to shut you up.

Your eyes were wide.

Nothing was sinking in.

Except it kind of is sinking in.

His lips were soft against yours, a stark contrast to the feeling of his calloused hand that had moved to cup your cheek. You could only close your eyes, melt into his touch, and wish that this moment never ends. Your heart was beating so fast and your body felt so warm as Daichi continued to move his lips against yours.

Daichi pulls away first, his hand still on the side of your face as he strokes your cheek. “If it helps, I’m considering going to your house and personally thanking your mom for giving birth to you.”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you look away from Daichi. Daichi doesn’t let you and grabs your chin lightly to make you look at him.

You were so tempted to faint then and there as Daichi gazes into your eyes warmly, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to speak. “This isn’t exactly how I planned to confess, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Shock. Just pure shock. It was written all over your face. Sure, he kissed you, but there are times where you’re pretty damn dense where you needed things to be spelt out for you in glowing neon letters. Hearing your crush confess to you had you feeling all sorts of happy, nervous, and doubtful.

“Y/N.” The way he said your name made you want to melt into a puddle right there. “I really like you. Will you go out with me?”

“Yes.” You grinned widely as you lunged towards Daichi and wrapped your arms around his neck. You still couldn’t believe it, but you sure as hell weren’t about to let this moment fly by you. If this was a dream, then you can only wish that it would never end.

Daichi smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly but gently, not wanting to let go of you now that he has you in his arms, something he had only dreamt about before overhearing your conversation with Kiyoko.

Deep in your mind, you thanked Sugawara. If he didn’t give you false information that led to you pulling an all-nighter, you wouldn’t have blurted out your feelings like an idiot, and you would have never gained this opportunity with your longtime crush.

A/N: Another old fic, phew. This one was the first Haikyuu fanfic I ever made, so it’s not that polished, but I still do like it. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one!

#daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #genre.fluff #tw mild swearing #tw insecurity

[disquietiswhatitis]

You’re my favorite reason to lose sleep (Sam/Andrea)

Of all the many things Sam has experienced that she did not expect since her relationship with Andrea began, the most surprising by far might be this:

Andrea Rojas snores.

Not always, but she does. It’s a quiet snore, nothing compared to the logs Sam’s father would saw when he fell asleep in front of the tv. Sam’s been with Andrea long enough to know that her lover only starts snoring if either she consistently hasn’t been getting enough sleep or if she’s gotten extremely drunk because she refuses to accept that Sam can outdrink her when it comes to tequila. As fun as drunk Andy can be, they’ve been good about their wine intake and they haven’t had any tequila in the apartment for a little over a month, so Sam figures it must be the lack of sleep. Reaching out, Sam takes a strand of her sleeping fiance’s hair, tucks it behind her ear, whispers “why haven’t you been sleeping baby?” and places a quick, tender kiss to Andrea’s shoulder. It’s a rhetorical question. Andrea snores again. Now, Sam loves Andrea. Truly, passionately loves her as does Andrea with Sam. While past heartbreaks have taught her to tread more cautiously, Sam still loves so easily and has so much to give. Andrea, conversely, hadn’t felt worthy of love in so long, she built walls that made it hard for her to receive or convey it. Somehow, much to the surprise of them both, Sam shattered those walls. They’ve been through their fair share in the time they’ve been together. While communication hasn’t always been their strongest suit, they’ve put in the time and effort to get better at it because they both enthusiastically agree that the other is so worth it. Knowing this, Sam is aware that she could ask Andrea what’s wrong, that Andrea would tell her and that they could go from there. However, Andrea is also asleep at the moment and Sam can’t think of anything else. She can’t put on her airpods and distract herself with her audiobook. The sultry voice of the narrator combined with the scene she was last narrating, well, it would make her want to wake Andrea up and... do things. Sam doesn’t know what she’d watch on any of the way-too-many-streaming-services-they-rarely-use without Andrea cuddled up with her on the couch. She’s not particularly hungry and she already went to the gym this morning. Reaching over to her nightstand, Sam puts on her reading glasses, grabs her phone and starts scrolling through social media she doesn’t really use. She likes a few photos of Alex and Kelly with their daughter. She glances through some articles about current events. After about five minutes, Sam sets her glasses and phone down and lets out a small huff. She can’t help but still think about it.   Why hasn’t Andrea been sleeping? Sam gets up and walks to her dresser. She pulls out a pair of underwear and a slightly too large tee shirt, puts them on and goes to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet that had a picture of two avocados on the top row, three on the middle row and four on the bottom that said “avocados, avocatres, avoquatro,” Sam ponders her lover’s possible sleep-depriving woes. “It’s not Obsidian, right?” Sam thinks as she pours water from their filter into a mug, a gift she had gotten Andrea during their vacation to Miami. Sam knows how much it hurt Andrea when her company fell, but Sam stood by her side through it all and figured Andrea’s sleepless nights over that were over. “Could it be CatCo?” the brunette contemplates as she finishes her water and goes to refill it. Maybe. The print media conglomerate’s business model transition in an increasingly print-less world had been a bit of mixed bag even before Lena purchased it all those years ago. She knows Andrea likes the work she does at CatCo well enough, but she’d definitely noticed that her mood get a little more sour for a bit when it was the only thing she had left after Obsidian. Not that CatCo was a consolation prize but Andrea loved being on the cutting edge of the tech world and short of some major restructuring, CatCo just wouldn’t provide the same opportunity. Still, the business wasn’t struggling. They had a few layoffs some months ago, which led to some incredibly passive aggressive back and forth jabs between Kara and Andrea at game night shortly thereafter, but otherwise everything was fine. “Ok, lightning round” Sam states to herself, setting down her mug so she can count off with her fingers all the possibilities it could be. It’s definitely not the bills and nothing broke or needed repair around their home. Sam’s truck is functioning like a dream. They bought their outfits for the Lena Luthor Foundation gala two days ago. Andrea bought a dashing suit and Sam an incredibly curve-hugging dress, respectively; Sam thought it was a refreshing change of pace but she was more looking forward to the suit and tie look she had planned when she married Andrea...

Marry Andrea. The wedding. Sam forgot to mail out the invitations. Shit. Sam runs over to the table by the door and sure enough, there they were. A whole stack of save the dates that Sam had set down on Sunday evening, promising to mail them out first thing on Monday. It was Friday night. Fuck.

Quickly but quietly running to their home office, Sam pulls out a sticky note and a sharpie out of the desk drawer and in all caps writes “DO NOT FORGET.” Careful to put the sticky note and pen away quietly, Sam returns to the table by the entrance. She grabs the invitations, goes back to the kitchen and places them on the counter with the note and her purse next to them. There was no reason to try to hide her snafu from Andrea. They have a good relationship and Sam is confident Andrea will forgive her so long as she’s honest and apologizes (and credit to her Catholic boarding school education, Andrea sometimes really enjoys making Sam beg for forgiveness.) Refilling her water, Sam heads back to their bedroom, discarding her clothes and thinking of how she’s going to make it up to Andrea tomorrow. As soon as she climbs into bed, her partner, still in her sleeping position, states “you’re thinking too loud” in a voice that lets Sam know she’s awake but not fully conscious. Sam still smiles at the sound of her voice and happily says “Hey, you’re up.” Andrea turns, changes from laying on her left side to her right in order to face her significant other. “I am. What were you thinking about?” Sam just smiles “You. Always.” Andrea smiles back. “Oh? Do tell.” Sam tells her “You were snoring.” Andrea deflates. “You sure know how to woo a woman, Sammy.” Sam picks up Andrea’s left hand and points to the rock on Andrea’s ring finger “Damn straight. Exhibit A.” Andrea smiles again “You’ve got me there.” “So why the snoring? Is everything okay?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, everything’s fine honey. I just stayed up way too late...reading.” The way Andrea says “reading” catches Sam’s attention. Whatever Andrea was reading, Sam can tell she’s not not embarrassed by it and it almost certainly wasn’t a sales report. “Oh. What were you reading?” Sam teases playfully. Andrea couldn’t refuse the dimples facing her even if she wanted to. She just hopes the teasing won’t be too severe. “Buffy and Faith fanfic” Andrea states rather bluntly. Sam laughs. Andrea loves that laugh; it’s one of the many ways Sam broke down her barriers and made Andrea fall in love. “That’s great babe. Did you enjoy it?” Sam asks, no longer laughing but still smiling and still completely sincere. Sam is not mocking in any way, just delighted at the fact a successful CEO of a multimillion dollar company stayed up too late reading about a twenty year old ship. Andrea knows this and while she knows it’s not an interest Sam shares, Sam actively listens and encourages Andrea when she talks about it because Sam knows it matters to her. Andrea loves Sam so freaking much. Andrea delicately runs her hand up Sam’s arm and says “I enjoy us” in an overtly suggestive tone. Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. She goes for Andrea’s neck first; slow, steady kisses, savoring every pulse beat she can feel as Andrea’s breathing starts to shallow. She works her way up to Andrea’s earlobe and bites it just enough to get a moan out of Andrea without leaving (much of) a mark as her lover’s hands grasp at Sam’s shoulders. Sam kisses her way across Andrea’s wonderful jawline, pulling back just before Andrea’s luscious lips can connect with hers. Andrea’s lips instinctively chase after Sam’s but Sam pulls her head back just a bit farther to stay out of reach and tease the shorter woman, if only for a moment. She goes back in and Eskimo kisses her nose with Andrea’s. The buildup is excruciating for Andrea but damn if not’s always worth it. A breath away from Andrea’s lips, Sam looks into her eyes and asks “Yeah?” Andrea rolls onto her back. Sam follows, her arms on either side of Andrea’s head, to stay positioned above her lover. Andrea tosses aside the blanket and with it, the sight of her exquisite body is completely bare for Sam to drink in. Sam’s eye dilate and the only way Andrea can describe her look is carnal. Taking in the site of the sculpted woman above her, she knows she can reciprocate that desire. Andrea huskily replies “Yeah” and as she hungrily grabs Sam’s face to bring her in for a searing kiss, their bodies suddenly writhing against one another, Sam figured it’d probably be okay to wait to tell her about the invitations. 

Author’s note: I actually felt inspired to write a short Reignjas ficlet yesterday and I went with it. As the idea kept expanding, it wound up heading in a direction I’ve never tried to write before. I ended up putting more thought and hours into it than I had expected, staying up to the point where I maybe had to call out of work this morning (my life’s a mess but that’s not important right now.) Anyway, this isn’t that final ficlet. I’ll probably be working on that (more responsibly) for a little bit but I felt confident enough that I wanted to post this (mostly) smut free version. Hope y’all enjoy it. 

#reignjas #rojarias #sam arias #andrea rojas #writing #ficlet #fanfic #supergirl #sam x andrea

[cancerbiophd]

Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams by Matthew Walker

THIS BOOK is life changing. (Even Bill Gates thought so!) I learned so much, and not just scientific facts that satisfy my curiosity. My (seemingly defunct) sleep habits have been validated, and I’m now empowered with ways to drastically improve my physical, mental, and emotional health. Ever since finishing the book I’ve been enthusiastically telling others to please read it.

Some things I’ve personally learned:

Being a night owl, early bird, or somewhere in the middle is genetic. We literally can not change this “habit”, because it’s not a habit; it’s a biological function. About 40% of people are early birds, 30% are night owls, and 30% are in the middle. The theory as to why we’ve evolved this way is because as a social species, this natural ability to take turns keeping watch at night improves our survival as a whole. Thus we as a society need to rethink and rework the ways that our world favors early birds and shuns night owls.

All teenagers have a shift in circadian rhythm that is different than young children and adults. They literally can not naturally fall asleep until well past midnight, and thus should not be waken up until after their 8 hours of sleep. What parents--and society--expecting teens to go to bed by 10 pm and wake up by 6 or 7 am for school is like asking an adult to go to bed at 7 or 8 pm, and then wake up at 4 am. Horrible, right? And yes, that chronic sleep-deprivation does have real consequences, such as a link to increased physical and mental illness. 

The natural human sleep schedule is a continuous 7-8 hours at night, and a brief 30 - 60 min nap in the afternoon. Studies have shown that in cultures where this schedule has been suddenly disrupted (like a study in Greece), people with no history of cardiovascular disease suddenly showed a 37% increase in the chance of dying from heart disease (vs those who still maintained a mid-day napping schedule) over the 6-year study period. Yikes. 

Oh, btw, that whole observation in Western Europe about people sleeping in 2 segments in the night (and waking up in the middle to eat, socialize, etc) is not a biological thing, but rather, cultural. That is not how humans have evolved to sleep. 

I think we’re all kind of familiar with knowing that sleep is attached to remembering facts, but sleep is also necessary for learning new facts. Thus a good night’s rest is not just essential for doing well on tomorrow’s exam, but also for remembering tomorrow’s lecture in another class. To put it another way: you retain short-term memories in the hippocampus, but it has a storage limit (like a USB stick). Thus sleep helps move those memories into long-term storage so you can remember them, and by doing so, also frees up that space for new memories. 

Sleep is also essential for learning new motor skills. If you’re having trouble with say, playing a difficult piece on the piano, try again after a full night’s rest. When you’re sleeping, your brain is still actively working perfecting that sequence of piano keys you need to press. Thus the adage of “practice makes perfect” should be amended to “practice and sleep makes perfect”. 

Sleeping 6 hours/night for 10 days straight will cause a cognitive decline equivalent to staying up for 24 hours straight. And for those of us who keeps that exact same sleep schedule and think we’re “fine”, we really don’t realize how not fine we are because we think that’s our baseline normal. If you’ve ever wished to have more energy and be more productive, sleeping more may just be your magical wish-granting-genie.

Every hour in the US someone dies from a car accident caused by someone behind the wheel not getting enough sleep, due to the brain essentially “blacking out” to outside stimulus for a few seconds during a micro-sleep. As a perspective: a drunk driver is merely slow at reacting to say, slamming the brakes; a sleep-deprived driver going through a micro-sleep doesn’t react at all. 

Heart attacks across the US spike significantly the day following daylights savings when everyone loses an hour of sleep. The opposite is true when we gain back that hour in the fall: heart attacks drop the following day. And that’s just one piece of evidence that sleep supports a healthy heart. 

Sleeping 4 hours/night for just six nights increases your blood glucose levels so much you would be classified as pre-diabetic. 

It’s well known that alcohol can disrupt REM sleep. What was interesting is that alcohol-disrupted sleep can interfere with memory (and thus learning) even up to three nights later, even if you get 2 full nights of sleep before consuming alcohol. Therefore, if you have an exam on Monday, drinking on the Friday before will interfere with remembering everything you’ve studied the previous 2 days. 

Blue light, like those emitted from LED lightbulbs and the phone/tablet/computer screen you’re reading this from, stimulates our brain to wake-up and to stay awake. The evolutionary hypothesis for this is that we--and all land animals--evolved from marine life in the ocean, where the only visible light is blue, and therefore our brains recognize blue light as a cue to wake up. 

And that’s just a small fraction of the super interesting life-changing things I gained from this book. So if you found these tid-bits fascinating, I highly suggest checking it out!

#science #books #biology #sleep #sciblr #why we sleep #m

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 22: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 22:  When you close your eyes, you can see what your soulmate sees.

Content warnings: Sleep deprivation/what could be considered insomnia, food mentions, energy drinks, parental abuse, drunk abuse, mentioned anxiety attack, physical altercation, dissociating, school security, maybe PTSD?

Word count: 3.5k 

For as long as Remus could remember, he’d hated sleeping. 

At some points it got so bad he couldn’t function. Falling asleep at the breakfast table before violently jolting awake, asking his mother or teacher to repeat things four or five times until it finally clicked that they were asking if he was okay, staring off into space for what felt like a couple minutes, only to learn that it was several hours later and he’d missed dinner. Roman had gotten used to his twin’s habit of losing sleep, and although it never ceased to worry him, it became more of a given thing that if Remus forgot to do his chores, it was (most of the time) an accident. He’d walk into their shared room and snap his fingers in his face a few times, ask if he wanted dinner until Remus finally understood, and then help him stumble downstairs. 

It was also a given in their family that if Remus ever did fall asleep, whether in his own bed, or on the couch, or outside in the backyard, never wake him up. He so rarely got any rest whatsoever that the seldom times he was able to conk out, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be down for over twenty hours. In those cases, their parents would silently close all the curtains and shut off the lights if he was indoors, or cover him with their deck umbrella and lay a blanket on him if he was outside, and make it law to not disturb him. He’d miss school, it was fine, just let him sleep.

And it was all because of his soulmate. 

