#has their own quirks must be some special kind of hell. she's doing great so far !!

[ridell-crimea]

I enjoy hearing what's in your brain (oof that sounds weird sorry) so who if anyone do you think Leanne would pick up bad words from? I think it would be tibarn he seems like he has a aggressive pattern of speech

hmm good question ..... Its probably up to debate but here are my Takes :

- tibarn is definitely on the blunter side of things, but- I think his experience with reyson was enough to teach him that herons can and WILL pick up your mannerism, so whenever Leanne is around he'll suddenly drop his tone and be a lot more gentle and polite. In the end i don't think she'd pick up any bad words from him (maybe one or two if she stepped in at the wrong time and place), but I can totally see her using vocabulary, sentence structures and maybe a bit of slang that are usually only used by people from phoenecis.

- i like to think that nailah, tormod, muarim and stefan all have speech patterns that slightly differ from those from other people in the army, since they all lived in autonomous territories that don't necessarily interact with the rest of the continent. Differences include idioms, minor differences in grammar and maybe some little differences in their pronunciation, and Leanne gets lost really easily when talking to them because she struggles telling apart standard and regional languages and tends to mix them up. Now, I don't think nailah or muarim would teach her bad words because they're both very distinguished. Stefan... might use bad words in Leanne's presence, but probably not enough for her to remember them, since they'd be a bit specific and she wouldn't hear them much outside of that. Tormod? I think hanging out with sothe completly desensitized him to bad words as a concept so, YEAH, he's probably responsible for some bad habits of hers

- After interacting with Nephenee for a bit, Leanne also picks up EXTREMELY specific slang from the countryside. She never explicitly asked what it means and only vaguely knows with the context, so she tends to use it incorrectly and it makes it even more confusing for everyone

- i can see elincia being a bit too spontaneous and accidentally slipping a few times, especially in PoR when she is a bit awkward and isn't completly used to speaking with nobility.... Nothing too shocking, but just enough that she'd feel bad for teaching her that 😔

- mist. mist is a teenager and hangs out with Ike and Boyd and Soren so what exactly would you expect? She's nice but i think she may have done the most damage in this group. at some point reyson dropped the f word with her, she repeated it to ike who casually dropped it during an important and official meeting, and that's the story of how soren showed up to threaten reyson because he's a "bad influence for everyone". (well the thing is, mist is the one who taught reyson the word in the first place. shes known it since she was 8 and doesn't use it too liberally but will gladly educates anyone who might need it). Anyways, I'm still a sucker for Mist showing interest in ancient language so I think it'd be nice if Leanne and her studied together.... Leanne explains how to be mean in her language and Mist teaches her the f word it's called equivalent exchange !

- Reyson... Contributes? He doesn't completly approve of this, but he's glad to see his sister making progress, and since he's the most proficient in both languages he became some sort of walking dictionary. He won't teach Leanne bad things, but if she comes up to him and asks what that awful word tormod just said means, who is he to get in the way of knowledge 😔

- Oh it drives naesala completly crazy btw. At first he's genuinely upset because ever since they've been kids he's ALWAYS been watching his language around Leanne so she would be a distinguished lady or whatever. But after hearing her saying shitty stuff with her gentle voice he decided it was funny and may have changed his mind

But yeah, ultimately this is all about modern language - in my heart i know Leanne could and would say whatever is the ancient language equivalent of the f word at any given moment✌️

#(rereads your ask) hm i may have gotten carried away #but i have very specific takes about Leanne... i think learning a language in an army where everyone comes from a different place and likel #has their own quirks must be some special kind of hell. she's doing great so far !! #asks #long post #sorry for not adding a cut im on mobile

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 15- Adrenaline

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for unprotected sex, semi-public sex, lots of dirty talk, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, creampie/minor cumplay, size kink, and like one (1) line that’s sort of degradation

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

Bakugo looks surprised when you show up to Ground Zero in a cropped hoodie and jeans instead of your hero costume. “What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks although by now you know him well enough to know he doesn’t mean it as negatively as it sounds. “Hero costumes would be a little bit conspicuous don’t you think Mr. Explosion Murder God,” you reply with a raised eyebrow before making a pointed glance at the large gauntlets of his own costume. The overall design of Bakugo’s costume has gotten a lot more streamlined since the two of you were in high school, with some of the flashier pieces being done away with, but a lot of the core elements have stayed the same. You can tell the moment he realizes you have a good point because he gets a vaguely disgruntled and yet begrudgingly accepting look on his face as he declares he’s going in to change. It shouldn’t be nearly as endearing as it is. Kirishima walks out shortly afterwards to start his patrol so the two of you get to take some time to catch up and he keeps you occupied until Bakugo returns. The man looks absolutely sinful in a gray Henley, the sleeves once again pushed up to his elbows, and jeans. Kiri has to nudge you hard in the side to snap your attention back to him, much to your chagrin. It doesn’t seem to bother him though as he just waggles his eyebrows at you before declaring he’s heading out with a wave. “What were you talking to shitty hair about?” Bakugo asks, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “Ah nothing much, just catching up. We should do a big hang soon, it’s been awhile since I saw Denki and Midoriya too,” you note. “Whatever,” Bakugo grumbles as you start leading him to the warehouse. “I know you hate this kind of thing but could you coordinate with the guys? I’ll handle the girls and maybe I can swing Shinso too. I just think it’d be nice since I kind of ruined their reunion yknow?” you shrug. Bakugo gives you a look then, almost calculating, as he tries to figure out what to say. “You didn’t ruin anything dumbass. I’ll talk to the idiots about it,” he finally tells you. “Yea?” “Yea. Now hurry up and take me to this fucking warehouse.”

You hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to stay unrecognized even in your civilian clothes. Multiple times you and Bakugo have to duck your heads close together or squeeze into some alleyway to avoid someone recognizing who the two of you are. Thankfully as you get deeper into the warehouse district where it’s far less populated it gets much easier to maintain your anonymity. It doesn’t take long to find the warehouse in question and sure enough you can already see the high grade equipment in what is supposed to be an abandoned building. The two of you crept inside and made your way through the building, first identifying the two men you’d been tracking and then checking to make sure they were alone. Once you’d confirmed they were the only two around you and Bakugo attacked.

Bakugo could watch you fight for hours on end and be no less amazed by it. Your quirk isn’t in and of itself anything special but the way you use it is so effortless and it’s obvious you’ve taken a great deal of time to learn precisely how best to utilize it. Your fighting style is almost graceful in its execution and it’s what had initially drawn Bakugo to you and made him so sure you’d be taking a spot in the top ten this past season. It makes him want to show off more, as if in hope that maybe just maybe you admire his fighting skills as much as he admires yours. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to subdue the villains but then you get this look in your eye and immediately Bakugo is suspicious. “Take them outside and call the cops to round them up, I wanna check something out,” you tell Bakugo, already starting to drift deeper into the warehouse. “What the fuck are you up to idiot?” Bakugo huffs even as worry starts to creep in. “Just trust me! I’ll be right out,” you promise before rushing off before he can stop you.

Bakugo growls out his displeasure but there’s not much he can do other than listen to you. He grabs both the unconscious villains, hefting one over his shoulder as he drags the other outside. Bakugo does trust you so he stays put until the cops can show up and start cuffing the villains. When you still haven’t re-emerged by the time the cops are carting the villains away he decides to go back in after you. He’s inside maybe a couple minute before he finds you sprinting full speed towards him chanting a frantic litany of “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” “What the hell-“ “We gotta move!” is the only explanation you provide before you grab hold of his hand and tug him hard after you. It doesn’t take long for Bakugo to match your pace but before he can interrogate you further he hears a loud booming noise erupting from deeper into the warehouse. He’s set off enough of his own explosions to know what one sounds like. The booming noises are only getting closer and closer and there’s no way the two of you are going to make it to the main entrance so Bakugo course corrects you both towards the nearest window. Just as the largest one yet starts to set the room the two of you are in aflame he grabs hold of you and pulls you into his body, shielding you from the blast as he sends you both flying out the window and into the back alley behind the warehouse.

The two of you manage to land relatively unscathed so you heave out a sigh of relief as you stand and brush yourself off before checking for injuries. “You good Dynamight?” you ask but before you can look to him for an answer you’re suddenly being shoved against one of the brick walls of the alley. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Bakugo demands, carmine eyes burning with his signature temper as he pins you to the wall with one arm across your chest, just below your collarbone, and his other hand planted on the wall next to you to stop you from escaping. “I was thinking that that bust would be for nothing if we didn’t destroy the supply chain as well,” you huff, not backing down even though being this close to Bakugo is admittedly distracting. “So the explosions were fucking intentional?” “Well I didn’t know they’d be that big!” “You could’ve gotten hurt!” “But did we die though?” Something in Bakugo visibly snaps at your flippant comment and you’re half expecting him to literally blast you through the wall you’re still pressed against.

Imagine your surprise when you feel his mouth on yours instead.

You’re quick to get with the program, kissing him back before he can do something stupid like pull away and it only makes him even more aggressive. The arm pressed to your chest drops so his hand can grasp onto your bare waist instead. He kisses you like a man possessed, every ounce of adrenaline and pent up lust fueling him as he slots his thigh between your legs and grinds in the most delicious way. His erection presses insistently into your hip and god it’s so fucking big. Your mind practically spins as fantasy becomes reality in front of you. It’s almost embarrassing how turned on you are already just from his kiss but then the hand at your waist sneaks up beneath your shirt to grasp at one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging with just the right pressure as his thigh once again grinds into that sensitive spot between your legs and you can’t help but let out a gasp. Bakugo takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, desperate to finally taste you the way he never could in his fantasies. The two of you shouldn’t be doing any of this in an alley of all places where someone may walk by, but that doesn’t seem to bother Bakugo at all as he uses the hand not currently fondling your breast to unbutton and unzip your jeans. He wastes no time slipping his hand past the waistband of your pants and panties to finally touch your bare sex and a possessive growl rips out of his chest as he feels for himself how much of an effect he has on you. “You’re so fucking wet for me already. You this much of a slut for everybody or just for me?” he growls in your ear as his fingers skate along your pussy, collecting your juices and so tantalizingly close to where you really want them. “Just for you,” you pant and it must be the correct answer because you’re rewarded with two of his dexterous fingers sliding inside of your cunt. Your hands fly to his shoulder and reel him in closer, fisting the material of his shirt as you keen and whimper. Your eyes squeeze shut, head bowing as the sensation of his fingers stroking along your inner walls continues to drive you insane. As amazing as his fingers feel though, your mind keeps wandering back to the bulge you’d felt against your hip only a moment prior and you know it isn’t enough. “P-please. I need-“ you beg but you can barely get the words out as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive clit. “Look at me,” Bakugo commands, the hand not currently shoved in your pants slipping back down to your waist. It takes a moment but finally you force yourself to look into his crimson eyes. “What do you need princess?” he asks and the pet name sends shivers down your spine. “Need you,” you whimper, as he continues to relentlessly plunge his fingers in and out of your desperate pussy, “all of you. Want you inside me.” “Say my name.” “Ba-“ “No. My first name dumbass. Then ask real sweet.” “Katsuki please, I need your dick inside me.”

You take it as a win that Bakugo, no Katsuki, curses under his breath as he pulls away just enough to use his free hand to undo his own jeans. You whine at the loss when he extracts his fingers from your aching core but use your resolve to finally, finally have his dick inside you as motivation to focus enough to shove your pants and panties down to your ankles. As Katsuki does the same your eyes widen as you take in the sight of his cock. You subconsciously feel yourself clench at the sight alone. He notices you staring as he steps between the v of your legs and over your jeans to get closer to you. “Like what you see?” “God yes, Jesus Katsuki you’re massive.” “You sure you can take it all?” “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Bakugo grasps hold of your thighs and hoists you up until your legs can wrap comfortably around his hips. The brick wall behind you helps distribute your weight as he lines himself up with your entrance. “Ready princess?” “Please,” you whine and the smirk you get in response makes your heart race even faster than it already has been. He pushes into you agonizingly slowly but even still it burns slightly as your body tries to accommodate his girth. “Too much?” Katsuki asks and there’s a gentleness there you’ve never heard before. You hurriedly shake your head no. “Just give me a second,” you tell him as you focus on relaxing to allow him in. It’s a shockingly intimate moment, the sounds of the city are a soundtrack you’re both oblivious to; all you two can hear is the sound of your breathing.

You finally lean forward and press your forehead to Katsuki’s. “I’m ready. You can move,” you tell him and he’s all too eager to oblige. He starts out slowly pulling himself out until only the tip remains inside your entrance before he snaps his hips forward, shoving himself back inside and making you see stars. “Still good?” “Fuck yes, do that again,” you moan and that’s all Katsuki needs to bring the smirk back to his face as he starts to really pound into you, his pace relentless now that he’s confirmed you can handle it. “I’m gonna fucking ruin that pussy of yours. Make sure nothing and no one can please you the way I can,” he growls possessively before capturing your mouth into a kiss again, swallowing every whine, whimper, and moan that comes out of your mouth. Your grasp onto his shoulders for dear life, probably leaving long scratches along his back from where your hands have scrambled for purchase but neither of you care. Nothing matters to you outside of the pleasant pull of Katsuki’s thick cock slipping in and out of your clenching pussy. “God you’re so fucking tight for me. I can feel you clenching princess, you gonna cum for me?” he asks. “I am. God I am, ‘m so close,” you whine. Katsuki shifts the angle just so and immediately you know it’s over as your vision whites out with a final cry of Katsuki’s name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your entire body clenching around Bakugo as he desperately chases his own climax now that you’ve gotten yours. His rhythm stutters and gets sloppy as he gets closer and closer. He’s so focused on fucking into the tight, wet heat of your pussy still fluttering around him that it takes him by surprise when you whisper in his ear “Please Katsuki. Fill me up, make me yours.” “Fuck (y/n),” he groans and it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. The reality of finally having you this way far surpasses every fantasy he’s had about this moment and by the time his orgasm finally passes it’s almost overwhelming.

Bakugo lets you back down onto the ground almost gently, before slowly pulling out. He watches with rapt attention as his cum dribbles down from between your legs and he just barely stops himself from reaching over to push the bit that’s leaked out back in. Instead he forces his eyes to meet yours. He’s not entirely sure what he sees in the (y/e/c) depths of your gaze but it makes him panic, his cheeks flushing as he looks away. He wants to offer up round 2. He wants to invite you back to his place. He wants to make you moan his name and beg for his cock to fill you up but he can’t make himself say the words he wants to. The fact of the matter is that with the adrenaline now drained from his body and the lustful haze lifted, the great Bakugo Katsuki has lost his nerve. So even though he wants to ask “what are you doing the rest of the night?” he instead says “we should head back.” “Oh... right yea, of course,” you reply dazedly as Bakugo backs out of your space and quickly moves to pull back up his pants and underwear as you do the same. The two of you walk back to Ground Zero in silence, both still processing what’s just happened. “See ya around,” Bakugo tells you before striding towards the door to his agency. “Yea, see you,” you reply, equally as spaced out. You watch his retreating back until he actually enters the building and the door shuts behind him. As the door clicks closed you both have the same thought:

“What the fuck just happened?”

A/N: Kirishima definitely texted Mina the minute he realized the police had submitted the paperwork for y/n and Bakugo’s bust but the two of them hadn’t returned from the mission yet. They love gossiping about their two favorite horny idiots

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys

#hopelessla #bakugo smau #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki #hopeless.thirst

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 312 Spoiler Analysis: Hero Turned Assassin

It’s Friday, my dudes!  That means the leaks for the new chapter is out!  This time, we’re focusing on our new lady assassin villain who we ended with last week.  Ngl, I love her design and concept.  I actually wouldn’t mind if she stepped on me 😳  All that aside, this was a damn good chapter, but I really hope Deku’s going to be ok taking her on by himself:

Alright, the chapter starts off with a little flashback of Hawks talking to Deku as Deku is suiting up to leave Central hospital.  Hawks reassures Deku that he should be ok from AFO and Shigaraki for now since they aren’t at full power yet.  Their best option would be to take Deku in alive rather than dead.  Hawks can only think of one person who might be capable of capturing Deku: the assassin woman.  Turns out, that woman was his senpai back at the Hero Safety Commision and she’s dangerous.

So, as far as we know, Deku’s most likely going to live several more days even if he does get captured.  However, he’s being hunted down by a highly skilled assassin who was also Hawk’s senpai back in the day.  The fact that Hawks of all people is warning Deku to run away from her if he can say something about her skills.  I can only guess how good her skills are, but I’d say they’re probably somewhere in the S-tier range if Hawks is afraid of her.

The next couple of pages help properly introduce our new villain: Lady Nagant!  A few points here: 1. The bullet is made from her hair which is colored dark blue and pink.  I personally love those two colors, so I’m glad to see that color scheme used on her.  Also hair bullets is such a great concept, 2. That rifle is definitely coming from her elbow which she can bring out and retract at will, which is badass as hell, 3. I looked up the word “Nagant” and it’s actually type of (Russian?) gun that ranges from a 7-shot revolver to a sniper rifle, so that’s a good Villain name for her, 4. She was a former hero under the Safety Commision who decided to go to the dark side for some reason.  Like, did she see the bad side of Hero Society and that caused her to change?  Did she see something in Villainy that caused her to change her POV?  I want to know what?, 5. Again, love her design like hoo boy, Horikoshi snapped with her. 

So, Deku’s on the run from her and he is completely on his own now that his phone is broken.  He doesn’t even know what happened to All Might 😭!  He’s also afraid that All Might and Hawks will be targeted by her.  Deku’s debating wheaher he should run or face Nagant face on.  With someone like Muscular, I wasn’t worried about Deku because he’s not only improved a lot since last time, but he’s taken on Muscular before so he knew what he was fighting.  But, this is a brand-new villain.  Not much is known about her and Deku has never fought her before.  I’d say run, but someone has to take her out.  Maybe Hawks will swoop in and have a reunion with his senpai.  Though, he doesn’t have wings now, so I’m not sure what he can really do against her besides have a chat…

And Deku is shot!  Not fatally thank god, but he did get hit.  Turns out Lady Nagant can actually curve her shots.  Even Deku’s Danger Sense couldn’t detect it in time good lord.  So she can just straight up made bullets that can curve too that is absolutely insane.  Any marksman would be jealous of her.  

Fun Fact of the Day: Based on Horikoshi-sensei’s comment of the week, Lady Nagant and her curve bullet are actually based off the 2008 film Wanted staring James McAvoy and Angelina Jolie (he even thanked Ms. Jolie!)!  I decided to IMDB the film to see if I remembered it and it turns out that I have actually seen a little of it before.  You know that gif of McAvoy smacking Chris Pratt’s face with a keyboard and the loose keys spell out “Fuck You”?  Yeah, that’s from Wanted.  Also, the curved bullet Horikoshi is talking about is when Jolie manages to “curve” a bullet enough to kill a group of assassins who were standing in a circle.  Look, I don’t know if physics can actually make that work in real life, but I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sound badass.

Back to the story, we have a bit of flashback to an old TV special that interviewed 100 active Noteworthy Heroes.  The 25th Pro Hero being interview is none other than Snipe, one of UA’s teachers!  It’s been a hot couple of years since we’ve seen him around.  Actually, we don’t even know if he’s alive…  Let’s assume he is and continue with the story.

Anyway, Snipe was having some good friendly competition in the Long-Range sniping with Lady Nagant back in the day.  He explains while his Quirk, “Homing” allows him to lock-on to anyone within a 600 Meter range, he can’t choose where his attack hits and the hit isn’t that powerful (Shigaraki could’ve actually gotten killed back in the USJ if Snipe wasn’t careful enough damn).  Lady Nagant, on the other hand, has a range of 3 Kilometers with insane accuracy.  I did some quick calculations and it turns out that 3KM = 3,000M!  That’s 5 times farther than what Snipe can do.  That is absolutely nuts!

Lady Nagant’s Quirk is called “Rifle”!  Turns out that the secret lies in her bullets made out of hair.  When she mixes her duel colored hair, it works like epoxy putty.  Epoxy putty is a substance that hardens over time.  It’s normally used as a seal for cracks and holes, and it’s both highly-resistant and unshrinkable when hardened.  So, when Lady Nagant pulls strands out of her hair to mix and mould them, she can harden that hair into a bullet which explains the dark blue and pink fibers in the speaker bullet she fired at Deku’s phone.  Apparently, she can make any kind of bullet she wants ranging from hollow bullets to curved bullets.  She can then load and fire those bullets from her rifle into her right arm.  God, there’s so much potential for a Quirk like this.  The only limit I can think of for this Quirk is if she runs out of hair for bullets similar to how if Ibara Shiozaki from Class 1-B (or 2-B now I guess) would run out of hair to use her Vines.  I wonder if Lady Nagant using her hair so much is the reason why it’s shorter now than when she was a hero.

I gotta say, I think this is one of the coolest and unique Quirks Horikoshi has come up with in a while.  It’s just so unique and imaginative!  I don’t think I could ever come up with an idea like this.  I like that her Quirk is almost like a 2-in-1 thing: the putty hair and the rifle in her arm.  They’re both different functions that work in tandem together.  I also love Nagant hero outfit!  She was rocking the long ponytail work, had a visor and antenna on her right eye for accuracy, and a belt holding her hair bullets.  She’s also freakin’ stacked as hell, but I’ll let this one slide because her design is so freaking great.  

Back to the present, Deku managed to catch the bullet, but his left gauntlet has been damaged.  So, it looks like Deku won’t be punching with his left arm unless All Might has some backup Mid-Gauntlets.  Thankfully he’s found out where Lady Nagant is based on where she shot from just twice.  She’s only about 1KM away and Deku wants to get in closer.  God, Deku is so freaking smart.  I want to know his IQ because it must be insanely high for him to figure out where a trained sniper would be after just 2 bullets.  Nagant also says that Deku’s the first one to deflect 2 of her bullets, so yeah, goddamn Deku!

Now we’re finally getting a look at Overhaul (I’m cool with calling him by his villain name instead of his real name for now btw).  Dude’s broken.  Just completely mentally broken.  I don’t think he even notices Deku.  All he can think about is how he wants to go back to his adoptive father, Eri’s grandfather, the man Overhaul put in a coma.  I thought that Overhaul would be confronting Deku himself, but it looks like he can’t.  Maybe him not being able to get his father out of his coma traumatized him real bad with a lot of guilt.  He probably wants to go back to try to heal his dad.  If he can do that, again, I wonder how now that his Quirk probably functions somewhere else besides his hands.

Anyway, Lady Nagant is kind of protecting Overhaul for now.  She most likely has a plan for him later since she mentions helping Overhaul as soon as she’s done with Deku.  Overhaul would be a useful ally since his Quirk can literally destroy and restore matter both living and non-living.  There’s also that glowing effect on her arm again.  If it’s not a taser like I thought before, then maybe it’s some kind of strength enhancer her Quirk gives her.  That arm gun has to be heavy.  IDK it’s not really explained.  

Flashing back to the Tartarus Prision Break, AFO and his ugly mug are talking to Nagant, calling her the “Traitor Hero” and how it’s an honor to meet her.  Again, Lady Nagant’s skills must be incredibly high enough to be recognize by AFO.  Also, her turning her back on Hero Society must’ve been a big story at the time.

AFO tells Lady Nagant of his plan to capture Deku as he predicted this earlier.  So, either AFO is stupidly good at predicting things or he has a future-sight Quirk like Nighteye had.  I want to say it’s the latter since AFO probably did pick up a Quirk like that sometime in the past.

Lady Nagant originally refused to listen to AFO in a very sassy way LOL!  But, AFO seems to have made a deal with her.  He even mentions that Nagant killed many of her fellow heroes to cause the fall of Pro-Hero Society.  Yeah, killing your fellow colleagues will definitely get you sent straight to Tartarus…  I REALLY need to know what made her turn to the Dark Side Anakin Skywalker style.

Also, personal theory that I highly doubt is true, but I wonder if Lady Nagant is the real “UA Traitor” not any of the students.  If she can make bullets that she can remotely talk through, then she could probably make bullets that can eavesdrop on people.  Maybe she listened in on UA and told the LoV about the training camp.  Or she was locked in Tartarus before then and I’m just projecting my hopes/fears onto her.  That could be it too.

Actually, I just realized that she could probably wrap objects around her bullets and fire them.  So, she probably wrapped a speaker around her hair and that’s how she remotely spoke to Deku.  Eh, she could still wrap some listening device around her hair and eavesdrop that way.  I’m just Pepe Silvia’ing the possibilities of Rifle at this point.

AFO uses Overhaul as an example of someone who became a victim of Pro-Heroes.  This give him enough leverage to make a deal with Lady Nagant.  So, as part of the contract, AFO granted her his Air Walk Quirk!  On paper, a passive Quirk like Air Walk doesn’t seem very useful.  But, this series has proved to us time and time again that passive/support Quirks can be just as/if not more amazing than raw-powered Quirks.  So, a Quirk like Air Walk can get Lady Nagant to so many places for her to fire her bullets.  It’s an incredibly useful Quirk for a sniper.  I do wonder what the limits of it are (because all Quirks have some sort of limitation), but I guess we’ll find that out later.  I really do wonder how Deku’s going to handle Lady Nagant and Overhaul though.  That’s going to be interesting.

Oh boy, that the chapter!  Solid chapter per usual.  Gah, my fingers hurt after typing so much.  I’m glad we got to know more about Lady Nagant!  She was a mystery for weeks, but we finally got some backstory on her.  So, some answers, but a lot of questions are left behind.  I’m actually glad we’re still sticking with Deku so far.  I still want to see Bakugo and Shoto, but we also haven’t gotten a purely Deku-centric arc for a while, so this is good.  Horikoshi truly doesn’t miss!  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be screaming about the next anime episode and Shoto Todoroki sakuga for the next week I will not apologize.         

Me @ Horikoshi every chapter:

Also, this is the Wanted scene I was talking about before:

#My Hero Academia Spoilers #Boku No Hero Academia Spoilers #MHA Spoilers #BNHA Spoilers #BNHA 312 #MHA 312 #Spoilers #Spoiler Talk #analysis #thoughts #my thoughts #my post #my writing #Deku #Izuku Midoriya #Hawks #Keigo Takami #Overhaul #Kai Chisaki #AFO #All For One #Lady Nagant #badass hero #badass villain #good shit #solid chapter #you love to see it #Kohei Horikoshi #my hand hurts now #Imma go rest

[undercoveravenger]

Under Your Skin

Creature Week 2020: Day Four

Pairing: Gil x Selkie!Male!Reader

Request: “Gil from Descendants with a selkie male reader who keeps visiting the Isle?”

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The first time that Gil had seen the seal he had been pretty young, only eight or nine years old. He’d been hiding on the beach under the old docks, since he knew that his brothers and father would give him hell if they caught him crying again. His mother told him it was because he had a kind heart, but Harry had always just said it was because he was a crybaby. He’d tried to not let it ever get to him because even a grumpy friend was better than none at all in his childish mind, but some days the brunet’s words really weighed on him.

Which was why he was curled up under the docks on his own, wiping away tears with chubby hands and sniffling away sobs as he tried to figure out why he was just so different from his older brothers.

He was startled from his reverie by the sound of a splash and a quiet barking sound. His eyebrows furrowed and he scrubbed a hand across his face as he looked down at the small seal pup staring up at him. “What do you want?” he muttered petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go away. I don’t have any fish for you.”

The seal had merely barked up at him, splashing its way out of the shallow waves and up the small stretch of rocky beach until it was sitting in front of him, placing one little flipper against his leg.

“What?” He had asked, feeling kind of dumb as he looked down into the seal’s wide (e/c) eyes. It was an animal; he knew it couldn’t understand him.

Nevertheless, the seal had let out a quiet groaning noise and shifted onto one side so it could put a flipper over its face. It only rested it there for a moment before straightening up again and staring pointedly up at Gil.

The blond had rolled his eyes, but swiped at his eyes anyway, surprised to find that he must have stopped crying without realizing it.

The seal let out a pleased bark, nudged its head against Gil’s leg and then turned and flopped its way back into the sea.

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

Gil could recall a few other times that he had encountered the strange seal through the years, but it mostly appeared when he was hiding out under the dock. Once it had appeared when he was on Uma’s ship after she won it from Harry’s father. Harry had given him a strange look when he had waved down at the small spotted creature, muttering under his breath about selkies invading their waters.

The blond had been understandably confused, tearing his gaze away from his little seal friend to look at the brunet. “What’s a selkie?”

Harry pulled a face, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the seal playing in the waves. “There was a group of ‘em that lived near Neverland accordin’ to my dad. Beautiful ladies and gents tha’ could turn into seals when they wore their sealskins. My dad used to tell me about men he knew that’d take their skins and hide ‘em in order to keep the selkies as their wives. As soon as the creatures found their skins though, they’d be back at sea and the men who loved them would never see them again.”

“Why would they do that though? If the men loved them, why wouldn’t they let it be the selkie’s choice?” He found his gaze trailing back to the pinniped, watching in awe as it danced gracefully through the waves. 

Harry had shrugged, “They were still wild animals.” He placed a hand on Gil’s shoulder, “Look, mate, don’t go chasin’ after any selkies, yeah? I don’t want to see your heart get broken by some stupid seal.”

“Yeah,” Gil had mumbled quietly, knowing it was easier to agree with Harry than to disagree. “Stupid.”

He’d been haunted by the betrayed look in the seal’s eyes in the years following, in which the seal seemed to have chosen to remain unseen, even when he visited his old hiding spot under the pier.