Because it wasn’t so much the act of sleeping in itself that he hated. No, the times he actually got deeper than the REM phase, when he was actually out, it was amazing. Blissful and relaxing and made him so hyper aware when he finally woke up. Like the colors were no longer dim and words made sense the first time they were uttered. It was the actual act of falling asleep, when he had to close his eyes but was still fully conscious, that he hated. 

He didn’t have a proper idea who his soulmate actually was. Every time he closed his eyes and their vision fused, when he saw everything his soulmate saw from their perspective, they never seemed to be around a mirror. That would have made life a whole lot easier, if he only knew what it was. Then at least he’d have a chance to save them.

It started when he was little, when their soulbond was just forming. Back then, it was still shaky and glitchy, sometimes showing what his soulmate was seeing, and sometimes just showing the blackness of his eyelid. He saw grassy fields of a park that he couldn’t identify, a dimly lit bedroom with toys scattered on the floor, the night sky from a window that wasn’t his. But then it morphed; playgrounds becoming littered liquor bottles on the floor of an unkempt living room, dark lego-covered carpet evolving from something once played upon to something his soulmate was thrown harshly onto, the view of the stars suddenly filled with the face of a screaming man. The man. 

Remus had no idea who the man was, but he knew his face well. He knew every fury filled expression on his drunken face, the way his nose wrinkled in disgust, how his mouth twisted and contorted as he screamed. Their ears weren’t connected, so he couldn’t tell what the man was saying, but it was punctuated with flying fists and hands gripping collars, thrown beer bottles and pushes to the ground. It didn’t happen every time he closed his eyes, but it had happened enough for Remus to suddenly jerk awake the moment their vision was shared out of pure panic. It happened enough that if his mother reached up to adjust his hoodie strings, he’d flinch violently, or when Roman snuck up on him just a little too quietly, his hands would fly over his face to protect himself. He wouldn’t develop bruises, or take the undoubtedly cruel things the man said to heart, but he was still affected. If he tried to sleep, and the man appeared in his sight, he’d bury his face in his arms, eyes wide and staring at his pajama pants, knowing what was happening to his soulmate however far away they were and he was unable to do anything to help. At least he could open his eyes and be free of the horrors. It was only in the rare instances when he’d close his eyes and his soulmate was already asleep, revealing nothing but the black void behind his eyelids, that he could actually sleep. 

When Roman awoke that morning, he blinked his bleary eyes and turned to the other bed in the room, sighing when Remus’ bloodshot eyes met his from where he was curled against the wall, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The bags under his eyes had worsened more than they had before. If he was counting right, this was the third night in a row that Remus hadn’t slept at all. The last time he’d slept had been days ago, and only been for a couple hours before he awoke with a sob.

“Are you okay?” 

In a move unlike Remus, he shook his head no. He rarely admitted that he wasn’t fine, but it was getting to that point of almost mania where his eyes glazed over every couple minutes, hands constantly shaking, unaware of anything around him.

“You probably shouldn’t go to school today.”

“It’s f’ne,” Remus mumbled, hitting his head into his arms, “T’st in Engl’sh. Gotta go.”

“It’s not like you to care about school.” Roman threw his blankets off, noticing the way Remus flinched at the sudden movement, and began to change out of his pajamas.

“S’nior year. Failing Engl’sh. Ac’demic probation.” 

“Ah,” Roman hummed, gingerly placing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in front of Remus. “Is English your first class?”

“Mmhm.”

“How about I drive you back home after your test?”

Remus had zoned out, staring blankly at the clothes in front of him, so Roman took that as a yes. As much as he hated letting Remus go to school when he was like this, he knew that if he didn’t drive him, Remus would find a way to go by himself and probably accidentally walk into the highway or something. 

By the time Remus zoned back into the real world, Roman had left the room. Lethargically, he changed into the lazy outfit Roman had placed in front of him and pushed himself off the bed, debating if he had the energy to brush his teeth or not. Just as he was considering just pouring the toothpaste into his mouth and gurgling it, Roman walked into the bathroom with an open can of Monster. 

“I have a stash in the basement so Mom doesn’t find them. Keep it down low and don’t take them, or I’ll cut you off.”

Remus didn’t even realize he’d grabbed the energy drink until he had half finished chugging the can, almost sighing at the immediate burst of adrenaline. 

“Hell yeah.”

“Get ready and be downstairs in twenty minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

It was an empty threat, they both knew it, but Remus rolled his eyes anyways and set about to brushing his teeth, pulling out his phone to check the time. There was a barrage of missed messages and notifications that he hadn’t been able to care about after sleepless night number two, so he sent back explanations to the people who’d questioned his disappearance and gotten up to date on what he’d missed on social media. 

He stumbled downstairs as Roman was opening the front door, offering him a bagel silently. Their parents were both at work already, so they locked the door and got into Roman’s car. Remus wasn’t allowed to get his license, not when there was a solid chance that he’d fall asleep behind the wheel. 

“I’m driving you home after English, capiche?”

“I’d probably skip after the test either way.” His hands twitched against his bouncing legs, still unbearably exhausted but now with his heart beating at a rabbit’s pace. 

“You are not walking.”

“Yes, mom.”

Roman let out a tired sigh, leaving the drive quiet except for the soft sounds of the radio hosts. When they pulled into the school lot, minutes before the bell, Remus was getting out of the car before it had stopped all the way.

“Meet me in the main office after first period, dipshit!” Roman yelled as Remus disappeared into the building, flipping him off and letting the doors close behind him just as Roman shouted something else. Whatever. 

While caffeine was perhaps his most helpful crutch in this nightmare that was living, it had side effects. As soon as his test paper was down before him, his mind completely blanked of every word he’d ever heard in his entire life. Though, in all fairness, that also probably would have happened without the energy drink. He was so used to barely sleeping that it had become a norm to him, but it wasn’t a healthy way to live, so even if he’d learned how to function on twelve hours of sleep a week (on good weeks), his brain hadn’t quite caught on.

The instructions for the test wavered and throbbed before him as he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to banish the blurriness from his sight. He could barely hold a pencil in his shaking hands, his thoughts somehow flying at the speed of light and equally as stuck and lethargic. Pretty much how he felt. 

“Remus?”

His head flew up, his unruly bangs flopping into his eye. Since when did he need a haircut?

“I’ve been calling you for a few minutes now,” His teacher said quietly. Although they were trying to hide it, he could see his classmates glancing at him from the corners of their eyes, “Are you alright?”

As if perfectly on cue, he could feel his mind zoning out again, vision going blurry as his thoughts disappeared. Vaguely, he could feel a gentle hand on his arm slowly lifting him to his feet, a voice giving a foggy command to the class, and then he was led out of the room, the painfully bright hallway lights blinding him. It also brought him back to the present, ever so slightly, as he was taken down the hall to the main office. In the back of his mind, he was grateful for it, because this was where Roman would pick him up. Did this mean he was going home now? Was the test over?

“-last time he slept. He keeps zoning out. I think it would be best if he went home and retook the test another time.”

Hm? He blinked hard, until his eyeballs hurt, to try and get the gears in his brain to start working again. The teacher was talking to one of the secretaries, and they both kept looking to him in concern. 

“Can I call someone to come pick you up, Remus?” The secretary asked, already flipping through her contacts book.

“His brother also goes here, and can probably take him home. Would be easiest,” The teacher cut in before the question had even fully settled in Remus’ mind, and he internally cheered. At least that was settled. And by the sounds of it, he could do his test another time, which was a huge weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have, nor desire, Roman’s perfect grades, but he at least wanted to graduate.

“I’ll get him excused from class. Thanks for bringing him by.”

Remus blinked again and realized the teacher had left, leaving him wavering in the middle of the office in front of a very worried secretary. She was saying something, her mouth was moving, but the words didn’t compute. However when she gestured to a dimly lit backroom, he got the message and stumbled in, nearly collapsing on the small cot in relief. The door was closed nearly all the way, leaving just a crack of light shining through. 

As much as a nice break the darkness was, it just made his eyes want to close farther, and took twice as much effort to keep them open. Pulling at the skin in the corners of his eyes, he reluctantly sat up and focused his stares on the miscellaneous anatomy posters on the wall. 

That was when his gaze fell to the hunched form in the corner, staring at him with dark glistening eyes, and he nearly fell off the cot.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He yelped. The figure flinched back, curling more into the chair they were perched on. 

“Sorry. She told you I was here when she brought you in. Didn’t you hear her?”

“In all honesty, no. I didn’t.” The two kept at their staring contest for longer than necessary, before Remus decided to break the silence, “So, what are you in for?”

For a good minute, he didn’t think he would get a response. The guy kept staring back at him, like he was trying to size him up, before he muttered, “Anxiety attack in class. Teacher forbade me from staying here.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah, well…” He finally broke the eye contact, staring down the nails he was picking at. “What about you?”

“Haven’t slept in three days, I think. Maybe four? I was all zone-y during a test so the teacher said I had to go home.”

“Damn teachers and their sudden respect for mental health.”

Remus snorted, resting his head against the wall. “Why’d you have a panic attack?”

“None of your business. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Soulmate stuff,” Remus answered easily, not put off by the other’s suddenly annoyed tone. It wasn’t common to be unable to sleep due to a soulmate issue, whether it was trauma or another issue entirely, but it wasn’t unheard of either. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Still don’t wanna tell me why yo-?”

“No.”

“I accept your rejection and will now take my leave to cry in the bathroom stall.”

The other boy actually snickered, a reaction Remus had been wishing for but hadn’t dreamed to expect. He waved a hand dismissively. “I hope you have a good cry.”

“Aw, thanks,” Remus cooed, leaning forward on his hands. “I haven’t seen you around. What’s your name?”

“Virgil. Only moved here recently.”

“How recent is recent?”

“Couple months.”

“Ah. I’m Remus. School disgrace, nice to meet you.”

“Oh boy, befriending the wrong crowd already.”

“I would be offended if you weren’t correct,” Remus grinned, hitting his baggy eyes a couple times with his fists.

“Virgil?” The nurse poked her head through the door, squinting in the low light, “Your dad’s here.”

Virgil stiffened immediately, casting Remus a look he didn’t quite understand before getting to his feet, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. She smiled at him and opened the door wider, gesturing for him to exit.

That’s when Remus saw him.

Him.

It took him a moment to understand that yes, his eyes were open, and yes, this was the man from his shared vision with his soulmate. 100% him, the same dark eyes and half grimace, except now wearing a pristine three piece suit that very much didn’t match his memories of him. He was signing a sheet, presumably to ensure that he’d picked Virgil up, and didn’t notice as his son stood frozen in the doorway, watching him with fear filled eyes.

Remus jumped to his feet, stepping next to Virgil.

“That’s your dad?”

Virgil let out a choked hum, one that was probably meant to be an affirmation, before gripping the strap of his backpack. “Why?”

“I’m your soulmate,” He said with absolutely zero tact, and the way Virgil’s face paled was enough indication that he’d understood. He gently laid a hand on the shorter’s shoulder, a silent indication to ‘stay here’, and marched towards the man at the desk. 

“Can I just say one thing?”

He looked up, surprised, and gave Remus a once over. His stomach twisted, being under the man’s gaze, the person who had made it impossible for him to sleep, now in front of him. Eye to eye, he appreciated, because in all the times he’d seen him second hand, he’d towered over him. Now they were the same height, and that brought a sick joy to him.

“I suppose?” The man asked, voice as calm and professional as his suit, looking to the secretary with an almost laugh.

“With all due respect,” Remus snarled, hand curling into a fist, “Fuck you.”

And then he hit him. Hard. All his pent up anger, years of watching his soulmate get beaten to a pulp, losing sleep until he was a zombie of himself, panic attacks of pure worry and fear, flew out in one punch, hitting him square in the nose and sending him stumbling back.

The secretary yelled something he didn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears, and suddenly two arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Let me the fuck at him!” Remus screamed, fighting against the grip with everything he had. The man was on the ground, staring up at him with equal parts horror and pure rage, dabbing at his bleeding nose.

“Remus, breathe. Just calm down, you’re okay. Just breathe,” A shockingly calm voice whispered in his ear, and he immediately sagged against his brother, the restraining arms becoming supporting. 

“That’s him,” He said weakly, pulling away so he could turn to Roman, “That’s him.”

Roman furrowed his brow for a moment, looking between his twin and the man on the floor, before his eyes widened. He knew all of Remus’ stories, being the one a young Remus would come to when the visions got so bad he’d break down, listening to his rants about the abusive guardian of his soulmate. 

“Call the police,” He deadpanned, turning his glare to the secretary.

“I don’t think Remus-”

“Not for Remus, for him!” 

A gasping breath caught everyone’s attention and the focus shifted to the boy still standing on the doorway, his expression one of absolute terror, staring at his father. Remus broke completely away from his brother to cross to him just as the office door slammed open, two security guards-- the secretary had probably called them at the first punch-- taking in the scene before them. He could vaguely hear Roman explaining the situation, glad that he didn’t have to justify anything because he would most likely just end up throwing hands again. 

Virgil watched him approach, almost cowering in on himself, as Remus extended a hand. 

“Let’s get out of here. You’re not going back with him.”

It took the shorter boy a second, a nervous glance between his earnest eyes and the outstretched hand, before he took it in his own. Remus let a relieved smile take over, interlocking their fingers and leading him past the scene. As he passed a still talking Roman, he swiped the car keys from his pocket with no one any wiser.

“He’ll notice eventually,” He stage-whispered as they exited the large double doors, making their way through the parking lot. “I can’t drive, but we might as well sit in the car until Roman’s done.”

Virgil was quiet, allowing himself to be led through the rows of parked cars before Remus stopped, unlocking the doors and sliding into the backseat, pulling his soulmate in after him. There was a blanket tucked under the front seat and he yanked it out, unfolding it as well he could in the cramped space. 

The shorter boy was shaking violently, trying to hide his hands and now bleeding fingernails in his hoodie sleeves. Remus, for maybe the first time in his life, opened his arms for a hug, and was genuinely shocked by how fast Virgil lunged into his grip. He didn’t have many soft spots, but he could make one for his soulmate. 

“You’re not going back to him. Over my dead body. We’ll figure everything out later, but for now-” He shuffled backwards, leaning his head on the window so Virgil was basically laying on top of him, “I don’t know about you, but I have about a million hours of sleep to catch up on, so I’m going to catch a cat nap before Roman’s done.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“And it’s not even noon,” Remus snickered, maneuvering the blanket so it covered them both. 

He closed his eyes, and for a split second, all he saw was himself, from a lower angle. It was disorienting to say the least, but before he could comment, the world was engulfed in black as Virgil closed his eyes as well.

And for the first time in… who knows how long, Remus wasn’t afraid to sleep. 

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #dukexiety #creativitwins #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #ts soulmate au

[elphiej]

Be My Light: Chapter 1 Shadows from Our Past

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: Language, violence, gun fight, mentions of abuse, mention for drugs. 

Author’s note: Hi everyone, here is chapter one. My editor and I had some conversations about the length; they wanted to shorten it and I wanted to leave it in tact for the sake of the flow. Let me know if the length is too long or not. Also, there are a bunch of easter eggs (bangtan lyrics, iconic outfits, ect. as we continue) let me know what you find. And, of course, thank you for reading and let me know what you liked. 

Tag list: @lalalalaloo-blog​, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng​, @barbikatherine​, @mrsfortune1306​

The sun had just begun to fill the windows of the Lotus Apartment when you stepped out of your unit, coffee tumbler in one hand and bag slung over one shoulder , ready for a gruelingly long shift at Central Mercy Hospital. You let your eyes scan the corridor for any signs of life; no one else in their right mind would be up this early, yet anxiety had you checking the halls before you felt secure enough to fully exit your apartment. Taking out your keys, you pull your door shut and lock the two deadbolts that had become necessary in your mind.

And not just because of the active gang activity in this part of the city.

It had been close to three months since you had come to Central. And over four since you had left your miserable excuse of a ‘boyfriend’; The lying, abusive snake that was Daniel.  Just thinking about him made your stomach churn. Your time in Central, alone in your apartment, helped you reflect on your relationship and how toxic it had been. At first, it was nice. He had been your friend. He had been supportive and kind. Then, he was your roommate, taking care of you and being your security in uncertain times. Then, he became your boyfriend. It was nice and normal, something you thought you’d never have. He was protective, at least that’s how you saw it at the time. Looking back now, it was controlling and manipulative. He would say things that you thought were sweet, but now you understood they were horrible things. He said he wanted an obedient, good girl; he’d tower over you and make you feel so small. And for some reason, you believed him. You stayed like that for too long. After you had taken a job, trying to help support the two of you, his behavior got worse. He started to drink, and his abuse became more physical. Afterwards, he’d always say how sorry he was, how much he cared about you, or how he only drank because he was worried about you. Somehow it was always your fault. He wanted you to quit your job at a small medical clinic near his secluded home, but it was your only escape. To make it worse, you found out he had been sleeping with another woman. And still, you stayed with him, because he had fucked your head up so bad that you thought you needed him. The final straw that snapped some sense into you was when you confronted him about the other woman. He had come home from drinking with her and went crazy when you said you were leaving. He screamed, threw you around the apartment, hit you. Then he trapped you against a wall and started choking you. Had you not been able to grab hold of a bottle he had left on an end table and hit him just right, you may not have made it this far.                                

You left that night with just your backpack full of clothes and the few personal belongings that you had with you, your cellphone, and the money in Daniel’s wallet. And you ran all through the night. You didn’t have a plan or destination but you just had to get as far away from him as you could. A small voice under all the doubt and fear that he had piled on you, cheered and drove you to keep going.  You didn’t stop moving until you found a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. The driver had told you it was headed to Central, and something in that name seemed familiar to you. It drew you there like a siren’s call. Central was so large, it felt like it could have classified as a country. It was the perfect place to disappear. As the bus pulled into its terminal, that familiar feeling came back in as you gazed about the large buildings. But you chalked that up to remembering that you and your father moved around a lot.

It was one of the few memories you had like that.

Over the last few months, you had questioned why Daniel had changed so much. He had been the first face you remember seeing after the accident. And he had been the one to break the news to you. There had been a terrible accident, a horrendous car crash. You had been in the passenger seat when the car had broadsided by a drunk driver, sending the car rolling into a ditch. You had survived but your injuries were so severe that you had to be placed in a medical coma, and the trauma had affected your memory. When you woke up, you could remember very little of your past; You remembered that you had studied to be a nurse and recently graduated, that your father had been your only family, and that he had been a high ranking police officer. Daniel’s face was something that you sort of remembered as well, and you figured that was why you clung to him like an anchor. But everything else was wrapped in a dense fog, shattered like pieces of glass that couldn’t be put together. Daniel had, also, broken the news to you that your father hadn’t survived the accident. He stayed close to you for over a year, helping you through therapies, reminding you to take your anxiety medications, and wiping away the tears. He was perfect. But then, it changed. And any time you tried to talk to him about it, he would brush you off or say that he was stressed out, but that he loved you and just let him do what he needed.

What was funny was that in the months since leaving him, a piece of a memory had resurfaced. It was of your father and how he didn’t seem to like Daniel all that much. You could only think of what your father would have said when he saw what his daughter had become. You did remember how he had taught you to be strong and tough, to stand up against the bullies. He would be disappointed now. You rubbed your neck where he had choked you, smelling his alcohol pungent breath as he said so many nasty things to you.

But you got out and for that, anyone should be proud.

Shaking your head from the bad memories, you shoved your keys back into your bag and down the dimly lit hall towards the elevator. You felt a tad silly looking over your shoulder, thinking one day he was gonna show up at your door and drag you back to that unsafe mind set, but you had learned from the support group you had been to that it was normal. Thankfully, you were about to have a long shift to distract you from all those feelings. The intensive care unit had been short staffed, and with the increase in gang activity, everyone was working extra hard.  Central Mercy was the most active hospital in all of Central; the others were less willing to help gang members or those targeted for fear of retaliation. But once they came through the ER doors, it didn’t matter what they were. If they needed help, you would help. Even villains need help, and maybe your help can change them, your father’s voice had echoed from somewhere in the foggy parts of your mind. Also, Central Mercy was the main hospital dealing with the current outbreaks of drug overdoses due to a strange street drug known as U4-1A, a highly addictive and deadly substance that had been making its way through the city. Mercy was more equipped for trying to save the overdoses that kept popping up. You had only seen a few of those cases, but the doctors who had been on the front of those, had described it as a mix of “ecstasy, meth, and cocaine all rolled into one deadly substance”. You shook your head. You didn’t understand why people would do that to themselves. But, then again, who would stay with a person who abused you for so long? As you stepped into the small elevator, you really needed a distraction from all these bad thoughts and your best friend, Amber, should be on her way into work by now. You decided to try and text her.  

Bless that girl, she had been a big part in getting you back into a functioning human being. When you had stepped off the bus in Central, you were overwhelmed by everything. You were scared, tired, and had nowhere to go. You had felt so lonely. You ended up falling asleep on a bench just outside the station. That is where Amber had found you. She felt sorry for you and took you to get some food. Once she had heard your story, though, she brought you back to her loft to help you. She had said she was in your position once, but never explained what she had gone through, and wanted to help turn you around. She had got you into therapy, got you to open up, helped you find a job in her department at Mercy, and found the woman you were sure you had been on track to be before the accident had set you back.

You hit the lobby button on the elevator, then reached in your work bag for your phone as the door shut. You felt your umbrella, wallet, extra shirt, and even your lunch, but not the phone. You prayed that you didn’t leave your phone in the apartment in your sleep deprived haze. It wouldn’t be the first time this week that it had happened. Your anti-anxiety medicine had finally run out, even after you spaced them out over the last few weeks. And your mind had refused to shut off and you had been plagued by nightmares all night. Finally, your fingers had brushed against the plastic case of your phone. You let out a sigh of relief. However, when you pulled it out of your bag, you wished you hadn’t. It had been the phone that Daniel had given you, and the one that Amber had been trying to get you to throw away for months. You remembered having a panic attack when she had taken it from you. It had been one of the only things you could call yours. She had returned it to you after messing with the setting. Amber didn’t want to take any chances of him tracking the phone, not that you thought he could think of that, and told you not to respond to him. He had sent a few messages in the first few days; he said he was sorry and how much he loved you, but you did as Amber had asked. There was a small part of you that wanted to reach out, in secret. Thankfully, the logical part of your brain kept you silent. Amber wanted to block his number for good, but you left it as it was. She had given you a new phone not long after so you wouldn’t be tempted. And you hadn’t turned the old phone on since then. It had been stuffed in a bottom drawer, only reappearing now when you had rushed to grab an extra thick undershirt and stuffed it into the bag without realizing it.

The elevator came to a halt and opened to the empty lobby. You knew there wasn’t much time to decide what to do. You needed a phone- a curse of modern society to not be able to go a day without it. If you decided to go back up to retrieve your real phone, you still had to find it from where it had fallen in the chaos of this morning. And by then, you would miss your bus and be late to work. Technically, this was a working phone. You hit the power button; if it turned on, you would just get on with your day. That was your decision. It sprung to life, still with a good amount of power despite how long it had been in that drawer. The home screen had a picture of you and Daniel. It made you cringe at the sight of those smiling faces. But it worked and that would have to work. Amber may not be too happy to see it, but you’d rather deal with her then your supervisor. Plus, you really had no desire to talk or see Daniel.

Though, that small, needy part in the back of your mind was still wondering if he had still reached out to contact you.

You got your answer as you stepped out onto the chilly, lamp lit sidewalk. Your inbox was full of text messages and voicemails. He must have sent two or three a day since you had run away. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear his voice. But, as you head down the sidewalk to your bus stop, you decided to read through a few of them.

-Y/N, I’m sorry. Please call me.

-I know you’re mad. You have every right to. I’m weak and dumb.

-Please, just let me know you’re ok.

-Honey, I love you. I’ll never drink again.  I never meant to hurt you.

-Please let me know you see these.

-You mean so much to me. I’ll do better. I need you.

-Honey, that girl meant nothing. I can’t live with what I did to you.

-Please call me. Yell at me, hit me. Do anything you want, just come back.

His last message came only two days ago.

-Honey, you must be out of your medicine. Please, just let me give that to you. I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t need to get back together. Whatever you want to do, we can do it. Just let me bring it to you. You need it and I care about you. Please, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please, let’s just talk.

               Wow, you thought, he seems really upset. That small part surged forward again, pushing you to respond since he seemed so sincere. But you shook your head. Amber had brought you to a counseling center she volunteered at where a survivors of domestic violence group met. And based on what they had talked about, and his history, you knew it was best to move on. Though, you were basically out of medicine. You didn’t know the name of it, nor had the prescription for it. Daniel had always taken care of it. There was a doctor at Mercy whom you were close with, Henry Na, who had offered to investigate it for you. So, you had given him the last generic, round, white pill. He had offered to prescribe you a basic anxiety medication to help you while he did some research. He had been a big help, just like Amber to getting you to the state of normalcy you had achieved. Hopefully, he had found something for you. You would wait to see what he had to say before making that decision. Or you could talk to Amber and she would slam the stamp of “HELL NO” on that whole thought.

               Not wanting to continue this train of thought, you sent a quick text to your friend to say you were on your way to the bus, then locked your phone and stuck it in the pocket of your scrubs. You were determined to make the most out of this day. Even after a terrible night, you were going to be with your best friend, seeing some of your favorite patients, and being away from your troubles. You just needed to get to the bus stop and out of the chill of the early morning. You pulled your jacket close to your body and quickened your pace. Living at the far end of town, while cheap, had its disadvantages. There was much gang activity in the outskirts, the bus stops were sparse, and all the main shops were a long way away. At least, for the moment. Ahead, you could see the outline of the new shopping center the government had decided to build in hopes to revitalize this part of the city. And while you were excited that you wouldn’t have to go far to get essentials, you hoped it wouldn’t raise your rent anymore. Your bus stop was just beyond the construction. You hoped that today would prove to be just as exciting as the prospects of the new shopping center.

               Little did you know, in the dim light of the dawn, just how exciting your life was about to become.

~*****************~

               If the outside wasn’t foreboding enough, the inside made up for it. It was dark with only a few work lights scattered around the large, open space. There were tall, arching pillars and small openings along the sides that were meant for food stalls, and a large, empty fountain in the center of the concrete floor. Loose wires hung from the unfinished light fixtures, while high scaffoldings and boxed materials were randomly spaced about. A cold breeze swept through the open doorways, sending dust and debris swirling about Bangtan’s feet as they took echoing steps towards the elevator at the end of the floor. Above them, there were large cut outs in the floor so patrons would peer down at those below, all in interesting and modern designs. Once it was finished, it would be very fancy and high-end, the complete juxtaposition to the traditional and family owned buildings around it. It didn’t belong there.

               Just like we don’t belong here, Suga thought as his eyes wondered about the dim area. Jimin was beside him, the sparse lights glittering off the studded shoulders of his leather bomber jacket. His face was sharp and serious, his eyes constantly moving behind his rose-colored glasses. And Jungkook was trailing behind, dragging the poorly trained spy with him. The bound and blindfolded kid had fought against the maknae’s grip as soon as they entered the construction zone, screaming unintelligently against the gag. It took a good smack on the back of the head and a threat of “knock it off before I knock you out” before he stilled and allowed Jungkook to lead him around. He, even, made an annoyed promise that he would not let him stumble or fall until they turned him over to his team.

               V’s voice rang through the earpiece Suga wore, telling him where to go. The elevator would take them to the top floor, opening to a reception area. And beyond that was the event hall where Choi and his group of assholes were waiting for them. V didn’t see anyone on any other floors, which meant that their passage should be safe. Just as a normal drop should be. But Suga knew that it wasn’t going to be normal. With each step, the uneasy feeling grew. With the confirmation of the General’s presence, old feelings from the past made Suga even more on edge. But he hid it from his younger members. He figured this was a trap; he and RM had talked every conclusion out. They just needed to get in and out as fast as possible. V had set some helpful distractions up if they needed a quick getaway. But all Suga was focused on was dealing with Choi and keeping his dongsaengs safe. He took out his cell and texted a quick update to the leader.

               “This place is huge! I didn’t realize it when V and I came here before. Let’s make sure we come back when it’s finished. Something this fancy looking is bound to have a Gucci store,” Jimin said, trying to ease the mood a bit. He brushed a bit of dust from his white Gucci shirt to highlight his point.

               “I feel between the two of you, you have enough Gucci in your closets to open your own store,” Jungkook replied, though he had his own collection of name brands to rival theirs.

               Suga gave little response as they reached the elevator. RM had texted him back, saying what they already knew; Get in, get out, and be safe. The leader had added ‘try not to antagonize him too much, hyung’. Suga had a gift of speech, known to the others as his ‘Tongue Technology’. He could talk circles arounds even the most versed debaters, and knew exactly what to say to break someone down. If he had ever decided to pursue a career in music, all of Bangtan was sure he’d be a master at diss tracks. When Jin had captured the spy, Suga barely warmed up before the kid broke from fear. And while he knew he should do as his leader asked, Yoongi knew that if Choi opened his mouth, he’d find it extremely hard not to challenge him. As all four crowded into the elevator, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his red coat and hit the top floor button. Jimin had started cracking his fingers and stretching out his limbs just in case he needed to be ready. Jungkook seemed to be bouncing on his heels with anticipation. A black face mask was resting under his chin. Suga reached over and pulled it up over the young maknae’s nose. He reached up, after, and fixed his black hat to hide most of his face. Jungkook was the only one of their members who Choi hadn’t seen face to face, making him the safest when he walked around barefaced. The boy had been quite young when he had joined them, and each meeting before the Generals had disappeared, Jungkook’s identity had been hidden. And Suga meant to keep it that way. Jungkook smiled at the action and nodded a ‘thanks’ to his hyung.

               “Just stay behind us until the trade is made. Block the door. And keep your face hidden. We don’t need Choi knowing who you are, got it?”

               Jungkook nodded again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

               The elevator came to a halt as it reached the seventh floor and the doors slid open. It opened to a finished reception hall with an ornate, marble desk at the end near the large, double doors. Compared to the rest of the building, this was practically finished. The floor had a mirror finish, there was a small chandelier above the desk, and the walls were painted with a dark contrast to the white marbled floors. As they stepped off the elevator, a strange crackle sounded through the piece in Suga’s ear. With each step, it got louder. He could see the small red light from the CC camera that V had placed under the edge of the desk. He knew V had been monitoring them, as well as the Royals, and he tapped the earpiece to signal V something was off. He could hear the young man under the roar of the static typing away at his keyboard, letting out a few curses. The roar got louder and louder the closer they got to the doors.

               “Hyung-…. Sug-…. Can you…” static “Wait they…. With them! Plea-…” static “Get-,” then a piercing noise overtook everything, and Suga ripped the earpiece from his ear. From what little he heard from V, and the tone he was using, whatever he was trying to say wasn’t good. Jimin and Jungkook looked at him, questioningly. It was clear that something wrong was just beyond those doors. But they were already too far to turn around. The Royals must have heard the elevator’s chime and their footsteps as they came up to the door. If they fled now, it would only be worse later. Suga gave a reassuring nod to his dongsaengs and turned towards the door. Jimin took his position beside him, a hand on his hip to give off the air of sass that his gang persona was known for. Jungkook pulled the spy close to him as he positioned himself behind them, eyes glowing with strength and determination.

               And then, Suga kicked the double doors wide open.

               The solid oak doors slammed against the inner walls of the large room with a big bang. Just as the lobby, it was practically finished, save for the large crates of fancy décor, some unfinished lights, some high work platforms, and a good polishing. The floor was the same marble and dark finished wall combination as the lobby, with large Roman pillars that gave the room a grand and expensive feel. There were high windows that lined one side of the room, showcasing a large section of downtown as it was bathed in the warm light of the dawn. Further into the space, two high metal scaffoldings had been constructed, high enough for someone to walk under and for painters to reach the vaulted ceiling in order to finish the commissioned watercolor piece; one was just beyond the double doors while the other was against the opposite wall at the far end of the room near the emergency exit. In the center of the room, surrounded by work lights, appeared to be a diamond shaped dance floor. There was a worktable there.

               And sitting at the table was Choi. He stood out against the sea of black suited goons with his silver fur coat. Choi always had an air of intensity about him, especially when he caught you in a stare down. He was like a cobra; smooth, unpredictable, and ready to strike without warning. When Suga had first met the General, he had overseen the breaking in of the new “recruits”. And the look he gave was enough to warn the kids to beware his wrath. Choi leaned forward on his elbows; his tented, gloved fingers pressed against his lips. His crazed eyes tracked Bangtan as they sauntered into the room, stopping just before the first scaffolding so to keep some distance between the two rivals. The one holding his spy stopped behind the other two. He tsked in disappointment.

               “Nice of you boys to show up,” he greeted in his deep, gravel voice. “I appreciate that you agreed to come to our location. Times have been tough for my troops, and this makes them feel more at ease.”

               “Safe it, Choi,” Suga said, his tone even but methodical, “I don’t need you to put on this little act of yours. You’re not doing this for your guys. At least own up to the fact that you don’t want to follow the Accords.”

               Choi made an amused noise. “Ah, Agust, I have missed that lip of yours.”