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

Years passed and the seal had all but vanished from his thoughts; the strange encounters slipping away as he grew up, the crew and his classes at Dragon Hall taking up his spare time. He was working a spare shift at Ursula’s Fish and Chips as a favor to Uma when it all came crashing back.

The blond wandered over to a table with a stranger sitting at it, his legs kicked up on the chair across from him and an oddly patterned leather jacket slung over the back of the chair next to him. “What can I get started for you tonight?” Gil asked, grinning brightly as he got ready to write down the (h/c)’s order on the notepad he’d brought over.

The stranger looked up from his menu when he heard Gil speak, a faint grin causing the corners of his mouth to quirk upward. “The special, please.”

The blond didn’t even realize that he had spoken, too surprised by the familiarity of the stranger’s warm (e/c) eyes. Gil was certain that he had never seen the stranger before, but his eyes were practically identical to those of the baby seal from all those years ago.

“Hey, are you alright?” The stranger asked, standing and putting a steadying hand on Gil’s shoulder. “You seem a little out of it.”

He nodded slowly, shaking off his previous stupor. He was sure it was nothing more than a coincidence. “Yeah, um, the special, right? I’ll get right on that.” Without even waiting for him to confirm his order, Gil took off, weaving his way back toward the kitchen so at least he could get a brief respite.

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

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Harry snapped as he strode through the swinging door into the kitchen after his friend, “Table six has been waitin’ on their food for-” he cut himself off as he took in Gil’s frazzled state. “Gil, mate, are you okay?”

The blond looked startled at his friend’s sudden appearance, seeming to almost physically force himself out of his thoughts. “I- yeah, totally great.” He forced a smile but Harry didn’t seem convinced.

“What's got you even more out of it than normal?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gil shook his head, hurrying to load the food he’d been meant to take to a table onto a tray. “Nothing, just- I saw the guy at Table Ten and he looked really familiar, is all.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Table Ten?” He rolled his eyes as Gil nodded distractedly, turning to peer through the narrow window that looked out into the dining room. “There’s no one there, just some manky old jacket.”

“What?” Gil asked, visibly baffled as he moved to verify what his friend had told him, “But he was just-?”

The brunet rolled his eyes, snatching the tray from Gil, “Go.”

Gil looked up at him with wide eyes and Harry nodded toward the abandoned jacket, “You said you might know ‘im, right? Go take that jacket and use it as an excuse to find out. I can handle things here, just be careful, yeah?”

While he was stunned that Harry was so encouraging for him to go looking for someone he might not even know, Gil took advantage of it, throwing his apron on the back counter and hurrying out to grab the jacket that the (h/c) had left behind before running out of the restaurant.

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

Gil wasn’t sure how exactly he knew where to find you, but as he came to a stop under the old pier where he used to hide as a kid he wasn’t surprised to see you sitting at the water’s edge, staring out over the breaking waves.

“You, um, you left this at the restaurant,” he called, slowly picking his way across the rocky shore toward you.

You didn’t even startle at the sound of his voice, which made Gil wonder if you had left the jacket behind on purpose. There was an odd look in your eye as he sat down beside you. “You actually brought it back to me?”

“Yeah?” Gil asked, confused by the incredulous look in your eyes. He turned his gaze down to the coat in his lap. From far away, the jacket had seemed almost black in color, but from this close he could tell that it was actually a dark grey, dappled with even darker spots in a seemingly random pattern. It was incredibly soft and Gil almost didn’t want to let go of it. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You let out a disbelieving snort, turning back to look over the water. “A lot of people wouldn’t, if they knew what it was.”

“They wouldn’t give it back if they knew it was a jacket?” Gil was definitely confused.

The sound of your laughter made Gil grin, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what was so funny. “Something like that.” You chuckled, eyes twinkling mischievously. You bit your lip, turning to look at Gil suddenly, “Y’know, I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

“Really?” The blond gasped, “Me too! This was where I’d come to be alone.” He grinned sheepishly, pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

“I know,” you said, smile fading a little at the obvious confusion on the blond’s face. “I was there.”

Gil shook his head, brows furrowing close over his azure eyes, “No, I was always alone. Except for when this little seal-” he cut himself off, voice trailing off as his gaze dropped to the jacket in his lap. Now that he looked closer, he could tell that the jacket wasn’t leather at all and the spots almost looked like the ones that had been on that little seal all those years ago. He shook his head, eyes finding yours quickly, “No, it’s not possible-”

“Isn’t it?” You cocked your head, nodding in the direction of the Chip Shop, “Your friend certainly seemed to believe in selkies. Or he used to, at least. I had hoped he’d convince you to believe the same before I came back.”

Gil’s eyes darted between you and what must’ve been your sealskin. “If you’re telling the truth, then why did you leave this behind? Anyone could’ve taken it and then you would’ve been trapped on land forever.”

You laughed, grinning fondly at the pirate, “I knew you wouldn’t let someone else take it. Not after the way you reacted to seeing me again, even if you didn’t know it was me yet.”

“Why did you…?” Gil started, though his voice failed him before he could ask what had been weighing on him.

“What, leave?” When Gil nodded, you sighed, but chose to answer him anyway. “I had to. I had just about gotten old enough to learn how to change forms, so my family and I had to go away until they were sure I could control it. And what you said on that ship had hurt. I had thought you’d realized that I wasn’t going to hurt you; that I wanted to be friends.” You shrugged, casting your gaze back out to the horizon, “I still do.”

Gil swallowed, trailing his fingers lightly over the dappled spots on your jacket as he thought about what you had told him. “I want that too.” He bit his lip nervously, “And I’m sorry about what I said back then; I didn’t know.”

You waved off his apologies, grinning wryly, “I couldn’t have expected you to. It’s not like I could tell you. But let’s start over, yeah?” You turned to face him, holding out your hand, “I’m (M/N), and I can turn into a seal.”

The blond laughed but shook your hand anyway, “I’m Gil.” He grinned nervously, “And I happen to really like a guy that can turn into a seal.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twisting your hand in his so you could interlock your fingers. “Well, that’s sure convenient, isn’t it?”

Gil ducked his head to try and hide the blush dusting his cheeks but jolted a little when his gaze fell back to the jacket in his lap. He was quick to offer it to you, though he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it immediately, “How do I know you won’t leave again?”

You grinned at him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips as you took your sealskin back, “Don’t worry, even if I do have to go, I’ll always come back for you.”

#gil x male reader #gil x male!reader #male reader x gil #male!reader x gil #reader x gil #gil x reader #descendants x male reader #descendants x male!reader #descendants x reader #descendants imagines #male reader x #male!reader x #male reader #male!reader #male reader insert #male!reader insert #selkie!male!reader x gil #selkie!male!reader #selkie #selkie x reader #selkie x male reader #selkie x male!reader #Creature week 2020

[ktheist]

1 | friend in me.

“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.” (x) 

muses. party friend!jungkook x reader ft. bestfriend!taehyung ft. ex-boyfriend!namjoon

genre. university au. fwb. f2l.

words. 6.1k

warnings. mentions of break up, mild exhibition, alcohol use, future mentions of joint, future smut, mature content

alternative title. to my dear friend.

final part. exclusives only (x)

note. this fic hasn’t been showing up in searches no matter how many times i repost and it’s got a special place in my heart so i really want it to reach the audience, that’s why i made a few changes in hopes to beat the odds lol. enjoy!

x

striking up an unlikely pact to look out for each other’s backs at parties, is the last thing you expect to do with jeon jungkook. sure, you may or may not find a reason to laugh at his lousy antics and corny pick up lines - he’s also a great kisser but that’s besides the point.

the point is, you’d like to keep him as that - the friend that you meet at parties and parties only. so when you see him on your campus grounds, naturally your first instinct is to stop, turn the opposite way you’re heading and where he’s coming from - and start fast-walking to the other end of the campus like the devil is after you.

except that devil comes in the form of denim jacket, white undershirt and wavy dark hair that easily falls over doe eyes that seem to sparkle when you freeze at the sound of your name and turn around to face him with an awkward smile.

he breaks into a mini jog, leaving his friends that you’ve never seen before, behind. your own friends who you’ve been walking with and ditched at the sight of him, gawping at you and the new face from the spot where you decided to leave them at.

why couldn’t they have gone on their merry way - regardless if you’d paused and trekked to the opposite direction you were heading to?

jungkook skids to a stop in front of you, pretty pink lips quirking after he tilted his head to shift his hair out of his eyes instead of pushing it back with his hands.

“hey,” he greets, glancing down at his scuffing vans before meeting your gaze again, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip before retreating back into his mouth, leaving a sheen of moistness on his lips, “i didn’t know you went here.”

willing yourself to smile, you push your hair to the back of your ear before wrapping your arms around your chest, “yeah,” you drag out with an awkward chuckle, not as oblivious as he is of the stolen glances coming from the people passing through the walkway.

“what are you doing here though?” you notice his own friends that he ditched waiting for him several feet away - a group of attractive men and women who clearly belong to the equally high place group from your own faculty.

and yet here he is, talking to you - the ghost with rounded glasses sitting atop her nose and faded chapsticks on her lips. out of all the days you could have looked more zombie-esque, jungkook had to show up at your faculty today.

he’s nice enough not to point it out though as his lips turn into an ‘o’ shape. if you focus, you’d probably see the light bulb going off in his head as the answer to your question hits him. though at this point, you’ve already been hit by your own realization of the reason for there being more people walking around with mechanical appendages and remote control of every kinds. it must be-

“we’re here for the robocup tournament,” he grins, excitement apparent in the way his eyes seem to widen as you can almost hear the screws in his brains working before the question tumbles out of his mouth-

“what about you? are you joining?”

you want to laugh.

and that’s the thing about jungkook - he’s so good at reading you that he knows something’s up. brows knitting together, “what’s... up?”

the shaking of your head is purely reactionary - you’ve made a few friends who came around to compete at times your faculty was the one to hosted it, like now. it’s not as serious as it seemed to be but it’s not entirely something you joke around either since it involved someone’s blood, sweat and tears to make the cut but-

“guess you haven’t heard about the long standing tradition of the circuit breaker’s string pulling. the competition’s rigged.” despite your too willing trip down memory land, you still let your eyes dart around in case anyone’s listening. after you’re sure no one was, only then do you finally go on, “every year, they pick a judge’s kid as part of the team - even if they weren’t enrolled in seollyu and were in some other non-robotics related university, they’ll get close to them and keep them around until the competition. one year, one of them even went as far as dating a judge’s daughter when they couldn’t recruit her into their team.”

swallowing down the bile, you pretend not to notice the complete downturn of his lips as you roll your shoulders in a shrug out of the need of having something to do that doesn’t require focusing on the conflicted, purse lipped frown on jungkook’s face.

“oh wow, we never heard anything like that in beongju.” he murmurs, eyes drawn to the grass a feet away as he contemplates.

“it’s okay, what matters is you guys have fun.” you wave a dismissive hand, smile more natural but still sporting its awkward tucks.

“yeah,” jungkook nods before he meets your gaze, smiling in a half-hearted attempt to ease his own mind, “who knows? maybe this year, beongju will come out victorious.”

you nod, chest blooming with hope - a wishful thinking perhaps, “maybe.”

it’s when his eyes twinkle with a different kind of excitement that you know the matter of the competition is past him, and that’s your cue to go.

“hey, are you-“

“i have a class to-

you both stop at the same time, staring at the other for the longest moment before jungkook offers for you to continue, “you first.”

“um,” you would have deflect it back to him out of politeness. that is, if you didn’t know that he was going to ask you if you were free. possibly to grab lunch or a smoothie somewhere. but that’s the thing, outside of parties, you’re a completely different person altogether. right now, you’re the all-work, no-play study-hard. none of your equally study hard friends are aware of how you are at parties - none of the people you know, know how you are at parties because you made sure to attend only those you’re sure you wouldn’t run into acquaintances. of course it’s difficult and there are a few familiar faces you can identify as people from your faculty at every party but barely which is a safe amount. so it doesn’t make sense to break the unspoken, mutual understanding of the core you and jungkook’s friendship is built on. he might have forgotten how important it was for you that you were strictly ‘fun’ friends, so it’s your job to remind him, “i have class right now.”

you take a step back in preparation to bolt towards said nonexistent on-going class, “but hey, good luck on robocup. oh yeah, what were you gonna tell me?”

jungkook’s “oh - uh,” shouldn’t have sent waves of relief to you the way it does, but when he mumbles a “nothing - it was nothing.” you couldn’t help but suppress a grateful sigh.

on any other occasion, with a person completely separate from jeon jungkook, you would have pressed on - encouraged them to say what they initially wanted to say. but instead, you shoot him a smile, “oh -okay. guess i’ll see you around?”

“uh,” it’s clear as day that he doesn’t want to just leave it up to chance to bump into you in this big building with at least a thousand occupants coming and going everyday throughout the competition but the way smacks his lips shut tells you he there’s something holding him back, so he settles with a, “yeah... see you around.”

x

“you know,” you pause, tendrils of reluctance forbidding you from relaying the tale of how you and jungkook met in hopes it was indicative enough but judging from the way jisoo has her eyebrows raised, lisa with her knowing smile, taehyung and jimin expectantly waiting but with the first actually shooting you an meaningful stare - it seems like you have no choice but to say it-

“we spoke a few times at different parties and realize we have the same party mutual and get invited to the same parties so... we decided to hang together... at parties.”

“hang,” lisa echoes, underlying tone couldn’t have been more obvious as she grins from ear to ear.

“please, no way in hell do you just hang with jeon fucking jungkook when there’s booze and a dozen of empty rooms involved.” jisoo comes barreling through like a bulldozer, hands in the air as she squeals at whatever scenario her mind is cooking up in her head.

laughter trickles out of your mouth as you hide your face in your palms in an attempt to avoid jisoo and lisa’s eyes and the things that they’re hinting at with a mere gaze.

“why?” taehyung’s baritone finally hits the air as he leans back against the recliner. once the silence settles in a second later and all eyes turn his way, he adds, “not that it’s any of our business but,” he shrugs, “he’s not really your crowd - not any of our crowd.”

that’s the million dollar question. taehyung hates beers and crowded places - which is a surprise given his social butterfly-ness among all five of you. jimin, jisoo and lisa do go parties - those that your closest friends would be at. otherwise, they aren’t adventurous as you.

maybe jimin has a another side that you don’t know - it’s a known fact that he has other friends. dance friends, drinking friends, and whatever type of people with similar interests who flock a certain direction.

just like how you had jungkook and the group of friends you hung out with at parties.

“i mean, my dance friends aren’t exactly your kind of crowd either,” jimin interjects from the floor, head lulled to the back to look at taehyung, “remember how you wanted to avoid hoseok at all costs after i brought you to a practice once?”

“yeah,” you instantly second, hand gesturing to the man in a ‘exactly what he said’ manner before turning to the taller guy, “everyone makes friends where their usual friends aren’t.”

“i guess,” he cedes after what felt like the longest pause in your history of friendship.

it is that moment, just as your muscles begin to relax, that your phone dings with a notification. unbeknownst to you that you still command the attention in the entire room, you cluelessly let check out the new text message.

koo: we lost ):

“it’s him.” lisa announces, the bed shaking as she scoots away when you try to swat her thigh.

“and she has him saved as koo,” she - without any trace of intentionally constructed pun, coos, hands clasped together next to her tilted head as she bumps it with jisoo who’s mimicking her gestures.

“he just texted to say he lost,” you clarify, shaking your head at the two girls’ antics.

not that it changes anything as jisoo leans her whole body against lisa, an arm on her forehead in a troubled manner, “now i wish i had a boyfriend.”

lisa hums in agreement, her long limbs extending to wrap around the older girl’s torso as she rests her chin on top of jisoo’s dark brown tresses.“me too, sweetie. me too.”

typing out a ‘i’m so sorry. it’s okay they don’t deserve your talent anyway ):’ with a mixture of emojis, you hit send just before turning to what jimin is saying.

“...go to one. i heard alpha sig is having one tomorrow,” then he turns to you, as though you bear an abundance of knowledge about which place is having a party and on what day, “right ____?”

it takes you a moment to piece together what he said. you didn’t hear the beginning but you’re sure it’s something along the lines of jimin setting the two lonely singles to break their 2 month no-party streak and maybe get that boyfriend they wanted.

“jimin, i’m not sure,” you say shortly before turning to the two girls,“not that that many good, upstanding citizen of men go to the parties i went to though but maybe there’s a miracle waiting for you girls,” you smile in genuine hopefulness while referring to an entirely hopeless place. but it turns into an emphatic one as the two girls fake cry about the minimal chance they have to get a - in what you could make out of  jisoo’s fake bawling - hot, sexy party boyfriend. whatever that meant.

you don’t have the time to confirm it when your phone dings again.

koo: thanks i can always count on you to be real w me 🥺🥰

another grey bubble pops pushes the text you’re reading upwards.

koo: you coming to alpha sig’s party?

koo: we have to be here for the closing ceremony tmr anyway

koo: help me make good memories before i leave seollyu 🥺

you suppress the urge to roll your eyes at that. he’s only been here for one day and he got invited to one of the most hard-to-get-in parties on the campus.

naturally, you and jimin were invited from your underlying reputations. and naturally, whoever you bring is invited too.

except you’re not a fan of going to parties that you know you’d meet the exact people you didn’t want to meet.

lisa peeks at your phone the second time - and you didn’t even notice until she screams, “___’s going to alpha sig’s!”

“oh my god, will he be there?” jisoo leans her entire body over lisa in a reckless abandon to get a peek of what the younger one saw only to have you hold your phone away.

“um? privacy? anyone?” you offer while jisoo pouts.

“duh, she’s going because of him.” lisa says im a matter-of-factly, “otherwise, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of going to any party infested with people we already had to see sober.”

“am not.” you counter, the matter of replying already long forgotten as you cross your arms over your chest, phone tucked in between the side of your boob and hand, “if i’m going, it’d be because i want to!”

“so you’re going?” jisoo blinks, eyes twinkling with hope. so are lisa’s.

you have no choice but to turn your cheek to a laughing park jimin on the floor. his pupils disappearing behind his lids. clearly, he’s not going to back you up. so you turn to the only other person who you thought would.

“if tae’s going then i’ll go,” you declare, already feeling the triumph of what the man would choose from his precedent choices. “not that you guys need me to get in since jimin’s already-“

“sure.” the taller man announces.

you’re forced to make a double take while your jaw drops in your lap along with jisoo and lisa’s while jimin blinks in surprise from your periphery.

completely conscious of the gazes boring into his skull, taehyung attempts to casually shrug it off as a- “since you guys are going, you know.”

jisoo yelps in celebration before going “great, who’s up for some chicken?” shooting up and sending the mattress shaking as she takes big steps over your legs and hops off the bed. hands planted on her hips, she glances around the room with the residue of a pleased smile from the decision of all five of you finally going to a party together.

“me!” lisa follows suit with the exception that she’s crawling on her hands and knees to get off the bed.

“me but i don’t want to get up.” jimin whines, unmoving from his spot which is lying on the fluffed pink carpet as taehyung’s birthday present to his otherwise creme themed room.

“come on, park. get your ass off the floor and to the parking lot - get it, park jimin goes to the parking lot?” jisoo begins tugging on his wrist, the sight rather comical considering how she’s trying to make a man twice her size sit up, let alone move to get to the car seeing as he’s the only one with one.

lisa shares a doubtful look with you and taehyung at the poorly made pun, questioning why jimin seems to be the only one chuckling but then again, he’s always been the easiest to entertain.

after huffing and puffing, jisoo finally plucks the boy off the floor. but getting him to walk the distance from his apartment to the car is another feat.

it’s when their voices echo in the hallway, and you and a certain taller man is left in the room, do you notice the difference in this silence compared to the rest as he pushes himself up.

“are you going for real?” you finally ask, throwing your feet over the bed.

taehyung’s lips pucker as he contemplates the pros and cons, “what’ll i do if i don’t go? binge watch maze runner and be reminded of the fact that all third movies suck?”

maybe he doesn’t hate parties as much as you initially thought. after all, it’s been a year since he vomited all over kim sowon while making out on the couch at alpha sig’s.

you grin, elbowing the man as you both make your way out of the room, “hey, maybe you could find yourself a girlfriend while you’re at it.”

taehyung’s laugh doesn’t reach his eyes but you chalk it up with the jitters of the thought of having alcohol course through his veins and surrounded by bodies on the dance floor, “huh, yeah.”

x

the day fly by between getting to classes and getting lunch - it was a feat to convince everyone to go to dumpling place just a little bit off campus but you’d managed and subsequently successfully avoided running into jungkook for the day.

“bih, what the fuck?” lisa gawks, jaw descended to the ground as she stares at your mini black crop top that stops a few inches above your high-waist ripped jeans.

if you didn’t show up to classes in sweats and oversized sweaters, round glasses and hair always up in your laziness to make them look presentable - every day, maybe your ability to throw on some eye make up and highlights over your foundation wouldn’t have been so much as a surprise.

unlike you, your friends have always been on top of their game when it comes to appearing like functioning members of society. the clothes they have now have also been worn to class before - that’s how you know their confidence is sky high while yours require a little bit of help depending on what you wear.

why they decided to adopt a munchkin like you into their otherwise perfect clique, you’ll never know - but maybe it had something to do with you looking like a lost puppy in your first year with your round glasses and the thick books you carry around. it was a matter of time you ran into someone and drop them - that someone being jisoo.

after that, the rest was history - your prejudices towards groups of attractive people have never been so diminished.

your hair bounces gently as you hop into the passenger seat, giggling shyly at the attention you’ve garnered with your otherwise usual getup for a fun time.

“if i knew you won’t have any problems surviving off skinny jeans and cute tops, i would have burned those baggy clothes a long time ago.” jisoo confesses, red lips curled into an impressed ‘o’ as she takes in your appearance.

you gasp, truly offended to know your day-to-day choice of outfit has never been any of your friend’s preference yet only now do they make it known - talk about fake friends! “don’t you insult my comfy clothes like that!”

a light bump on her shoulder forces her to tear her gaze away and turn her cheek to the grinning girl next to her, “maybe she has a reason to dress cute.”

and just like that, the two breaks out into coos. sending you signals with their entire face muscles as jimin chuckles from the driver’s seat.

“but you know, this is how ___ usually dress up for parties even like before she met jungkook.”

you send praises to the gods for sending you this blessing of a friend as you fix the two girls a smirk, posing like a model as much as the cramped space allows you, “nah, i got it from my momma.”

an onslaught of protest - denials - mixed with cheers erupt as you begin to poorly mimic that of models with your limbs pointing in every direction and body bending in weird angles. it doesn’t take long before laughter tumbles out of everyone’s mouth, the front seaters included - taehyung had achingly turned in his seat to attend your fashion show while jimin stole glances in the rearview mirror.

x

yoo jeongyeon is the first to wave you over. if there’s a grey area where party friends and real friends merge together, it’ll be her. you’ve gone to parties together and had fun - though the last time you did, you ended up waking up on the same bed with some guy on the floor.

jin? jun? jeong? j-something grinned when he woke up to the sight of you two, “so... can i get you girls’ number?”

jeongyeon didn’t bother to hold back her grimace and you’d strutted into the bathroom as if you didn’t hear him.

“kim taehyung, lisa manoban and kim jisoo.” she studies each one with an impressed, “how did jimin and ____ manage to haul your asses out and over here?’

“the single life they’ve been walking has finally slapped them in the face and they finally want-“ you get cut off by lisa’s fake chuckle that sounds every bit forced.

“-wasted.”

“-boyfriends!”

they end up saying at the same time. while jisoo is finds no fault in her confession, lisa’s face is heating up - coming second next to you when it comes to shying back into her shell when topics like these come to light.

“taehyung too.” jisoo hooks her hand around the aforementioned man’s arm, stopping him from slowly disappearing into the crowd like a certain park jimin has, her other one around younger girl.

“jeongyeon, you have introduce us to cute guys or we’ll end up dying from all this single-ness!”

at that, the woman burst into laughter, hand on her stomach as she tries and fails to suppress it.

“i don’t know,” she wipes a tear from the corner of her eyes, “isn’t that more of ____’s specialty?”

“uh,” it takes a heartbeat for you to register what jeongyeon is saying before the same heart in your chest crashes against the ground at her next words.

“everyone knows,” a meaningful smile quirks on her lips, “about you and-“

“i- uh, i think i heard jackson calling me - something about a group project.” you quickly say, cursing yourself for the less than plausible excuse to get away.

and the three girls think so too as they call you out for it but you don’t stop until they’re out of earshot and out of the spotlight, ending up at a table full of booze.

you pop a can open, letting the bitter taste wash over your suddenly dry throat. the alcohol hasn’t got to you yet but you know it will and maybe that’s the only thing you have going on as you walk around, waving to people you know and lingering to talk with some, noticing that most of them are halfway to getting drunk.

some time later, you spot jisoo, lisa and jeongyeon dancing with some of your close friends. beer in their hands. you wonder how they’re going to find a boyfriend or even a hook up if they just keep to their circle - that was the clear as day distinction between you and them.

where they feel the most comfortable surrounded with familiar faces - regardless of whether they like them - you find comfort on a room full of strangers and the knowledge that you wouldn’t see them anymore after that.

but that wasn’t the case for jungkook. after one too many parties and several ‘hey, i was hoping i’d see you’s, a sense of camaraderie starts forming. of course, rules don’t apply where it would in a normal, socially sober setting.

you were friends as much as you were fucking like rabbits. finding comfort in mornings where you wake up without a sense of recollection, a throbbing headache and a lump of body underneath the sheets only to sigh in relief upon finding out who it was as though to say ‘oh thank god it’s you and not some rando i won’t know how to politely kick out while emphasizing that i have class in like 5.’

you embark on a visual searching journey to look for the same boy who wouldn’t mind if you had to shut the door in his half-awake face on mornings you had to get ready for class and still smiled at you later that night when you meet at a different party - until your gaze lands on a pair of brown eyes.

instead of wide and doe-like, the one that captured yours are hooded and heavy, boring into the windows of your soul. all of a sudden, you’re brought back to the same time last year. back when you were just a freshie with a stomach full of butterflies as you shyly look away from those piercing eyes.

but now, all you feel is your stomach rearranging and bile almost rising to your throat as you take a swig of the beer before melding into the crowd.

alpha sig is known for their closeness with circuit breaker, having been been sponsored by your own faculty for those with outstanding achievements to stay on-campus.

but none of the circuit breakers ever come to these parties - or at least, he never did.

almost as though the stars and planets aligned to manifest your only thought, a familiar voice wraps around the syllables of your name. and you would have continued on your merry way and pretend like you didn’t hear anything, if only you’re not in a hallway where there’s least people and subdued music compared to the dance floor you just escaped from.

“i heard you’ve been around,” kim namjoon stands at the end of the hallway, decked in plain gray t-shirt underneath a leather jacket and black pants. he takes easy, casual steps towards you with a dimpled smile that couldn’t have been more vain, “but i couldn’t believe my ears,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, “well, until now, at least.”

“who would’ve thought? the cute ___ who blushed from a simple peck would have this side to her.” he stands a good half a head over you, his cologne’s changed from the last time you’d come in such a close proximity like you are now.

“yeah,” you drag out in a half-singing voice, face schooled into an unfazed expression, “i mean, it’s better than going around tricking girls into sleeping with you, right?”

at that, his smile instantly drops into a hard set frown as he lowers his voice, “i didn’t ‘trick’ you into having sex with me,” his lips quirk up at possibly a recollection of that night, “as i recall, you begged me to take your virginity.”

“that was before i knew your shitty motives to get brownie points from my dad just so you could win a stupid competition,” your voice is equally low and threatening, body heating up from the remembrance of those unreplied texts and the look in his eyes when you approached him that monday after the tournament - like he didn’t even know you.

namjoon laughs - the sound dripping with mockery as he throws his head back slightly, “come on, that was like a year ago. get over it.”

that’s it.

that’s when your mind is the clearest. no amount of beer could tell you otherwise - that this man right here doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt on the occasions that your friends begin spilling hot tea about the leader of circuit breaker and the things the members have done to win. they didn’t know about you and namjoon - nobody really does. you should have known those late night meetings and nothing but a polite smile when you pass in the hallways - were all red flags.

ones that you willfully ignore in the guise of ‘i’m not ready to tell everyone yet’s and ‘it doesn’t matter, if nobody knows, right? as long as i know you’re my girl’s

“you’re a dick.”

you push past him, cursing internally when he doesn’t budge and you’re the one who ends up with an almost dislocated shoulder.

it is only when you’re pushing a through the sea of bodies and swatting hands that try to grope your ass, does a certain doe-eyed, bunny smile enter your vision.

almost instantly, the urge to pinch the hand on your lower back disappears after knowing who its owner is. you’re pressed up against each other - the dance floor doesn’t allow much room for personal space and you’ve shared your personal spaces with each other far too many times to need that kind of distance from each other.

“i was looking for you,” the alcohol in his breath doesn’t feel all that repugnant as he nears his mouth to the shell of your ear, igniting a fire that kim namjoon had set up with the previous exchange.

he stands straighter, lips puckered sulkily as he swayed your bodies together, “we lost and everyone in my team had girlfriends or boyfriends to comfort them-”

your hands that cup his face and digs into his messy tresses make him clamp his mouth shut. the gentlest protrusion of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows in anticipation.

he asked and you shall grant it.

girlfriend. fuck buddy. what difference does it make?