               Out of the corner of Jimin’s eyes, he watched as Suga slid into Agust, a second persona Yoongi had developed in the early years before Bangtan. Suga was cold and intimidating, methodical and quiet. Agust was the opposite. He was more aggressive, ready to set the world ablaze; where Suga was the bulletproof vest, Agust was the machine gun and ready to pop off at whoever provoked him. While Suga liked to take his time, his second persona didn’t want to. The shift was subtle, but Jimin had seen the wicked smile appear across his lips as he cocked his head to the side, spilling his platinum blond hair across his eyes. Agust seemed to vibrate with mischievous energy. Jimin hadn’t seen this side of his hyung in an exceptionally long time; only people from Bangtan’s past knew of Agust or he hadn’t been pushed that far to bring out the wildcard. However, he knew Choi had a way of bringing the worst out in them. This would be interesting.

               “Oh, I missed you too, Choi. But don’t worry, my aim is much better now. Can we just do this shit? I have better things to do and you are not one of them.”

               The amused look on Choi’s face slipped. “Such disrespect for your sunbaenim. This is why I requested your leader. He seems to have taken my lessons better than you.”

               “Sorry,” Agust pouted, bringing up his hands in a mocked apology, “but my leader has better things to do than play with a flea infested bitch like you. Wait, that was an insult to dogs.”

               Jungkook was happy he had a mask on to hide his grin; he always enjoyed when Yoongi-hyung fell into Agust; it didn’t happen much these days unless he was extremely angry or overly stressed. So, this was a treat to see Agust tearing into Choi like he knew his hyung had always wanted to do when he was younger.

               Agust continued, his eyes glowing with annoyance. “Seriously, can we move this along? We have your little spy here, all safe and sound. We even fed him, which is more than you could do. Let’s do this exchange before I get more annoyed. It’s past my Maknae’s bedtime and he’s gonna be cranky later.”

               Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh at that point. That drew Choi’s attention. A gleam appeared in Choi’s eyes that, even from that distance, Jimin didn’t like.

               “Now I wasn’t expecting to see you, Sweet One. It’s been a while since we last met. How have you been doing? Had your fix recently?”

               Jimin only glared behind his glasses, his hands clenched in a fist. He took a deep breath and tried to block him out.

               Choi stood up and moved to the front of the table. “What, nothing to say? I missed that voice of yours. So sweet and addictive. You know, sometimes I can still hear your sweet moans and gasps echoing through my memories. Begging and pleading, so needy and desperate. Makes me wish I had taken a chance with you when I had the opportunity. I can see you’re shaking from here. I have what you need, baby. I can help you feel all better. You just need to come over and ask for it. I can take good care of that itch of yours. I’d love to hear how loud your moans can get now.”

               Jimin felt something in him snap. He went to rush him, fist cocked back, ready to shut the bastard up. Suga threw out an arm in front of him before he could take a step. The look he gave Jimin told him to let him handle Choi. RM had asked Suga not to cause too much trouble. And since Agust had already made an appearance, he couldn’t risk Jimin starting something. Even if Choi deserved whatever Jimin had planned to do for bringing up such a dark part of their past. Suga’s reassuring hand gave Jimin a slight push behind him, which the younger man begrudgingly allowed.

               “Seems like you’ve become the responsible one, Agust. Perhaps you’ve gone soft on me, despite the bite. Fine, we should get down to business. But first thing is first; lets make sure that you followed the rules I sent to your leader. No weapons were to be brought with you. Chen, Yao,” he called over his shoulder, “search them.”

               The two suits stepped away from the pack and crossed over to Bangtan. Suga nodded to Jimin, who made his way to stand next to Jungkook in order to keep the spy between them as they were searched. The guards started with Jungkook, then Jimin. They searched Suga last. Both guards ran their hands through clothes, dipping into each pocket. So, of course, they found the small pocketknife Yoongi had slipped into the inner pocket of his red coat. Chen fixed the smaller male with a look, which was received with a nonchalant shrug. Chen was not amused by the gesture and grabbed him by his blond hair, yanking his head back. Agust grabbed hold of Chen’s wrist, twisting it as hard as he could before spitting in the thug’s face. Yao rose his fist to punch him, only to be stopped by Jimin, who had appeared next to him. Agust was intimidating on his own, but the look that Jimin transfixed on them was enough to send a message. Both suits backed away from the two before things got any worse.

               “Agust,” Choi remarked as his guards returned to their space, “how disappointing. Do you see, boys? They have no respect for us. They bring a weapon to a tradeoff. And when scolded for breaking the rules, he acts like a wild animal. They don’t even have the decency to dress professionally. Instead of business attire, we are presented with ripped jeans, flashy and cheap clothes-,”

               “Hey, I wore designer labels to this,” Jimin interrupted.

               “And the one in the back,” Choi continued, “look at how they teach their Maknae. Black cargo pants, hoodie, and wearing a mask and hat. Like he’s going to a club instead of meeting with his betters. Take that off and let me get a better look at you, boy! The least you can do is give me a proper greeting.”

               “Leave my Maknae alone.” Agust took a few steps forward, stepping into the primary focus. “He’s protecting himself from all the bullshit you keep spitting. You don’t need to see him for us to do this. Stop stalling. Where’s your goods? We took good care of your little rat. Now put up or shut up.”

               “You keep demonstrating how low you can be, Agust. Do you think you’ll become as successful as us acting like a classless thug?”

               Agust shrugged, tapping his long finger against his cheek. “I’m not sure about the secret to success. But I think I know the secret to failure and being an idiot. And that is to keep babbling like you. I’m really starting to lose my patients with you. Show me the fucking trade, else I’m leaving with your spy and I’ll do whatever I want to with him.”

               Choi nodded to one of his suits. They pulled out a suitcase and opened it. It was full of cash and ammunition boxes. “Satisfied with that, Agust? It’s way more than his life is worth. But recruitment has been slow recently. However, before we trade, I need an apology.”  

               “For what, your appearance? You need to take that up with your parents,” Agust sneered, causing Jimin and Jungkook to start chuckle.

               Choi slammed the case shut. “I’m over your bad attitude! You have disrespected me enough today. You show me respect, or I will demonstrate how I used to deal with you.” Choi reached around and brandished his ornate cane, smacking it against his hand. “You remember what I used to do to you. Now, apologize to me!”

               “Alright, I’m sorry. Don’t get angry. Your mom will be upset if you lose your only asset- your health,” Agust mocked with a small bow, causing Jimin and Jungkook to laugh. The shocked expression from some of the suits added fuel to the fire.

               Choi’s face took on a red shade. “Enough,” he screamed, his voice shattering against the empty walls, “You may appear brave and bold, but I know what you hide behind that smile, son!”

               Agust took another step forward, unafraid by his little outburst. “If I’m the sun,” he said, pointing out the windows at the rising light, “then you are the moon; as I rise, you go down. Though, I’m sure I’m going to be more disappointed in your tongue technology than your cohorts are with mine.” The roar of laughter from behind him only increased and sent Choi further into a rage. He lunged at Agust and swung his cane.

               Suga’s hands were almost as fast as his tongue; he grabbed hold of the cane before it could strike him. He pulled his face close to the General’s, his eyes cold and serious.

               “I am not that scared little boy you locked in the dark. I will show you that I’m the king here. I’m the boss. And you will end up just like your vile, worthless Maknae.”

               “You’ve gotten strong in my absence,” the taller man remarked as he tried to pull away from Suga’s grip. The younger held tight for a second before giving him a hard shove back towards his team. Choi took a grounding breath and ran a gloved hand through his frosted hair. “Remember Agust, our Maknae acted on his own. Against his boss’s plan. And you got your revenge on him for that. He damned himself, not his hyungs.  Don’t keep using that to fuel your hate.”

               “I have plenty without that.” Suga turned and walked back to his team. “I’m done playing with you. Slide that case over here. We’ll leave your man here as we exit out the door. And we will call this done.”

               Choi shot a dark glare at the blond’s back, before waving a dismissive hand at him, accepting that he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted from the younger man. He gave a nod to the suit holding the case, who slid the case across the floor. Jimin stopped it with his foot before picking it up. He thought it felt lighter than he expected it to, but the want to leave outweighed his curiosity; he was still pissed about what Choi had said to him. He turned his back to the room and made after Yoongi.

               Suddenly, Choi’s soft laughter filled the room. Yoongi remembered that laughter; the General had used it when he knew something they did not. Bangtan’s Second in command looked over his shoulder to see that Choi had a small remote in his hand. With a press, the double doors swung shut automatically. Panic rose within Bangtan. They were trapped! Jimin opened the case in his hands and discovered it was full of fake bills and empty ammunition boxes. Everything was a set up. Choi must have figured that they would have a surveillance too, and made it so he couldn’t communicate with V once they got to the meeting spot. Yoongi hoped that he hadn’t thought about a camera hidden within the room. Since V had been trying to tell him something before their communication was severed, he must have eyes in the room, at least enough to know he needed to get to them fast. Jungkook tightened his hold upon the spy, as if it was their only protection. He shot Suga a look. The elder shifted his eyes between both of his comrades, deep, stormy eyes narrowed in defensive thought. He had thought of this; he had many plans unraveling in his mind. Now, it was all a matter of finding the best one in order to get them out of there. The only unknown factor was Choi. Suga motioned for the two to keep calm as he turned back to the General.

               “Honestly, Agust, did you really believe it would be that simple? That I would let you come in, disrespect me and my troops, and walk out of here like you’re the one in charge? After all that you and your little boy scout brigade has done. I was hoping to send a little message when I scratched up that smiling fool of yours. And yet, your leader couldn’t grasp that and sent you right into my hands. It should had been obvious that you weren’t going to get out without a struggle. There is no Hallowed ground here. You are in my territory with a member of mine that, for what anyone would see, you have kidnapped. Therefore, I can have my fun without any fear from the Accords and their rules.”

               Jimin growled, “Since when do you care about the Accords? You already drew us here under false pretenses.”

               “They’re not entirely false. As I said, you have my recruit,” Choi remarked, his voice in a mocked tone of concern. “He was given such an easy task. And he couldn’t even do that correctly. It would see that some more training is in order.”

               Jungkook felt the kid in his grasp cringe and bury himself deeper into his hold. It was painfully clear that the kid had no choice in this life, much like most of members in the room. And from the stories he had heard from his hyungs, Jungkook was sure this kid had been treated much better in their care than anything in the Royals clutches. It wasn’t up to the Maknae, but he wondered if it was too late to try and take the kid with them.

               “As you know,” Choi continued, “recruitment has been difficult on me. And all the rookies have little to no talent when it comes to the finer arts of the trade. They would benefit from some more one on one training. How do you think we can achieve this?”

               “Well, when Ji just up and leaves like the coward he is and leaves his most useless General in charge, seems like a daunting task for you. Might as well just give up and disband,” Suga said in his methodical tone, causing Choi and the Suits to actively flinch at the mention of their leader’s real name said so offhandedly.

               “Don’t you dare say his name! I will make you regret that. And you’ll be the example for my new recruits. Like I said, my boys don’t do well with their basic training back at the compound. They need some ‘on the job’ training, some action in the field. And what better place then here. Since we are not on Hallowed Ground, we can let them play a little rough. What a splendid opportunity for all of us; they get to have a real experience and you get a few broken bones to send a message to anyone who thinks that they are above the Royals in the food chain. Do me a favor, Bangtan, and don’t give up to fast.”

               With that last smirk, Choi settled himself back against the table and snapped his fingers. Four of the Suits smirked and started to cross the room towards Bangtan. Jimin looked over at Suga. The steely member gave a sharp nod and Jimin pushed some of his honey locks out of his hair with a dark glint in his eyes. He heard Suga tell the youngest to ‘stay put’ as he set off at the advancing Suits. Out of Bangtan, Jimin was known as one of their best fighters. He had studied many different styles and always perfected his craft; from judo and taekwondo to kendo and target shooting, he was regarded amongst most gangs in Central as the most skilled. Jimin was, also, a well-versed dancer, having studied since he was a child. And that control and flexibility of his body only aided him when he decided to show off just why he was well known. As he was still seething with anger from Choi’s words, he decided to take out that frustration on whoever came near him. Jimin took off like a bullet and launched himself up to grab a high bar on the bottom side of the scaffolding. Using his momentum, he swung himself up towards the closest Suit, catching the young man off guard as Jimin wrapped his toned legs around the taller man’s neck. Before the Suit could recover from the surprise, Jimin let go of the bar and arched back into a backbend. Using his lower body strength, he pulled the victim over and down the ground with a loud thud. The shock knocked the air from the Suit and Jimin sent a sharp punch to the throat, to keep him down.

               A yell from another Suit brought Jimin’s eyes up. He got up and tackled the second. The new opponent was sturdier on his feet than the first, easily keeping himself upright and throwing Jimin back. Jimin recovered quickly; he ran to one of the supportive, vertical legs of the scaffolding, grasping hold and using it to spin himself back to the Suit, his heels colliding with the goon’s chest. The Suit stumbled back, chest heaving. Jimin didn’t give him much chance to recover; he was instantly back in his range, throwing punches and sweeping kicks towards the taller man. Being as flexible as he was, Jimin had no issues dodging and sliding under the Suit’s attempt at a comeback. While the bastard was strong and aggressive, he lacked speed and foresight. And Jimin had much of that. They had been backed further along the scaffolding towards it’s beginning, moving rhythmically around the bars and legs. The Suit had managed to grab Jimin by the collar of his studded jacket as he tried to get behind him and threw him face first into the ladder that lead to the top of the scaffolding. He clung to bar for a moment, feeling his lip start to bleed and his head ringing from the sudden impact. He could hear the asshole let out a laugh before charging at him. Just as the Suit was able to connect his jab to the back of Jimin’s head, the smaller blond side stepped him, and let the Suit’s hand make a cracking impact with the metal bars. Jimin got behind him and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The other man thrashed against his grip, but his windpipe was being crushed. The Suit slipped onto his knees as his vision started to dot. And Jimin took the opportunity to release the Suit’s throat and use his knee to hit him in the nose. Blood spattered over the dark denim as the Suit screamed in pain. He was silenced when Jimin elbowed him in the back of the head. After the man fell unconscious, Jimin ran his hands through his hair and adjusted the rose-colored glasses that had managed to stay on his face.    

               While Suga wasn’t as graceful as Jimin when it came to fighting, he was able to hold his own with the rest of them. He was scrappier, more calculative in his actions. The remaining two Suits had come at him at the same time. And just like Jimin, he used his height to his advantage, easily dodging under the sweeping arms of the two. The closest Suit had backed Suga up against one of the Roman pillars with his advancing punches, his back flushed against the cold stone. The bastard set an upper cut, which Suga caught and turned back upon its owner. He looked over the goon’s shoulder to see the second had a picked up a crowbar. Oh, fantastic.  The second Suit raised the bar and brought it down in a hard motion, only to hit his own comrade when Suga grabbed the first one and used him as a shield. The goon swung again and Yoongi moved behind the pillar just as it made contact, sending dust flying into the air. When he came back around, he caught hold of the bar with both hands and struggled to push back against the brute’s strength. The first one had recovered from the hit and caught him from behind, locking his arms around the thin gang member’s body. Suga threw his head back and knocked against the Suit but his grip only tightened. He struggled hard as the second guy advanced on him again. Thinking fast, he brought his legs up and kicked the second Suit hard in the chest, sending him to the ground. He thrashed harder against the taller man behind him. He was swung around until Suga saw the white pillar in front of him. He ran up high enough on the pillar and kicked back with all his strength, sending him and the Suit to the marble floor. The arms around his chest loosened enough to slip one out of the hold and use a reverse elbow strike to the goon’s face, hard enough to send him to the very edge of consciousness. Suga scrambled up to his feet as the second Suit barreled at him; he moved just enough to grab ahold of the Suit’s jacket and propel him into the pillar. Suga grabbed hold of the Suit’s shaved head and slammed it as hard as he could into the pillar as many times as it took until the guy slumped down, blood decorating the white stone. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the General, smirked before giving the Suit at his feet a good kick to the stomach.

               “That all you got, you son of a bitch?” Agust was out of breath, but still had enough snark in his voice to fill the room. “You couldn’t teach them how to fight their way out of a paper bag. I didn’t even need to bring out my tank over there,” he pointed at Jungkook, who smiled behind his mask and gave a little wave. “What were they supposed to do again? Teach me a lesson? Make me into the example to what happens when your fragile self-worth is questioned. If that’s how you teach your boys to fight, you should change your profession because your ability to make yourself look like an idiot is extraordinary. Your title should be ‘Moron Extraordinaire’ instead of ‘Washed-up Mafia Kingpin’. What you want to throw at me, now? Clearly, we can take you. And when I get out of here, you can guarantee that it’s going to be open season on you. I don’t care if your punk ass leader decides to show his fucking face. I’ll gladly spit in it and let him know how this little ‘bapsae’ took his place.”

               Choi looked down at the Suits, most of whom were still unconscious at Bangtan’s feet. His eyes flicked up to meet Suga’s cold stare. He gave a deep sigh and shrugged the fur coat from his shoulders.

               “Oh Agust, I really do wish one of my men had the foresight to break your jaw. That way I wouldn’t have to hear you anymore. I’m growing tired of this game. I would have hoped you would’ve gone down easier. It would have boosted the moral of the boys instead of their medical bill. Guess we are going to have to do this the old fashion way.”

               Choi reached behind his suit jacket and brandished a chrome revolver. Behind him, the rest of his guys pulled out theirs and pointed them at Bangtan. Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to get bigger as he took in the site before him. Jimin looked concerned as well, but tried to keep it internalized so not to feed their egos; his eyes were darting across the room, looking for places to shield himself should shoots be fired. Suga refused to break eye contact with Choi. The older General gave at laugh at the fronted courage. He cocked the gun and raised it eye level.

               “I have wanted to do this for a long time. When I was away, I had dreams of shooting you right between those cold eyes and wiping that fucking smile off that face. I remember when my brothers and I brought you under our wing; we had high hopes for you if we could break you. But you are just as stubborn as the rest of your ragtag crew. I hope your efforts were worth it in your mind.”

               Choi’s finger moved towards the trigger. And Suga didn’t move, just stared him down. Before Choi could pull it, a loud gun shot rang out in the space! And a bullet hit Choi’s weapon and sent it ricocheting across the marble floor. Choi spun around, looking for the source of the shot. Suga let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. Jimin rushed to his side, eyes searching for an explanation, as if Yoongi had some how done something. But the second-in-command was just as shocked; his eyes darted about the room, just as the Royals were making a commotion looking for the phantom gun.

               A deep chuckle filled the space, bouncing off the shadowed walls that made it seem like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Stop going on about ‘effort’ and more ‘effort’,” the deep voice commanded. “It’s makes my skin crawl when you say things like that.”

               Drawn by the voice, Suga finally caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and red pants perched atop the second scaffolding behind the Royals on the opposite wall. V was squatted on top of the platforms, gazing down upon the scene like a gargoyle, one elbow resting against his knee. The other arm was stretched out with his emerald green gun held tight in his grasp. Suga was half impressed that V had hit his intended target; the other half was annoyed he had taken that chance.

               “About time you decided to show your face,” Suga remarked. “What, did you take the scenic route?”

               “Sorry Suga-hyung,” V responded, his voice like black velvet. “They scrambled my signal so I couldn’t contact you. Not even on your phone. And, of course, I had the guys at the cars to deal with. By the way,” he moved his steely eyes to Choi, “your henchmen weren’t a fan of my ‘Vante’ mark on your tacky car. So I left them giftwrapped in the trunk. They didn’t play nice so they’re a bit bruised. Hope that’s ok.”

               V brought his hand up to flash his signature ‘V’ sign and winked at Choi. The General just stared back at him, his gaze disbelieving and furious. Then, he turned to his Suits.

               “Unbelievable,” he said, the hand V had shot the gun out of balling into a shaky fist, “the empire I helped create is being spit upon. And its members are just letting this bunch of misfits walk all over them. This isn’t even all of them! You are supposed to be the most feared, strong, aggressive men of the Mafia families. But you let a pretty boy, a shadow, a whore, and a foul-mouthed baepsae fuck you over time and time again?! I should just shoot you all myself for being so useless! Do you know what’s going to happen if you continue to let the Royal’s name drag in the filth of these fuckers?! I will make sure every single one of you begs for death before I’m finished! Is that what you want? Or are you going to do something about it?!”

               “Whoa, watch that temper, Big Boss,” V said, while smacking on a piece of gum. “Your face is turning a bright shade of red. It’s clashing with your suit. Not a good look for someone of your age.”

               Choi had had enough; he gave a sharp order to Chen who whipped out his revolver from a hidden hoister. He raised it at rapid speed and took aim at V. But while Chen was fast, someone was faster. A loud shot sounded from behind them, and the bullet cut across the captain’s arm. His arm spasmed at the contact and dropped his gun before he could even move to the trigger. Choi whirled around, eyes wild and enraged. Behind Suga and Jimin, both of whom were wearing a smug smile, was the shadow who Choi had dismissed, still holding their hostage in front of him. Jungkook had his arm balanced against the hostage’s shoulder, with his metallic purple handgun on full display. Even with his face hidden behind a mask, all could tell he had a triumphant grin spread across his lips.

               Choi grabbed his captain by the arms, uncaring of the bleeding wound his hands covered. “I told you to search them for weapons! Can you not do one thing I ask?!

               “I did, Boss! I swear,” Chen cried as Choi fingers dug further into his gunshot wound.

               It was Suga’s turn to let out a bemused noise, letting his head loll to one side. His hands came to rest on his hips, and he clicked his tongue in a disappointed fashion. “Oh Choi, you think you’re the smartest person in the room. You think you’re the only one with secrets. See, we’re not as naïve as you like to believe. We have the genius leader after all. We planned for every eventuality you could think of. You’re not as slick as you boost yourself up to be. But we played our part well to make you believe that, didn’t we? Since your boys lack the brains to think of creative methods beyond your orders, I’ll let you in on my little secret. Your boys did search us – they didn’t check your little rat.”

               As quick as he brandished his own piece, Jungkook pulled Jimin’s and Suga’s weapon from under the rat’s oversized sweatshirt and tossed it to them. Jimin’s was a polished gold, while Suga’s was a studded black gun. Both caught their respective piece as if they had rehearsed the moment. Now, they had four barrels pointed at the Royals. Bangtan was outgunned, but they were widely known for their accuracy and body count. That reputation alone was enough to worry the newer Suits. Suga’s cold stare drilled into the General as he held is gun steady.

               “Even after all your shit, Choi, I’ll let you decide how we do this; either let us walk out like nothing happened or we start shooting. You’re already down a few men,” Suga said, motioning to the four men still on the ground from their earlier rumble, either still unconscious or too scared to sit up. “Do you really want to risk losing more? After all this, I can’t guarantee that we won’t hit anything vital like with Chen there. So what’s it gonna be, Jackass?”

               Choi stared at the younger man; his face was blank and unreadable. Suga wondered if he was going to have to repeat himself, or if they could use that silence to back away before anything happened. But then, a crazed look appeared in the General’s eyes and a wicked smirk cracked his face. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders before taking a step back behind his Suits.

               Then, he snapped his fingers.

               The Royals opened fire with an onslaught of bullets. Bangtan scattered behind whatever cover was closest. Jungkook pulled his hostage behind a large crate and shoved him to the ground, ordering the kid to  ‘stay down and don’t move if you want to live to see adulthood’; he had protected the kid so far, he wasn’t gonna let him get shot for a stupid reason. The poor kid was too scared to do anything but shake and do as he was ordered. Jungkook leaned around the box and fired a few shots to try and cover for V. The gray-haired boy was running across the scaffolding, yelling out ‘one shot- two shots’ as he fired down into the Suits. He vaulted from edge of the platform and scampered behind one of the pillars where Jimin had shielded himself with. The smaller Bangtan member was an impressive shot and was managing to keep the Suits from advancing upon him. Suga was across from them, behind another pillar. From his position, it was difficult to get a clear shot at anyone and he was pinned down behind it. There was a crate a few feet from him that would give him a better vantage point to lay out the Royals. It would be a bonus if he would break down the human shield Choi had surrounded himself with, and stain that blue suit of his. Running away from the pillar into the sea of smoke and ammunition, he rapid-fired at the Suits, hearing at least one of the Suits call that he had been hit. Jimin and V were moving to a new cover, alternating cover shots over each other’s shoulders. Suga knew they needed to get out of there; no matter how good of a shot they were, they would run of bullets before the Royals would. He needed a plan, and fast. He looked behind him at the door Choi had rigged; there was a red light from the mechanical device that had shot and locked the door. The lobby had some decorative things that they could use to bar the door once he could destroy the mechanism. There were the emergency stairs just behind the Royals that they could use if they could keep their distance. Or both to split up the group.

               Behind him, Jungkook had slid a new round of ammunition into his gun that V had slid to him. He had moved from the very back of the room closer to the rest of his team. One of the Suits came running at him from along the side of the room. He easily showed him why they referred to him as Bangtan’s tank; he blocked the Suit’s punch before pistol whipping him, sending two strong jabs at his gut, and a final uppercut that sent the suit falling backward and his gun flying from his hand. Jungkook easily caught it in his empty hand and sent double the shots at the rest of the Royals. He ducked behind another set of boxes and looked to Suga.

               Three more Suits had been hit and were scrambling for cover. Those still shooting had changed weapons and released a new spray of bullets that pinned Bangtan where they were. Choi stood in the middle of it, almost as if he were a statue, with a confident grin still on his lips. He gave an order for the Suits to advance. Suga knew they needed to get out now. He rose up and fired, hitting two Suits and bringing them down. He gave a signal to Jungkook to come to him. The Maknae rushed over, both guns firing and keeping the Royals ducking for cover. Suga looked over his shoulder at the other two and called out. He gave a pointed look to the door and V followed his gaze. They had all worked together long enough to not need much to understand what the other needed to say. V looked back and nodded, knowing Suga meant for them to leave that way on his signal. Jungkook laid down some cover as the blond turned from the battle and fired four shots at the mechanism, destroying it. He turned back to see Choi look stunned at his actions, before ordering his men on.

               Suga grabbed Jungkook and leaned close. “Get to the back stairs. I’ll cover you and be right behind you.” He looked behind and called out to Jimin and V, “Get to the car! If we’re not there, just drive. We’ll meet up at the safe zone!”

               V and Jimin nodded and took off towards the double doors, Jimin kicking them wide open before V turned and slammed them shut behind them. Choi yelled out for a few men to follow them. Three of the men who had lost in their hand-to-hand battle with Bangtan, jumped up from their positions on the floor and ran towards the closed doors. They pushed against it but it was wedged closed. The blond smiled, knowing V had thought of the same things he had about securing the door to help give them time to get away. It held just long enough for the two to escape the lobby. Suga gave Jungkook a shove and the young man took off around the outskirts of the room towards the emergency door in the back of the room. Shots continued to whiz by him as he ducked and weaved between pillars and boxes, having a few close calls as he neared the back end of the room. Suga trailed behind him, pausing at each cover to fire back at the Royals. He managed to bring down two more of the Royals before he ran out of bullets. Jungkook finished the clip in the stolen gun and threw it, hard, at an advancing Suit, nailing him in the side of the head. Chen, still bleeding from his arm but determined to win favor from Choi again, had seen where Jungkook and Suga were heading and stood in front of the door. Jungkook ran at the captain and got locked in a hand-to-hand fight. Chen was one of the few present to offer a challenge to the Maknae, even injured. Chen grabbed one of Jungkook’s fists, as he went in for a cross jab, and twisted the young man’s arm behind him. Jungkook twisted, trying to get his arm free, but Chen held tight. So, he shoved them both backwards until the captain’s back slammed against the wall, throwing his head back to crack against the taller man. Chen let go, and the two were back to exchanging punches, jabs, and dodges.

               Suga was almost to Jungkook when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Choi moving towards one of his new recruits, one who was a terrible shot. The General snatched his gun from the Suit’s hand and rose it. And it was aimed at Jungkook in a fatal angle. The Maknae was trapped with Chen and couldn’t see what Choi had planned. Suga cursed and ran. Everything happened too fast.

               Jungkook had landed a sharp punch to Chen’s face, causing the captain to stumble back stunned.

               Choi fired the weapon with a clear target.

               Jungkook noticed Choi, as Suga shoved him out of the way.

#bts fic #bts imagines #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #yoongi x reader #bangta boys #ot7 x reader #min yoongi #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bangtan fanfic

[crying-in-a-stall]

Incorrect Sanders Sides

Virgil: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Roman: >:O language Patton: Yeah watch your fucking language Janus: OKAY WHO TAUGHT PATTON THE FUCK WORD? Roman: 'The fuck word'. Logan: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Roman: Oh my god they censored it Remus: Say fuck, Logan. Virgil: Do it, Logan. Say fuck.

Virgil: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world! Roman: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment. Janus: More or less, I guess... Patton: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that! Remus: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept. Logan: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

Roman: Hewwo. Patton: Hihiiiiii! Logan: Greetings, Humans. Janus: Three kinds of people. Virgil: I want pudding. Janus: Four kinds of people. Remus: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS? Janus: Five kinds of people.

Logan: Just be yourself. Virgil: 'Be myself'? Logan, I have one day to win Roman over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me? Patton: Couple weeks. Remus: Six months. Janus: Jury’s still out. Virgil: See, Logan? Virgil: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Virgil: Croissants; dropped Roman: Road; works ahead Remus: BBQ sauce; on my titties Patton: Shavacado; fre Janus: Miss Keisha; fuckin dead Logan: Logan, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Patton: We need to distract these guys Remus: Leave it to me Remus: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Logan, Roman, and Janus: *Immediately begin arguing* Virgil, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

Virgil: Rules are made to be broken. Logan: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Patton: Uh, piñatas. Remus: Glow sticks. Janus: Karate boards. Roman: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Virgil: Rules. Logan: …

Logan: Dumbest scar stories, go! Roman: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Patton: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Remus: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Janus: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Virgil: … Virgil: I have emotional scars.

Logan: Anyone d- Virgil: Depressed? Roman: Drained? Patton: Dumb? Remus: Disliked? Janus: Distrusted? Logan: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people …

Patton: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life Virgil: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years! Janus: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this! Roman: I knew I lost that potential somewhere! Remus: My moral code, is that you? Logan: ... Patton: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

Janus: Nothing in life is free. Patton: Love is free! Roman: Adventure is free. Logan: Knowledge is free. Virgil and Remus at the same time: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

Patton: What does 'take out' mean? Logan: Food. Roman: Dating Virgil: Murder Remus: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Remus: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff. Janus: I witnessed the dumb stuff. Virgil: I recorded the dumb stuff. Patton: I joined in on the dumb stuff. Logan: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

Janus: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Roman: 'Prettiest Smile' Patton: 'Nicest Personality' Remus: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Virgil: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Logan: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do? Virgil: Have everyone stand. Patton: Bring three more chairs! Janus: The most important ones can sit down. Remus: Kill three.

Logan: Good morning. Patton: Good morning. Roman: Good morning. Thomas: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit. Virgil: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

Patton: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything? Remus: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies Janus: Socks are Feetie Heaties Virgil: Forks are Stabby Grabbies Remus: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties Virgil: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies Janus: Stamps are Lickie Stickies Logan, annoyed: You are disappointments Roman: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Logan: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Patton: Three of us saw it, Logan. How do you explain that? Logan: *points at Janus* Sleep deprivation. *points at Virgil* Paranoia. *points at Remus* Delusional personality disorder. And you just believe everything, Patton.

Janus: Favorite horror movie? Remus: It Logan: Saw Roman: Annabelle Virgil: High School Musical. After watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Virgil: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Remus: ... Your what? Virgil: My friends. Janus: Are they saying “friends”? Remus: I think they're being sarcastic. Janus: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Virgil! All of your friends are in this room. Virgil: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

Patton, trying to convince Virgil to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong! Roman: And grumpy! Logan: And oblivious to reality! Virgil: …

Roman: You lying, cheating, piece of shit! Virgil: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD Roman: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING PATTON WITH ME Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

*Patton is cooking* Roman: Any chance that’s for me? Patton: It’s for Logan. I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need them on my side. Virgil: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

Patton: Hey, is Roman sleeping or dead? Virgil: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts. Logan: Yeah, so did I. Roman: Okay first of all, fuck you-

Virgil: Is stabbing someone immoral? Janus: Not if they consent to it. Remus: Depends who you’re stabbing. Logan, who was dragged into the dark sides meeting: YES?!?

Janus: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys. Patton: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap! Logan: Self-care is any necessary human regulatory function which is under individual control, deliberate and self-initiated. Janus: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Virgil: Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Roman: Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!! Remus: Lmao self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting. Patton: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Roman: You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of Nachos. Logan: That's the most hopeful thing I've ever heard. Virgil: But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any Nachos? Patton: Then tomorrow is nacho lucky day.

Roman, banging on the door: Virgil! Open up! Virgil: Well, it all started when I was a kid... Logan: No, they meant- Patton: Let them finish.