“i know, koo. i’m sorry you wasted your time on that dumb competition.” you purr, noticing how his gaze becomes glazed as he steals a glance at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

a heartbeat later, you’re pressing your mouth against the softest pair of lips you’ve ever known. mentally, you make a note to ask what he uses to keep them smooth and kissable.

he snaps out of his stupor a moment later, hands snaking down to grab your ass like he’s done this a million times before and knows just how to get you moaning into his mouth. almost as natural as breathing, he slips his tongue past your lips tasting you.

another moan escapes you when he begins kissing down your chin, trailing sloppy kisses on your neck and suckling on the one spot that gets your heart palpitating on your chest. hands tucking on his pleated outer shirt for the sake of having something to hold.

you bring jungkook’s face to yours, noticing the sheen on his pinker lips before pressing another deep kiss. he doesn’t to think twice to react. one hand on your free hand slipping underneath your crop top. when someone shove into jungkook, almost sending you tumbling backwards and ending up doing the same to another person - jungkook curses. “fucking drunktards.”

a giggle escapes your lips, “pot calling the kettle black? we were probably bumping into people on nights we were shit faced drunk.”

“probably.” he shrugs, fingers lacing around your wrist as he guides you off the dance floor and into the kitchen where he doesn’t waste a second in hoisting you up onto the counter and slips in the space between your legs.

“hello.” you murmur, resting your forehead against his, cheeks hot and body aflame.

“hey, beautiful.” he fixes you a lazy grin, lips drawing closer to your mouth but before he manages to close the hair breadth’s distance, he stops.

“wait.” he murmurs against your lips, eyes glued to them as though he’s picturing another part of him on them.

“what?” you whisper, just as enticed by his own lips as your try to pull him closer with your arms that’s wrapped around his neck.

“are you drunk?” are his next words and you’re well aware the basis of where it spurred on.

once upon several parties ago, you’d included stopping you from putting on a risque show if your drunken self ever abandoned your self-restraint. jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t love attention per se but he doesn’t shy away from it either.

“i’m not,” you assure, drawing closer to his lips by the second like moth drawn to flames. but you have enough sense to tilt your head to steal a glance towards the direction where you’ve been feeling a hole being drilled into your skull. your heart skips a beat when you catch namjoon’s eyes - he’s leaning against the wall with his friends either standing or sitting on the couch, beer in one hand.

“but i need your help to make someone jealous.”

jungkook follows your gaze towards namjoon and his friends a few feet away. it doesn’t take much for him to piece two and two together - especially after your a apparent animosity while telling him about the competition being rigged.

“ah,” he hums - you could just hear the smile in his voice. your knees weaken at the touch as you begin kissing the patch of skin closest to your lips which is his jawline. “i don’t know if i should be sad or happy that you’re finally agreeing to have sex in public with me because of some what’s-his-face guy.”

“not have sex sex,” you correct, delight filling your chest when he shivers - whether it’s from your touch of the image your words are painting in his head, you’re not sure, “but make out with me like you’re a kiss away from fucking me senseless?”

“i thought that’s a given?”

not needing to be told twice, you find yourself being devoured like a little rabbit in the arms of the beast. the background around you blurs together as you inhale jungkook’s scent, feel the warmth seep from his body to yours. your hand snakes down in between your bodies with one goal in mind: the gentle protrusion brushing against your own crotch.

“fuck a show,” jungkook hisses harshly against your mouth, breathing becoming labored as you caress him over the layer of his jeans, “where’s the closest room we can get to?”

you nod in agreement, hopping off the counter and tugging on your top to keep your nipples from being exposed after jungkook’s hand fall away from your breast at your retreat.

“they might have empty ones upstairs.” you tug on jungkook’s hand, making your way to the staircase and trying not to step over drunken bodies making out on the ground or simply passed out.

it’s when you get one foot on the stairs, that a clamoring thud erupts from somewhere on the dance floor - the air that was once blaring now pin drop silent. jungkook’s cheek presses against your back as he wraps his arm around your torso, a peck landing on your shoulder, not telling you to move but not really interested at the reason you paused to peer through the gaps of bodies that seemed to be looking at something just around the corner.

“shut the fuck up, dickhead!” a voice thunders against the walls after another thud that sounded like heavy equipment falling against the ground - and possibly breaking.

“must be those football guys fighting over a girl.” jungkook comments, uninterested.

on any other occasion, you would have agreed and gone on your merry way but it’s the unsettlingly familiar baritone that made you freeze in your spot in the first place. it’s with a rattling realization and the sight of jisoo among the throng of people, calling out “taehyung, leave it!” that gets you to trudge back to the floor, vaguely aware of jungkook trailing from behind with a “what’s wrong?”

eyes bore into your skull as you finally push through the throng of people and burst onto the scene. jisoo has her arms around taehyung’s while jimin appear miniature as he stands between the taller man and an unnervingly calm namjoon. the latter wipes a trace of blood from his busted lower lip as chills run down your spine when the man’s eyes falls on you, lips curving into a vain smile.

“why don’t you ask her yourself?” his voice drums against the walls - loud and clear to those who are watching which is basically everyone here.

“come on, ___, everyone wants to know if you begged me to be your first and how we fucked in the back room of the student lounge.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook #bts #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines

[orsuliya]

Many are saying, that there is no passion betweenAwu and XQ. That from the beginning they both behave like old couple that have been together for 50 years. Calm, respect and domestic bliss. No craziness, no passionate words and deeds, no nothing. And I feel so sad that their crazy passionate all consuming love is not obvious to everybody. I've been married for 12 years now and my hubby still treats me like I'm made of glass. There is no craziness, but the calm I feel in mt heart... It is invaluable. For me their love is the perfect one. And I honestly haven't seen anything so perfect on the screen before.

Many need to check their glasses prescriptions, because that passion is right there and small it ain’t, that’s for sure. I thumb my nose, oh ye doubting Thomases, at this alleged lack of passionate words or deeds. Don’t know about you, good people, but for me the Re-do Wedding itself maxes out the scale; as far as grand gestures go that one is just perfect: very grand indeed, utterly shameless, more than a little schmoopy and, at the end of the day, surprisingly useful. Do I even need to comment on all those timely rescues? For all that Awu is not exactly a damsel in distress, she sure has been a subject of a lot of those. I hear that dramatic rescues are supposed to rate among the most romantic things a male lead can do, was my info faulty...? And it’s not like that’s one-sided since Awu runs into danger without hesitation, declaring that should anything happen to her husband or father, Song Huaien will need to carry her own cold, stiff body back home. As far as passionate romantic declarations go...!

Also, let be me disgustingly prosaic for a moment: for all that nobody gets naked onscreen (well, other that Mi’er), it is rather obvious that Awu and Xiao Qi get it on. A lot. In probably rather adventurous ways. I mean, they see absolutely no problem with promising each other various... things. While in public. In the middle of the Imperial Palace. Where anybody can hear them - and they probably do! - but is there even a hint of genuine, non-playful bashfulness to be found in their demeanor? The answer is a big, fat NO.

At the end of the day, their relationship - as is yours, you Unbelievably Lucky Nonnie - is the eternal fire of the hearth and the steady heartbeat of the home. A love like that doesn’t throw us at the mercy of waves and storms, but anchors us to home, wherever that home might be. For all the things simple and domestic to withstand the withering effects of time and everyday adversities, there must be a great burning love hidden in that hearth; hidden does not mean non-existent, but rather treasured and carefully guarded.

Okay, that is getting a tad too sentimental even for me, back to more prosaic considerations! The reason why this particular drama doesn’t seem to resonate with a good portion of younger audiences is rather simple. Bloody Mouse from Hell. Okay, not only Disney, western pop-culture as a whole. See, we’ve been taught that all conflicts and sweeping declarations of passion come before the marriage or even before the first grand kiss. After that there’s only the Happily Ever After, a concept as mind-boggling as it is suspicious. Yes, I know that Disney has been stepping away from their straighforward romance formula recently, but I am a true millenial, I have a constitutonal right to point some very pointy fingers at dear old Walt. All the work gets done before the final declaration of feelings and it’s smooth sailing from then on. Any male who makes an effort is guaranteed to be rewarded with a female; the only healthy exception being Gaston, who, when you think about it, is the scariest villain of them all (and there is good reason for that). Moms die in mysterious ways and females supporting females is a thing that happens from time to time... but is by no means guaranteed. Oh, and if you are not a walking talking perfection with one, maximum two funny quirks, there’s no place for you among the heroines. Those are the lessons I learned in my childhood. Didn’t stick, let me tell you. Wait a bloody moment, Zitan totally watched himself some Disney!

Now, let’s look at what happens in a considerable portion of mainstream adult programming. What happens is that if a couple gets together in the first season finale (which is early all the same), there is little chance of them being left to simply... be, unless they get relegated to background characters. Happily Ever Afters are booooring. Fine, I say, maybe they are. You need CONFLICT. And that’s fair! But there is no reason why you can’t spice things up using external factors; have this couple form a united front against a common danger and there’s your conflict! Yeah, no. Internal conflict and especially romantic one is much easier and cheaper. I am not saying it’s all bad - couples naturally go through such obstacles - but there comes a point where you have to ask this question: why the hell are they still together when they would never be able to trust each other again? Forgiveness only stretches so far and does not mean a totally blank slate. This is not, by any means, an invitation to start fridging female characters! I see what you’re doing, you bastards!

Thankfully things are changing. Not always and not always in the right direction. Disney in particular is doing something... weird with its main canon or was Mulan a one-off hiccup of terrifying proportions? Female-empowering that wreck was certainly not. Unless they meant Special Females, who are not like Other Females... okay, not the point right now.

The point is that Awu and Xiao Qi are married by episode 8 and in love by episode 14. Which is right where the end of the first season would be. And then... nothing. They are in love and form a rock-solid front against external enemies. The only real change in their relationship is that they grow stronger, first individually and then together.

It gets worse! We, the viewers, get a metric tonne of false leads of the kind, which we have been taught will inevitably lead to at least four episodes of conflict. So where are our four episodes of dealing with Xiao Qi’s household and uppity maids? Do as Wangfei says, that’s what we get. Where’s Xiao Qi’s burning jealousy over Zitan? I would prefer you not to go, but do as you wish, that’s the extent of it. By all known rules, he should start looking at Awu with suspicion once he guesses that Song Huaien is infatuated with her or at least take Huaien to task. There’s... absolutely nothing? This whole affair with Screecher? What do you mean you can simply ask your husband what happened and then trust his answer?! That’s not how it works! Get thee away to Turnip’s house for a couple of episodes at the least! And don’t even start me on the great performance of the Yuzhang Acting Company! There is a reason why people were loathe to recognize it as a performance and nothing but!

The Rebel Princess keeps purposefully missing those obvious cues for conflict and thus the viewer, used to much, much higher emotional amplitudes, simply nods off on this relationship. But that’s not on the drama, that’s on our erstwhile trainers.

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #okay sorry for the rant #and the preaching #but I simply had to #and don't ever start me on Mulan live-action Disney thingy UGH

[makeste]

some rambling about legacies, and opening up, and All Might has two sons more at 11

can I offer you an essay about All Might and his children in these trying times.

so back before he got swept up in the great tides of character development, Bakugou used to think that in order for him to succeed at becoming the best hero, it meant that Deku could not succeed. he thought it was a zero sum game; he could only be strong if Deku stayed weak. if Deku grew strong, then that would mean he was the weak one. there wasn’t room for the two of them to reach the top together. it could only be one or the other.

this is of course patently false, and we’ve since seen it disproven beyond a shadow of a doubt, and Katsuki has learned that it’s okay for them to work together. not just okay, but correct; the only way, the best way. it doesn’t make him weak; working with Deku improves them both and helps them both to succeed.

so given that, I think it stands to reason that if this holds true for success and power levels, it should also hold true for their character development, and their personal relationships -- such as their relationship with All Might.

   oddly enough, this is something that’s come under a fair amount of criticism. and interestingly, these criticisms have come from two very different perspectives. All Might spent too much time with Deku and focused too much on him and ignored Katsuki in his favoritism, which did a great deal of harm to Katsuki’s mental health. or the reverse: All Might’s bond with Deku is special and important, and there’s a closeness there that should never have been encroached on by Bakugou, and him sitting in on all of the OFA Club meetings now is unfair to Deku and takes away the one special thing that he had, and for once Kacchan should not make it about him and should butt out.

there isn’t room for both. or so both of these standpoints would seem to imply. All Might cannot be a close mentor to both Katsuki and Izuku; if he gets closer to one, it must necessarily be at the expense of the other.

pardon my very blunt take, but... bullshit.

let’s start by talking about something which I don’t often see discussed: All Might’s similarities to Bakugou. yes, Bakugou. not Izuku, the little green Might Jr., but Bakugou Katsuki, whose hostile and volcanic personality would at first glance seem to clash with All Might’s in almost every way possible. All Might is kind and altruistic and empathetic and burdened with a soul-deep need to help and protect others. All Might was born quirkless. All Might is the mirror image of Deku. All Might chose Deku as his successor specifically because he sees himself in Deku. all of this is absolutely true.

but All Might also keeps to himself. All Might goes to great lengths to avoid being seen as weak. All Might doesn’t let people close to him. All Might rarely works as part of a team. All Might is a natural talent. All Might smiles when he’s up against a wall. All Might is synonymous with determination. and All Might takes responsibility far beyond what he should, and burdens himself and blames himself when things go wrong, even when the outcome is out of his control. and at those times, All Might blames himself for not being stronger.

do you see?? All Might is like Deku, yes, but not only Deku. the truth is that All Might and Katsuki are alike as well. not only are they alike, they’re far too alike, in ways that All Might probably wishes they were not. where Deku is a mirror of All Might’s goodness and selflessness and optimism, Katsuki is a mirror of All Might’s strength and resolve and determination. but he is also a mirror of what is possibly All Might’s greatest weakness: his isolation.

this, perhaps, is a natural consequence that comes from having the sort of physical talent that both he and Katsuki possess. All Might grew up quirkless just as Deku did, yes, but once he received One for All from Nana in his teens, he took to it just as instinctively and intuitively as Katsuki has taken to his quirk. there was none of the steep learning curve that Deku experienced; OFA came to All Might easily, and he was by all accounts a force of nature during his school years.

the downside of this, however, is that when everything comes easily to you, you start to feel like everything always should. that because you are capable, you need to be capable. you start to build up expectations of yourself that don’t take into account the simple truth that no matter how gifted you are, everybody fails at some point or another. and because you are strong, because you never fail, you never learn how to let yourself rely on other people. you never learn how to ask for help.

and needless to say, this is a terrible, even fatal weakness to have. and what makes it all the more destructive is that this particular weakness is self-perpetuating and feeds into itself. you don’t know how to admit when you need help, and so you never get the help you need. it’s a brutal fucking cycle, and so it’s no wonder that All Might spent years and years and years trying to do everything all alone.

and he lost Nana. his mentor, the woman who was like a mother to him. and that only made matters worse. he lost the person who believed in him and encouraged him, and who understood the burden he was carrying better than anyone else, because she herself had struggled with that same burden. and so the one person he might have been able to reach out to, he ended up losing in the most devastating way possible. and so not only was he heartbroken and traumatized and likely blaming himself, but it also left him more alone than ever before, with the pain of that loss basically ensuring he wouldn’t ever open himself up and let anyone else in again.

and it’s easy to look at the impact of All Might’s downfall at Kamino, and the many shortcomings and vulnerabilities it exposed, and wonder what the hell he was thinking, and to blame him for not recognizing the fragility of the society he helped to build, and for the arrogance of thinking that a lone pillar could support an entire country all on its own and not inevitably come crumbling down. and yes; for all of his goodness and optimism, the notion that All Might had of a lone Symbol of Peace was deeply flawed.

but we learn from our failures. and after decades of struggling to support the world all on his own, All Might finally did fail. and after years of stubbornly trying to fight on anyway in spite of his injuries, he was finally forced to accept that his time was coming to an end, and that he needed to pass on his legacy. and in many ways, his mentoring of Izuku has been as much of a learning process for him as it has been for his protege. 

because for all of the similarities I discussed earlier, there are also ways in which Deku is not like him at all. Deku is used to failure. Deku is not afraid to ask for help. and Deku does naturally what All Might has always struggled to do: he reaches out.

and who does he reach out to? first and foremost, to another boy with whom, as I mentioned, All Might shares all too many similarities.

another boy who’s isolated. another boy who doesn’t know how to ask for help, who is afraid to fail.

All Might understands Katsuki remarkably well right from the start. of course he does; how could he not? and because he is all too aware of the effect that kind of stubborn self-reliance has on a person, he is hesitant at first to reach out to Katsuki in the same way that he does to Izuku. not because of a lack of care or concern, but because he knows -- all too well -- that Katsuki will not accept it. and so instead he takes a different approach with him, trying to guide him while still respecting his pride and stubbornness.

so this is kind of the status quo for them for a while. but now here’s where things finally get interesting. because as All Might’s powers continue to wane, and he’s forced to come to terms with his own weaknesses and to rely more and more on others, he finally begins to see where it was that he went wrong. and as he grows to care more about Izuku, he realizes that he doesn’t want him to have to suffer in the same way that he did.

and during this same time, Katsuki is also starting to go through his own personal journey which includes so many of the same struggles that All Might came up against. everything that comes along with the mindset of thinking you only need to rely on yourself. so here, again, is someone who is so much like All Might was. who is putting the same kind of pressure on himself of thinking that it’s not okay to fail. and who, eventually, also comes to experience the same pain of feeling responsible for the “loss” of someone he admired more than anyone.

and it’s one thing for All Might not to acknowledge his own pain, but it’s quite another to recognize that same pain in someone else. and I think that once he did, he came to the same realization he did with Izuku: that he doesn’t want Katsuki to suffer like he did. see, that’s the thing about being selfless. you’re numb to it while it only affects you. it’s not until you see that same pain affecting someone else that you finally start to realize how fucked up it actually is.

  and so this, fittingly, is what prompts All Might to finally reach out to Katsuki. the realization that Katsuki has been struggling alone, the same as himself. and at the same time, the long-overdue and crucial recognition that the past doesn’t have to be repeated. that he can be there for him, even if he’s still trying to figure out the best way how, and even if he still hasn’t come to terms with the near-identical burdens that he bears himself.

and so Katsuki has now officially gained one (1) Dadmight as well. and so here we have two boys, each a reflection of their beloved hero in their own way. two boys, and one legacy. a legacy which All Might carried proudly, but which nearly ended up destroying him in the end. two boys whose strengths and weaknesses seamlessly complement each other’s. two boys who already share a bond the likes of which All Might himself never had growing up.

the solution is obvious. but more than that, it’s necessary. so that neither of these boys has to go through what he went through. so that neither of them will ever have to fight alone. so that if they fall -- when they fall -- the other one will be there to help them get back up.

Deku has the quirk, but One for All is more than just a quirk. pardon me for getting all sappy, but it’s right there in the name -- One for All. it’s more than a power; it’s the legacy of working together to fight evil. a legacy of inspiring hope in others. and a legacy of never, ever giving up.

that legacy is both of theirs to share. that will is both of theirs to inherit. both Izuku and Katsuki are All Might’s successors. and he takes pride in them both.

and All Might doesn’t love Izuku any less because he is also a mentor to Katsuki. and All Might doesn’t care about Katsuki any less because he also has a close bond with Izuku. and All Might mentoring the one will always also be in the other one’s best interests. because the stronger they become, the stronger they can be for each other.

and they’ll need to be. because one thing All Might does understand all too well is that regardless of whether he lives or dies, he won’t always be able to be there for them.

so do you see? the reason why it’s so important for All Might to mentor them both. to mentor them together. because Katsuki can inspire and support Izuku in ways that All Might can’t. Izuku can reach Katsuki to an extent which All Might cannot. and All Might knows this, and has understood it almost from the start.

in conclusion, there really isn’t and never has been a war for All Might’s affections. Katsuki becoming a part of the squad isn’t forced; it’s foreshadowed. it doesn’t take away from what All Might has with Deku; it’s proof that All Might cares deeply about Deku and is taking steps to secure his future. and for All Might himself, it gives him a new purpose: to be there for these kids, to guide them and continue to support them.

and them coming together shows their growth. it shows how far they’ve come as characters. it’s the culmination of something that has been in the works since the start. All Might has two sons, plain and simple, and debating which one is the favorite child is really missing the entire point. that this is the story of two boys, who grew up admiring the same person.

and the story of how the two of them take that legacy, and make it their own.

together.

anyway that’s my post! if anyone needs me I’ll be sitting here thinking about these boys and how much I love them and their dad, and pondering other comforting topics to write therapeutic essays about.

#bnha #all might #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this post brought to you by residual feelings about heroes rising which I still have a whole month later #and by my conflicting need to take some time to recover from the current events of the manga but also still wanting to post about bnha #and by the letter k #bakugou meta

[welllpthisishappening]

One Foot In (4/7)

The facts were these.

Killian Jones was dead. This much Emma knew, standing in the middle of the funeral parlor staring at him. What she didn’t know was why. Or how. Or what she would do when she touched him.

Because Emma Swan had a gift. Touch a dead thing once, bring it back to life. Touch it again, dead forever.

And the last thing Emma could do was bring Killian back to life, talk to him for the first time in years, only to watch him die all over again. Not when she’d spent the better part of those same years being in love with him.

—–

Rating: Teen, but eventually they’re going to kiss Word Count: 9.3K and I seriously don’t remember writing all of this AN: This is the part where we kind of deviate from Pushing Daisies (although there are some jokes from other episodes) and move into magic and meaningful conversations and it’s going to get relatively exciting from here on out. I hope, at least. Thanks for reading this. I think you guys are swell. 

@shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @nikkiemms, @teamhook, @dayo488​, @greymeetsblue​, @jennjenn615​, @heavenlyjoycastle​, @klynn-stormz​, @superchocovian​, @onepunintendid​, @jonesfandomfanatic​, @lfh1226-linda

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. Or, you can take it from the top. 

—–

Emma Swan is twenty-nine years, six months, twenty-three days and, approximately, twelve hours and forty-two minutes old when her shoulder is nearly ripped out of her socket.

“Ow, jeez, what the hell, Ruby?” she hisses, gaping at her partner as soon as she tightens her hold on Emma’s wrist. “My health insurance is garbage. I can’t get injured here.” “Don’t you think we could sue the town of Storybrooke? I think you’re technically on city hall property at this point.” “Town hall,” Killian corrects. He’s leaning against the back door of Emma’s car, feet crossed at the ankle again which is only kind of infuriating in the way it makes Emma’s heart jump, but he’s also got a pinch between his eyebrows that wasn’t there when they left the restaurant. 

It’s because Emma made him sit in the backseat. 

And Ruby agreed. 

His arsenal of curses has gotten far more creative in the past two decades. One of the more nautical ones even made Ruby blush. 

Emma didn’t think she was capable of that. 

“Storybrooke is a town,” he continues when Ruby quirks a vaguely annoyed eyebrow in his direction. “If you want to get technical. The state of Maine is weird like that. Anything can really be a town, but a city has to be incorporated by a special act of the state legislature.” “Why do you know that?” Emma asks. “And, really? Anything can be a city? There’s not like...a population requirement.” “Usually. But Maine’s a strange place with strange laws and as discussed before, I’ve read some things in the last few years.” “That includes the requirements for a city to be formed?” “Incorporated.” “What a ridiculous word.” Killian hums, but the pinch between his eyebrows is still there and he looks a little cautious. Or nervous. That’s really the word for it. He looks nervous, as if whatever they’ll find out from Cora Mills at the Storybrooke Town Hall is going to change everything. 

Ruby still hasn’t let go of Emma’s wrist. 

Emma is slightly concerned about the blood flow to her hand. 

“The specifics of any of this could not possibly matter less,” Ruby hisses. “Jones, I need you to take a walk towards those very high bushes.” The pinch between his eyebrows is never going to disappear. “Excuse me?” “Did none of these encyclopedias you’ve read teach you how the English language works?” “Why do you think I was reading encyclopedias?” “Were you not?” “I mean,” he shrugs, “maybe at one point. Nemo had some really old ones that were mostly focused on the naval history of the world, but those weren’t very interesting and the pages were really fragile and—” “I do not care,” Ruby shouts, and Emma blinks at the absolute acid in her voice. She tries to yank her arm back to her side, but that works as well as trying to understand the absurd inner-workings of the Maine census bureau and only ends with Emma elbowing herself in the ribs. Ruby huffs dramatically, lips pursed. “A walk,” she repeats. “Towards those bushes where, presumably no one can see you and realize you’re breathing.” “Why are we yelling this?” Emma mumbles. Ruby’s answering glare could probably melt several thousand diamonds. 

Her grip could certainly crack them. 

And Emma isn’t really sure what’s changed in the car ride from her restaurant to the Storybrooke Town Hall, but there had been a lot of cursing and mumbling about acting like I’m a little kid and sounds like Liam and that second one had made her breath catch in her throat and Ruby was always very good at reading her face. 

Which she could see perfectly. From the front seat of Emma’s car. 

Oh, damn. 

“Maybe just one second,” Emma says, glancing at Killian to find him staring at her like it’s the first time he’s ever seen her. Ruby squeezes her nails into Emma’s wrist. “Or,” she amends. “Like thirteen seconds. Just...to come up with a plan of attack.” Killian clicks his teeth at that, eyebrows lifting, which doesn’t do much to help the very obvious whatever that settles on every inch of his face – something that looks like surprise and feels like disappointment and the buzzing in between Emma’s ears sputters into nothing. He’s chewing on the side of his tongue, a nervous habit he picked up when he was seven and Liam let them watch Friday the 13th on Halloween with the lights off and enough candy to make Emma regret her distinct lack of dental insurance again. 

“Huh,” he mutters, barely audible over the sounds of the town. 

They’re familiar sounds – a few cars and some kid riding their bike because it’s August and there’s a hint of humidity in the air that’s already starting to make the ends of Emma’s hair curl. She can hear an ice cream truck a few blocks away and mosquitos and someone needs to get their air conditioner checked out because it can’t be good for it to be that noisy. 

Emma shifts awkwardly on her feet, trying, and failing, again, to regain control of her right arm, but Ruby must have been a wrestler in another life because she’s got some kind of choke-hold and, clearly, no intention of letting go. 

“It’s just thirteen seconds,” Emma says, but her voice sounds like the lie it is and her own nerves are obvious in every single syllable. Killian’s lips twist. 

“At least. For your plan of attack.” “We just...you know, we like to be prepared going into stuff like this.” “Murder investigations.” “Well, to be fair, I’m not usually dealing with people who are alive. We’ve got more time and I don’t want to, you know, waste that.” “Seems impossible when you’re used to only a minute,” Killian says, and Emma is single-handedly digging herself into the world’s biggest ditch. She’s a little worried Ruby’s nails have cut her arm. 

“You don’t actually have to stand in the bushes.” Ruby scoffs, her own mumbled curses, and Killian’s lips twitch. “I had no intention of standing in the bushes. You better attack though, Swan. Lucas looks like she’s growing talons.” “Claws, honestly.” “I am standing right here,” Ruby seethes. 

Emma shrugs, glancing over her shoulder and she hadn’t realized she’d moved away from Ruby. Or closer to Killian. Honestly she’s going to write a twenty-seven page research paper on the possibility of magnets in the real world and how goddamn inconvenient they are. 

“And whose fault is that?” Emma asks. “Alright, I really do have garbage health insurance, so if we could avoid bodily harm before we deal with a maybe murderer, that’d be great. C’mon.”

She, finally, regains control of her arm, moving a few feet down the sidewalk and leaving Killian with the car and the anxiety practically radiating off him. 

And, really, Emma has every intention of controlling the conversation from the get-go, a determination that’s almost impressive because she’s having a very difficult time remembering to breathe consistently, but then Ruby is in front of her and the sun appears to be reflecting off the highlights in her hair and she’s doing that foot tapping thing. 

Emma hates that foot tapping thing. 

“Is this where you yell?” Emma asks, Ruby already shaking her head. 

“No, this is where I do the asking several very important questions and you tell me the God’s honest truth or I swear to God I will push you in traffic.” “In traffic?” “Is that not threatening enough?”

Emma makes a contradictory noise in the back of her throat. “I feel like people would probably stop their cars. Or I’d still have the ability to dodge. I think I could dodge.” “Your reflexes are not that good,” Ruby promises. “And we are wasting time. Also, do you think Jones knows how to read lips?” “I’ve got no idea.” “What do you know about him?” The question seems unfairly large to start with, but Emma’s got a sinking suspicion that’s not actually one of Ruby’s questions and the weight of disappointment that settles in her gut at the realization that she may not actually have an answer is somewhere close to horrendous. 

“Your silence is overwhelming.” Emma blinks, trying to push impossible tears back in their ducts and she’s going to chew her lower lip in half before the day is over. “It’s not...ok, I know that’s not what you wanted to ask, so can we get to the point of this—” “—No, no, I wanted to ask that. Because I think there’s some seriously shady things happening here and a group of goons on some tourist cruise who call some other dude master is a little terrifying, don’t you think?” “I don’t think Killian was working for that guy.” “Do you know that for sure? Can you know that for sure?” Emma bites her lip again. There’s blood in her mouth. It’s disgusting. And Ruby sighs. “All I’m saying is maybe we should be careful and I…” She exhales, eyes going dangerously thin and Emma braces herself for the riot act. What she gets is almost worse. “Are you in love with him? Is it that brand of stupid?”

Emma’s right knee gives out. Only her right one. It’s kind of weird, but that seems to just be the sub-headline of her life now. And, at least, she doesn’t fall down. 

So, comparatively…

“No,” Emma says, but the word feels heavy and incorrect and Ruby’s head tilt is almost vibrating with judgment. “No.” “No?”

“No.” “I’m going to tell you that I don’t believe you, but—” “—I killed his brother.”

The words fly out of Emma’s mouth, her eyes widening with her own surprise and the noise Ruby makes is not of this world. It sounds like an alien has settled into her body and realized what a god awful race humans are and then decided, unequivocally, that Emma is the worst of the worst and is now desperate to get off this planet. 

The greenhouse gasses are pretty horrible anyway. That’s probably Emma’s fault too. 

Ruby brings both her hands to her temples, blinking far too quickly to be anything except jarring and Emma is running out of lip to bite. She moves to her cheek. 

“Ok, hold on a second,” Ruby mutters. “That is...when? Recently? I thought he said his brother died when he was ten.” “He did.” “And?” “And what? I…” Emma trails off, yanking on the ends of her humidity-ruined hair. They are going way over their thirteen-second limit. “The very short story is that the EMTs said Ingrid suffered a brain hemorrhage. Incredibly rare, immediately fatal and I...didn’t know that. So—” “—Oh my God, you touched her,” Ruby finishes. This is not the first time she’s heard this particular part of the story. Emma nods. “And that meant that…” Her hand flies to her mouth, but it doesn’t do much to silence the gasp she makes. Emma swats at both of her arms, desperate to quiet her or silence whatever guilt is bouncing around her skull and neither thing works. She can feel Killian casting curious glances their direction. 

“I am going to push you in traffic,” Emma warns. “And you will trip over your own heels.” Ruby scowls, absurd with her hand still plastered over her mouth. “You are questionably obsessed with my fashion choices. But Ingrid died. That’s why you had to leave Storybrooke.” “I know. But, ok, you cannot make any noise, do you understand me?” Ruby nods slowly, and there will probably be handprint marks smearing her lipstick. “I came into the kitchen and Ingrid was dead. Sudden and real and I was nine. I didn’t think...I just reacted and then she was alive and I was so happy, but then...well, the universe is a dick and—” Emma can’t bring herself to finish. 

The tears on her cheeks are distracting.

Ruby pulls her hand away from her mouth – lipstick somehow in place, which is actually almost comforting – wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist in a way that’s even more comforting. “Does he know?” 

Emma shakes her head. “No. I didn’t know at first. I had no idea what the rules were or are and I wasn’t trying to do that. I...I loved Liam too and he was so good for Killian and Killian...oh, he idolized him. But then I was leaving and he kept saying I was going to come back and—” “—You didn’t ever come back.” “No.”

“Did you want to?” “Every single day.” Ruby exhales through her teeth, and they’re all going to need extensive dental work by the time this is over. “Ok, so, uh...that leads us almost directly to my number one, top of the list, most important question of all time. Who died to make sure Killian Jones didn’t?” “I have no idea,” Emma admits, those particular words far more difficult to say than a secret she’d like to kept under metaphorical lock and key for the rest of her mortal life. 

“Yeah, I figured you were going to say something horrible like that. How does that even work? Is it an age thing? Does it have to be relatively similar.” Emma shrugs. “I think it’s a general proximity thing.” “I was like twenty feet away from you!”

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Emma reasons. “That’s not an excuse, it’s just a fact. I would have been upset if you died.” “Wow, your charity is overwhelming, Em. You know what, I’m going to take all of your reward. Screw that. I didn’t realize I was playing with fire here.” “Metaphorically, I guess.” Ruby kicks at her ankle, nose scrunched. “You make jokes when you're nervous. It’s a coping mechanism.” She grits her teeth, more exaggerated breathing that Emma supposes is warranted in the moment. “And you know what this means?”

“Should I?” “There’s another body somewhere with no reasonable explanation for its death.” Emma’s left knee gives out. “Oh, well, shit.” “That’s eloquent.” “You have something better to suggest?” “Nah,” Ruby says, a grin that feels wholly out of place in a conversation filled with so much death. Emma wishes there weren’t always so much death involved. “But I bet if you ask your boyfriend he’d be able to help. I think he was using some pirate ones before. He seems like a practical treasure trove of frustrated curses.” “Are you making jokes now?” Ruby shrugs, hand moving to Emma’s shoulder. “It’s an observation. And you didn’t contradict boyfriend, just for the record or whatever.” “I don’t have time to be worried about antiquated relationship qualifiers,” Emma mumbles, but the butterflies in her stomach have returned and she wants to know every single thing Killian has learned in the last two decades. 

She really doesn’t want to tell him she killed his brother. 

On accident. 

Kind of. 

She wouldn’t mind kissing him again. 

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Ruby laughs. “Alright, well, we’ve got a serious check-list of things we need to accomplish before anyone else realizes we’re trying to accomplish them. No time like the present, right?”

She’s gone before Emma can begin to formulate a response – a twist of red and hair that doesn’t appear prone to humidity and a very particular shine to her shoes that Emma is almost certain she’s developed on her own. 

And Killian is exactly where they left him. 

He licks his lips as soon as his eyes dart towards Emma, eyebrows raised in silent question. They’d always been very good at that, silent communication that used to drive Ingrid and Liam insane in equal measure until Liam threw his whole head back and taught them morse code so they could at least learn something practical and they used to flash lights at each other from across the street when they were supposed to be asleep. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, and Emma makes a noise that is the audible version of the worst lie she’s ever told. “That so?” “I didn’t actually say anything.” “Yeah, you didn’t really have to, did you?” “The mind reading thing isn’t nearly as cute as you think it is.” The tongue stuff has got to stop. It means Emma keeps thinking about Killian’s tongue and that’s a dangerous line of thought and maybe they should get him some new clothes. Seeing him in the clothes he was supposed to be buried in is disconcerting. 

“So you think I’m dreamy and cute?” Killian asks, pushing off the car at the same time his eyebrows defy several laws of gravity. Emma swallows. She wonders how much it would hurt to have to get stitches in her lip. “That’s quite a tandem don’t you think?”

“I think you’re way too confident for your own good and it’s going to get us in trouble.” “What other trouble could I possibly get into, Swan? I’ve already been dead once in the last forty-eight hours, seems to cover most of my bases doesn’t it?” Emma sighs. “Can you pull your hat down? There’s too much of your hair showing.”

He does as asked, tugging with almost too much force. “No one is going to notice me,” Killian says, a promise he can’t possibly make in the middle of a town that knows far too much about both of them. “It’s the middle of the day, anyway. Cora’s probably the only person in the building. You know how she hates to delegate, works through lunch and—” “Yeah, uh,” Ruby interrupts, moving back towards the sidewalk and Emma hadn’t even realized she’d gone into the building. “No one’s really doing anything with lunch in there. Or doing much of anything. At all.” “What does that mean?” Emma asks. 

“This creepy Cora? She’d likely be at a desk that says mayor on a very fancy plaque? Dark hair? Suit that costs more than my yearly rent?” Killian nods. “All of the above.” “Yeah, she’s very dead.” Both of Emma’s knees give out – and she knows Killian moves, an immediate reaction that is equal parts dreamy and cute and absolutely impossible because she’s not wearing nearly enough clothing and there are rules and he can’t catch her. 

She stumbles forward, balance no more than almost precarious as Ruby’s fingers curl around her elbow. “Deep breaths, Em. It’s fine. It’s...you know, it’s fine.” “That was almost as bad as Swan,” Killian mumbles, arm still outstretched like he’ll be able to do something. It takes them all a moment to realize it’s his left arm. He grimaces as soon as his eyes land on the skin there, the sleeve of his shirt hanging over the edge and Emma wants a lot more than she should ever be allowed to even consider, but more than anything she wants to pull his arm into her hands and hold him there and promise it will be ok because he’s ok and it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, them or him or whatever they may be dealing with in the moment, because he looks at her like nothing is wrong. 

He looks at her like he’s been hoping to find her every single day he’s woken up and it’s a feeling Emma understands and wants and maybe Ruby is right. 

That’s kind of annoying. 

Emma hates when Ruby is right. She’s a bad sport about it.

“Did it...well, what do we do?” Killian continues. 

Ruby grins. “What we normally do.” “You want to—” He glances at Emma, mouth hanging open. She tries to smile. It fails miserably. “Oh, yeah, ok,” Killian nods, sounding as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Is that ok, Swan?”

She wishes things would stop surprising her. It can’t possibly be good for her blood pressure or the apparently shoddy state of her knees. But he says it with such sincerity and that hat looks absolutely ridiculous, makes the slight point of ears Emma always teased him about when they were little even more obvious, and he keeps having to push the sunglasses they found in the glove compartment up. 

Emma nods brusquely. “Yeah, of course. I mean...that’s what you were saying before, right? This is kind of my schtick.” “That’s not what I meant. I just...you were plotting.” “I wasn’t plotting without you.” “That’s not what it looked like.” “Ok, we genuinely do not have time for this,” Ruby says, cutting in before Emma can say something absurdly sentimental and decidedly out of place for what has just become another crime scene. “We have negative amount of time for this. Let’s go talk to creepy Cora Mills and get the hell out of here before someone realizes the lurker in the weird hat is dead.” “He’s not dead,” Emma growls, but Ruby just waves her hands in her face and nods as if that word isn’t kind of offensive. 

Killian smiles at her. “It is a kind of weird hat though, Swan.” “It’s not a weird hat! And you’re not dead. Can we please stop using that word? It’s--it’s messing with my head and, like, my lungs and—” “—You’ve got to breathe, love.” “How are you so calm about this?” 

They’re frozen in the doorway of the Storybrooke Town Hall, far too close and not close enough. Ruby is tapping her heel on marble tile now. “I’m not,” Killian says with an ease that belies the look on his face. “I’m frustrated and annoyed and pissed off. At the world and Cora Mills and goons one through six and kind of at you for never coming back because I always wanted you to come back and I wondered and—” She can see every single one of his teeth when he cuts himself off, and Emma wishes he’d stop doing that, but she figures it’s kind of unfair to demand proper sentence structure at this point. 

“I was dead, Swan,” he says, expression softening when Emma makes a face. “That’s a fact. But then you showed up and changed that and I...well, I wasn’t...if this is as dangerous as it might be then I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “Oh.” It’s the worst response. It’s an absolutely lame response, but Emma’s always been a little worried that she’s missing some fundamental piece of her empathy chip and she twists her arms behind her back again to stop herself from touching him. 

“Oh?” “Oh,” Emma repeats, whatever disgusted sound Ruby makes at their distinct lack of conversational progress bouncing off the far too ostentatious walls around them. “I—well, that was kind of nice.” “That was kind of the goal.” “Right. Right, well, mission accomplished, I guess. And, uh...that hat came from a baking contest a couple years ago.” “You were in a baking contest?” “You were making jokes about award-winning pie, but it’s almost true. The five-berry one was described as something close to life-changing.” “Seems to be a trend,” Killian mutters. He moves his hand again, a quick brush of fingertips over the curve of Emma’s shoulder and he shakes his head as soon as she tries to tell him to stop that, God. “That was the last time. Just...making sure.” Emma doesn’t have to ask what he means – knows he’s making sure she’s there and real and this would almost make more sense if it were some very lucid dream. But she figures she wouldn't want to torture herself even in a dream and Emma’s inability to touch a guy she maybe hopes could be referred to as her boyfriend in regular conversation is something she’ll have to contend with eventually. Once they solve his murder and the trail of bodies that seem to be piling up behind him. 

“Let’s go,” Ruby groans from the other end of the hallway. 

“It’s not like Cora’s getting up and walking away,” Emma mutters, working a laugh out of Killian. 

“At least not yet. C’mon, love, I’d rather Cora’s assistant didn’t find us while we were in the middle of this.”

Cora Mills, mayor of Storybrooke since, quite possibly, the dawn of time, looks almost exactly the way Emma remembers her. 

There’s more gray to her hair, a few more wrinkles around her eyes, but she’s still got an air of superiority around her that sets Emma’s teeth on edge. Her suit definitely cost a ridiculous amount of money and the manicure looks nearly immaculate – except on her right hand. It’s not the whole thing, but three of her fingers are missing nails and—

“Oh my God, Cora Mills gets acrylic nails,” Emma laughs. 

“Is that a clue of some sort?” Killian asks, earning more laughter for more sincerity and it is really getting very difficult not to hold his hand. 

“Ah, I like that you said clues. And, no, well, maybe, but...I guess it’s just funny. Acrylic nails are so...tacky.” “Ok, that’s not true at all,” Ruby argues. She’s already picking her way through piles of paperwork, a determined look on her face that usually ends in several stacks of bills untraceable by the IRS. “These aren’t just acrylic. They’re gel and hard gel at that.” “I feel like she’s speaking in code,” Killian says, perched on the edge of Cora’s desk. 

Emma lifts her eyebrows. “Should you be up there?” “What’s she going to do to stop me?” “Jesus,” Ruby growls. “The flirting is honestly disgusting. Also, I am not speaking in code. I am speaking in spa.” “What’s the difference?” “The difference is that hard gel eventually becomes, as its name implies, hard enough to basically be an extension of the nail. Getting those off is some kind of serious bitch. You’ve got to be totally committed to the color.” “None of this makes sense,” Emma fumes, bobbing on her feet and she’s unreasonably nervous to touch a dead person in front of Killian. “Can I just touch her so we can get out of here?” Ruby doesn’t look up from the papers she’s leafing through when she answers. “No one is stopping you, but you’re missing a very important point.” “You lord information over other people when you want to feel in control of a situation.” “And why do you think might I feel out of control in this particular situation?” “Oh, shit, no I get it,” Killian says, jumping off the desk with enough enthusiasm that Emma is really starting to wonder if time travel is possible. “Fuck, that’s not great, is it?” “We won’t know until Emma touches her.” Emma rolls her whole head. “What am I missing?” “Lucas is right, we won’t know until Cora tells us, but,” Killian starts, grinning like a maniac who just discovered what was underneath that one man hole on Main Street, “If hard gel requires a commitment to the color scheme, that means it would take one hell of a fight to pull the nails off, right?” Ruby nods, something that feels like PI pride hanging off her shoulders. “And that means that Cora didn’t just die under natural circumstances.” “I kind of figured that part was obvious considering your rather untimely murder,” Ruby muses. “But I wasn’t sure there was a fight until I noticed Madam Mayor’s rather grimy hands. She didn’t go down quietly.” “If you knew Cora, you’d understand that’s very in character.” “Well, I feel as if it’s time for me to meet the great and powerful Oz.” “That wasn’t funny,” Emma mumbles. Ruby laughs anyway. “Alright,” she huffs, jumping up and down as if that will work out her influx of nervous energy. Killian smirks at her. “I am nervous about this with you here.” “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Ruby gags. Again. For at least twenty-one seconds straight. “There is a dead person here. Let’s try and keep some perspective. Also what did you say about that assistant?” “Aurora was terrified of Cora,” Killian reasons. “I doubt she’ll be back before the end of lunch. And you’ve got nothing to be worried about, Swan. It’s not going to change anything.” He can’t possibly mean it the way it sounds, but Emma’s brain doesn’t care. It latches to those words and that particular curve of his lips, confident in her and whatever magic she may be in possession of to fix things and control things she shouldn’t be able to control. Killian nods again when Emma wavers, his smile shifting slightly when he raises his right hand to cover his eyes. 

“That better?” he asks. 

Emma has to look down to make sure her entire body has not exploded into flames. It has not. That’s nice. “Yeah,” she breathes. “That’s...that’s good.”

“Can we get on with it?” Ruby drawls. She’s started opening drawers. 

“You may want to move,” Emma suggests. “Sometimes they can get a little flaily when they just wake up.” “Oh, yeah, good point.” She takes the whole drawer with her when she steps to the other side of the office. 

Emma takes a deep breath, tugging her phone out of her pocket and setting the timer and she’s almost pleased to notice that her finger doesn’t shake when she brushes over Cora’s hand. Killian’s fingers shift. 

He’s still smiling. 

And Cora does, in fact, flail. Her limbs are everywhere, impossibly agile and decidedly threatening, even with a few less nails than she’s normally used to. She jerks back as soon as Emma touches her, eyes crazed with a snarl on her face that’s only slightly intimidating. 

Her head snaps around, taking in her surroundings as if she’s surprised to find herself still in the office where she, presumably, died a few minutes earlier. 

“Oh,” Cora says, some of the fight almost visibly falling off her. “That’s—” She glances around again, and the curse she growls at all of them as soon as her eyes land on Killian is enough to make Emma’s hair curl without any humidity involved. ‘No, no, no,” Cora stammers. “What the hell are you doing here?” “That’s the million dollar question isn’t it?” Killian asks. “Who killed you, Cora?” “Where’s your hand?”

“Full of tact as always, ma’am.” “That’s not a question of tact, although if you’d like to discuss upbringing, I’d be only too happy to share some thoughts on your uncles and what they’ve done to that beautiful house.” “Did you think I had both of my hands when I died?”

“I didn’t think they’d take it, no.” “They?” “Listen,” Emma interrupts. “You’ve got like...fifty seconds to tell us everything that’s happened to you today and why you’re missing nails.” Cora blinks. “I wasn’t going to sit there and take it. That goon—” “—A goon,” Ruby cuts in. “What kind of goon?” “Is this heaven? Because that’s...well, that’s a little surprising, honestly.” “It’s not heaven,” Killian promises. “But there’s the possibility for some serious karmic retribution if you answer our questions. I make no guarantees about where you’ll end up, although I imagine not being a complete and utter harpy can only help you.” Cora laughs, dark and threatening. “Oh, you were always far too confident for your own good, Jones. I’d imagine the people who killed me are the same people who got rid of you. Although why they brought you back to Storybrooke, I’ll never understand.” “Is that why you offered the reward?” Ruby asks. “Covering your own ass?” “That’s a little crass, but sufficient.” “Who were these people?” Killian presses. “You never actually said.” “And yet you were only all too happy to agree weren’t you? Desperate to get out of this town and away from this life. It was the perfect opportunity for both of us.” “Explain that.”

Cora bristles at the command, Emma still sitting there silent and nervous and she hates how knowing the gaze that flashes towards her is. “Oh,” Cora says. “There’s something interesting about you, isn’t there? And it...it matches up with his.” Emma jerks her head up. “Who’s what?” “Jones. Can’t you feel that? Ah, well maybe you can’t, but that’s always been my own particular talent. That’s why they recruited me of course.” “Who?” Killian shouts, standing up and Emma hears Ruby’s breath hitch. He’s furious, that much is obvious, but it’s more than that, a hint of darkness and frustration that wasn’t there when they were kids and it makes him feel taller and more threatening than anything else in that room. “You’re running out of time here, Cora. Straight answers.” “Fine,” she snaps. “Sit down, you’re acting like a petulant child. I’ve...well, I’ve been endowed with several gifts in my life and one of my more...appealing gifts is the ability to see into someone’s heart.” “What?” “If you’d like an explanation, then it’s probably in your best interest not to interrupt.” Killian doesn’t sit down, but he doesn’t say anything else and Emma moves to the front of her seat when his fingers wrap around the back of her chair. “As I was saying,” Cora continues. “I’m rather good at seeing what people want. Deepest desires and darkest feelings, those hopes and needs we’ve done our best to hide away from the rest of the world. And our mutual employer found that very interesting. He wanted someone with your particular abilities to help him, Mr. Jones.” “I don’t have any particular abilities,” Killian says. Emma hopes she doesn’t crack the chair.

Cora shakes her head, smile turning mocking. “I believed that for a very long time too, but that’s not true. I can see it, Mr. Jones and I can feel it. It’s...not quite as strong as Ms. Swan, yes, I remember you too, but it’s there. And it seems to time up very well with hers.” “With my what?” Emma demands, almost too aware of the ticking seconds on her phone. 

“Why your magic, of course. Both of you. It’s admittedly unfortunate that you had to die for it, Mr. Jones, but I’d imagine you walked right into it.”

“There’s no magic here,” Killian says, but Cora is already shaking her head and looking far too smug. She narrows her eyes. 

“The darkness is always interested in finding more of us whenever he can.” Emma freezes, mouth hanging open and breath coming in decidedly unattractive pants. Killian curses – loudly. And they almost suffer another disaster, a case of proximity and the whims of the universe, but Ruby’s shrill Emma, fuck wakes her up and she more or less slaps Cora across the face. 

It’s oddly satisfying. 

None of them say anything. There’s not much to say. Magic is a child’s story, but Emma can wake the dead and make sure they stay dead and the buzzing in her head roared to life at Cora’s words, like it was reveling in them and there’s got to be an explanation for this. 

This explanation, however, only seems to spark more questions. 

That’s less satisfying. 

“So,” Ruby says, eventually breaking the silence and Cora looks worse now than she did when they first found her. “That uh...didn’t really help us much at all, did it?”

“None of that made sense,” Killian mutters. “That’s—”

“—You going to tell me that magic is impossible when you just watched your girlfriend undead and redead someone?” “There’s got to be a better way of phrasing that,” Emma mumbles. She lets her head drop forward, colliding with the wood of the desk painfully. 

Ruby makes a noise that is, hopefully, an agreement. “Yeah, probably. So, uh...you do anything magical recently, Jones?” “That’s the part that doesn’t make any sense,” he says. “I never even learned how to do card tricks. I...I wanted to get out of Storybrooke and Cora gave me an avenue to do that while helping Nemo. That’s all there was to it.” “Still doesn’t help us much as far as figuring out who you were both, apparently, working for.” “She said him,” Emma whispers, the realization striking her like lightning and several other natural disasters. She hears Killian shift, letting go of the chair to move around her and he’s crouched next to her when she moves her head. “Cora, I mean. Whatever she was talking about with magic. She said the darkness is looking for that, but she said him. As in a human male.” “Or an alien male,” Ruby suggests. “Let’s be as inclusive as possible. Could even be an animal, right? A really dangerous...dark cat? What’s a terrifying animal? Oh, God, what about an alligator? Right, right? Apex predator.”

“It’s a crocodile,” Killian mutters. His knees must be killing him. He doesn’t try to stand up. “Those jaws could snap a whole person right in half. Plus, they’re scaly, so that just makes them untrustworthy. Thoughts, Swan?”

Emma can’t shrug when she’s more or less draped across a dead mayor’s desk and they are pressing their luck staying that office with the same dead mayor, but she makes a valiant effort and that’s really all she can ask of herself right now. “You said it was shady, didn’t you? The whole thing on the boat—ship, yeah, God, that’s...it’s stupid that you keep doing that.” “It’s a control thing,” Killian admits with a smile. “But, yeah, it felt incredibly shady. And...wrong.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a complete and total crazy person. “Try me.” 

Killian sighs, but it’s not frustration. It’s more nerves and concern and Emma knows part of that, most of it really, is directed at her. She’s going to give herself carpal tunnel from tensing her fists so often. “It felt wrong,” he starts. “I don’t...it was like I could hear it.” Emma’s elbow falls off the desk. She’s very glad she’s already sitting down. “You could hear what? Exactly?” “Buzzing?” “Why was that a question?” “Because you seem to already have a very strong idea of what my answer was going to be, Swan.”

“God,” Ruby chuckles. “When this is all over, Jones, remind me to offer you a job. You’re incredibly good at reading people.” He shakes his head, eyes not leaving Emma. “Just her.”

The rush of everything that shoots from the top of Emma’s head to the very tips of her toes isn’t quite as overwhelming as it probably should be. She’s got her suspicions about that – the look on Killian’s face and how goddamn blue his eyes are and whatever his mouth does when, she assumes, he feels it too – but Emma’s never been very good at actually voicing her emotions. 

And Killian has always known anyway. 

Plus Ruby would probably make fun of them. 

“Did you feel that?” Emma asks softly, another unnecessary question. They need to get out of Storybrooke. She’s going to bake twenty-six pies. At least. 

Killian nods. “Did you hear that?” “The buzzing?” “The buzzing.” “Yeah, I did.” “Ok, good.” “Good?” Emma echoes, and her voice cracks traitorously on the word. Killian moves, shifting his weight back onto his heels as soon as she presses her lips back together. He wiggles his fingers, like he’s trying to stop himself from touching her and Emma is fairly sure she doesn’t imagine his mumbled fuck it before he reaches forward, stopping just short of the bend in her knee. He doesn’t touch her. 

That’s for the best. 

Or so she’ll tell herself on loop while she bakes those twenty-six pies. 

“It means we’re both equally crazy,” Killian mutters, Ruby cackling at the sentiment. Emma blinks, not quite crying, but drifting dangerously close and her shoulders droop when she exhales loudly. 

“Yeah, I think it might be exactly that.”

“Well, now that we’ve settled all of that,” Ruby announces, stuffing what appear to be a few receipts into her jacket pocket, “let’s say we evacuate the crime scene, do a little bit more research on some kind of mythical darkness from the outer reaches of space and then maybe get Jones some new clothes to wear?” "I really don’t think we’re dealing with aliens,” Emma reasons. 

“And where exactly do you suggest we get me new clothes?” Killian adds, holding his arm out when Emma moves towards the office door. She mutters gentleman under her breath and he winks at her. “I don’t know that some kind of makeover montage is really in order,” Ruby sticks her tongue out. “I have clothes.” “I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my balance in your heels.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re absolutely hysterical. And you couldn’t even hold your own in my heels. But you might be able to do something in some t-shirts.” “At least solve a few more crimes.” “I think we’re still just dealing with one.” “Small miracles,” Emma mumbles. “Although you should get some new clothes. These are…” She doesn’t finish – not sure if it’s offensive or just plain ridiculous, but they were also just talking about aliens, so Emma figures she’s well within her right when it comes to ridiculous. 

“Yeah, it is a little macabre, isn’t it?” Killian asks. 

“Good word.” “Voracious reader with a very smart vocabulary.” “Is that what you tell all the girls when you meet them?” He snorts. Ruby groans. “No,” Killian says. “That’s what Shakespeare used to say when I’d use that same smart vocabulary to tell him that no one was interested in hearing another soliloquy.” “Did he recite soliloquies often?” “Almost as often as he liked to critique my clothing choices. He was never very big on the leather jackets.” Emma’s reaction to that is one-hundred percent more ridiculous than the alien idea. “Huh.” The tips of Killian’s ears go red. 

“That was super smooth, Em,” Ruby mutters, ushering them both back into the hallway as soon as the footsteps in the hallway start to grow louder. “But I’m not super interested in getting arrested this afternoon, so, if you two would be so kind…”

Emma nods quickly, Killian tugging his hat further down and pushing the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. They’re back in the car, key turning in the ignition when they hear, what Emma assumes, is Aurora’s scream. 

“How did you decide you wanted to open a pie place?” 

Emma tilts her head, several hours after a fashion clinic in Ruby’s apartment and Ruby’s absolute refusal to explain why she had so much disposable clothing of the men-type variety. “Pie place,” she repeats slowly, stirring the mixture in front of her. 

Killian grabs a strawberry. 

“Ok, stop that,” Emma snaps, but there’s a distinct lack of annoyance in her voice. It’s almost too obvious how easily he’s charming her. “We’re not going to have anything to put in the pie. And this was your idea.” It was – laden down with at least a week’s worth of clothes and a few options for shirts because, you know, you need some extra shirts, Jones, Killian and Emma had walked back to her restaurant, slightly cautious steps because, for the first time since this had all started, there was a break in the action and a lull in the momentum and he asked if she’d bake something. 

“I can help,” Killian added quickly, flashing her a smile, her smile , and Emma couldn’t argue with that. He’d probably been banking on that. 

“And it was a very good idea,” Killian says. “I’m just trying to spark some conversation while you do whatever it is you’re doing. What is it you’re doing, incidentally?” “Making crust.” “You make your crust?” “Oh my God, that’s honestly the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Killian shakes his head, reaching forward to try and steal a handful of raspberries. “That can’t possibly be true.” “It is and then some,” Emma promises. “You think I...what? Use frozen pie crust in my actual pie restaurant? That’s ghastly.” He nearly chokes on his handful of raspberries. “Did you just suggest that frozen pie crust is ghastly? Did that really just happen?” “It is. It’s all processed and there’s way too much sugar in it and it’s not good. It’s...there’s no feeling involved.” Killian doesn’t freeze, exactly, but it’s awfully close and Emma wonders if, maybe, some of Cora’s claimed magic has shifted to him. Like a magical barnacle. She kind of feels as if he can see straight into her or through her, she’s not sure which is worse. 

“You bake with a lot of feeling, Swan?” 

“No,” Emma grumbles. She needs to find a whisk. And buttermilk. “Can you open the fridge for me? And if you try and steal any more of my filling, I’m going to hide all your clothes on you and then what will you do?” “That seems to suggest you think I won’t leave the apartment in your clothes.”

“I bet you a magillion dollars you would not do that.” His shoulders shake with his laugh – the sound finding its way to Emma’s ears despite most of his head pushed into the refrigerator. “How many zeros would you say are in a magillion? Also what am I looking for in here? You haven’t actually given me any instructions.” “Oh, uh, buttermilk and just like...as much butter as you can carry.”

“That is not very specific.” “I don’t need it to be specific.” Killian glances at her over his shoulder, a wry look on his face and the prickle of something at the base of Emma’s skull kind of feels like sticking her hand into a fire. It’s not uncomfortable, just little brushes of warmth and familiarity, but she’s a little worried about getting burned by the whole, entire thing. 

She wishes she’d stop thinking in metaphor. 

“Isn’t baking some kind of exact science?” Killian asks. “I always thought you had to follow a baking recipe to the letter.” “Whoever told you that was a great, big, enormous liar.” “Wow, that is just...a sweeping judgment.” Emma shrugs. “It’s true. Baking is, well, at least for me, it’s instinctual. God, did that sound as weird out loud as I think it did?” “It didn’t.” He has to bump the refrigerator door closed with his hip, which probably shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “But it did sound as if you’re baking with a little bit more than feeling, love. So, let’s have it. Why’d you open the pie place?” Emma considers her answer for a moment – the idea of lying about it particularly appealing, but then he’s dumping ten sticks of butter onto her counter and there’s a jug of buttermilk pinned to his side with his blunted arm and anything except the absolute truth seems entirely unfair. 