Janus: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night. Virgil: You were flirting with Remus. Janus: So what? They're my partner. Remus: You asked me if I was single. Virgil: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

Store Worker: Would a ‘Janus’ please come to the front desk? Janus, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem? Store Worker: points to Remus and Virgil Store Worker: I believe they belong to you? Remus and Virgil, simultaneously: We got lost :( Janus: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

Janus, driving Remus and Virgil: So how was your day? Remus: We almost got surprise adopted! Janus: What? Virgil: We almost got kidnapped. Janus: Oh, okay. Janus: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Janus: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container. Remus: The cow??? Janus: What? Virgil: Remus, W H Y?

Roman: Virgil, my old arch enemy. Remus: ... I thought I was your arch enemy? Roman: I have a life outside of you, Remus.

Remus: How's the sexiest person here~? Janus: I don't know, how are they~? Remus, flustered: I- Virgil, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!

Patton: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Virgil: I'm a knife. Roman, from across the room: They're the little spoon.

Roman: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Logan does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Patton: If Logan were to jump off a cliff, they would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Logan jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Roman: You jump off a cliff! Patton: Gladly. Provided Logan did first.

Janus: I know you snuck out last night, Remus. Virgil: Play dumb! Remus: Who's Remus? Virgil: NOT THAT DUMB!!!

Roman: Fitness tip, never stop pushing yourself. Logan: Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Virgil: Why not 9? Why not 10? ]Janus: Strive for greatness. Roman: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Patton, from the background: Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Remus from the background: Burn your ex’s house down. Roman: You can do it. I believe in you. Thomas: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

Remus: I can’t believe you live nearby, and you won’t let anyone crash at your place. Virgil: You people already know too much about me. Janus: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won’t let any of us crash at your place.

Virgil: Janus, can I talk to you for a second? Janus: Yeah, what’s up? Remus: Lemme guess. You and Roman are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss? Virgil: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

Remus: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Janus: Wasn't Virgil with you? Virgil: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Remus: Okay, help me please! Virgil: Got two words for you. Janus: I bet they won't be helpful. Virgil: Your problem. Janus: I was right

Virgil: So are we flirting right now? Roman: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU Virgil: That doesn’t answer my question

Patton: Where are you going? Remus: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there Patton: Can you get me a strawberry cone? Janus: Can you kill Virgil? Virgil: Can you kill Roman? Roman: Can you kill Janus? Logan: Can you not commit a felony?

Logan: It’s dark in here Patton: Don’t worry fam, I got this Patton: *Stomps their feet* Patton: *Sketchers light up*

Logan: So what do you do? Janus: I work in genetic research, and I'm currently trying to eliminate all Cancers. Logan: Wow, impressive. Janus: Then I'll move on to Leos.

Remus: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve. Roman: I think you mean cards. Remus, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

Virgil: We went through an entire character arc during quarantine Janus: We all became more evil if you’re curious Patton: We're still in quarantine, don't worry, there's time for a redemption arc still! Remus: I’m going to get worse on purpose

Patton: Am I in trouble? Logan: Take a guess. Patton: No? Logan: Take another guess.

Patton: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside Roman: *holding in a laugh* Logan: Patton, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn... Virgil: *Sips coffee from bowl*

Virgil: You kill people for money?! Virgil: Can I pay you? Janus: Virgil no- Remus: And all this time I’ve been doing it for free like a chump!

Roman: What are your goals? Thomas as Patton: To pet all the dogs. Logan: No, fitness goals. Thomas as Patton: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

Patton: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them. Virgil: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

Virgil: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my paranoia. I'll wait. Patton’s Card: FAM - ILY Virgil, tearing up: Okay.

Logan: I actually have a black belt. Roman: In what, karate? Logan: No, from Gucci.

Remus: Am I going too far? Janus: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

Patton, motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo. Logan: Babe, I’m right here.

Remus: You think I really give a fuck? I can’t even read.

Virgil: Okay okay stop asking me if I'm straight, gay, bi, whatever. I identify as a FUCKING THREAT. Roman, from across the room: You tell ‘em, babe!

Roman: You can de-escalate any situation by simply saying, 'Are we about to kiss?' Remus: Doesn't work for getting out of speeding tickets, by the way.

#incorrect sanders sides #incorrect quotes #incorrect sanders sides quotes #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil #roman #patton #janus #remus #logan

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 9/?

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: Y/N- Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best Friend’s Name)

I am sorry. lmao.

Half of my links are glitched tf out fuck this shit, touched grass yesterday but that grind don’t fuckin stop babey

Warnings: Angst - Injury, Description of said injury, Mentions of Jason’s past, Swearing, Dark Themes, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Jason clutched his right side as he gasped for a long breath of the cold, rainy air surrounding him. Everything hurt and he could barely move enough to text Dick that he was down. He would hold and add pressure to the stab wound sitting directly on his waist, but he could feel the blood seeping through the gaps in his fingers as he held it. His hands were covered by the blood and he was losing it fast.

He wasn’t going to walk this off by any means, he was going to need Dick to go get him and bring him back to the hospital wing of the Batcave because he couldn’t move and he felt his eyes drooping as he waiting and tried to keep his breathing in check, while Dick was scrambling to go get him.

There would be a few questions he would have to answer to Y/N. Not even just Y/N, to Lian, his Goddaughter, who he was planning on seeing in the morning since Y/N was going to a dance competition, or at least he thought she was.

But in that moment, so many memories flew back into his head, the hopelessness as he sat there for a few seconds, bleeding out after the explosion that Joker had set off on him. And then the minutes in the Lazarus Pit as he drowned himself back to life, the water filling his lungs as he cried and screamed. But no one came.

This time, however, Dick came.

Dick swooped his baby brother up and onto his back and he tried to run to the Batmobile as fast as he could, knowing time was of the essence for saving Jason’s life. Jason had broke off from Dick for a few seconds before this moment, and it was the only thing Dick was worried about. That Dick had said to come back to him, alive.

In the car, Dick put his hands on Jason's gaping wound, trying to press his hands into it as well to slow the bleeding, the Batmobile had the ability to drive itself, and Dick thanked whatever God was watching that it did. Jason was struggling for breath at this moment, and Dick was terrified.

“You’re going to be oaky, Jase. I swear. Please. Don’t die on me, it feels like yesterday that I got you back,” he leaned into Jason’s face, “Not again, please,” Dick begged and begged as he rushed Jason to Alfred, who was waiting to operate on Jason.

--------------------------------------------

Y/N woke up as always, this time, without a text from Jason. She thought nothing of it, thinking he was safe in his house with his loving family. She went to go get coffee to kick start her day, and A/N wasn’t in the kitchen. She, still, thought nothing of it, since A/N’s lover was over the night before and she had to turn up her music to ignore the sounds coming from the other side of the house. She sent Jason a quick text,

Good morning, Jay. I hope you slept well.

And she returned to her room, coffee in hand, to write some quick little stories about  what she had placed in her journal. Not many of the ideas in there were able to be built off of, but she still tried her best with every idea she had, to see if it could be something more.

It normally never was, but it was always something she craved. The ideas of writing a book always enticed her, but she never thought she was talented enough to do so.

She heard her roommate’s door open and then the front door as A/N waved off her lover. It was a quiet Saturday morning, and Y/N loved that as she dove further and further into her work, immersing herself in the story of two lovers who were destined to meet after one moved to the hometown of the other to pursue criminal psychology.

She couldn’t get her mind off of Jason. They hadn’t even known each other for a week but she knew he was worth her time. A few hours passed by from when she sent the first text.

---------------------------------------------

Dick held Jason’s hand as he was hooked up to many different machines, he could breathe on his own, but the IV and the blood bags were hard to keep Dick’s eyes off of. If only I had been watching a little closer, he thought.

Jason fumbled in his pain-induced sleep, moaning and groaning as he did so when he opened his eyes to find a worried, sleep-deprived and very rough-looking Dick at his bedside, to which, Dick collapsed on Jason in a hug.

“Thank God,” Dick breathed.

“What... what the fuck.... what the fuck happened?” Jason stuttered, like a blanket of sleep and drugs had limited his mobility and brain function.

“I don’t know, Jase. That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me, but then again, your blood alcohol level was suspicious.”

“I... I didn’t drink... drink that much.”

“No, you didn’t. But you did drink, who was with you?”

“I don’t... know.”

“I think you were roofied so they could get the upper hand on you. You almost died, Jase.”

“Come...c’mere,” Jason managed to say, and when Dick came to him, he moved on of his hands onto Dick’s cheek, “Big... big annoying... big little annoying brother.”

“Shhhhhh, little wing,” Dick comforted his little brother, “You weren’t supposed to grow that much taller than me,” he laughed, “Dickhead,” he laughed again, then sighed, and stepped back from Jason to pace back and forth, he was stressed, “I told Roy-”

“Will.”

“Will, sorry. I told Will that you won’t be able to see Lian today, he asked what happened, he might drop by.”

“He should... shouldn’t have to... see me this... this way,” Jason said, eyes pooling with tears, “No one... should.”

“Don’t know how we’re going to explain this to your little girlfriend.”

“Oh... Man... I like... I like her.”

“I know you do, and that’s an issue when you’re high as a kite in a hospital bed, bleeding out, Jase,” Dick tried to explain, “Especially when she doesn’t know you’re Red Hood, dumbass.”

“Oh,” he said.

“I know, Jase. If it was me and Barbara didn’t know, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he sighed, “Haven’t even met this girl,” he laughed.

“It’s... it’s only been... 5 days,” he stuttered.

“and 3 back-to-back, multiple hour, spanning days, worth of dates. You don’t do that with someone you don’t think should meet your family.”

“You’re... stubborn.”

“And you’re my brother. It doesn’t take blood to exhibit the same traits.”

“The meds... are... are wearing off.”

“Do you need more?”

“Not... yet,” he struggled with his words, “Phone?”

“I mean, yeah I can give you your phone,” Dick said as he went to go unplug and hand Jason his phone, realizing that Y/N had texted Jason he said, “Guess you have someone who wants to know where you are more than Will does.”

“Will cares,” Jason said as he took the phone and read Y/N’s text,

I guess it isn’t morning anymore, huh.

Well that’s on me for texting you at 6 in the morning after I know you’ve been working late.

And I’m going to see my Goddaughter today, so I’ve been sleeping in to preserve energy for her.

Can’t forget that she’s what, 1 year old? Girl must have a lot of energy.

Her name’s Lian, and yeah. She’s a ball of energy.

He said as Lian and her dad, Will, formerly known as Roy, walked into the hospital wing of the Batcave. The secret wasn’t hidden to the little girl yet because she couldn’t remember a lot. But, she sure did recognize her Uncle Jay when she screamed her name.

Will brought his daughter up and put her beside her Uncle, and she cuddled into him, he would hold her back.

“Hey... Will.”

“You look like shit, Jaybird.”

“I feel... feel like shit.”

“You’re also talking slow, bud.”

“Drugs... do that... Will.”

“At least you’re not dead, I have no idea how I’d cope or even explain that to Lian.”

“She... she has your... eyes.”

“She’s growing into my nose too.”

“Your nose... looks like shit... on your face.”

“Okay, dickhead. You’re bedridden but yeah, attack me like you used to, I’ll just pull the plug.”

“Lian... would hate you... you for that,” he groaned as he said it.

“Do you need more drugs? I can tell Dick,” Will asked.

“Yeah... I think-”

“Don’t worry about finishing that, Jaybird. I got you.”

------------------------------------------------------

The wet ground surrounding the house Y/N lived in was a representation of what she considered, the bad things, washing away from her life as she got to know Jason more. She wished they could talk more that day, but she did not want to take away time from him and his Goddaughter. Family matters a lot to Y/N, so a thought like that just seemed selfish for her to think when she knew that little girl needed him.

She didn’t think he got injured or anything from the Office, it was a safer place than the fuckin Wayne Manor hallways. She texted Artemis,

So, you’re Wally’s girlfriend, and Wally is Dick’s best friend? Am I hearing you right?

That’s basically the intertwine we have here, yes.

So once you’re in this family, you’re IN, huh?

Nervous?

Not a chance.

The thrill of flipping off pap hasn’t left you yet?

Does everyone know about that? And yes, it’s still massively fun to do.

Wally says Dick is the only one who doesn’t think its that funny.

Lame.

C’mon now, that’s my best friend, but yeah, that’s pretty fucking lame.

You’re the fun best friend, then. You see the fun in making a fool of the pap.

You know it.

Artemis knew of what happened on patrol between Jason and his unknown attacker. Dick had told Artemis to distract Y/N from wondering why Jason seemed drunk, if he seemed drunk. The extents they went to to hide the fact that they were the vigilantes protecting the city, they didn’t know if she was going to be able to keep the secret.

Jason would talk to her after that message,

That storm last night was terrible.

I wish that we were together when it happened. I hate lightning.

Well, you were in Cali.

Did I not tell you? My competition was cancelled because the entire country is fucked with weather.

Oh. That sucks.

Do you want to spend the night here?

---------------------------------------

Do you want to spend the night here?

Jason stared at that text for a while. He did, he wanted to spend the night with her, but he was in pain, hooked to machines, with obvious wounds and bandages. He couldn’t spend the night with her.

I can’t. I’m in Metropolis with Will and Lian. Can we reschedule?

Of course we can. As long as you make sure we actually get to spend the night together.

He asked Dick in that moment, “How... how long... long til I heal?”

“Depends. You’ll be okay-ish in 5 days, but in 7-10 we have to take out your stitches if you’ve been taking care of them,” he said.

“That... that long? Damn.”

#dceu #dcu #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #red hood angst #nightwing #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #Will harper dc #lian harper dc #wally west #artemis crock

[endof-theline]

Day 2- Tropetember: Coffee Shop AU

Day 2 going strong with a coffee shop AU!

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32328712

Sometimes Bucky hated working his coffee shop job especially since he's working to save up enough to get a replacement prosthetic arm since his current one kept breaking and it was more expensive to get it fixed in the long run.

Times like now, however, he didn't mind it, the customers were quiet and easy to deal with and most orders were to be taken away so Bucky didn't have to worry about cleaning tables while Steve was on his break. Sure Bucky's arm was hurting like hell and his fingers kept twitching without him wanting them too, but it was peaceful right now.

That is until a short, brunette man stumbled in with manic eyes and his whole body looked like it was vibrating, Bucky determined that the man was either drunk or high on something before he was in front of him.

"Can you make the strongest coffee you can morally give me, don't worry if you think I'll die because I won't, just the strongest coffee you'll give me?" The man asked as he leaned on the counter and Bucky had to worry about his morals surrounding coffee, Bucky just nodded before starting to add shot after shot into the drink while the man watched.

"I gotta ask if you're drunk or on drugs right now before I add anymore" Bucky realised, hand hovering over the cup with another shot ready to go.

"Not drunk, no drugs, just not slept in a while but I'm too busy and my friend took my coffee away!" The man explained, angrily slapping the counter before looking at where he had hit and giving a gentle rub like he was trying to soothe it "I mean, can I really call her a friend if she steals my coffee?"

"I guess not" Bucky laughed as he continued adding shots, deciding that now he knew the man hadn't slept for a while he wasn't going to give him as much as he had thought he would "Why did she steal it?"

"Go to bed, Tony, get out of the workshop, Tony, people aren't meant to live off coffee, Tony" The man, pressumbly Tony, mimicked a high voice and mocked it as he scrunched up his nose, Bucky chuckled and shook his head as he finished up the drink and passed it over. Tony took it and immediately took a huge drink of it, eyes widening when he put the cup down with a huge grin on his face "This is awesome, you are now my favourite person ever, Pepper and Rhodey suck and you are the best!"

"Thank you" Bucky couldn't help but laugh at the man who was still grinning at him, Bucky was about to ring him up when the man just handed him fifty dollars.

"That should cover it, right, keep the change and I mean, you personally keep the change because you are my favourite person ever to exist" Tony told him seriously before his phone chimed, Tony looked at the screen and squinted at the words "Fuck, gotta go, keep the money!" 

And then the manic man was gone, the customers in the shop all gave Bucky and each other weird looks before they collectively laughed about it and brushed it off, not thinking anything of it. Bucky rang the drink up and realised that he had been given more or less forty dollars as a tip just because he gave a sleep deprived man some horribly strong coffee, and when he told Steve about it the man just laughed and told him to keep it quiet.

Now that should have been it about the manic man, Bucky should never have to relive it and never see him again, that's how the world works… apart from the fact Tony was standing in front of him almost a week later and looking like he was about to collapse from exhaustion any second now.

Bucky quickly, and carefully, helped Tony to a seat as close to the counter as possible so Bucky could keep an eye on him if he needed to while he made Tony's drink before which the man managed to slur out that he wanted it.