To both of them. 

“It always felt like home,” Emma says. “And I’m...well, at the risk of sounding like a melodramatic idiot, this is something I’m really good at.” “That’s not melodramatic. It’s not entirely true, but it’s not melodramatic.” “You don’t know enough about me to know it’s not true.” Killian shakes his head, the smile on his face making it very difficult to come up with all those reasons Emma was so certain of a few seconds before. “I think I still know you pretty well. And I know you’re far too hard on yourself. It’s not necessary. Although,” he adds, grabbing a stick of butter and a knife, “you want these chopped?” “Yes, into, like...just, you know follow the lines on the wrapper? Was that your follow-up question?” “No, no, I just figured I should continue to pull my weight around here.” “It’s been kind of a ridiculous few days, I think you could get a pass.” Another head shake. This one is a little more tired and a little more anxious and several of Emma’s internal organs lurch at the sight. “I’d be very interested in knowing every single about you from the last twenty years.” She giggles. An honest to God, real life giggle. It feels like it bubbles straight out of her soul and explodes into rainbows and those little animated hearts that showed up on the Saturday morning cartoons they used to watch when they were kids, the ones that always showed how in love a character was. 

Damn, Emma hates when Ruby is right. 

“What do you want to know?” Emma asks, and Killian beams. While cutting up butter. 

They’re sitting on the floor of the kitchen twenty minutes later, pie in the oven and a bowl of berries in between them –  We’re getting real berries, Swan, if you’re going to bake the pie, the least you can do is eat it too – and Emma knows her teeth are stained blue. It doesn’t seem to be bothering Killian, who doesn’t seem to have an end to his list of questions. 

“Ok, what about prom?” “What about it?” “Did you go?” “And you dare to suggest you know me.” He rolls his head onto his shoulder, unimpressed. “I don’t need to rehash old points of the conversation, Swan. An answer, please and thank you.” “No,” Emma shakes her head. “I was...somewhere at that point, shit, when are you supposed to go to prom?” “I don’t know, I didn’t go.” “You didn’t go?” “Do you know me? It was far too middle America. I had no use for corsages or tuxedos or spending all that money on a limo to just stand awkwardly on a dance floor. Plus, you know, it’d probably help to have some friends who would want to go. Or a girl.” He mumbles the last few words, refusing to meet Emma’s gaze and she hates how stunned she is. She’s incredibly stunned. “God, what a bunch of idiots.” “Who? Me and you?” “No, well, yes, but mostly the teenage population of Storybrooke whenever you’re technically supposed to go to prom. Probably like sixteen, right? They’re the idiots. I bet you’d be a great dancer anyway.” Killian chuckles, soft and still a little nervous, which makes Emma’s organs react again, but she’s also pretty positive she can feel something in the admittedly minimal amount of space between them and it might be magic. 

She kind of hopes it’s magic. 

It feels a lot like what she thinks magic would feel like. 

“That’s an awful lot of confidence you’re throwing my direction, Swan.” “I’m not throwing it,” Emma argues. “I’m placing it. Lightly. At your feet. Which I’m sure are incredibly rhythmic.” “I’d at least be able to ask Shakespeare for some lessons. I’m sure he’s got tips.” Emma hums, not entirely in agreement, but mostly in contentment. “When’d you get your first leather jacket?” “I was fourteen.” “Wow, a bad boy from a very young age.” “Nah, a wanna-be. Mostly because I thought it’d make me look cool and, well...I remembered Liam having one when he was younger.” Emma doesn’t gasp. She’s proud of herself for that. She does, however, lick her lips and that might be worse because Killian notices and that means Killian is looking at her lips. It suddenly feels impossibly warm in her kitchen. 

“That must have been before I got to Storybrooke,” Emma murmurs, and Killian nods. 

“Yeah, I think it must have been. Ok. What about…movie...snack?” “Popcorn. With melted malt balls on top.” Killian makes a scandalized noise, complete with tongue and that only means Emma is also staring at her lips. Maybe they are the idiots of this story. “That is disgusting,” he proclaims. “How do you make that?” “Oh, it’s a very refined recipe. Lots of boiling and melting and—” She can’t help but laugh when he gapes at her, some of the tension twisting in between her shoulders loosening at the color of his eyes. “C’mon. I use a microwave. It’s the least complex thing I make.”

“That still sounds disgusting. It can’t be very healthy.” “Strangely enough I’m not thinking about my blood pressure when I’m watching movies.” “Favorite?” “Hmmmm?” “Your favorite movie,” Killian says, pausing between every word as if Emma is under oath and the fate of several different galaxies rests on her answer. They’re not actually dealing with aliens. “When we were kids it was—” “—Still is. That, uh...that hasn’t changed.”

He’s silent for a moment, another far too charged moment with irregular temperatures and the growing scent of a pie with way more berries than the recipe called for hanging in the air. And then he’s moving, reaching up towards the counter and knocking the roll of saran wrap on the floor, plastic spilling at his feet. 

“Ah, damn,” Killian sighs. “That’s not nearly as romantic as I was hoping it would be.” Emma clicks her tongue. “I think it went ok.” “Something about kissing, right? At the end? Most passionate, most pure...this one left them all behind. That’s how it goes?” “Yeah,” she breathes, yanking off a far-too-long sheet of saran wrap. “Is this a kissing book?” “I’d very much like it to be.”

Emma giggles again – straight into the plastic and against his mouth and she sees him shift, doing his best to keep any other limbs away from her and how much she wants to touch his goddamn hair. They stay in each other's space for a moment, quick kisses that turn back into longer ones that turn into quick and bruising and a slew of other adjectives that probably look ridiculous to anything else. 

It feels a little life-changing to Emma. 

Killian is the first one to make a noise that time, a victory of the make-out variety for Emma and her distinct lack of make-out experience. He opens his mouth against her, like he wants to tug on her lower lip or do something that involves the tongue that’s been distracting her all day, and both of those are impossible. Emma appreciates the effort. 

“I stole gloves from Ruby’s apartment,” Killian mumbles through the plastic against her chin, and Emma startles at that. 

“Is that code?” “We should come up with a code. I bet that’d infuriate Ruby.” “You’ve known Ruby for point two seconds and you’re already trying to infuriate her?” “Don’t forget stealing from her. That’s really the important part.” “Why’d you steal glove?” Emma asks, still a little breathless and a little giggly and a little something after all those kisses. And she kind of knows the answer. 

Killian kisses her through the crumpled-up plastic again. “To hold your hand.”

“Emma. Emma, are you there?” Emma blinks blearily, trying to take in her surroundings and there isn’t anything there. She’s standing on nothing, nothing but darkness around her and a distinct lack of anything. The voice yells her name again. 

“What the hell…” Emma starts, stumbling backwards when she blinks and there are two people standing in front of her. 

The woman is shorter than the man, dark hair in a pixie cut and a soft look to her eyes that feels like it could wrap around Emma and protect her for the rest of forever and, at the same time, cut down anyone who dared to threaten that. The man isn’t much taller than Killian, hair almost sandy in color and a set of his jaw that feels far too familiar. 

Emma curses. It’s distinctly piratical. 

The woman’s eyebrows leap. “Oh,” she mutters, but the man is laughing and he sounds kind of proud. “Well, that was...I mean, that’s fair.”

“What is going on?” Emma demands. 

“You have to listen to us, Emma. This is important and there isn’t much time. But...things are happening now that have been destined to happen since, well, the dawn of time—” “—What?” “Don’t interrupt,” the man chides. He’s smiling at Emma. And it all feels like déjà vu and answers to questions Emma’s never wanted to ask for fear of what she’ll find out. She bites her tongue. 

“It’s going to get difficult, sweetheart,” the woman continues. “But it won’t always be like that. You won’t always be like that. And, I promise, he’ll understand.” Emma blinks. “Who? Who will understand, what?”

“It’s going to be worth it, Emma. No matter what you think. Love is always worth it.”

Emma opens her mouth to ask what the hell are you talking about again, but she takes a breath and everything shimmers and her phone is ringing. 

“You’ve got to answer that, love,” Killian mumbles, back on the living room floor with a glove on his right hand and fingers brushing Emma’s forearm. 

Emma shakes her head, trying to get rid of metaphorical and possible literal cobwebs and she’s already having a difficult time remembering what she just saw. She grabs her phone off the coffee table, nearly hitting her head in the process and Ruby is already talking as soon as Emma swipes her thumb across the screen. 

“Em,” she says sharply. “You’ve got to get down here. They found another body.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #one foot in #MAGIC #MAKING OUT #MAYOR MILLS BEING A PROBLEM #nailed the alliteration #i'm still sad about the rangers that's my excuse for everything

[komcrebi-moved]

HELLO I -- wow okay I sure did pop in and promptly die for awhile-- apologies for that. my health has not been great so I’ve been absolutely BEYOND exhausted mentally and physically but anyway!! ignoring all that and the main reason I’m here-- I’m gonna drop 3 new muses on to this blog and there’s nothing you can do to stop me

anyway, these three here. do i have names for them yet? no. will find them as soon as i am able? yes. but tldr: new muses tba.... just as soon as i find names and the energy

first off is this man!

- probably 16 / cis male / name tba - quirk: invincibility. - meaning that literally nothing can hurt him (well. except fire [to some extent. but it can be withstood if necessary] as well as electricity [this is... no, this is definitely a weakness of his. if he’s zapped, he’s done for.) - his skin is impenetrable and his bones are unbreakable. Extremely likely that he’s capable of withstanding a strike from a OFA user and remain unharmed. His surroundings, however, will certainly not be as he gets knocked into oblivion. he can feel pain, but does have an incredible tolerance for it as he can’t really be physically harmed too badly by most things? - the harder the hit, or the sharper the object that comes into contact with his body/skin, the more “invincible” his body seems to become. his quirk is in constant use with no way to turn it off (except with like... quirk nullifying quirks or weapons). - doctor visits are interesting to say the least. needles must be taken through soft tissue (like under the eye/lid, inner lip, mouth, etc... very unpleasant.) - He’s basically a walking talking wrecking ball, and just as chaotically reckless as one when he goes all out when fighting or doing hero work. - He has protagonist’s best friend syndrome. - a very kind boy. very genuine and generous. can be confused easily and isn’t the strongest (his quirk doesn’t enhance power), but makes up for lack of strength with his quirk, sheer determination and creativity.

_________

- probably 15 or 16? / cis female / name tba - quirk: Swarm  / or, Hivemind (?) - meaning.. she has a swarm of flying insects inside of her body that she can unleash and control. (She says its less that she’s controlling them, and more that they’re all working together, but they are generally seen as an extension of herself.) - The insects are usually always dormant until she activates her quirk and ‘wakes them up’. They crawl out of tiny holes along her body, but can also come out of her nose, ears, mouth, and eyes (with..some discomfort). The insects can be used to attack, defend, or even be used to form another “limb” of sorts. The insects are durable, strong, and agile, and can eat through just about anything if commanded. - she’s kind of... a walking horror to some, instilling disgust and terror in anyone who has either two specific fears. She mixes trypophobia ( an aversion or fear of clusters of small holes, bumps, or patterns) and entomophobia (fear of insects). I was originally going to have her have an eyepatch or hair over her eye, so underneath what you would see is not an eye, but a cluster of holes that the insects can crawl from (for the ick factor).... but decided  that she would instead only have a ‘hive-like’ pattern of this just under her clothes. probably twisting down from her shoulder, twisting down to her ribs, with specklings of these entry/exits on her arms and/or legs somewhere. probably forms some sort of neat swirling design. - she’s a small, cute girl with a disgusting/horrifying quirk; it usually surprises people, and she used to be bullied quite a lot because of it.  she’s the kind, nurturing type personality, but will openly and casually threaten to beat people up if they hurt those she cares about.  - she makes friends easily and has lots! she tries not to let rude people hurt her feelings simply by avoiding them. she’s non-confrontational, generally... but sometimes, she can be a little mean. a.... typical teenage girl.

_________

25 / NB (she/they) / Eirlys Williamson - quirk: Air Pressure - she specializes in AIR pressure (air related quirks run in the family-- see *Andi Williamson), but can, with some effort and concentration, control other kinds of pressure (atmospheric, barometric, etc... or whatever, idk! I’m not super well educated on that stuff lmao.... not........yet.) Anyway, she can control the air pressure outside and inside of objects ( the more dense the object, the more difficult it is of course). Scary enough, she can even control the air pressure outside and INSIDE a person’s body. Paired with Andi, they could have made one dangerous as hell team.  Her quirk is regarded as considerably dangerous (as the lasting effects -- if purposely or accidentally used on another person-- can be permanent, or even easily fatal. She sometimes has to use quirk suppressants at night, or during hospital stays where she’s been hurt badly or is otherwise not in complete control of her quirk.) - she’s Andi Williamson’s younger sister! they haven’t seen one another for a very, very long time as Eirlys left when they were both quite young. She’s lucky she survived on her own, or didn’t turn to crime. She turned into an underground hero, actually! Much to Andi’s surprise and delight. Their parents, briefly put, were abusive. She ran away and was never found, leaving Andi and her parents to wonder for years if she was dead or alive. She secretly reached out to Andi once, just to let him know she was okay, but he hadn’t heard from her since then. It was going on twelve years when Andi received an urgent phone call at work (UA!) on day from a hospital all the way in America. It was his sister. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of his personal number and put him as her emergency contact in case anything were to ever happen.  She had no one else.  So Andi took a few days off and got her flown down to Japan so he could keep an eye on her until she awoke from her injury induced coma (a villain, as with Andi, almost killed her).  She does wake up eventually, and decides to stay in japan with andi for some time before deciding to stay permanently. - she’s actually pretty goofy like andi, but hardened by a difficult life on her own. she’s emotionally detached at times, is often angry, and can be rather cold at times... but she has andi’s heart, and is very caring and kind once she warms up to someone. - she has a vengeful heart, much like Andi. Which is precisely how she ended up nearly dead in the hospital....  you can tell they’re siblings.

#( ooc ) #( tbd ) #( new muses // ) #if you read all that... you the real mvp. #3 new muses !! probably will be used as guest muses until I'm able to properly get their bios and shit set up but ! #that will be when i have the energy to ;w; slowly but surely ive been chipping away at eirlys' bio jffk #just as soon as i dig up names for these top two little shits ill be ready to go with them lol #i hate .........choosing names so much..... i know how to. and i like choosing good names but i /hate/ how picky i am with them hgfujig #mr invincible up there looks like a Kai im ngl hgjjfjg that wont be his name but. side eyes him a little #anyway!!! ask questions about them if you want to!! esp if you wanna interact with them !! :'0 #but dear god for my energy's sake let them be specific questions JFJFJD otherwise i can and WILL go off on huge rambling sprees and we know #it ** #but yeah ! hey hello hi im alive (more or less)

[jimlingss]

A Fair(y) Crime

➜ Words: 22k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 45% Crack, 5% Angst

➜ Summary: While you might hate fairytales, it doesn’t change the fact that you are the descendent of the fairy godmother. With a wand in your hand and magic running through your veins, you have to search for your Cinderella and grant them their happily ever after....but things might be a bit more complicated than that when you find out your little Cinderella comes in the form of troublemaker Kim Taehyung.

You hate Cinderella.    Actually, you hate all fairy tales. The storylines are terribly vapid, love made to seem one dimensional, characters awfully helpless that it makes you frustrated. But at the young age of six, none of these thoughts came across your mind nor did you care much for good storytelling. Rather, you didn’t like these stories so much anymore simply for the fact that…   You are the fairy godmother’s descendant.   “What?” You blink in confusion, head lolling to your side. “What’s that mean?”   “It means you have to find your Cinderella and grant them their happily ever after,” your father explains with a bright smile, his cheeks puffing out, eyes crinkled as if he’s trying to convince you to eat broccoli. You are unimpressed, leaning on the table and looking over.   “You know Aunt Yeri?” your mother pipes up.   “Yeah!” You nod enthusiastically, recalling the pretty lady that gave you lots of toys. She visits sometimes with her doggy and you went to her wedding a long time ago. It was at a garden and very pretty.   “Well, she isn’t just my best friend. She was my Cinderella and I helped her to her happy ending.”   You’re silent for a moment, letting it sink in. Your parents wait patiently and you quirk your head to one side. “When will I find my Cinderella?”   “...later.” There’s uncertainty in her voice, unsure. She has the same tone as when she debates if she should give you a snack before dinner. “Maybe in a few years, honey.”   “Will they be my best friend too?”   “That’s entirely up to you.”   “How will I know it’s them?” you ask, firing question after question.   “You’ll just know.” It sounds weird like she doesn’t know herself, and she must read your expression because then she says— “Didn’t you always want to be a fairy godmother?”   “No!” You stand straight on the chair, nearly climbing onto the table even though you’re not supposed to. But no one scolds you, too concerned as you shriek, “I wanna be a princess! Not a fairy!”   “Well….” Your father is at a loss and he smacks his lips together, looking for the right words. “You can still be a princess, sweetheart.”   You pout, suddenly feeling very sad. “I don’t wanna be a fairy godmother…”   “Take a look at this, Y/N.” Your mother draws your attention away before you can burst into a tantrum and immediately, you stop sniffling. You lean fully over, sprawled over the table and the tips of your toes on the chair cushion.   There’s a narrow golden box that she brings up. You’ve seen something before — Valentine’s Day when your father brought you to the store and you helped pick out a gift for your mom.   The necklace you chose ended up in a similar box.   “What is it?” But you’re unsure of what the contents are and you peer over, as close as you can get with your short height.   Exactly as your suspicions, it isn’t gold jewelry. It’s a silver stick. It’s thicker on one end and narrower on the other, coming to a point. The stick seems to shimmer and shine against the fluorescent ceiling light above the table, glimmering as if there are sparkles embedded into the surface.   “It’s a wand.”   “It’s magic?!” Your eyes glimmer, grown wide and your jaw drops.   Both your parents laugh, exchanging relieved expressions. “Kind of.”   “Can I grant wishes then?”   “Only the wishes of your Cinderella. You can’t use it on yourself,” she tells you but you’re too excited to fully understand and be disappointed. “You like it?”   “Yeah! It’s cool!” You take it, waving it straight up in the air like you’re a magician about to conjure a dragon up. It’s heavy, but sits perfectly in your hand.   You were an idiot.   You didn’t know then. At first, it was fun to know you were some sort of secret fairy. That your great-great-great-great-great grandmother’s grandmother was actually the fairy godmother of the fairytale you had read so frequently. You had magic. You had superpowers.   But as you got older, the true gravity of your situation crumbled down onto your shoulders. You were someone’s fairy godmother, forced to serve a random stranger out there. You can’t even grant your own wishes, bring away the suffering that you faced, or fulfill your deepest desires.   You’re someone’s servant.   And with the anger that came with puberty and your teenage years, you threw away that wand. You abandoned it, left it in places, tried donating, throwing it in the dumpster or even a bonfire one summer at camp. But no matter what happened, it always appeared in your surroundings again.   You wish this was an awful prank your parents had set up and continued over the years. But it’s not. And you know that fact deep down — this is very, fucking real. This nightmare is your life.   “Goddammit!”   You’re on the floor of your college dormitory, roommate thankfully out lest she sees the way you’re sobbing and concludes you’re psychotic. The boxes around you circle you, towering like buildings in the city. Yet, on top of all of it, the stupid stick you left back home has somehow appeared in your belongings once more. And you’re aware neither your mom nor dad had anything to do with it.   So here you are, on the ground, gripping it with both hands and trying your best to snap it.   “Break already!”   You’re screaming, teeth gritting down, jaw clenched, face growing red as your muscles strain.    But it won’t. It’s like concrete or made of the strongest material despite being so thin. It’s unyielding, fighting for its survival, not budging or even bending the slightest bit. It mocks you.   You end up flinging the wand to the wall and it makes a dent in the paint. “Who the fucking hell is my Cinderella?!”   The question asked for decades on end isn’t answered and that special someone doesn’t appear until you’re at your absolute lowest.

You needed this.   A vacation, that is.   The stresses of your life were about to eat you alive. It started a little more than half a decade ago — years of breaking your back to get good grades and obtain your degree. Then it was months of unemployment and crippling debt that forced you to trash your beloved History master’s for a job in the candle industry.   It was temporary, you said. But the bills and debt payments weren’t temporary.   So here you were, dealing with a psychotic boss, doing a job that felt like you were selling your soul to the devil.   Needless to say, you needed a vacation desperately.   So this was perfect. Sort of.   “Is there a purpose for this trip?” the reception of the dingy hotel asks with a bright smile that almost cracks her face. “If it’s for pleasure, there are a lot of fun and adventure packages I can offer you. Macau has plenty to do during your stay here!”   “No, it’s okay.” You hold back a sigh. “It’s for business.”   This place was essentially the Vegas of Asia, but for you, it wasn’t so much of a vacation as it was more a business trip. A trip where you had a budget of less than a hundred dollars for — meant for you to solely buy convenience store food and maybe a tacky shirt as a souvenir. A trip that required you meeting some investor and convincing him to invest in thousands of candles.   “I see.” She nods her head in sympathy, reading your exhausted expression and dead eyes. “I hope you enjoy yourself nonetheless. Here’s your key-card for room two-hundred nine.”   “Thank you.” You take the card off the counter, not sparing another glance. Pulling your baggage behind you and letting the wheels roll, you walk towards the elevator. But something stops you, making your feet halt.   Or rather, a feeling.   It’s intense, pulsating through your veins. It’s as if you’ve been shot or had an orgasm, or both things occurred at once. The tips of your fingers tingle, your muscles tense, core clenching and head aching. The overwhelming emotion ricochets through you, giving you whiplash and it rips the air out of your heaving lungs. Euphoria fills every crevice of your body, intuition screaming out, and it’s like you’ve scratched an inch you didn’t know was there.   Your neck cranes over.   There’s a young girl half across the lobby. She’s in a straw hat decorated with a pink bow, wearing a soft sundress that hugs her curves and cools her skin from the heat of summer. The female is tapping on her phone, looking out the window like she’s waiting for a taxi and immediately, you beeline towards her. She’s the person you’re supposed to meet. She’s your Cinderell—   But she walks away.   The girl walks out the glass doors before you can get to her and you halt again, watching her get in the taxi and how the vehicle pulls away from the curb, taking off. And as you stand there, jaw slack, dazed….the feeling you have still lingers, not fading away. The person you’re really here for cuts through the lobby and exits the same doors you’re staring at.   He’s homeless. Or at least, he looks like it. The man is in rags, wearing oversized bohemian clothing with loose bags slung over his body. A five o’clock shadow is plastered around his mouth and it matches his blonde bed hair that’s in a disarray.   The deadbeat dude is your Cinderella.   And he’s leaving.   “Wait!” you scream across the lobby to no avail. Several tourists and workers turn to stare, but you pay no mind, moving based on animalistic instinct, frightened as the feeling begins to fade the farther he gets. Your luggage is pulled until you get to the bellboy and you pass it towards him. “Can you please bring this up to my room? I’m in four-hundred eight— no, I mean, four-hundred nine!”   “O...o-kay…” He’s bewildered, but before anymore can be said, you’re already out the door.   “Wait! Wait!” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs above the roar of traffic and the engines of motorcycles. The sun beats down on you, causing you to break into a sweat. Your shoes are flimsy and your clothes are wrinkled, the same ones you wore on the entire plane ride.    Still, none of this particularly deters you as you run against the grain of people.   He keeps getting farther and farther away despite your shouting. He doesn’t hear you, or at least he doesn’t know you’re the one calling out to him. Frustration eats at you alive and you stop in your spot, inhaling a large breath to scream—   “Taehyung!”   Miraculous, he hears you calling his name. He halts in his sandals and turns around. In the midst of the people, his brown irises lock right onto yours. You stare at him, lashes fluttering before you run again. By the time you get to him, you’re panting and hyperventilating heavily, crouching over as you feel your lower gut ache from the unprompted exercise.   “Do I know you?” His voice is deeper than expected, taller too, and he’s surprised, wondering how you know his name.   “No.” You shake your head. “No, you don’t know me. I don’t know you. But...I’m about to.”   “Alright…?”   “I know this is going to sound completely insane and crazy and you’re not going to believe it, but I’m your fairy godmother.”   “.....” There’s a long silence. It is awkward. In the middle of the bustling morning, there’s quietness between you and him until he says, “Pardon?”   “I...am a descendant of the fairy godmother.” You cringe but without knowing any other way to say it. And with his expression, you know Taehyung doesn’t believe you. If anything, he thinks you’re legitimately crazy, that you escaped out of the mental ward at the hospital. “And I’m here to grant your wishes.”   “I’m sorry.” He backs away. “I’m not interested.”   “I’m not trying to sell you anything!” you yell in exasperation, knowing you sound less like a saleswoman depending on her commission to make a living and more like a scam. You don’t blame him. You even sound insane to your own ears.   “I-I’m fine. I don’t need any wishes granted. Sorry.”   “No. Wait!” You grab onto his arm before he can run off. “You don’t understand. My entire family are descendants of the fairy godmother. You know Cinderella, right? It’s like that. Everyone in my family has their own Cinderella and it’s one of our life missions to grant their wishes and give them a happy ending. You’re mine.”   “....Umm...are you staying at a hospital right now?” His thick brow quirks. “Need me to call someone for you?”   “No! God!” You give up, arms dropping to your side, at a loss for words. But then there’s a last thought that strikes you, a last hope. “Let me show you. Let me grant a wish of yours.”   Taehyung looks at you, staring directly into your eyes. He’s obviously weirded out, skeptical of the nonsense you’re sprouting. And you’re even more embarrassed and horrified. You were here for a business trip, goddammit. Not to run into your Cinderella. But now that’s here in front of you, you’re not letting go.   You’ve been waiting for him for years now.   He is your obligation. As bullshit as this is, you must honour your family and respect what they’ve given to you.   So, you beg him to trust you one time, “Please. Give me a chance.”   //   As you enter the lobby, the receptionist and bellboy eye you warily, especially considering a young man is trailing after you. It looks like you’ve picked him off the street which is technically true. But unlike their suspicions, you are most definitely not inviting him back to your room and paying him for a night of pleasure.    You give him your name, mumbling a bit about your background to relax him and he says nothing as you take the elevator up to your tiny room. The queen sized bed is clean with sheets tucked in, not as sketchy as that time you went to Iceland. It’s fairly nice for it being such a small space, but the bed takes up most of the area, forcing the single-stalled bathroom in the corner and there’s only a tiny window in the other corner.   There isn’t a chair or desk in sight or even a television like usual rooms.   “Sorry, I’m just here on a business trip. Meeting an investor.”   “Uh-huh.”   Quickly, you drop down to your suitcase, tugging the zipper to dig into your belongings. You’re like a wild animal scavenging for food. “W-what are you looking for?” he asks and you know this doesn’t look good. It’s like you’re about to drug him and someone else will enter the room, help drag his body and the pair of you will harvest his organs.   But you would never resort to such a method to make money….no matter how desperate you are.   “My wand.”   “Wand?”   “There it is!” The silver stick is found in your underwear pocket of your luggage and you pull it out. Taehyung’s brows raise once more and you admit to him, “I..I’ve never used this before. It only works if you’re the one who wishes for something.”   “So...I just make a wish?”   You nod. “You should start off with something small.”   “Then…” He steps back, still on alert. “I wish for a flower.”   The blonde male expects nothing while you’re waiting patiently. It takes a jerk of your hand that the wand begins to quiver in your grasps. Dust and sparkles come from the tip like it’s a bubble gun and you both watch in amazement, breaths hitched. The fairy dust falls on the ground and begins to stick together. It glows white, too bright that you’re forced to look away.    It morphs into a perfect red rose, three leaves on the thornless stem. The hue is strong, reminding you of blood and the petals are abundant, flourishing in front of your very eyes.   “Oh my god!” You fling the wand across the room, hands grabbing fistfuls of your hair. You can’t believe it — some part of your brain always had doubts, but they weren’t lying after all. “It fucking worked!”   “Holy shit!” Taehyung’s jaw is dropped, eyes doubled. “What the fu—! You’re my fairy godmother!”   “I’m your fairy godmother…” you repeat him and allow it to sink in, speaking with bitter acceptance. You’ll get this done and over with. The faster you can give him his happy ending the faster you’ll be free from this obligation.   The two of you try again, making sure this isn’t just an illusion or a one time occurrence. “I wish for a hundred dollars.” And just like that, the crisp bill is conjured up. “Oh my god….oh my god...this is real...this is real, isn’t it? It’s not a dream?”   “It’s not a dream.” The ability for you to grant his wishes is both terribly tragic and ironic. Here he is with a hundred dollar bill that you haven’t been able to see in ages. But you shake off your self-pity, something you’ll reserve for later. “I’m here to give you your happy ending.”   “My happy ending….” The realization hits him and a rectangular grin spreads across his face.   “Yeah.” You shift from sitting on your knees to the floor, seated across from him. “So...you have any ideas what is it you want?”   He hums and shrugs. “Can you make me handsomer?”   The question is odd. As...dirty and disoriented as Taehyung appears, somehow up close he doesn’t appear that bad. But you shrug and try nonetheless….though nothing happens.   You try again, flicking the wand as Taehyung wishes for it aloud. Nothing.   “I think….I can only conjure up physical things….so I can’t alter you or your personality…”   “Or give world peace?” He pouts and sighs. “Oh well, guess we’ll have to make do.”   “Uh-huh.” You wear a blank expression, though internally you glare. Make do? God, he doesn’t know how fortunate he is and how envious you are. “Is there a dream or aspiration I can help you with? You...want me to give you a house or...better clothes?”   “My clothes are fine,” he argues in offense. You mutter an apology and he smiles, carefully considering it. “There’s nothing I particularly want….well...I guess there is one thing…”   It’s the best thing you’ve heard all day. “What is it?”   “You should be asking me ‘who is it?’” A soft smile comes across his features, tinged with a bit of sadness and regret. You recognize it well after considering you see it in the mirror. “You told me you’re here because you...work in the candle industry?”   “Y...yeah?” You’re unsure of where he’s going with this.   You’re not particularly proud of your occupation. The company that you work for isn’t Yankee Candle or Bath and Body Works. It’s for some crazy lady that’s passionate about candles and somehow engineers the worst smelling ones that you’ve ever had the unfortunate opportunity of sniffing.   When you’re in the office, you’re constantly getting migraines and headaches, enough that you have headache relieving medicine in your top drawer at your desk. All year round, they light the campfire roasted blueberries five wick candles — which smell more like the sweetest perfume mixed with axe body spray that boys used to spray around their lockers in high school.   The worst part is that you can’t even openly gag, second to the fact that the awful odor always becomes stuck to your clothing. You can leave your work at work, but you always bring home the scents back into your home, making it linger on your curtains and in your bedroom.   The mere thought of the candles brings shivers to your spine.   “I’m here because I’ve been looking for someone.”   “You’ve been looking for someone?” you echo him with a frown, unsure if you heard correctly, but Taehyung nods.   “I...I wasn’t a good guy back in the day. I’m someone who you might’ve called a….fuckboy….but I swear I’ve straightened out.” His hands lower, slowing down his wild gestures and you patiently wait as he explains himself. “I might or might not have dumped, well, no, that’s not the right word...I...cheated on a girl I really liked.”   You’re unimpressed, but the dots are easily connected. “And you’re here to win her back?”   The bohemian-hobo styled man nods. “When she left, I realized how much I love her. It really broke me and made me think a lot about things.”   He came all the way here to find her and win her back.   You have mixed emotions — not sure if he’s an asshole for cheating in the first place, moved that he’s learnt his lesson the hard way and came all this way, or if he’s just a plain idiot to think anyone would come crawling back after being cheated on. He doesn’t look like he’s been doing well either.   But you don’t know their relationship, so you make no comments.   Instead, you eye him up and down. “How long have you been here for?”   You thought he was a permanent resident. He certainly acts very accustomed to the lifestyle here, enough that he travels around with a few bags from this place to the next.    “A year.”   “You’ve been here for an entire year searching for her?!”    He’s definitely an idiot.   “I don’t know where she lives, only that she’s here in Macau. She doesn’t release a lot of info on social media and all my texts and messages to her are ignored. I think she’s changed her number too. Her friends don’t know much about her whereabouts either and they wouldn’t tell me if they knew.”   You frown, at a loss with his situation. “How long has it been since you….parted ways then?”   “Few years?” He shrugs. “Three or four.”   “Huh. Well, okay then.” It’s not too bad — his issue is simple enough. He just wants to win back this girl. Though you’ll admit, it feels more like Taehyung’s the prince than Cinderella. But you don’t mind what’s been presented in front of you. Through love and romance, he can achieve his happy ending and you'll be set free. You were scared he was interested in a political career which would mean you’d have to stick by his side for the rest of your life or until he retires. “D-do you know where she is now?”   “If I did, she’d be here with me.” He smiles.   “So...you have no clue?”   “No clue!” he chirps back and you’re yet again unimpressed.   “Oh god,” you groan, running a hand over your face in defeat. You’ll do whatever it takes to make it a success, but that means his problems are yours.   “I have a few leads though.” Taehyung smiles again, eyes twinkling like you’re his sun and maybe you are. At this rate, anyone who can help his hopeless ass is his savior. “But I’m starting to think based on your reaction that I should take you on that offer of getting better clothes.” A tinkling laugh spills out of his mouth. “I can’t go to her looking like this, right?”   He puts his arms out, staring down at his own body. It’s comfortable attire, but dirty with many stains and holes as if it’s been his only clothes for the past several months. You sigh, nodding. “It’s good to have some self-awareness.”   Taehyung scoffs playfully. “I’ll let that insult slide because we’re going shopping, my fairy. But I won’t let it happen next time.”   His fairy? You guess he’s not wrong there.   //   You quickly learn that Kim Taehyung likes shopping. He enjoys it enough that he doesn’t want you conjuring up clothes for him and wants to make it a full on activity. He enjoys it enough to hop in a cab with you beside him, looking at the driver and saying “Galaxy Macau, please.”   The two of you are driven to the ritziest part of the city where the most affluent tourists are shopping with one another. It’s grand and beautiful, making you stop to take it all in. The place you were staying at was more dingy, part of a suburban area where there were alleyways and stray dogs, streets emptier and only full during rush hour when citizens go to work or return home.   Here, resorts and five-star hotels are all around you. There’s fine dining restaurants and one of the biggest shopping centers towering above your frame. Here, you learn Kim Taehyung doesn’t just like shopping. He fucking loves it.   “Look at this. It’s cashmere.”   “Cool.” You feel out of place. But Taehyung owns it with his confidence. He has an unlimited amount of money anyways, you’ve conjured up two thousand in the proper currency. There’s no reason for him to feel self-conscious, even if he looks like a caveman — his pocket is literally bursting with bills. It looks like he’s robbed a bank. As he walks past clerks and attendants, their eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets from the sight of the side bulge of his pants.   “Hello, do you need any help?”   “Yes, hello.” Taehyung flashes an eager smile. “I was actually looking to get your most expensive suit. Could you tailor it right now too?”   “It might be additional costs to get it done right now, but we can certainly do it for you.”   “Awesome. I’ll do it for whatever cost.”   “R-right this way.”   It feels like you’re a mother-in-law, watching the bride try on wedding gowns. You’re sitting on the plush lounge chair, waiting patiently. Three attendants crowd Taehyung, measuring tapes slung by their necks, convincing him to buy these shoes or that belt. When he has a hard time deciding, he decides to take all of it.   “What do you think of this?”   He pulls on the edge of his sleeve, fiddling with it nonchalantly and you’re amazed. “Wow.” It’s the only thing you can utter. The saying that a fitted suit makes any man look good is all too true. The makeover is drastic and despite his hair being disoriented and he still has a five o’clock shadow, he looks like an aged scientist going to a fancy gala. He’s slimmer and taller than you thought too, and you try not to focus on the bulge in his tight trousers. “Yeah, it’s good.”   “Enough to make her speechless.” He laughs heartily, joking around with one of the attendants like she’s his new best friend. All three ladies laugh loudly and it’s obvious that they’re faking it. “I’ll take it.”   “Great choice!”   As she scatters off, another attendant waltzes up to you and hands you some fancy bottled water for free. “Would you like to look for anything, Miss?”   “Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.”   “Are you sure?” Taehyung turns, halting before he goes back into the dressing room.   “Yeah.” You wave him off. At the end of the day, you’re not here for yourself, even if you want to be the one trying on all of this and go shopping to your heart’s content. You’re here for him.   Taehyung ends up picking two suits, two pairs of socks, one belt, and three sets of ties. He’s already wearing his Italian loafers that are personally hand-stitched by some sixty year old man with fifty years of experience. He’s reeking in wealth and one might believe he won the lottery.   The next place the pair of you enter is a salon. You’re ecstatic when he tells you he wants to get a haircut with a blowout style and wants his face shaven. But as he’s getting himself cleaned up, you sit at the waiting area, tapping on your phone. You’re answering texts back from your boss who’s asking if you’ve arrived yet. You can practically hear her squawking voice in your ear.    “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You look up and you almost drop your phone. “T-Taehyung…?”   “You looked so focused. What’s going on?”   “N...no...nothing.”   You can’t believe your eyes. His hair is cut and styled, slightly swept to the side with part of his bangs down. His face is shaven, skin clean and smooth underneath, showing his sharp jawline. The cherry on top is that he’s changed into his suit too. Holy fuck. You may or may not be salivating. He looks ten years younger than before — princely too.   “What do you think?” He shows himself off, spinning in slow circles without registering that everyone’s eyes in the salon are plastered on him. Those waiting are gawking over their magazines, folks in their chairs have turned around and even the hairstylists are frozen with scissors in mid-air. One accidentally cuts off a chunk of the lady’s curls without realizing.    “Y-yeah. It’s nice.”   “Let’s go. I wanna look for some cologne.”   There’s no time to waste, no more ogling.    If Taehyung wasn’t going to kill you through envy, then you guess he wants to kill you from shopping till you drop. Anything that he likes, he buys. You end up holding all the bags and it doesn’t help when attendants give you looks of pity. To them, you appear as his poor maid that he’s stringing along. In a way, you are his maid…   Well, you’re more like a servant.   You just have a prettier, fancier title of ‘fairy godmother’.   The name bestowed to you makes you bitter, and that bitterness expands tenfolds with the realization of how fucking unfair it is that Taehyung’s beautiful too. Ever since he got his makeover, transforming from head to toe, hoping that girl he’s looking for will accept him back in a blink of an eye, he’s been even more captivating than before. His clothes are well-fitting, aura strong and confident. Taehyung commands attention simply by walking into a room.   “Are you sure you don’t want anything too?”    He glances at you once he hears the sigh you release. Taehyung’s leaving the spa after getting a facial and naturally, you pick up all the bags to follow him out onto the hot street.   “I’m fine.”   He hums a low note and steals another peek at your profile. “So…….what is the candle business like?”   “You’re curious?” You eye him suspiciously, wondering why he’s trying to make small talk with you. Candles are the most boring subject in the world, but when he nods and insists, you tell him, “Well….you sell candles. Every season there are new candles released. You usually have to go to the lab and try out different scents, test which you want, see what the trends are, try mixing things with each other. There’s the whole marketing and sales aspect to it too….”   “What’s your job?”   “I’m an assistant to my boss. I do whatever she doesn’t want to do...so here I am, about to meet an investor.” You give a lifeless laugh that morphs into awkward silence. It’s now that it hits you — you’re a servant through and through. “It’s….as fun as it sounds.”   “It sounds kind of exciting. You don’t like it?”   “God, no.” You scoff, shaking your head.   “Then why are you working there?”   “I need money.”   “Everyone needs money.” His lips are pouty and his eyes twinkle. “Is there something else you like to do?”   “....history,” you murmur, “I have a master’s in it.”   “Really?!” His brown eyes widen, impressed. “That’s so cool!”   “Actually?” It’s your turn to be surprised. “I thought that would sound….lame…”   “Why would it be? Think of it like this, if you end up in a time machine or you fall into some hole and you’re forced to travel to the past, then you know what’s going on. That’s super cool!”   You laugh, caught off guard with how wholesome he is. “I guess. I never thought of that.”   “Why aren’t you doing anything with that degree since you obviously like it so much? Like...be a historian or something.”   “Yeah, that’s easier than it sounds.” You shrug. “People aren’t looking for people with history degrees.”   “I’m sure you can find someone out there. Opportunities always come and go,” he says and looks off into the distance, slightly wistful. “I don’t have any fancy degrees like you, but I went to an art program for a while and I have a few certificates in photography and painting in photorealism.”   “That’s amazing…” And you really mean it too. You took an art class once and it went so atrociously that you have high respect for anyone who pursues that kind of academics. “Think you can paint me?”   “I’d have to charge you.” Taehyung playfully bumps your shoulder with his own. “But because you’re my fairy godmother, maybe I’ll let you have a discount.”   You scoff and your eyes travel down to the numerous bags you’re holding. “Are you done shopping now?’   “Ummm…..one more store.” He leans down and takes the bags off your left hand. Taehyung ends up sauntering off, holding the bags and throwing it over his shoulder casually.   You smile, a tiny scoff coming from your chest before you pick up your pace, catching up with him.   The both of you enter the last store and this time, it’s not for him. Taehyung insists that you wear something half-decent as well. It’s amusing how he rifles through the racks of clothing and hands you things to try — it feels like you’re a poor girl in a drama and he’s the son of a rich mogul. You both end up choosing an expensive black dress and you can’t remember the last time you had something so nice.   It’s been long since you’ve been pampered and you’re surprised at how thoughtful he is.   “Are we going to go look for her yet, Taehyung?”    He has his clothes, he’s cleaned himself up. There’s nothing else missing.   “We can search for her tomorrow.” His arm drapes over your shoulder. “Once I get my happy ending, my little fairy godmother’s going, so I should make the best out of this, right?”   You open your mouth to say something before closing it. You can understand where he’s coming from. Plus, if he finds her tomorrow then your job is done. Tomorrow it will be over.   “Then where are we going next?”   “To the best place here!” Taehyung hollers and cheers, other arm shooting right up. “Venetian Macau!”   //   You end up conjuring some red, obnoxious sports car upon his request, so you have him to blame with why your hair is whipping you in the face and you have yourself to blame on why you chose to envision a vehicle without a roof.   But your parents would be so proud of you right now — you gave your Cinderella the perfect ball gown to wear and provided the pumpkin carriage...metaphorically, of course.   The drive is less than ten minutes and soon, he’s parking in front of the grand hotel that has fountains springing up in front and the bustling sound of ringing and clanging from inside spilling out. The valet happily takes the key and you two cut through the casino to the lobby, taking the largest room they offer — the Presidente, a 12-bay suite with four bedrooms.   It’s at the very top floor and it’s massive, the size of an entire house. You set all the bags down, staring in awe at the rotating bed, the jacuzzi and bathtub out in the open. It’s all white and glass, the mere kitchen the same size as your apartment back at home. But what takes your breath away is the view of the entire city.   The windows take the entire side of the wall, pristine to the point where you feel like with an outstretched arm, you could touch the city with your fingertips. The towers and buildings surround you, the smoke curling up to the blue sky. The entire world is at your feet.   “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Taehyung approaches, standing at your side as you both look out.   “Yeah…” You’re speechless, mouth full of cotton. “It’s gorgeous.”   “I love this city,” he whispers and then turns towards you. “I’m glad you’re here.”   “Because I’m your fairy godmother?”   “No. Just because.” He walks away, leaving you confused, but before you can ask anything, Taehyung throws a glance over his shoulder. “You should change into your dress. It looks weird if I’m the only one in a suit. Makes me look overdressed.”   “Where are we going now?”   “Down to the casino, silly.” He laughs and his gaze intensifies. “We gotta win some, Y/N.”   Taehyung knows fully he doesn’t need to win anything. He has an unlimited supply of money right now, of wishes for that matter. But you give into his will out of defeat. You change into your own dress which is tighter than you remember, though he tells you it’s just fine. And with your wand, you grant him his wish of a hundred thousand dollars.   No sooner are you walking alongside him in the boisterous casino. Taehyung’s hands are dug into his pants pocket like he owns the place and he throws his money carelessly. He acts recklessly and boldly, but in doing so, he wins.   “This gentleman has put fifty thousand on red! Double or nothing on red!   “Let’s go!” he hollers. “Let’s go!”   It feels like you’re babysitting. Taehyung doesn’t need this — he’s simply playing with his money at this point…..no, money is practically useless to him now that he has an infinite amount. Yet, everyone around you is watching with bated breath, egging him on, cheering and clapping. There’s a crowd circling the table and the hype is infectious, making you nervous too.   You’re frozen as the ball is thrown.   It rolls around as the roulette table spins, ticking like a metronome. It lands on red and black and red and blank until it stops…..   Right on red.   “Oh my god!” There’s sharp inhales before it breaks out into applause and cheers. Immediately, Taehyung turns beside him and hugs you as if it was on instinct. He laughs and squeezes you before lifting you off your feet, arms wrapped around your waist. He spins you around in circles, making you giggle. “We did it! We fucking did it!”   You’re still being spun. “Taehyung!”   “Congratulations! You’ve just won a hundred thousand dollars!”   People are congratulating him, watching with envy and clapping. One man smiles and sips on his bourbon. “Is she your lucky charm?”   He finally sets you down on your feet, wearing a ginormous grin. “Oh, she’s my lucky charm, alright. She’s my precious fairy.”   You’re embarrassed by his declaration and others laugh, seeing how close you both are.   “A fairy indeed. I should get a lucky charm myself.”   The lights in the casino whirl around you, neon lights making you dizzy. Your senses are in overdrive, taking in your chaotic surroundings. Without windows, it’s easy to get drunk off the atmosphere, caught up in it without knowing if it’s day or night. There’s a constant barrage of noises, the pink of slot machines accompanying the jittery fall of chips. Levers are pulled, coins flowing through slots, dealers standing back or shuffling their deck of cards.   You’re mesmerized over the bright colours and it’s Taehyung who grounds you. The way he turns around, always checking up and reading your expression, sometimes calling your name — it helps you from being overwhelmed. And you can only stare at the way the vivid lights glow on his skin, thankful that he’s here to tread in this new world with you, a world you are too unfamiliar with.   He lives it up in the casino, gambling and going crazy, popping bottles of champagne. The minute you leave for a bathroom break and return, he’s somehow gotten to know a crowd of young folks. Taehyung’s charming when he wants to be and maybe that’s how you two end up in a limousine on the way to a club with these people.   While you’ve enjoyed yourself thus far, this was most definitely not a fun part for you.   Your feet ache, you’re sweaty and tired….and some girl is perched right on his lap, directly on top of his crotch.   “You should let me come back with you later,” the doll-like girl whispers seductively while twisting a strand of her curly hair with her finger. She knows what she’s doing, you’ll give her that.    There’s hollering all around you, strangers acting idiotically and pouring vodka down their throats. You feel out of place. Too old for this. You’re a woman with a job who pays her own bills and these kids are acting like dogs in heat or it’s the first time their parents aren’t watching them.   But you sit still, narrowing your eyes onto Taehyung and picking up on the private conversation because you’re his fucking servant.   “Sorry, babe. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.” He flashes a sly smile. “I have someone special to me.”   “But I thought you said she was only your fairy.” The girl gives an exaggerated pout and spins her head around to stare at you. You look back at her impassively and she returns to Taehyung, playing with the collar of his ironed dress shirt. “How about this...if she’s your fairy, I can be your angel. I promise I’m a good girl. I won’t misbehave.”   Taehyung chuckles as he leans back, legs widening a bit more. “No, I have an angel already and it’s not Y/N. This other girl...I love her.”   Despite what he says, you’re beginning to doubt his feelings — otherwise, why would he let some other chick sit on his lap. But you don’t make any comments. Instead, your death glare intensifies and you angrily chew on your chocolate bar that the limousine provided. You haven’t had a proper meal all day and you needed something to bring your blood sugar up.   “Then where is she? She’s obviously not here with you.”   “I’m looking for her.” He grins proudly. “I’m a monogamous man now. I don’t like playing around so much anymore. Sorry to disappoint.”   “Aww...you won’t make an exception for me?” She bats her lashes back and forth.   “I can’t,” he answers and before the girl can huff out and try to coax him otherwise, her friends call her out for being desperate and thirsty. She pouts, sliding off his lap and in the next two minutes, the limo is pulling up at the obnoxious nightclub.   As if the neon lights from the casino weren’t enough, now it was strobe lights flashing to the back of your eye balls and making you see stars. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind as he dances with his new best friends. On the other hand, you slide up to the bar, making an order of the cheapest drink to sip in. Unfortunately, there’s no food and when you asked to suck on some lemon slices instead, the bartender shot you a weird look and told you they weren’t for sale.   “You’re not gonna dance?” Taehyung joins you briefly, strands of his blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. It was no wonder he was drawing in women and men alike as if he were a magnet — the man looked like a sculpted Greek God that descended from the heavens.    “No!” you shout back, straining your voice against the booming music. The vibrations were shooting all the way up to your bones.   “Why not?! Don’t be a downer! Let’s have some fun!”   You barely finish your drink before he’s pulling you out on the dance floor. It’s terribly awkward and feels like you have two left feet as you stumble out, trying to dance with him. You don’t appreciate others rubbing against you either, so you move close to Taehyung. And he doesn’t have any grievances as he pulls you against him too.   You wish you could shut your eyes and wave your wand around right now. If only your wishes could be granted, you’d hope to be in bed, curled up in the sheets at a cozy house, perhaps a cottage in some secluded place with mountains and a waterfall.    But when midnight strikes the clock, instead of Cinderella rushing back home…..   The both of you end up here.   “Why do you look so sad? Want me to hire a male dancer for you?”   “No.” You’re sitting in the corner with your hands in your lap. It reminds you of when you were put in time-out at home. “And why do you think I look like this? We’re in a strip club, Taehyung.”   “And what’s the issue with that? If girls stripping isn’t your thing, there’s plenty of guys too.” The idiotic boy points off and you don’t even bother looking. “Look, dude’s wearing a thong.”   It was an exclusive booth, the best seat in the house and full view of the stage. Several girls were off to the side, giggling and giving a private show to the ‘friends’ Taehyung had made hours earlier. He paid a lot to get a spot like this in the top strip club of Macau — but of course, money meant nothing to him now that he had an overabundant amount of it.   The more and more you get to know Taehyung, the more disgusted you are. The rich lifestyle doesn’t suit him at all. He was at least cute and somewhat wholesome pre-fairy-godmother-magic. Now that he had endless wishes via you and he’s gotten rich, he’s adopted the ‘fuck bitches, get money’ that rappers promote in mainstream media.    You swear Cinderella’s story had more decency than this.   Should you really be surprised though? Fuck boys never change. And you’re especially witnessing that feat as he cheers on his friends that are trying to slap some asses…..   Before you can get a hernia, you end up falling asleep. The last thing you see is a magician on stage using his thick wand to undo his pants. When you come to consciousness, Taehyung’s shaking you awake, all his ‘friends’ gone and it’s three in the goddamn morning.   Finally, the pair of you are going back to the hotel. Taehyung’s arm is draped around your shoulder as usual and he’s teasing you for being grouchy while petting your bed hair.    But damn straight you’re grumpy. You went gambling, then to a club, then to a strip show. You’re tired and sticky and disgusted with Taehyung. Still, you can’t come to hate him for dragging you around like this or for being an absolute douchebag. He’s too happy with you and the grin on his face is too infectious.   You collapse on the bed as soon as you get in, not having enough energy to wash your grimy skin or peel off your tight dress. Like you, Taehyung simply undoes the top button of his dress shirt and he collapses onto the soft mattress.   There is silence.   You nearly drift off to sleep, but then he interrupts.   “Thanks, Y/N.”   One of your eye opens and you find him staring at you. You stare back at him. “...you’re welcome. Did you have fun?”   “Sort of.”   “Only sort of?”   “It was alright.” The answer takes you by surprise since he seemed to have the time of his life. Taehyung continues to explain, “I wanted to see what it was like — it’s been a long time since I did anything like that. But once you get home….it’s kind of quiet, huh?”   “The quiet’s nice.” You shuffle, getting comfortable and relishing in what he’s most afraid of.   “Makes everything else from earlier seem empty though,” he murmurs softly, but you hear it. He wears a contemplative expression, gazing straight into your eyes. Before your lips can part and you can say anything, he plasters a grin on his face like earlier and changes the subject. “You wanna go eat?”   “Eat?”   “I know you were hungry. I’m sort of hungry too.”   There’s a pause. As tired and sleepy as you were a few minutes ago, you were wide awake again. It was obvious to see that Taehyung’s adrenaline was still coursing through his body too. And he was right — you were starving. You imagine that some food in your system would make sleep even nicer.   So with any determination that you can muster, you haul yourself up, scratching the back of your neck. “Sure. Where to?”   “I know a place.” He tugs on your wrist before you can walk off. “Wait, can I make a wish first?”   “What is it?” You automatically look around for your wand. Of course, it appears on the coffee table, always there no matter where you go off to.   “I was thinking about things and I really want to...travel. I want to make the wish now in case something happens. Y’know, it’s good to be prepared. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”   “Alright.” You grab your wand without a second to waste, not thinking twice. “Where to?”   “Umm…..I haven’t decided. Can you just give me tickets to every destination in the world? The most popular places to visit. Two of each in case I want to visit again. And if it’s possible, they don’t have a set time or date, so I can fill it in later and decide whenever I want to go.”   “Sure.” You shrug, finding his specific request achievable. “But can I also make a request?”   “What?” He grins as you look down at yourself, pinching at the skin-tight fabric of the dress.   “I’d really like jeans and a sweater.”   //   It’s not a fancy restaurant. Not in the least bit. There aren’t any lobsters, fresh crabs or truffle for sale. Rather, it’s a run-down burger joint that runs for twenty four hours. He shrugged and told you nothing could beat a good burger and that he was quite the fan of fast food.   You laughed and slid into the booth across from him after picking up the order from the poor teenager working the night shift.   “Are you going to finish all that?” You’re looking right at his two burgers and his mountain of fries.   Taehyung puts a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Are you shaming me right now?”   “No. It’s just a waste to throw away food.”   “Trust me, I’ll eat this all.”   “If you need any help. I’m sittin’ right here for you.” You give him the hint, pretending to nudge him across the table and he grins, sliding the fries in the middle.   “I thought we were sharing anyways.”   “Oh. We were?”   “Course we can share.” He bites into his burger and hums at the taste, having missed it. You eat as well, food tasting glorious on the palette of your tongue. There’s been too many days and nights of nibbling on instant noodles that even greasy, cheap fast food tasted delicious.   “I was staring,” you mumble past a mouthful.    Taehyung stops. His cheeks are puffed up and he stares at you through his thick lashes without you realizing. Slowly, a soft smile spreads into his face, all too fond of you.   “Sorry.” He looks away the same time you glance up at him. “For dragging you around all night. I know you weren’t having that much fun.”   “No. It was alright.” You set down your burger, dusting your fingers off and picking a fry to dip it into ketchup. “I just got tired and I was a bit….bothered.”   “About?”   “This girl you’re searching for….” You don’t mean to question his intentions, but it’s been pressing on your mind ever since you met him. “.....do you actually love her, Taehyung?”   There’s silence in the restaurant.    The fluorescent lights whirr above you, flies circling the light. Taehyung swallows his mouthful, caught off guard. A knot is made between his brows. “What do you mean? Course I love her. Why?”   “I don’t know…” You shrug, trying to brush it off, but he insists you explain.   “Y/N.”   A sigh leaves your mouth and you look directly at him, deciding not to spare the blonde man from your thoughts. “If it were me, Taehyung, if someone I loved was out there and I truly cared about them and I was looking for them — I wouldn’t waste a single second.”   “Well, I’ve been searching for an entire year now.”   “Macau isn’t that big,” you retort. “Have you been looking for her all this time?”   “Yes! I—”   “Then why not search today? Because you wanted a break? Because you wanted to enjoy what I’m giving you before I’m gone?” You’re breathless and the truth of your anger divulges, “If you were in love, you wouldn’t let other girls sit on your lap—”   “She was the one who sat there!” he argues and from an outsider’s view, it looks like you’re both a couple fighting. The teenager standing at the counter stares and eavesdrops like he’s watching a television drama. “It wasn’t my fault!”   “Doesn’t matter. You let her sit there.” Staggering breaths are ripped from your lungs. You’re fighting in place of the girl that Taehyung’s searching for, a girl you don’t even know. “What about the strip club?”   “What about the strip club?!” His arms are thrown in the air, burger nearly flying out of his hand. “That has nothing to do with anything!”   “What about calling me your—” precious fairy.   But the words catch in your throat, caught in your mouth. You lean back and look away. “You know what? Never mind.”   He exhales in frustration, running a hand through his hair and realizes the ruckus the two of you are making. Taehyung leans over the table and speaks in a low voice, “You’re right, okay? I know how it looks…..I was the one who cheated on her at the end of the day and now I’m going around and it looks like I haven’t changed.”   The food becomes more tasteless as he continues, “The moment she left, I knew I fucked up badly. All his bullshit of partying and drinking and girls, it’s fun. But it was fucking worthless. It still is. I don’t expect her to take me back, Y/N. I just...want to apologize and get some closure. I know I’m an ass, but I’d like to think I’m at least trying to improve myself. I don’t want to be the person I was back then. I never want to go back to being that person.”   You eat again, forcing yourself to swallow it down and let the sugary liquid of the soda tingle your tongue. “Then what do you find fulfilling? Painting and photography?”   You’ll always be skeptical at the whole ‘I’ve changed’ narrative, but you can at least understand where he’s coming from. You know most people can’t keep up with the partying lifestyle. At some point, everyone wants more for themselves. More and more. To make the most out of life.   You’re the same — always wanting better.   The problem is if you can ever fulfill those desires.   A twinkle in Taehyung’s eyes ignites, glad you asked and a cute smile comes across his face. “You remembered?”   “You only told me a few hours ago. My mind’s not that of a goldfish. Who do you even take me for, Kim Taehyung? I’m your fairy godmother.”   “You don’t act like you want to be,” he points out and you’re surprised. You look up at him and he smiles as if his intuition senses more about you than you’ll even realize.   “I...just want you to get your happy ending.”   “You seem stressed.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s all. And I guess, you make me feel a bit rushed too.”   “I don’t,” you murmur, finally admitting it aloud. You called him out on his feelings, brought question to his convictions. It’s only fair if you’re honest as well and you have an inkling he might be sympathetic to your situation. “I don’t want to be. You’re not wrong. I never wanted to be anyone’s fairy godmother.”   Taehyung quirks his head to one side. “You don’t like magic? I think it’s pretty cool.”   “Yeah, but I’m your servant,” you mumble with a pout.   He immediately interjects, “You’re not.”   “I can’t make my wishes come true. Do you know what it’s like when it’s your magic, your wand, but you can’t use it for yourself or your family?”   There’s a pause. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess it really sucks.”   A small laugh pulls out of you. “Psh, yeah. I know that sounds incredibly selfish but—”   “It doesn't. It’s completely understandable.” Taehyung’s expression is blank and he blinks innocently at you. “It’s like your lottery ticket is given to someone else.”   “Yeah…” It’s moments like these that he catches you off guard. When he isn’t so unbearable, but sweet, compassionate and empathetic. It’s no wonder so many people are drawn to Taehyung without needing to know him for long. “Since I was young, my parents shoved down my throat that this is the reason I was born...to serve whoever was my Cinderella. This is supposed to be my life purpose.”   “I don’t think so.” His lips are pouty, gaze intense. “Maybe it’s part of what you have to do, but it shouldn't be your sole purpose.”   “Well it isn’t, but sometimes it sure feels like it.”   He hums a low note and chews on a few fries thoughtfully. “What would you wish for? If the tables were turned and I was your fairy godmother.”   “I don’t know.” You haven’t really thought about it. Coming up with desires that couldn’t be fulfilled would leave you even sadder than before. “I guess, I’d want a house and some money. I’d buy a place for my parents and I wouldn’t have to work anymore. I’d take care of their retirement completely. I’d pay off all my loans too and give money to charity.”   Taehyung acknowledges your choices, finding it pretty close to what he’s going to wish for as well.   A thought comes to mind and your eyes light up. “God! I’d quit my job! Yes, I would actually do that first above everything else!”   He laughs, finding your enthusiasm endearing. “You really must hate candles. But what would you do after that?”   “I’d travel. I’d go see the entire world and then eventually, settle down and work as a historian.” The more you think about it, the more eager and energized you become. This fantasy you’re constructing around you sounds so uplifting that the moment reality sets you, you’re guaranteed to be disappointed. But for now, Taehyung gazes at you, admiring how passionate you are. “I’d lead a research team at a university or at a museum. Or maybe I’d work as an archivist and preserve historical pieces. That would be really cool.”   “That sounds really cool. Would you let me work there too?”   “What would you want to do there?”   “I could paint or take photos and you could put it on display at the museum. I’m not half-bad, y’know.”   It’s pleasant to the ears, the mere idea of it sitting well with you. In this fantasy world, you are the princess and it’s a dream you want to relish in. “Sounds like a plan then.”   Taehyung finishes his burger, stuffing his cheeks to the brim. He drinks his soda, sliding the food down his gullet. He hums, thinking of something and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What about your romantic life?”   “What about my romantic life?” You eye him with feigned suspicion while a smile tickles at the corner of your mouth. “You think I got time for love, Kim? I’m about to make history here.”   He laughs again, heartily and rowdy. His eyes are crinkled, lips spread into a rectangular shape and he nods firmly. “You’re right. I don’t need to find your prince charming when he’s already sitting across from you.”   You grin, finding the situation unbelievable. “Are you flirting with me, Kim Taehyung?”   “I’m stating the truth.”   You scoff. “Aren’t you supposed to be in love with someone else?” The playful question suddenly draws out a silence. He doesn’t say anything, chewing on fries and your brow lifts. “Now that I think about it, you haven’t seen her for years, right?”   “Listen, time makes the heart grow fonder.” His irises twinkle with mischief. “Haven’t you heard of that?”   Another laugh spills out of your body. “Time makes all wounds heal, Taehyung. Time makes you forget.”   “I disagree,” he counters, “I won’t ever forget us.”   Taehyung says it so casually without knowing that the weight of his genuine words makes your cheeks warmer than they should be, You don’t say anything, simply scoffing. But it’s because you’ve been made speechless by him, mouth filling with cotton, caught off guard.    The chatter and banter eventually continues. Conversations come easily between you and him, spilling out without any awkward pauses. He’s charming, a conversationalist that makes you laugh and feel at eased. Soon, the two of you are walking on the street, side by side with synchronized steps. The bustling city is quieter than ever before when it’s four in the morning.   “You won’t leave me as soon as I get my happy ending, right?”   “But what else would you need me to do?”   Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “I thought we were friends!”   “Nah, this is just a business relationship,” you quip.   “Here I thought you were becoming my friend. I can’t believe it’s been one-sided all this time.”   “Thought you’d be used to it by now,” you bite back, this time making him the speechless one.    Taehyung begins to chase you down the street and laughs. “I’m gonna choke you!”   “I bet you like that, huh?!”   Two blocks are made before you’re both tired out from running needlessly. The both of you are less drunk from drinking hours earlier and more off of each other, feeling oddly giddy and happy.   Taehyung walks with his arm draped around your shoulder like that’s the way it should be. At this point, it feels natural even. “You gave me a few ideas.”   “About choking?”   “No! Jeez!” He laughs, the tinkering sound making you giggle. “About wishes. I should prepare more and think about things in the future, not just short-term enjoyment.”   “Wow, Sherlock. You’re a real genius.”   From your sarcastic tone, he pokes your side, tickling you slightly. “I’m being serious here!” He laughs. “I should put some money into my bank. Pay off my loans and buy some stocks or something to make sure my family’s retirement is secure. I want to buy my parents a house and give to charity too.”   “I approve of these wishes.” You bob your head, nodding enough for your neck to break while stumbling in your steps and leaning closer to him without realizing.   “I want to make your wishes come true too,” Taehyung murmurs softly.    Automatically, your head turns and you find him staring down at you. He’s pulled you close and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. You could count his lashes if you wanted, see how his cupid’s bow dips, imagine lines through his freckles and moles like it’s stars in the sky and you’re trying to map out constellations.   You look away from him before you do something worthy of regret. “You don’t have to…”   “But I want to.” Taehyung smiles. “It would be an honour to grant your wishes.”   “How would you go about doing that?”   “Well, your wand listens to me and only me. So I can just make your wishes for you. I can say the word.”   You scoff, elbow jutting out to his ribs. Yet, it does nothing to deter him and only puts a wide smile on his face. “You’re going to travel with me?”   Taehyung shrugs. “Sure.”   “Wouldn’t that girl you’re looking for mind?”   “I don’t know and I don’t care if she does or doesn’t. You’re important to me.” He is warm, not just his skin against yours like this, but also in his personality. “You’re my fairy.”   You don’t detest the nickname so much anymore. It’s kind of sweet when he says it like that.   “That’s a big promise to make.”   “Then I’ll have to step up when the time comes.”   “Alright, Kim. Don’t be all talk and no action.”   “I won’t,” he promises. “We should secure a source of money right now though. I don’t feel safe carrying around so much.”   There’s an ATM approaching to the left and the pair of you slow down. Taehyung lets go of you and your hand digs into your pocket, finding the wand magically materializing there. “How much do you want?”   The man hums and picks a number off the top of his head. “A hundred million?”   “You’re going to put a hundred million in your account all at once? That sounds like a bad idea.”   “No one’s going to notice.” He waves his hand off. “Don’t be such a worrier. You’re going to get wrinkles by the time you’re forty.”   “There’s nothing wrong with wrinkles,” you mutter with a sigh. The want trembles in your pocket and a second later, you hand a cheque to him. Taehyung smiles and turns to the ATM. You watch his back, making sure he doesn’t get mugged.   He puts it into his bank, ready to pay off his loans in one go and eventually transfer it to his family and those who are important to him — to charity and to you too.   It was wrong of you to dehumanize Taehyung and boil him down to some ex-fuckboy. He’s more than that, just a little lost, but he’s a ray of sunshine, passionate and eager, thoughtful and sweet. You can feel your heart softening for him and maybe that’s why you’re turning more into an idiot as well.   //   Ken scrolls through his computer.   He’s bored looking through the records and the numerous spreadsheets that have enough numbers to make his brain implode. He blinks wearily, feeling his eye bags deepen in its purple hue. The man has turned off the fluorescent lights, sitting in the darkness. The bright light of the monitor screen casts on his face.   He exhales in exhaustion and drinks his coffee in the thermostat, leaning back in his chair.   But suddenly, there’s a notification on the corner of his screen.   His eyes grow wide on what he sees on the monitor. And Ken spits out his mouthful of coffee. The brown liquid spews off his tongue and drenches his keyboard and all over his dress pants.   He screams, bloodcurdling at the burning temperature and he dabs the mess pathetically with a crumpled tissue while his other hand grabs the phone, going on speed dial. “Boss? Yeah, I’m sorry. But you’re gonna want to see this.”   It goes through a long chain of command. Phone call after phone call until every department is awoken at four thirty. There are grumbles from each person, but the floor becomes alive again. Though there’s more bewilderment and confusion than outright panic.   The phone rings, blaring. It nearly falls off the bedside table.   Seokjin is shocked awake.   He crawls out of his bed, emerging like a bear after a season of hibernation. “What the hell are you calling me for, Namjoon? Do you know that the goddamn time is?” The dark-haired man’s voice is thick and groggy. He scratches his scalp and looks at the time — the red digits reading four thirty seven a.m.    “It’s an emergency.”   “It always is.” Jin stands up nonetheless and switches his lamp on. He grabs his clothes from the closet and sighs, glancing at how puffy his face is in the mirror. “Is it another murder?”   “No. It’s worse.”   It sounds dire and the detective drives quickly to the station. As he arrives, the floor is bustling with people and he doesn’t waste a second to look at the files provided to him. Except—   “This isn’t worse than murder!” he shouts in exasperation, “It’s just some guy under the suspicion of printing money!”   “Yeah, but we’re still part of the investigation team.” Namjoon leans on the desk and takes a sip of his coffee cup like it’s noon and there’s no reason to be grumpy. “It’s still a job.”   “I didn’t even brush my teeth.” Jin glares narrowly at his partner.   “And you still came late,” Namjoon argues back. “I already took a look at his profile and found where he’s staying at. Let’s go.” The older male follows and Namjoon talks as they both walk out. “His name is Kim Taehyung. Male. Late 20’s. Single. Unemployed. But he put a hundred million in his bank account about an hour ago.”   “A hundred million dollars?! Jesus christ, where did he get that?!”   “Yeah, it’s not something you can get from just spending a few nights at the casino. It’s most likely through some kind of money laundering. They’re suspicions that it’s tied with the Jeon family. That’s why our department took the case,” he tells and it all clicks in Jin’s head.   After all, they’ve been investigating gangs and corruption in the city for the better part of two years now.   Though one thing doesn’t make any sense — “But why would they choose this guy?”   “No idea.” Namjoon is honest and as befuddled as the rest of the team. “He’s completely clean as far as we’ve seen. No connection to the family whatsoever, no criminal background, no relations. He came here a year ago and hasn’t been doing much.”   “Is it possible he could be just a new recruit of Jeon’s?”   “To entrust a new recruit with a hundred million dollars?” Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m not sure. Doesn’t sit right with me. We’re going to get him now since there’s reason to believe he might be a flight risk. This Kim Taehyung may be what we need to bust Jeon once and for all.”   Seokjin nods and they both get into the car.   //   At the same time, half across the city in a high-rise building, a shorter man with black hair and frighteningly cold eyes knocks against the door once. It is eerily quiet and after a second, there’s a smooth voice from the other side.   “Come in.”   Jungkook is sitting at his desk, swirling a cup of bourbon in his left hand. The ice clinks against the fragile glass, liquid inside sparkling against the dim chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The person entering automatically lowers his head towards the younger male.   “What’s the matter, Yoongi?” he asks curiously at why he’s being disturbed at this time of night. The walls are dark, expressionless portraits grand, curtains drawn like it’s permanently a state of night in this office.   The man named Yoongi lifts his head. “I received a message from our informant.”   “And?”   “They’re going after an individual named Kim Taehyung. They believe he has connections to us.”   It’s absurd and the leader is made confused. He searches his mind, but is unable to recall such a name. Jungkook has never heard of him in his entire life. “Why would they?”   “This individual deposited a hundred million into his bank account.”   He almost chokes on air. Instead, Jungkook masks a composted exterior he was taught since he was born and sets his drink down. He sits straight and clasps his hand on top of his mahogany desk. “That’s….bold.”   It isn’t idiotic. It’s a tactic. By doing something so brazen, this Kim Taehyung was trying to send a message to everyone else. “Who is this man?”   “We have no idea,” Yoongi answers honestly. “The police force is as confused as we are. He appeared out of nowhere.”   “Then he must be a rival. He may be from Taiwan….” Jungkook considers it and sharply inhales. Kim Tae from Taiwan. This was the Great Gatsby in real life. This mysterious stranger could perhaps have an empire overseas. In less than a day he’s become infamous in Macau. But whatever the case may be….   “Bring him to me.”   “Understood.” Yoongi lowers his head, preparing to leave.   “And whatever information you receive, tell me.” Jungkook stands. “We need to take each threat seriously.”   //   It’s five in the morning when you and Taehyung finally arrive back at the hotel. All the sleep that you had ached for earlier has left your body. You’re past the state of exhaustion and into the stage of deliriousness. But the diminishing logical side of you tells you that you should go to bed anyhow and rest up before going on the search for Taehyung’s girl.   Unfortunately, Taehyung is still hyper energetic, more so than before now that he has two burgers, a mountain of fries and a liter of sugary soda in his gut. He becomes curious of the twenty-four hour gift shop in the lobby, looking at all the knickknacks and snow globes.   You whine to him enough that he laughs and tells you to go up to the room first.   “—floor is he on?”   “Top floor,” the taller one answers and then there’s a pause.    The two males turn their heads to stare at you and it takes a delayed moment for you to enter the elevator. Maybe it’s deliriousness getting to you but both are incredibly handsome men. The slightly shorter one has princely features, full lips and dark hair, clad in a long taupe jacket. The other is a brunette, dressed in a casual topcoat and wearing thick rectangular glasses that reminds you of what a modern spy would wear.   You realize you’ve been drooling when they smile politely at you. “Uh...what floor are you going to miss?”   “Umm…” You swallow your mouthful of saliva, turning to the elevator buttons and finding the top floor already pressed. It strikes you oddly considering you didn’t see anyone else staying there. And for some reason, your mind tickles and you blurt out— “Thirtieth floor, please.”   “Alright.” The brunette presses the button and you watch the metal doors close.   “You know, now that we’re here, we should check out the Paiza Club and Dining lounge. I heard they have something called Chocolate Brioche Bread Pudding that is to die for.”   “We’re here on an investigation, Jin,” the taller one scolds, whispering under his breath.   “You need to lighten up, Namjoon.” He gives an exaggerated and playful sigh, hand plopping on his partner’s shoulder. “When you can have some fun, you should take it! At this rate, you’ll die a workaholic.”   “I’m not going to go eat Bread Pudding.”   “You’re no fun.” He clicks his tongue and stares straight ahead, speaking lowly, “We went all the way here, but we might not even run into Kim Taehyung. Should make the most out of this trip.”   In the midst of their conversation, you’ve turned to stare at them. This time not because you’re marveling at their handsomeness. The name rings in your ears and you don’t realize just how intensive your gaze is, hardcore even. It doesn’t take three seconds before the hair on the back of their necks raise and they crane their necks over.   “Can we help you?” the man named Namjoon asks.   “N-no, I’m okay.”    You whip your head to look forward again. But it only arouses suspicion and the two experienced detectives exchange an array of expressions with one another.    Seokjin smiles and glances at you. “Did you have a fun night tonight?”   You’re shocked that he’s speaking to you, but you manage to scrape up something coherent. “Me? Yes. I was down at the casino.” The corner of your mouth lifts stiffly. “It was fun.”   Jin steps forward, closer, and you feel cornered. His hand slips into his coat pocket and he pulls out a picture of someone you recognize all too well. It’s a fuzzy photo, one that looks like his driver’s license. “Did you happen to see this man?”   You wear a blank look, mind delayed and then you peek up at them both, quirking your head to the side. “Oh. I met him in the lobby earlier this afternoon.”   “So, he’s staying here, correct?”   “Yes, I think so.” You nod once, not sure where all these lies were coming from. It was instinctual to protect Taehyung and your intuition told you not to trust these two men. “We talked briefly when he sat next to me at a slot machine. He seemed fairly nice. Are you looking for him?”   “We’re just searching to inquire about a case he may have witnessed,” Namjoon says simply without revealing much. He turns his body towards you, narrowing his eyes and watching your every movement. “Did he happen to say anything to you? Anything important at all?”   “Not at all. I believe we talked about the….gift shop and the snow globe sales in there. He left afterwards, but he seemed pretty nice.” It’s a good thing your body is too tired to make any suspicious movements. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience. Luckily, your concern for Taehyung comes across as concern for society. “Can I ask what happened?”   “It’s a private investigation, we can’t reveal anything.” — “He’s under the suspicion of money laundering.”   Namjoon and Jin answer at the same time. And as it tumbles out of their months, realization sinking in, there’s a suffocating silence drawn out. The two detectives exchange expressions, Namjoon glaring and Jin knowing he fucked up badly.   You give your best gasp that’s not completely fabricated. “T-that’s horrible!”   “Well, hopefully we can catch him soon and make the streets safer.” Jin offers a tense smile to comfort your worries.   The elevators open to the thirtieth floor. “Good luck and good night then.”   “Yes, goodnight.” The handsome investigator nods and you smile, walking away as the doors close and you hear the two men bickering with each other.   The moment it’s quiet again, you whip yourself into the fire escape, running. Your feet shuffle as if you’re doing drills, step after step, leaping down the staircases. You nearly trip and eat shit on the hard ground, but you catch yourself, gripping onto the banister.   It’s thirty levels you have to dive down and you just hope Taehyung hasn’t gone up yet. Every five floors, you peek out to the elevator, finding the numbers increasing to show Namjoon and Jin are continuing upwards. Luckily, the other elevator remains stagnant and you can only wish for the best.   A deep breath is stolen through the seams of your lips and you pass a few drunk people giggling. Sweat drips down your head. Curses spill out of your mouth. You almost start crying, but you make it to the lobby, launching your body out, startling several strangers as you burst out the door.   The person you’re looking for is standing right there.   Taehyung is innocently waiting in front of the elevators, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. You don’t waste a second, throwing yourself at him. The second Taehyung sees you, on instinct, a grin spreads across his face. He opens his arms and catches you, hugging you back.   “Y/N? What’s wrong? Did you take the stairs?”   You’re hyperventilating. “T-T-Tae…”   The blonde man has an endeared expression as he looks down at you. His smile softens and he holds your arms before lifting up his left wrist, showing off the plastic bag. “In the end, I couldn’t choose any snow globe or postcard, but I got cat mugs for us. They’re matching and in the shape of a cat! Fifty percent off for the second one too! Cute, huh?”   “T-Taehyung…..th...e….the….p...p-o...lice…”   “What?”   “Th...e...p...o..li….c….e”   “What?”   “The police are here!” you whisper harshly and out of desperation. All at once, his expression falls and he pales.   “What?”   //   The two investigators linger outside the door. They shift the weight of their foot from one to the next, waiting patiently as if they’re trick-or-treaters on Halloween or simply very insistent missionaries who want to enlighten people and lead them away from Hell.   But after a full minute, there’s still silence and no movement made on the other side.   Seokjin leans over and rings the doorbell again. The sound can be heard echoing throughout the suite. Jin rings the bell yet again and this time he knocks five times.   “Police! Open up!”   Silence.   Jin cranes his neck to his frustrated partner. “I don’t think he’s in there.”   There’s no choice and Namjoon’s patience is running too thin. He digs in his pocket, taking the keycard out and he swipes it at the handle. It flashes green and he pushes the door open.   “Ooh, breaking the rules, aren’t we, Joon?” Jin teases, “Look at how bold you’re getting. Barging in without a search warrant? I’m proud. Never thought I’d see the day you’d actually bend the rules a little.”   “Hey…” Namjoon enters the room without looking back.   “Yeah?”   “Can you shut up?”    “Will do.”   The two of them enter, yelling out that they’re police. But like before, there aren’t any responses. They check each room thoroughly, peeking in the closet, looking underneath the bed. It’s empty. There aren’t any suspicious belongings either and when Jin and Namjoon regroup, they suspect this Kim Taehyung must’ve known they were coming and purposely slipped under the radar.   “Damn.”   This person wasn’t to be messed with.   //   “Oh my god, oh my god.” You’re shaking your head, whispering in disbelief. Panic has set over your body and caused you to hyperventilate, blood rushing in your veins, air never staying in your lungs. “We are so fucked, we are so fucked, Taehyung. Holy fucking shit. We’re going to jail.”   “We’re not going to jail,” he counters.   “They think you’re involved in money laundering!” you spit at him. “How are we going to explain the one hundred million dollars?! God, I knew that was a bad idea. I should’ve stopped you. No...it’s not your fault. You wouldn’t blame a four year old for eating candy—”   “I’m not a four year old!”   “—you’d blame the parent that gave it to them. I fucked up.” You’re pacing back and forth, fully aware that it’s not helping, but you don’t know what else to do anymore. In the span of a day, you’ve screwed up your entire life. “I fucked up!”   “Y/N, stop.” His hands drop down to your shoulders, halting you mid-step. “Can’t we just tell them what actually happened? It’s not like you and I did something actually illegal.”   You shove his hands off of you, narrowing your eyes. “You think we can just waltz up to law enforcement and tell them we got a hundred million from magic?!”   “If we show them, they’d believe us.”   “And then they’d take me away!” Your arms in the air, already envisioning you strapped down to a medical table. “They’d take my wand, take my blood and my family, take me in for experimentation! It’s a family secret for a reason, Taehyung! There’s a reason we don’t go around parading we’re the fairy godmother’s descendants!”   The pair of you were hidden in his old apartment. It was a sad and small room, falling apart in the corners. Taehyung was evicted a few months ago, but he knew it was empty and helped you climb the fire escape as he busted a weak spot on the door outside. Despite it being relatively reclusive, there was no possible way that you could stay long.   The police would know this place and come investigating sooner or later. They’d probably pull the floorboards apart to make sure he’s not hiding any money or drugs. And eventually, they were going to find you tied up with him in all this.   There is no escape.   “How do we undo this?” you ask him, completely lost and hysterical.   His eyes spark with an idea. “Can I wish for an invisibility cloak?”   “I can’t grant you something that doesn’t exist,” you sigh out and begin to consider the possibilities. You had magic on your side after all. It was definitely a choice to give him a gun to protect himself, but then that would be an unregistered firearm and could land the two of you in a bigger world of trouble. The car was unregistered as well. Getting a plane or spaceship out of Macau would be impossible as well. If you snuck out of Macau, you don’t know where you’d go.   It’s funny how you can grant any wish, yet you feel so limited.   Cinderella never went like this — she was never chased down by the fucking police.   “Y/N, we’re going to be okay.”   “How can you say that?! We’re not going to be okay. We’re not! That’s a fact! We’re screwed!”   “Can you please just trust me?!” he shouts above you, probably allowing the neighbors to hear. But his deafening volume shocks you to silence and your mouth seals. Taehyung’s gaze is intense and he licks the seam of his lips, swallowing hard. “I trusted you once. So trust me. Can you do that?”   “I...I don’t know….”   The man in front of you reaches down, holding your hand and squeezing it. As he soothes you, he makes a promise, “I won’t let you get hurt.”   “And what about you?”   “I won’t go to prison.” He wears a soft smile. “Why would I? I didn’t do anything wrong but indulge a little with my fairy.”   It’s stupid of you — but you chose to believe him. Taehyung trusted you once. It’s only right if you give him a chance as well, let him prove to you whatever he wants as you once proved to him your abilities.   For now, the two of you have to look for another place to go to and after a bit of rest, he takes your hand and leaves, never once showing any fear for the circumstances ahead.   //   The security room is cozy with monitors all around, staticy screens showing every corner of the casino. The athletic male is leaning over, watching with intensity as the technician delves into the hours of CCTV footage and searches thoroughly.   Namjoon mutters under his breath, obsessed with figuring out this puzzle, “Where did he go?”   Jin hangs up the phone and joins his partner. “Hoseok and Sowon’s patrol car broke down.”   “Again?”   “Yeah. They’re jump starting it now, but the battery might be done for.”   He shakes his head. “Everything always falls on us, huh?”   “Sometimes it can be easier like that.” Jin’s hand plops on his partner’s shoulder, giving a cheesy grin and squeeze. “Remember all those old days when we were new to the department and we dug up cases even when boss said they were done? But we broke the rules and solved them anyhow? Those were the days! Doesn’t it make you feel nostalgic?”    “No.”   “Oh, come on,” Seokjin whines much to the working technician’s amusement. “We solved so many cases with just the two of us! It was fun!”   “We almost got fired.”   “But we didn’t,” he chimes.   “Stop. Right there.” Namjoon’s finger juts at the monitor and the two detectives lean in with their eyes squinting. As far away as the camera is, the features of the male are indistinguishable. He was dressed cleanly, but looked like he had a whole night out, wrinkled dress shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He definitely looked like a man of money, power, and sophistication. “Huh. He’s right there.”   “And that was at five twenty…...what time did we arrive, Namjoon?”   “Five fifteen.”   “What in the—” The footage continues and the two men watch as you come running from the fire escape door and launch into Taehyung’s arms, observing the way he hugs you. “Oh my god. That’s her! The girl we talked to in the elevator!”   They exchange looks with one another.   A radio call is received that helps piece things together. Earlier yesterday, half across Macau in a lower class hotel, Taehyung was spotted. The people in the lobby said they witnessed Taehyung and thought he was a gigolo. And yet again, you were there with him the entire time.   “Jin. Get those arrest warrants.” His partner nods in response and he turns to the security technician. “Can we see what direction they went?”   “Sure thing.” The man smiles. “Our CCTV goes for blocks.”   //   Taehyung has spent an entire year in Macau. It’s needless to say that he knows all the kind spots — even if those are places are underneath bridges or in secluded alleys. You trust him enough to lead you as you figure out what to do or at least evade the police for long enough and buy some time so you two can somehow figure out what to do with all the money in his account.   If there was a way to get rid of it, you could act like it was never there in the first place or it was soft of mistake that neither you nor Taehyung have anything to do with.   So, you go with Taehyung, never once realizing who was following you two.   It’s not until you’re standing at an alleyway, taking cover after hearing sirens and being relieved that it’s just an ambulance, do you truly come to realize the detrimental state of the situation.   “We’re safe,” he breathes out as the ambulance passes and you nod.   “Are you Kim Taehyung?” A deep, rumbling voice comes from the end of the alley and you both jolt with a scream. A short man emerges from the darkness. His black hair matches his dark eyes and the colour of his clothing. He is in a leather jacket, boots and gloves too.   