"Not drunk, no drugs, just tired" He murmured as he struggled to keep his eyes open to even look at Bucky, but obviously recognised him when he muttered his promise. Bucky nudged the man's arm and placed the cup in front of him, the strong smell of coffee waking him up and getting him to gulp down the drink needily "Life saver, you're still my favourite person"

"And you are becoming my favourite customer" Bucky laughed as he went back to cleaning the empty tables, it was dead in the shop apart from the zombie of a man he was talking to.

"Good, gotta stay in your good books for this coffee" Tony mumbled as he put his head down on the table with a groan, Bucky looked and actually looked at the exhausted man this time and noticed the dark bags under his eyes that almost made him look like he had black eyes and the frown on his face.

"Friend still got your coffee I'm guessing?" Bucky asked curiously because surely the man would have stayed home if he was that tired otherwise.

"Mhm, she doesn't understand how much work I have to do" Tony said quietly with his head still on the table, he sounded like he hadn't slept in weeks and he only moved to take a sip of his drink.

“What do you do for work?” Bucky kept questioning him however as he cleaned up around him, preparing for the rush that normally happened when most people started to leave work. Clint would be getting here half an hour before the rush so he had another pair of hands to help with the coffee orders of tired, stressed workers.

“I’m an engineer” Tony picked his head up as he spoke, his eyes still drooping slightly as he smiled “I design and invent as well”

“That’s amazing, Tony! If you’re so good with mechanics I should get you to take a look at my arm” Bucky laughed and startled when Tony bolted upright, a look of intrigue and confusion on his face “My protestetic is a bit broken” Bucky explained as he wiggled his fingers in Tony’s direction that made the man’s eyes light up.

“I can take a look at it if you want!” Tony chirped excitedly and Bucky laughed again as the engineer made grabby hands at him.

“Sorry doll, I kinda need it right now” Bucky teased and winked when Tony blushed shyly, his eyes darting away before smiling up at him again sweetly “Besides, you just told me how much work you have and I’m saving up to get a new one anyways”

Tony nodded but Bucky noticed how Tony’s eyes were tracking his arm’s movement and typing something on his phone whenever it twitched and glitched, Clint came in just before the rush happened and Bucky couldn’t keep track of what Tony was doing or where he was since Bucky had seen him get up during the rush hour. By the time the rush had been and gone, so had Tony which Bucky tried hard not to feel sad about.

Bucky was surprised to say the least when he walked into work and Natasha handed him a letter, the letter was addressed to him but the actual address was the coffee shop. He frowned but took it into the breakroom to read as he got ready for his shift, he dropped his nametag with a clatter as he had to reread it again and again.

Stark Industries would like to formally offer you a prototype prosthetic, we understand that your current one isn’t fully functional and would like to give you an opportunity to improve the future of prosthetics. If you accept, the prosthetic will be free of charge but you will be required to work with the lead engineer to improve it or make adjustments when needed.

The rest was a lot of legal information and stuff Bucky didn’t really understand, but he was dialing the number they had given him before processing the offer fully. He accepted the offer and gave them all the details he could over the phone before agreeing to send over all his documents regarding his arm. The woman on the phone explained that they’ll get in contact with him once the first model of the arm is ready to go before he hangs up. Bucky decided it was easier just to forward over the old emails he had gotten about the arm instead of trying to type it out, he couldn’t believe that he was actually going to get a new arm and for free!

Bucky couldn’t wipe the smile off his face the rest of the day, immediately telling his friends and coworkers as soon as he could. Nothing could faze his mood, not even when his fingers twitched and he split stale coffee over his lap. Tony didn’t show up today but Bucky vowed to tell him as soon as he saw him.

It was only a week and a half from when he got the letter to his first appointment, he was instructed to wear loose clothes and preferably something short sleeved especially if he wasn’t comfortable taking his shirt off while the engineer was working with him. Bucky rode the elevator up to the R&D level of Stark Industries’ building, he couldn’t stop shaking but smiled excitedly when the elevator doors opened and he stepped into a huge workshop.

“Welcome to my lab!” A familiar voice cheered, his head popped up from a workshop bench as he grinned “Told you I’d take a look at your arm!” Tony jogged over to him and laughed at Bucky’s shocked face.

“You’re Tony Stark?!” Bucky’s voice squeaked before he managed to clear his throat, his eyes still wide in shock as he stared at the man who had been wild when they first met.

“The one and only!” Tony chirped happily before waving Bucky over to the workshop table where a brand new prosthetic arm lay, a panel was open on the side where Tony had been working on it before Bucky interrupted him “I just gotta adjust something and then you’ll be able to get it on and give it a test drive”

Bucky was still in shock and proceeded to be in shock the whole time, he had followed Tony’s instructions during the meeting and tried to make conversation that didn’t make him sound like an idiot. Steve was going to laugh at him forever, Bucky had drunkenly confessed to having a huge crush on the genius after seeing a picture of him on an advert and now Bucky was working closely with him and spending a lot of time with his shirt off.

It took months before the arm was fully functioning and Tony no longer needed Bucky to finish off and the arm was connected and working perfectly, the day they had finished the arm Tony had kissed Bucky’s cheek in excitement as they hugged tightly. Bucky decided at that moment that as soon as they weren’t doing these meetings, Bucky was going to ask Tony out on a date. Tony had agreed with a laugh of ‘finally’ and they immediately made plans for the next evening, the pair’s head beating hard and in sync as they stared at each other with dopey smiles on his face.

And hey, maybe Bucky let the arm get a little busted up after their date to give him an excuse to see Tony again and ask him out once more, Tony rolled his eyes as he fixed the arm with a murmured “Don’t hurt yourself to spend time with me, I worked hard on that arm and I’d hate to think you wouldn’t be able to hold me up with it if it’s damaged”

Bucky was in love.

#tropetember #eotl writes #fanfiction #winteriron #Tony Stark #Bucky Barnes

[thefanficmonster]

Never Alone

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder) ft. The Keating 5

Warnings: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Swearing, Trauma, Description of Injury

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: While working on a particularly tough case in the ungodly hours of the night, whether it’s due to the lack of sleep or the sudden need to confide in another human being, Michaela admits some truths to the person no one would think she’d ever do so to - her rival Connor Walsh.

Requested by Anon and requested as a birthday present by another Anon. Happy birthday darling Anon! Thank you so much for giving me the honor of writing you a birthday present though I hope the short notice doesn’t affect the fic’s quality. I accept the most brutal of feedback, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it! Enjoy your special day! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“You know, just because you’re still awake and staring at a document doesn’t mean you have an upper hand here. Whether you’re actually reading that file is what will determine who gets the trophy, Miss Shooting Star.“ Connor Walsh waltzes into the living room turned office of the Keating home, looking and sounding a little too refreshed for someone who has had the same amount of sleep as everyone else of the K5 - minimal. Yet, unlike his teammates, he’s still perfectly functioning, talkative and looking forward to being productive without accidentally falling off a chair after being consumed by the slumber his body is probably dying for. It probably has something to do with that cup of coffee in his hand - his tenth one today, if Michaela’s counted correctly.

“Call me that again and I’ll shoot the damn trophy at your forehead.“ Michaela hisses back at him, tired, stinging and bloodshot eyes never leaving the piece of paper she’s been holding, reading and re-reading for the past twenty minutes, never really managing to grasp the words written on it.

“Good luck taking it from Asher. The Douche has fallen asleep with it in his arms.“ Connor sinks down in one of the armchairs, leisurely picking up one of the files laid out on the coffee table, looking at it with little interest.

This time Michaela’s gaze does indeed leave the paper so it can land on her rival, as she raises an eyebrow that somewhere between shocked and offended, “That asshole’s asleep?”

“He’s not the only one.“ It’s Connor’s turn to not spare her a look while answering, “Him and Wes are as good as dead on the kitchen island. Laurel and Frank are most likely awake, but also most likely not working on the case. Well, not this case, that’s for sure.“ He chuckles at his own joke, seeing as how his correspondent found no humor in it, “So, it’s down to you and me and Bonnie if she throws us a bone, which I doubt she will.“

Annalise was very clear with what she had said. Speaking the whole truth here, the five college students weren’t really paying attention until they heard that very strictly spoken phrase: “No one leaves here until someone finds something. Anything” aka the last phrase their professor had graced them with before walking out to go meet someone important for the night. She had every right to be strict and maybe even a bit cruel to them after they all had been exhibiting typical brat behavior throughout the day. To make matters worse and the job even tougher, Annalise had instructed Frank and Bonnie to go home so the kids would really be left to their own devices. Bonnie had had enough so no amount of begging her was gonna get her to stay - it’s also been proven that no amount of voicemails are gonna get her to come back either - but Frank, solely because of Laurel, stuck around and has so far not proved to be any kind of extra help - the polar opposite, in fact, he’s been distracting them all with jokes and snide comments at how incompetent they all are. Now if that wasn’t the most hypocritical thing.

“If the pressure wasn’t on already, I’d like to remind you we have...“ Connor turns his hand over, checking his wristwatch, “less than four hours until we have to show our not-showered, sleep deprived asses in court.“

Michaela groans, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was actually glad to have an overnight task, something that wouldn’t allow her to go home, but this is beginning to be too much. What others would call ‘home’ Michaela refers to as or ‘hell’. It was place she called ‘home’ at one point too, but it wasn’t long before things started going south. And by ‘south’ I mean horribly wrong and toxic. The man she thought she’d one day call fiancée and then husband has now become a monster from her worst nightmares. Having grown up in an abusive household, Michaela had always dreamed of finding a place for herself, a place she’d feel safe in. With a person who’d love her unconditionally and provide her the security she lacked growing up. And that’s what she thought she saw in Miles. She wasn’t wrong for the first few months, the fucker was good at putting up a front, putting on a show for everyone to build a positive opinion of such a disgusting human being.

The mask started falling apart shortly after Michaela moved in with him. She didn’t accept his offer without any thought, quite the contrary actually - she pondered it for a week and a half, her heart taking the win in the end. Well, her heart may have won that time but it is now in pieces. Her eyes have never cried so many tears and her skin has never bled nor been bruised so badly before. She feels broken, alone, betrayed, hurt. She feels all she felt every time she got hit as a kid. She feels like the whole world has equipped knives and guns, each with her name on them, ready to put her through torture.

And she’s got no one to tell, because no one will know what to say back. For some reason, when people are speechless they tend to say the dumbest, most hurtful crap without realizing. Hearing that on numerous occasions before, she knows what effect it’ll have on her, so she strays away from speaking up about it. She’d rather be alone and battle her demons than present those demons to someone else who will introduce new ones into her head and life.

She prefers solitude and isolation over additional torment. It’s always been an easy pick for her.

“If you don’t wanna fight this battle on your own, go fetch me a cup of coffee.“ She instructs, half-expecting the turn-down she receives immediately afterwards.

“You really think I’m gonna help you when you are the closest thing to competition I have in this group of dimwits? Go get it yourself.“ 

Michaela rolls her eyes, wondering why she even asked such an abomination of a question in the first place. Finding her legs too dead to take her anywhere, she remains in her spot with a heavy sigh, returning to her attempt at reading the file she and the rest of the Keating 5 five have read through a dozen times today just to find nothing off about it.

“Hey, this one’s marked twenty-three, that one on the table’s twenty-five, where’s the twenty-fourth one?“ Connor suddenly perks up suddenly, cutting the short silence that had fallen upon them. With the least amount of energy she’s managed to save up, Michaela waves the file she’s holding, blinking away the blurriness of that clouds her eyes. “Give it to me, I need to make some comparisons.”

“Come get it yourself.“ She barks back with the same amount of spite he used barely a minute ago.

Unlike her though, Connor complies, finding that file necessary for some reason despite knowing it’s useless. It’s all pointless and they’re all gonna hear it from Annalise tomorrow morning regardless. But the most they can do is keep trying - trying to prove themselves worthy of that trophy.

Getting up with the most exaggerated distaste in his movements, Connor crosses the distance between the armchair he’s been sitting in and the couch Michaela has not moved from for hours, surrounded by piles of paperwork, folders and files. Much to his surprise, she doesn’t even put up a fight, clearly having been fed up with staring at the same words and not grasping anything for half an hour at this point. 

“Thank y-“ Connor is a syllable away from finishing his sarcastic statement of gratitude when his eyes land on something peculiar, he’d even call is quite worrisome - a large scar going from Michaela’s elbow to about midway down her forearm. It looks to be recent, given that there are still some dried specs of blood around it, “Holy shit....“ He mutters, carefully taking hold Michaela’s wrist as to gently turn her arm a bit more to the side in order to examine the cut, “What the hell happened to you?“

Not having realized what he was examining before, Michaela’s eyes widen when they follow his gaze and land on the very cut she spent an hour taking care of last night. That cut is the aftermath of a drunk boyfriend who wanted nothing more than a reason to start an argument with her when she got home. A reason to hurt her. Coming into work this morning, despite the high temperatures, she was stubbornly keeping a long sleeved jacket atop her shirt to keep the ugly remainder of yet another failure hidden. The relationship in and of itself is a toxic failure, but it’s built of other failures Mihaela blames herself for - she believes she fails every time he hurts her. She thinks she’s the one to blame for the failure because she couldn’t protect herself. So she feels ashamed, disgusted and is attacked by that sense of betrayal all over again.

Feeling these three emotions flooding in at the sound of Connor’s concern, she snatches her arm out of his grip, keeping the scar out of his viewpoint while her eyes scan the room, looking for the jacket she doesn’t remember discarding. “Piss off, Connor. It’s non of your business.”

If she had said something along the lines of it being an accidental injury, Connor might’ve even believed her and let the whole thing go. However, seeing hw distressed his question has made her become, he feels there’s a lot more to it than she’s letting on. So, fully aware it’s non of his business, he keeps prodding on for a reason even he himself doesn’t understand, “Maybe not, but that’s a concerning scar, you might wanna get it checked. In fact, it already looks like it’s infected with something.”

Michaela’s brows furrow, her distress growing into genuine fear as she removes the hand that’s partially covering the scar to check on it and try and see what Connor saw to lead him to make such an observation. Connor takes this opportunity to also get a better look at the cut and it doesn’t take him a while to realize what tool was used in causing it - a shard of glass. 

“Michaela, it may not be my business...“

She cuts him off with hostility, “It’s not”, but her words are choked up and wavering. Her voice is shaking like she’s seconds away from bursting into tears. And Lord knows crying in front of Connor Walsh is the last thing she wants to do.

“Right, but you can’t tell me that’s an accidental cut. That looks very intentional, very straight, and very much like someone inflicted it on you.“ Seeing her barriers slowly starting to sink despite her best attempts at keeping them up, he keeps his pursuit of his secret, for the first time genuinely curious to get to the bottom of what’s troubling Michaela and not a single ulterior motive in his mind. “You can’t tell me that I’m wrong. I’ve had my fair share of glass shard injuries in my life too.“ The girl’s gaze remains glued to the floor but Connor doesn’t miss the tear that escapes her left eye, sliding down her cheek. This only strengthens his will to getting the truth out of Michaela. “I know I’m not among your favorite people, but I’m not a piece of scum, damn it. You can tell me, Michaela. Believe it or not, you can tell me.“

Silence takes over, loud silence, the one on her end filled with the inaudible sound of her walls coming down quickly. She’s left bare and exposed. surrounded by their rubble and unable to look her rival in the eye. Though, is he much of a rival at this moment? He appears dangerously close to a friend. Hell, Michaela would even make a snide remark about it if her insides weren’t so broken - her heart, her soul, her mind, they’ve all been shattered, bruised and bloodied way worse than her skin.

“Turn around.“ She says out of the blue, the order sounding more like a plea especially when accompanied by another tear freeing itself from the confinement of her pride. When Connor doesn’t move, she finally looks up at him to meet his baffled gaze, “Turn around so I don’t have to see the pity in your eyes when I tell you I’m a pathetic victim of an abusive relationship. The punching bag of an asshole with a short fuse and a drinking problem. A failure to myself and my family. Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you think you have the upper hand now?“ Behind the tears that are spilling freely now is the mix of rage, devastation, dread and sorrow. It’s a dangerous combination that could cause her to pounce at him any second, push him away, take her anger out on him.

But that’s what he wants her to do.

He wants her to let it all out, free herself from all that’s been sitting on her chest. He wants to free her from whoever’s responsible for that scar on her arm and those thousands of little cuts on her soul, all still openly bleeding and unable to heal. He wants to save her. And it’s scaring him. He wants to write it off as basic human decency but deep down he know there’s something more. As much as the both of them would like to deny it, if one of them left the Keating 5 tomorrow, the other would miss them greatly. Threats, accusations, arguments and bickering aside, they are aware how great of a team they are. What a good pair of friends they could be if they just let their pride slip aside. But they don’t, and maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe that’s why they work so well.