You’re alarmed, his piercing gaze sending chills down your spine. You catch the tattoos on his neck, the only skin on his body revealed, and it appears to be symbols spiraling upwards like the tail of a dragon. He’s not holding any weapons as far as you can see, but his presence still sends goosebumps all over your arms.   He’s dangerous — and it’s not only your instincts that scream it.   You and Taehyung are holding onto each other, backing up slightly. “Who are you?”    “Are you or are you not Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi steps forward, coming more into the light and the man holding you pushes you behind him.   “That’s me. What do you want?”   Yoongi scans him up and down as if he’s looking to purchase a fish at the market and is sorely unimpressed with what he sees. There seems to be a glimmer of uncertainty and confusion before he masks it with impassiveness. “There’s someone who wants to speak with you. Come with me.”   “I’m not going anywhere.”   “You don’t have a choice,” the stranger says pressingly. “You can come with me willingly or not. It’s your choice.”   “Who is it?” you pipe up over Taehyung’s shoulder. “Who wants to see us? We’re not going unless you tell us.”   “Jeon Jungkook,” the man becomes tired of the negotiation and hisses the name in a husky timbre like it is a name worthy of a king’s honour.   But there is silence.    You and Taehyung look at each other. “Who?”   The gangster is gawking in disbelief, appalled at this show of ignorance that might be an indication of Taehyung’s sheer power — to not know Jungkook in this world was to either be deaf and blind or high up enough that he never spared a glance at any rival. Just how powerful was this Taehyung? But why is he curled up in an alley with some girl? None of it made sense.   Yoongi is puzzled.   “Jeon Jungkook from the Jeon family.”    Taehyung nudges you. “He sounds familiar. I think I read his page on wikipedia.”   “What did it say?” you whisper despite Yoongi being able to hear everything.   “He’s the leader of a….a….cart.”   “A cart? Like a food cart?”   “No, wait. I think I remember now. Not a cart….a cartel.”   “He’s part of the mob?!” You’re shouting, eyes almost falling out of their sockets. Oh my god. This just got a thousand times worse and you’re starting to wonder if this is a terrible nightmare you’re having on the plane and you haven’t actually landed in Macau yet or maybe this was a hidden camera and you were going to be famous on a variety show. You hoped it was either one...   There was just no way Taehyung could be wanted by the police and now the mafia in Macau.   “You don’t know who Jeon Jungkook is?” Yoongi inquires with raised brows. “Are you sure you’re Kim Taehyung?”   “Yes, but I don’t know who you think I am,” he tries to reason, but it unknowingly sounds like he’s boasting. “I have nothing to do with your cartel.”   “If you show up on our turf, in our space, you are now.”   “What? No! I’m not part of any cartel. I didn’t know this was your turf, but I’m not dealing with any drugs or anything. I am literally not involved in any criminal activity!”   Yoongi’s blank expression is washed over with bewilderment. “Are...you not from Taiwan?”   “No!”   “You….don’t have an empire?”   “What empire?” Taehyung is at a loss as he tries to clarify. “I’m not related to the mafia whatsoever. Not here. Not in Taiwan. Not in Korea. Not anywhere!”   “Then where did you get the money?” The dark-haired individual steps closer, gaze narrowing in. “Where did you get the hundred million dollars from?”   “I...won it at the casino.” Taehyung backs up, holding you close behind him and you shuffle together.   “A hundred million?” The man scoffs before coldly chuckling. “Doubt it. The biggest winning is twenty one million dollars. Yours is almost five times as much.”   “W-what do you want with us? Do you want the money?!”   “No.” He rolls his shoulders and smirks, tugging his gloves to secure them. “At any rate, you should come meet my boss.”   The true lottery that Taehyung won is Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon arriving in the nick of time.    He’s down the avenue and flips on his police car siren. Everyone moves out the way and he zips through traffic like he’s part of Fast and Furious. Namjoon leans over and turns it off. Jin turns it back on a second later and flashes a glare.   “Leave it!”   “We’re not chasing anyone! We shouldn’t turn on the siren!”   “But we can avoid all this traffic!” He grips the steering wheel tighter. “My car, my rules.”   “It’s the station’s car.”   “I drive, my rules.” Jin turns his nose up into the air, purposely acting snotty. “If you want to drive, then be my guest. But let me remind you that the last time you did, you hit five trash cans consecutively and skimmed against three other cars.”   “They weren’t parked right at the curb!” he argues and in his rage, turns off the siren.   Seokjin turns it back on, face getting red and hot. He screams, “Hands off my fucking siren, motherfucker!” The warbling pitch of the siren is deafening. It wails in the air, drowning out Namjoon and Jin’s arguing inside the vehicle, while red and blue lights fly into the sky, flashing onto pavement. It comes closer and closer and Yoongi curses underneath his breath. He steps forward, but Taehyung holds you back, making it obvious that he’s not giving you or himself up without a fight.   Your hand wraps around Taehyung’s and you take the opportunity to run. It’s risky to go sprinting across the road while the police car is approaching, but you barely make it and Yoongi has no other choice — forced to retreat and withdraw back into the shadows.   It was amazing, really. In just a few hours, Taehyung became infamous and now everyone wants a piece of him. Too bad you come with him like a buy one, get one free package.   //   The four glass walls trapped you, but not necessarily suffocating your spirit with its transparent surfaces. Instead, it makes you feel vulnerable, like the police or mafia could catch you here.   It was a bit better when Taehyung’s body covered one side of the phone booth, his back towards you as he’s on the lookout. You had conjured a face mask and a dark hoodie for him to cover himself up with, sunglasses as well and you wonder if it just makes him more suspicious.   Thoughts pushed aside, you gain the courage to pick up the handle, slide the coins in and dial the memorized number. It was morning now with people beginning to stir and you know the person on the other line was awake too at this time. But considering the number would appear as unknown on her phone, it’s a streak of luck when the dial tone stops and it’s actually picked up.   “Yeah hello?”   “Hello?”   “Who is this?”   “It’s Y/N….”   It takes one split of a second. Your boss’ chirping morphs into rage, dropping into a deep pitch and growly like a monster. “What are you doing calling me on this number?! I texted you last night several times! Do you think you’re going on vacation, Y/N?! I expected better from you! What time is it over there?! Aren’t you supposed to go to the meeting?!”   Shrill screams ring into your eardrums and you have to pull the handset away from your ear for a moment. This had to be considered as some kind of verbal abuse. “Do you know how important this investor could be to my business?!”   “A-a-about that…”   “What?! Speak up!”   “I...I might have to reschedule,” you murmur, “I...I’m sorry. I don’t think I can meet him today.”   “Are you kidding me?! Y/N!” She’s yelling at the top of her lungs. “What the hell are you doing over there?! Why are you rescheduling?!”   You don’t realize you’re crying until your cheeks feel wet and you wipe your eyes quickly with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m sorry.” You bow from your waist despite her not being able to see you. It’s instinctual as if you’re part of Pavlov’s Dogs, and she’s trained you to be this way. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”   “I don’t need your apology! I need you to meet him! How will my candles sell now?! Will you buy them?!”   Suddenly, there’s knocking on the glass. You lift your head to find Taehyung worries, his brows knitted together tightly. He mouths ‘are you okay?’ and you nod, wiping your eyes.   “I’m sorry.” Truth be told, you weren’t okay. Not in the least bit. You were on the verge of being fired.   The phone call eventually ends when you run out of coins and you’re no longer able to hear her even when she’s still screaming at you and making you face her wrath and fury. You don’t care about your job or about candles. But you don’t enjoy being humiliated by anyone and at the end of the day, it’s your means of survival. Without your shitty job, you don’t have anything and that’s the sad part.   There’s silence as you sit on the bench, facing the Pearl River Delta and South China Sea. From the distance, you can see the docks of Macau and the shadows of the nearby islands. It’s serene and you feel yourself relaxing, giving up. They could come take you now — arrest Taehyung for money laundering and take you to investigation. He’d be imprisoned and they might take you in for experimentation. Or better yet, the Macau mafia could take you first, kill you and Taehyung, and then steal the money….   This is not what Cinderella was like.   You much prefer the fairytale version that you detested for so long.   “What are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the quiet and turning your head to his handsome profile. Taehyung is looking out at the horizon, oddly calm too. No one was freaking out anymore.   “How I don’t want you to get caught up in all of this.”   Even when he’s in this predicament, he’s not thinking about himself — Taehyung’s thinking about you. You admire his selflessness and your hand reaches out, pinky first before your palm slides on top of his. Taehyung gets used to your touch before flipping his hand over and lacing your fingers together. It was comforting to hold his hand like this.   Your gaze softens on his profile and he turns, locking his eyes with yours. “I want to find who I’m looking for.”   “Right now?”    He nods. “If I can get my happy ending, you can escape from all this. You can be free from me.”   “You can’t get your happy ending if you’re being chased by the mafia or by the police, Taehyung.”   He squeezes your palm. “I want to try. I don’t want you to be stuck to me.”   “I can leave, Taehyung,” you tell him in a gentle murmur, “I could leave right now. I’m not stuck to you. I’m choosing to be here.”   “Yeah, but you have an obligation to be with me at the end of the day or at least fulfill my wishes.” The corner of his mouth lifts with a sad smile. “I don’t want you to have to feel that way.”   “I don’t—”    “Let me go find her.”   “Is that what you want?” you question him, searching his expression. “Forget about me for a moment. Think about yourself…”   “I am,” he assures and helps you stand up.   You’re uncertain — you don’t even know what a happy ending means.   //   It’s a slip of paper with an address messily scribbled on it, the blue ink slightly bleeding on the crumpled paper. Taehyung tells you when he came here, he had an old picture of her and asked around the streets of Macau like she was a missing person. He followed faint trails here and there, going on a wild goose chase until someone told him they had seen her before and wrote down where.   And here you were with him — on some dingy street, standing in front of a butcher’s shop.   “She’s supposed to be here?” You stare at the shop, reading the name of it written in bold red.   “Maybe. An old lady at a fish market saw her working here before.” Taehyung glances at you for an extended time and you turn your head, blinking at him.    “Are we going in?”   “Y-yeah….right…” He pulls the door open, letting you in first. The butcher owner is grinning, asking if you two want to buy some meat and what kind, but Taehyung greets him and then slides the picture over to him, explains why he’s here. “Have you seen her?”   “Bae Jenny? Yes. She lives across the street!” The older man points out the window. “Right there.”   You’re surprised. Taehyung seems even more shocked. Her location is finally pinpointed into a definite place, so close. It occurs to you all this trouble so far could’ve been avoided. Heck, Taehyung probably would’ve found her two days ago if you never ran into him….   The man frowns. “But who are you?”   “I...I’m an old friend of her’s.”   He nods in understanding. “She should be home at the moment. I believe it’s her day off of work.”   The bell chimes as you two exit the shop. It’s quiet. Taehyung is contemplative and you’re on autopilot while you cross the street safely, taking the stairs outside the run-down building. You shuffle to the open apartment complex, stopping right in front of the door.   “We’re lucky, huh?”   “I guess.”   You brace yourself with a deep breath, but when Taehyung doesn’t move, you frown. “Well, aren’t you going to knock?”   “Y/N. I need to tell you something.” He turns to face you, swallowing hard like he has something important to say and it’s simply caught in his throat and he’s not used to this kind of thing. “This happy ending that you’re trying to achieve for me. I...I don’t need this. What I want is—”   The door swings open. There’s a girl holding her trash bag. She freezes.   “Taehyung?!”   His eyes are wide, rounded with horror. “Jenny?”   The female is short and petite with long, black hair. She is a doll with delicate features and you wonder if she always looks this amazing at home — dressed like she’s going out, eyeliner and pink lipstick. She is gorgeous and breathtaking. This is what you envisioned your Cinderella to look like.   “What in the ever living fuck.” She glances at you and glances back at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”   He waves meekly. “H-Hi.”   Eventually, the two of you are invited into her cozy home. It’s small, but comfortable. Though you can’t get settled down, feeling too awkward as the third wheel. With a harsh nudge from you, the suffocating silence is interrupted by Taehyung who starts off with, “It’s good to see you.”   “Yeah? Can’t relate. How did you find me in the first place? Last I checked, I ghosted you on everything and I haven’t posted about my whereabouts in a long time.”   “I...I’ve been looking for you. I asked around for a long time.”   “Why?” Her brows raise, genuinely confused and unable to rationalize it.   “I...I’m in love with you…?” The last syllable of Taehyung’s weak declaration has its pitch increasing like he’s unsure of himself and questioning it too. It sounds weird and you don’t know what his issue is. Wasn’t this what he wanted?   Jenny is unimpressed and also unfazed. “Are you serious?”   “I...guess.”   “You know we were together for less than five months?”   “Yeah.”   “You didn’t even consider it official.”   “I..know…”   “And that was four years ago.”   “Uh-huh.”   “You cheated on me, remember?” Jenny looks like she’s five seconds away from slapping him or splashing him with her glass of water and when she puts it like that, your initial disbelief with Taehyung returns. He nods and you realize how ridiculous this all is. It’s obvious — he doesn’t love her. Or whatever he thinks, whatever he feels, it isn’t love.   Jenny sighs tiredly, aged an additional fifty years with him in front of her. “You’re an idiot. An absolute idiot, Taehyung. For coming here. For saying that. I don’t love you. Never had. Never will. We didn’t even have anything special. It was a basic relationship.”   He nods again, unable to say anything.   The girl regards him with narrowed eyes. “If you think it was anything great, then frankly, you’re just idealizing our relationship and romanticizing it after it’s over because you live a fucking sad life. You’re projecting your ideals onto us, onto me, because you’re lonely.”   “That’s….harsh.”   But Taehyung is not surprised. He’s rather unaffected, letting the insults roll off his shoulders, fully aware and even embracing that he is indeed an air-headed dumbass.    “Well, it’s true.” Jenny sets her cup down and leans back in her seat, crossing her arms. “You’re lonely. Always have been. You just never wanted to admit it, so you found all these girls to try to temporarily fix your problems. And once I realized your issues, I dropped you. I’d understand if you came for me to look for closure, but to announce you love me.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes to the back of her skull. “Are you kidding me?”   “Sorry.” He’s fiddling with his fingers and scratching the back of his neck. Taehyung came all this way. This was most definitely not the outcome you were expecting. You thought she’d leap into his arms, that they’d go prancing into the fields together and get married. But you suppose romance never worked like that in real life.   It’s not your place to say anything either.   “I’m sorry for you too.” She sighs again. “Honestly, I couldn’t love you even if I wanted to, Taehyung. I like girls.”   He quirks his head to the side, mildly interested at the new development. “You like girls?”    “Yeah. I mean guys are fine too, but I prefer girls. I can...tolerate them better.” Jenny steals a glance at you, the corner of her mouth curling. “This one’s a cute one.”   “Thanks..?” You’re sheepish, having stayed quiet and out of the conversation. But all the while, she’s noticed you and read your expression like it’s an open book.   “Is that all?” Jenny looks back at Taehyung. “I gotta get ready and leave soon. I got a hot date scheduled and frankly, I think this conversation is over..”   “Yeah, we’ll get going.” He stands up, waltzing outside without begging to stay or pleading with her to be heard. He acts nothing like a person who wants to redeem himself in front of the woman he supposedly loves.    Jenny leans against her door frame. “Hey, Taehyung. Wait.” He hums, spinning on his heel and she smiles. Between the two of them, there aren't any harsh feelings or emotions of resentment left. You can see it on her face that she’s mostly apathetic about his existence and only slightly annoyed by his antics. “If you ever wanna stop being dumb and go clubbing with an old friend some time, call me up. I know a few places.”   He smiles, a puff of air coming from his nose, having expected nothing less. “Okay.”   “And bring this one too.” Jenny smiles at you. “I haven’t seen someone tolerate your bullshit in a long time and she’s a pretty one.”   “Y-yeah.”   The two of you walk without saying anything for an entire block. You’re reeling, not sure what just happened. But Taehyung isn’t heartbroken at all or as devastated as you thought he’d be. He seems to only be embarrassed for the rejection and having his issues said aloud, all the things that haunted his mind coming to confront him.   “So...that was that...are you hungry? I’m sort of. Maybe we should go get some waffles.” The blonde male turns his head and then freezes up. You’re crying silently, tears shedding down your cheeks as if you just splashed your face with water. “Y/N?”   “Fuck, what are we supposed to do now?!” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. You’ve lost it. Everything was crumbling down onto your shoulders, the weight of what you’ve done heavy. “She was supposed to take you back! But she insulted you and you didn’t even say anything back!”   “Well, what she said was true—”   “No! You’re not that big of a dumbass.”   A smile pulls on his lips, endeared and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”   “I failed.”   “You didn’t.”   “I did. I’m supposed to give you a happy ending, but I can’t even do such a simple thing that the rest of my family accomplished! I don’t even know what a happy ending means! What does it mean, Taehyung? What does it mean?! Things don’t end until we die! Life always continues and there will always be issues. How can you have a happy ending? How can you be happy forever?! Do you even want that?!”   “No. I don’t want a happy ending. You’re right.” Taehyung composes you, calming your turmoil and he grins. “I want adventure and I’m having that with you right now. My precious fairy that makes all my wishes come true.”   You’re catching your breath. “This is what you want?”   “Well, maybe not being chased by the police or by the mob, but being with you. It’s fun, right?”   “Fun?!”   “It’s fun,” he assures and his arm slinks off of you. Instead, Taehyung reaches down to hold your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “And it’ll be better when things are okay again. Right now, I can think of one or two ways to make things better...and to solve our little issue. Do you trust me?”    There’s a pause. You sigh and nod once. “I do.”   As distressed as you may be, lying isn’t easy — you’re relieved that Taehyung’s with you.   //   Yoongi follows closely and swiftly, yet discreetly as he remains in the shadows. He’s been tailing the two of you since he parted ways hours ago and it was curious. So many things he was befuddled about despite being so well-informed about this world. You spoke to someone at a telephone booth, to who Yoongi has no idea. But Taehyung watched your back — that means you had an important part to play in all this, important enough that the man has to protect you.   Then the pair of you also sat on a bench for an extended period of time. Perhaps waiting for someone else or maybe signaling to another person nearby that things were progressing. It’s the most mundane activities that often signify the most.    Yoongi followed you to a butcher’s shop, an innocent little place that has potential of being more, perhaps where the money was supposed to be laundered. And then you went to see someone, a woman who quickly shut the door after you entered.   The gangster is intrigued, that much is clear. He doesn’t know what’s going on and the longer he follows after the both of you, the more he’s learning your techniques of getting around Macau. Though it still struck Yoongi as odd as to why this Kim Tae denied coming from Taiwan, refuting that he had any part of the illegal world, of having any affiliation with a family or empire. Perhaps he wanted to remain discreet, to conduct his business without arousing any attention.   Whatever the case may be, he was a man with a talent in lying.   Yoongi almost believed you and him were innocent for a moment.   But what truly provokes his curiosity is when you disappear into an alley and you both come back with a white envelope and purposely let it fall to the ground, walking away without looking back.   Yoongi picks it up after a minute and he isn’t disappointed by what he finds.   “What is this?”   Jungkook’s own question is answered as he opens the envelope and finds a cheque of exactly one hundred million dollars. He glances up at his right-hand man and finds another slip of paper with an address and time written on it.   “I’ve been following them.”   “And?”   “He denied having any affiliations with anyone and from being from Taiwan. I believe he’s lying since he doesn’t want to draw attention from anyone. He seemed to want nothing to do with us. I don’t believe he’s a threat.”   Jungkook nods, taking it all in and Yoongi continues divulging the information he’s collected, “I think he’s targeting police and trying to taunt them more than anything. Though I’m not sure why. I don’t know the specifics of the business they’re conducting, but they went to various locations around Macau while evading the police.”   “He must have some kind of vengeance against the department if he’s willing to go out personally. I wonder if he works for someone….” The leader’s voice draws on and he ends it in a thoughtful hum. “And you were telling me about a girl?”   “Yes. He protects her. I have reason to believe she may even be the mastermind behind these plans.”   Jungkook rolls his tongue inside his cheek, looking at the cheque and the amount of zeros behind the number one. “This money is a sign of an alliance.” It’s a truce, perhaps a request to join hands and destroy the police department once and for all. While the intentions are still unclear to Jungkook, he knows what to do. “Launder this money properly. I’m going to meet this Kim Tae myself.”   He lowers his head and takes the cheque. “Understood.”    Jungkook fixes his suit jacket, tugging on the sleeves as he considers how respectable a character Taehyung is. He has to see this man for himself.   And in the meanwhile….   The department floor comes alive. The ceiling fan whirrs in rhythm with the coffee machine. Phone calls are ringing and officers greet each other as they pass. In the midst of the usual chaos, Namjoon leans back in his swivel chair, feet propped up on his desk and he sips on his caffeine drink. His feet ache, eyes weary, counting the hours since he’s been awake. But as exhausted as he is, he continues to flip through the file and re-reads the profile of the suspects.   He’s brought back to his senses when his partner plops something down. “Hoseok wanted you to see this.”   Namjoon takes it and sits up, looking through the crisp printed pages. It’s information on the nightclub they've been keeping an eye on and that has suspicions of being linked to the Jeon family. The profits aren’t out of the ordinary but for today’s circumstances, it is.   Seokjin adds, “All the money in Kim Taehyung’s account is gone.”   “A hundred million?! Are they tracing it?”   “They don’t know where it went, but we might be getting a sniff of it soon.”   Namjoon scoffs. “I knew it had something to do with Jeon Jungkook.”   “I’m starting to think Kim Taehyung is a red herring.” He meets his partner’s eyes. “A pawn in the grand scheme of things.”   He nods. “Something Jeon threw out to distract us, huh? He must know we’re closing in on them.”   “It doesn’t make sense otherwise. I keep looking into Taehyung and he’s a nobody.”   “They must’ve had internal issues and transferred the money to him and used him to throw us off his scent. Make it so damn obvious by going to the Venetian and having shopping sprees so we can’t ignore him.” Namjoon slams his fist against the desk. “That damn Jeon. We won’t be tricked!”   It’s not worth going after Taehyung — one shouldn’t capture the pawn when they could capture the king.   Yet, it still makes the detectives frustrated. They detect Jungkook’s play, but an entire night and day has been wasted going on a wild goose chase after someone who’s essentially a smoke screen. While they’re thankful they realized this before wasting any more time or investing weeks into Taehyung, they don’t know what to do anymore.   That is until Jung Hoseok comes running towards them. “We just got an anonymous tip.”   //   Jeon Jungkook stands at the docks. His hands are dug within his dress pants pockets and he faces the sea, allowing the cool mist to carve through his hair and recall simpler days when he was just a child innocent of the world he belonged to. His childhood memories only ever consist of his late mother and the nannies, never of his frightening father, a father who seemed absent from all things until he was fourteen and he groomed Jungkook to become what he is today.   As he waits patiently for the infamous man he’s only heard about, he relishes in all these thoughts of a time that was simpler. His men have circled the area, securing it from anything suspicious and Yoongi is standing by, perhaps more alert than Jungkook is.   Suddenly, a black sleek car pulls up. Its wheels dig into the sand and asphalt from the road, stopping harshly without a lurch forward. The windows are tinted and Jungkook raises his left hand up, stopping Yoongi from walking over. Jungkook allows this Kim Tae to approach him first and he listens to the noise of both sides of the door opening.   Then immediately, without time to breathe the ocean’s scent, the two spin around to Jungkook.   Their pistols are pointed right at him.   “Get down on the ground!” Namjoon is shouting, deep within his stomach. “Hands in the air where we can see them!”   “Hands in the air!” Seokjin screams over top of his partner. “Do not reach for anything!”   Yet with one flick of Yoongi’s wrist, his handgun from his back pocket comes to point at the two officers. He cocks the gun back, preparing to fire if need be, but no one shoots.   “You’re surrounded, Jeon Jungkook! Give up! You have nowhere to go!”   The mafia leader’s hands lift in the air lazily, right next to his head. He spins slowly around on his heel to face the undercover officers and the corner of his lip curls. “Really now?”   “The roads are barricaded off. Your men have been identified and are surrounded. We have our officers all over the docks.” Namjoon remains calm and composed. There wasn’t a single fisherman on the docks, all undercover police officers. “It’s over.”   This was the moment they had been working so hard for. The evidence they had compiled are simply missing a few puzzle pieces. If they get Jeon Jungkook and strike a deal with him, they could shut down a chain of underground businesses and corrupt politicians. Everything could come crumbling down.    The man’s brow cocks. “What are you arresting me for?”   “On suspicion of being involved in solicitation, extortion, and embezzlement.”   “And where’s the evidence?” he mocks them, singsonging the question. “None of it has my name on it. None of it connects to me.”   Seokjin smiles. “Yeah? Well, you’re under arrest for money laundering. The evidence is in the hundred million dollars!”   The police department received a tip, a deep voice that mumbled Jungkook’s name, a time and a location. They were hung up on, but tracing the call, it came from a phone booth. The CCTV footage showed a person in a dark sweater, face indistinguishable, more of a shadow than a human. Perhaps it was Taehyung betraying his mafia family, but that wasn’t important — the information was enough to devise a plan. It was the quickest and most hasty thing they’ve come up with in this investigation, but it worked.    They have Jeon Jungkook cornered.   As the muzzle of the gun is pointed at Jungkook, the tunnel of the barrel that seems endless, a chilling chuckle emits from the man’s throat. He knocks his head back and laughs, scaring the two officers. At the same time, more police cars pull up, siren deafening. They truly have him surrounded…   It hits Jungkook like a freight train — it was a trap.   This is the cost of wondering about Kim Tae from Taiwan. This was the repercussions of digging into his business in Macau, meddling in his work. Jungkook doesn’t know if he respects this Kim Tae or finds him truly fearsome.   “Curiosity kills the cat, doesn’t it?” His cold chuckles end and he shakes his head in regret, murmuring, “I should’ve never poked the bear with a stick.”   They’re confused, but there’s no time to react, much less to make sense of his words or respond. In a blink, Jungkook’s smirking again and with the muscle-memory that his father hammered into his skull, he reaches into his inner blazer pocket and has his own handgun.   His smirk morphs into an eerie grin and like a brat, he says, “You’ll have to take me dead.”   Someone shoots first. No one knows who or from what side, but then bullets begin spraying into the air. They take cover, glass of cars shattering, screams of ‘get down!’. It’s chaos and Jungkook’s men run over, protecting their boss with their own bodies, a full shootout erupting.   “This is your anchor Park Jimin, here to deliver some breaking news. Several miles south of Macau Port, several male suspects have opened fire against policemen. As you can see, shots are being fired as we speak—”   You’re watching the news with Taehyung through the window of a store, standing shoulder to shoulder on the street. Your jaw has dropped, mouth full of cotton and Taehyung’s eyes glimmering in equal amazement. It’s something out of a movie and you’re not sure you can believe this is actually happening — but considering you’re a fairy godmother, you guess anything’s possible.    “Do you think this was our doing?” you mumble out the corner of your mouth.   Taehyung grins. “Let’s just say it is. That would make one hell of a story.”   “Yeah, a story I don't think we’ll ever be able to tell anyone.” You look away from the screen towards him, blinking at how blazing he is and how the sun has kissed his skin, making him glow. “I think you might be a goddamn genius, Taehyung.”   “I know.” His grin widens and the sheer size of it might break his face. He looks so happy with your praise and you don’t care that you’re feeding his ego. “You’re only starting to realize?”   You scoff. “I knew you weren’t a complete idiot.”   “Psh. Your expectations for me are too low. I’m going to have to keep trying to impress you, aren’t I?”   “If you want to impress me, you’re going to have to step your game up, Kim.”   “Will do.” His arm slings around your shoulder as you both resume walking down the street.    The money was gone. None of you had it anymore so that problem was solved. The police should be off your tail and as for the mob...you hope they’re too scared of Taehyung to do anything. But you don’t know for sure. Regardless, the two of you will have to leave Macau as soon as possible for the sake of safety.   “What are your plans now?”   You hum, haven’t had time to think about it. “Probably go back home. Catch up on some sleep on the plane considering I’ve been awake for forty-eight hours now...and then, I’ll go crawling back to my job and apologize to my boss again. Assuming I haven’t gotten fired yet.”   “Why would you go back there? You hate it.”   “Where am I supposed to get money to live?”   “I still have the money that I legitimately won from the casino…”   “That’s yours.” You tease, “And you should keep it — it’s not like you have a job.”   He gasps in mock offense, hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, I make a decent living selling my picture and drawing people on the street.” Taehyung pulls you closer to him, looking down at you. It’s too intimate and to outsiders, the pair of you appear more like a couple than friends. But there’s no time to linger in the way your heart is thundering in your chest when his smile falls and he becomes genuine.   “I’m serious. You shouldn’t go back to that place if it makes you so unhappy. You should….come with me instead.”   “Come with you? Where?”   “I still have my plane tickets. The ones you gave me,” he reminds you and points to the old bag slung across his abdomen. The two of you had ran to get your belongings in the hotel room and got out as quickly as possible. Everything you need is with you and when he puts it like that, he’s technically right. You could go anywhere in the world.   “I asked you for two not because I wanted to go back for a second time, but because I want you to come with me,” he admits as his cheeks begin to deepen in hue, embarrassed that he had thought about this before and many times at that. “I was even happier when you said you wanted to travel too and...I made a promise, right? I...I just want to keep it.”   You’re speechless. “Taehyung…”   “I have to leave anyways. I want to leave with you.” He stops walking and you halt with him. Taehyung is a scrambling, stuttering, nervous mess and you eat it all up. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You technically met me yesterday and now I’m asking you to travel the world with me and we don’t know each other that well—”   “I think we’ve gotten to know each other a lot in these past two days,” you refute. You can’t think of anyone else that’s been chased down by the mob and police with you. The experience definitely drove you closer together and you’re full-aware of his issues as he is aware of yours. Everything is out in the open. There’s nothing to hide and nothing you want to keep hidden from him.   Taehyung laughs and you add, “Too much actually.”   “Will you still come see the world with me?”   You never thought there would be a day where someone would ask you such a thing. It’s mind boggling to consider that you could’ve been with anyone. Anyone in this world that could’ve had unlimited wishes, that would’ve used you until the last moment, that would throw you away afterwards. But it was Taehyung of all people. You’re the one who’s lucky.    And you’re so glad that he’s your Cinderella.   “It would be my honour as your fairy godmother,” you mean it. Nothing excites you more. As long as you’re not chased by the police or the mob, you’re happy to go anywhere with him.   Taehyung’s smile almost makes his cheeks burst and he nods. “But before we go, there’s something I want to do.”   “You know we can’t stay here for long, right?”   “Yeah, but this will only take a second.” Taehyung’s body is facing you and his arm extends, palm opening and pointing towards the sky. You glance up at his face, trying to decipher his blank features, not knowing what he wants or if he wants you to hold his hand again. But what he says is not what you expect. “Give me your wand.”   You trust him enough at this point to hand it over. “You know you can’t do anything with it, right? I’m the only one that can use it.”   “Yeah, I know.” He holds the silver stick. It shimmers and shines against the light, glimmering as if sparkles are embedded into the surface. Taehyung grips your wand with both hands.   “What are you— Taehyung! No! You can’t break it! I tried—”   But the stick bends. And then suddenly it…   Snap.   Much to your horror, he announces it blankly, “I just broke it.”    “What the fuck?!” Your eyes are wide and your hands are curled around his wrist, trying to see the damage done. It’s snapped in half. And you can’t wrap your brain around it. It never even so much budged in your hands. It was concrete, unbending, unyielding. Yet, he snapped it as if it was an uncooked noodle. “How?!”   “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t hard. Maybe I got the power to do it cause I’m Cinderella.” His brows playfully wiggle, joking around, but you aren’t amused. You’re shocked.   “Why?”   “I don’t want you to feel like you’re my servant. I don’t want you to feel obligated towards me.” A shy smile spreads into his face and he lowers his arms, your grip on him loosened. “Happy ending? I’m already happy with you…”   You’re emotional, stunned to silence. But the words that croak out of your lips first is— “Wh-why are you so cheesy?”   His shy smile becomes another enormous grin. “You’re my fairy either way. I don’t need wishes.”   You let out a breathless scoff, walking away from him and trying to ignore the way a lump has formed in your throat, how your chest feels light and fluffy. He quickly catches up to your pace, synchronizing his steps with yours and he steals glances of your profile like he can’t get enough of you. “You’re paying for our taxi ride to the airport, right? Where are we going first?”   “Mumbai or Italy?” He laughs. “Your choice.”   He throws the wand into the nearby trash can, chucking it away and neither of you look back as you continue on your way down the street of Macau.   You’re still not sure what a happy ending entails, but you wonder if this is it — this contentment and bliss of being Taehyung’s fairy and princess.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #v fanfic #OC as the fairy godmother about to get a hernia #Kim Taehyung as an ex fuckboy who