However, even with that theory in mind, they’ve both let their pride go in this very moment. Walls and barriers have come down, lines have been crossed and they see each other differently now - More as fellow hurting humans rather than rivaling lawyers-to-be. Closer than ever, that’s for sure.

“Listen, Michaela...“

She once again cuts him off, “I don’t want your pity, sympathy or your advice. I don’t need you telling me to leave him! You think I haven’t thought of that?! You know nothing about it, you don’t get to judge me on my actions and choices!” She’s sobbing at this point with no hopes or ways of stopping the strangled noises from leaving her throat or the tears from escaping her red eyes.

Connor quickly crouches down in front of the couch so he’s at eye-level with  her, his hands taking gentle but firm hold of her shoulders, “Michaela, no! That’s not what I wanna say! Listen to me, damn it.“ To his surprise, this actually gets her to calm down and stop thrashing to get his hands off. Slightly relieved, he pursues what he started, “I know, I know exactly how it is. Every time he does something nice it outweighs the bad. It’s those good moments that make you stay, I know. But those moments are the rare rainbow after a ton of rain. They are not worth this pain and suffering you’re enduring. He’s not worth it. You deserve so much more, so much better and you are aware of that!“

“But no one else is!“ She snaps, her hands coming up to hide her face, “No one else sees my worth beyond the job I do or the person that’s willing to put a ring on my finger. No one sees me for me, Connor! My value is determined by what kind of men find me decent enough for their beds or family contracts! What kind of response do you think I’ll have if I leave yet another relationship?“

Her words break his heart but he doesn’t let it show in his eyes, he’d rather close them than let her see that pity she fears and despises. He doesn’t pity her, far from it, but a simple misunderstanding on her end could break this already fragile bond they’ve built so he keeps his feelings at bay.

“Fuck them! Michaela, you are an adult woman, they can’t control your life anymore! No one can! That’s why you need to cut ties with those whose opinions you fear most. I don’t know what kind of stick they have up their asses, but without them you won’t be alone. You’ll be free!“

“And you’ll still have us.“ The sudden and new female voice comes from behind them, right by the doorway.

Both of them turn to look in that direction to find the four missing members of this late case-digging session: the sleepy Asher and Wes with Frank and Laurel beside them.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but Michaela, you will not be alone, no matter what the context is. We might not be the best friends one can ever have, but we sure as hell aren’t monsters.“ Laurel continues, being the only one to actually take a step in the room while the three men stay put, uncertain of how to approach the situation. “I think we all care about each other to some degree. So, I want you to know, we care about you and we’re here for you. No matter how many times you leave us in the dust with your eyes on the prize.“

That remark manages to get a smile out Michaela even with the tears that are still not done rolling down her cheeks. Asher is also quick to pipe in, “I second that! Anything you need, we’ll be here. Need us to bust someone’s skulls - we’re your people.”

Scoffing, Connor shoots Michaela a look, “Now that’s an idea. Give us the address of that shithead and consider it done.”

She rolls her eyes, “Let me get my stuff out of there first. I don’t want you getting blood on any of it.”

Connor stands up from his crouched position and turns to the rest of the team with a determined look and a hint of a smile on his face, “You heard her folks! The lady wants to collect her stuff, and I’ll be damned if I let her do it alone.” He turns back to his temporarily-not-rival, “Come on, you can crash at my place until this friendly phase of ours fades. Then I’m dumping you at Laurel’s.”

She narrows his eyes at him, “Hilarious.” Suddenly her eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up, “Wait, what about the case?”

“Laurel and I found something, already turned it in. We were coming here to send you guys home.“ Frank replies in his usual reassuring manner.

“Ooooh, so you were working on the case after all!“ Asher comments, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“Yeah, we were. Unlike some who were asleep in the kitchen cuddling a trophy.“ Laurel retorts, sending him the most sarcastic of smiles. 

This whole interaction between her...well, her friends has lifted Michela’s spirits enough to get her up on her feet, “In that case, better get prepared to help me pack three large suitcases.”

And with that the Keating 5 (plus Frank) disembark, heading to their new mission. Walking out of the Keating household with four people, all unconditionally supporting her without even knowing what’s going on and one person with his arm tightly wrapped around her in a protective manner, Michaela has never felt more safe and secure. She might not love these people and they might not love her either, but they are all fond of each other. And if their fondness has reached the degree where they’re willing to accompany her and aid her escape from the hell she’s been trapped in this past month and a half, she’s willing to call them friends.

Some closer than others, but she cannot admit that knowing that in a week’s time her and Connor will probably be at each other’s throats again. And she’s fine with that. Rivalry’s a type of friendship too, ain’t it?

#how to get away with murder #htgawm #michaela pratt #connor walsh #asher millstone #laurel castillo #wes gibbins #annalise keating #bonnie winterbottom #frank delfino #flaurel #connor & michaela #sam keating #rebecca sutter #htgawm season 1 #htgawam #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #palatonic #platonic relationship #enemies to allies #rivals to friends #htgawm s1

[worldwidemochiguy]

Good Girl (MFEU Yandere! Taehyung)

...

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to be my Princess anymore then, hmm?” 

“Taehyung, I-”

“Listen, Y/n. I have been patient with you, even when you were being unreasonable. But this is the last straw. You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to see me? Fine. You won’t have to.”

...

MFEU masterlist

General masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, mental manipulation, mentions of abstaining from eating/self harm through starvation so be v careful if you’re sensitive to that <3

Word Count: 2.4K

a/n: this is a bit dark for the mfeu lol. this is kinda rushed bc i wanted to put something out, also i highkey hate the photo collage thing but c’est la vie i guess lmao

Good Girl

You are having a bad day.

This morning, you woke up to an empty bed, the lingering warmth on Taehyung’s side having already dissipated by the time your sleep-crusted eyes cracked open. He had only left to have a shower, of course, but that didn’t stop the jolt of fear and insecurity you experienced in his absence.

Since the day seemed determined to ruin itself for you, when you tried to cook breakfast to cheer yourself up, you burned the eggs. They were the last eggs in the fridge, and you let out a silent scream of frustration before settling for a bowl of dissatisfying cereal. When Taehyung asked why the two of you weren’t having a proper breakfast like you usually did, you had snapped at him.

Actually snapped at him. 

He recoiled, and the widening space between you lapsed into silence as he gave you the opportunity to apologise. You knew you should, but the words refused to come, and your tongue felt as unusable as lead. You kept your eyes on your Kellogg flakes slowly disintegrating into milk as Taehyung stiffly left the table, off to get dressed for work. 

 Which led you to now, with Taehyung standing expectantly by the front door, frowning at your still pyjama-clad self. 

“Baby, you have to get ready. You know how I like to be punctual.”

You petulantly keep your eyes on the pool of tepid milk in your bowl.

“Baby,” Taehyung repeats, impatience creeping into his tone. “You have to get ready now, or I’ll just go without you.” 

“Then just go without me.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Taehyung’s mouth fall open. You know his threat was empty. You have practically never forgone spending the day at work with him, and even in the exceptional circumstance that you do, you always have a reason. Not that you don’t have a reason now: You’re feeling bratty. 

“Why are you behaving like this, Princess?” Taehyung sounds shocked, as if he can barely believe what you’ve done. You scowl — you’ve barely done anything, you’ve just been a bit short with him. Given his own changeable mood, he of all people should be able to understand. 

“I’m not behaving like anything. I just don’t feel like going with you today. Is that alright? Or will you just take me against my will? It’s not like you haven’t done that before.” 

Silence.

Taehyung slams the door as he goes, leaving you to stew in a nauseating mixture of twisted satisfaction and remorse. 

You deliberately go to bed before Taehyung comes back, forgoing dinner just to spite him. How can he just expect you to come with him every day, just to sit in an office and wait for when he comes to give you attention? It’s not fair. When the door opens signalling Taehyung’s return, you shut your eyes and breathe deeply, mimicking sleep. 

Taehyung pauses in the entry to your bedroom. Part of you hopes that he can tell you aren’t asleep, almost like you want him to know that you’re intentionally faking it just to avoid him. Another, quieter part of you wants to go up to him and hug him, and apologise for being so unreasonable. You ignore the cold fist of guilt forming in your empty stomach.

When Taehyung slips into bed beside you, he gathers you into his arms like he always does, like he wants to be gentle with you, like an apology. You shift away from him, rolling to the other side of the bed with a sleepy murmur of protest. He doesn’t try to touch you again. 

You tell yourself you aren’t disappointed.

Getting out of bed after a sleepless night is never pleasant. You know Taehyung didn’t have a restful time either, tossing and turning all through the night, like he couldn’t sleep without feeling your presence, safe in his arms. Sometimes, he would tentatively reach to your side, and you would always shift away, even though your heart tugged uncomfortably beneath your ribs for every added inch between the two of you. 

You utter an unspoken apology to his shoulder blades — his back was now turned to you after he eventually gave up and rolled over — and then left to get in the shower.

You stay in there, waiting as the mirrors fog, and your fingers prune, and your skin becomes flushed from the heat — the water is just a touch too hot, verging on painful— but still you wait. As soon as you hear the door slam again, you get out, wrapping yourself in a robe you know is Taehyung’s (but he isn’t here so it doesn’t matter).

You drift into the kitchen, seeing the remnants Taehyung left after a morning without you. A half-drunk coffee cup — he only ever drinks coffee when he’s stressed, or sleep-deprived, or both — no empty plates in sight — he doesn’t eat when he’s worried about something, a habit you’ve been trying to break him out of and yet… look at you, being the very cause of his worry. 

Your fingers itch to take the used cup and wash it out, placing it back neatly where it belongs, but you refrain. You can’t let yourself interact with anything Taehyung has touched, lest he view it as a concession. You don’t even know why you’re doing this, but it’s easier to carry on antagonising him than it is to apologise, and explain that you don’t even have a valid reason for upsetting him in the first place. 

It’s ironic, you complained about being bored of waiting around for him and doing nothing at his office, but you’re doing the exact same thing at home. You can’t focus on anything, flitting from unfulfilling task to unfulfilling task, trying to keep the guilt and foolish acknowledgements at bay. 

You take the time to prepare yourself a meal, but throw it out once you realise you’ve made enough for two, just like you always do nowadays. 

The phone Taehyung bought for emergencies, just in case you ever needed him and he wasn’t there, rested temptingly on the counter. Taehyung must have taken it out and put it there for you. God, even when you are being so unreasonable, he still only wants what is best for you.

You don’t call him, even though you want to, even though you regret it, even though the thought of him sitting all alone in his office makes you cry. 

Taehyung comes home to a silent apartment. You are sitting on the couch, and you deliberately don’t look up when he enters. 

“Princess,” 

You don’t look up.

“Baby,” 

You reach over to grab the remote, and start idly scrolling through TV channels, despite knowing there’s nothing on that you want to watch.

“Y/n.” 

He hasn’t called you that since the day you met him. He never calls you that. You look up, and your suddenly fearful eyes meet Taehyung’s stern, unforgiving gaze. 

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to be my Princess anymore then, hmm?” His words are sharp, and they cut deeper than anything you would’ve thought Taehyung would say, even at his angriest. 

“Taehyung, I-”

“Listen, Y/n.” He cuts you off with a harsh emphasis on your name, and you fail to suppress a whimper. Why didn’t you just apologise when you had the chance? You never even wanted this in the first place. 

“I have been patient with you, even when you were being unreasonable. But this is the last straw. You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to see me? Fine. You won’t have to.”

“Taehyung, wait-” You scramble to your feet, frantic as you watch him dump bags of groceries on the floor that you hadn’t previously noticed.

“There’s enough food here to keep you going for a week. You have all you need, you won’t need to leave the apartment.” He informed you tonelessly, ignoring your distraught face. 

“Taehyung, why- where are you going?”  

“Away. I’ll be gone for a week. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“No! I don’t want you to go! Don’t go!” You wail, coming over to clutch at his overcoat. He softens for a second, and his hands come up to grasp your wrists gently.

“You don’t want me to go?” 

A sob crawls up your throat.

“No.”

His grip around your wrists tightens, just as his eyes harden again.

“Too bad. You can’t keep me against my will. You were very clear about the strong moral objections you have to that, after all.” 

He slams the door as he leaves just like he did this morning, but this time it’s you on the other side, slumping against it and sliding down to the floor, sobbing as you hear the lock click from the other side. You can’t even go after him. He has just abandoned you. 

……

The first day, you try to make a special lunch to cheer yourself up. You make Taehyung’s favourite meal, and part of you expects him to come swanning through the door with a bright, excited grin, grateful that you took the time to make it especially for him. But he doesn’t.

The meal you worked so hard on tastes like ash in your mouth, and you end up going to bed, leaving it practically untouched. You try to sleep, but find that you can’t without the reassuring weight of Taehyung enclosing you, keeping you safe. 

By the third day, you’ve given up trying to function like a normal human being. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you barely remember to blink. Your throat is painfully dry, but maybe that’s a good thing, because otherwise you know you’d be calling out his name in the vain hope that he might somehow hear it and come back to you.

On the fifth day, the phone rings.

You move with more urgency than you have had all week, scrambling to get to the phone. You fall over furniture in your haste, and don’t even take the time to register the pain because you’re so worried that the ringing will stop and you’ll be alone in silence again. You can’t bear the deathly silence of the apartment without him in it. 

“Taehyung,” You try to say when you wrench the phone to your ear so hard you hit the side of your face, but your voice is so hoarse from misuse and mistreatment that it comes out as a croak.

“Baby?” Taehyung’s worried voice crackles over the line, and you sob in relief.

“Taehyung!” You cry, before pouring out an incomprehensible litany of apologies and pleas for him to return. You have surpassed any remaining vestiges of pride. You need him here. Now. 

“Whoa, whoa, baby, slow down.” Taehyung tries to soothe you, and you fall silent straight away. You’re desperate to convey how much you need him here right now, but you wouldn’t dare to disobey one of his orders. 

“Do you want me to come back?”

“Yes,” You blurt out, tears becoming evident in your voice. 

“Are you sure? I thought you were mad at me…” Taehyung trails off in discontent, and you fumble to reassure him.

“No, no, I’m not mad at you. I never was! I was just…stupid. I was being a brat. Please, please, come back, please.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung deliberates, as if weighing the options, “I did say I would be gone for a whole week… do you really need me that badly?”

“Yes!” You wail down the phone, crumpling in on yourself in despair, “I need you! I need you here right now, Tae! Please! Please, I promise I’ll never be bad again. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“You promise you’ll never be bad again? Ever?” Taehyung repeats doubtfully. 

“Yes!” You nod fervently, despite knowing he has no way of seeing you. “Yes, I’ll be good from now on. I’ll be perfect, just like you deserve. Will you come back? Please?”

You wait with bated breath as he hesitates. He has to come back, surely you’ve convinced him, surely he’ll realise how much you need-

The phone line cuts off. You pull away to see the phone flash with a damning message:

The caller has hung up. Would you like to call back?

The phone tumbles out of your hand as you collapse to the floor. Oh God, Taehyung isn’t coming back, he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t need you like you need him, you aren’t good enough-

You are so deep into hysteria that you don’t even feel the arms wrapping around you, slowly rocking you back and forth comfortingly. As soon as you register the other person, you instinctively try to fling them off you. 

“No! Only Taehyung’s allowed to touch me! Only Taehyung, only Taehyung… only…”

Your words dissolve as reality crashes over you: Taehyung doesn’t want to touch you anymore. He doesn’t want you. 

“Well that’s not true, baby. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” A deep voice utters from behind you. Wait…

You spin around so violently you fall from your squatted position onto your hands and knees. There, crouched on the floor in front of you, is Taehyung. You don’t waste a second, flinging yourself at him. He catches you with ease and crushes your body into his embrace, pressing kisses over any part of you he can reach while you curl into his body weakly, like an animal in search of warmth.

“Oh, baby.” He sighs, beholding your pathetic state. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I had to leave you. I didn’t want to. It was agony every second I was away from you, watching you waste away like that… I never want to do it again. You’ll never make me do this again, right?”

“No, never!” You proclaim fervently as he sweeps you up, “I’ll never do it again. Don’t want you to go. Don’t go. Please.”

He gently pries your curled fist from his sleeve and intertwines his fingers with it, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I won’t go, baby. I’ll never leave again. As long as you’re a good little girl for me, I’ll never leave you alone, even for a second. Does that sound good, baby?”

You think back over the hellish eternity of the past five days. Loneliness, helplessness, isolation. You never want to feel like that again.

“Yes, Taehyung. Never leave me alone, please. I need you to survive.”

His lips curl into a triumphant smile. The punishment has worked just like he planned.

“Good girl.”  

#yandere bts #yandere #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung x reader #bts taehyung x reader #yandere kpop #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction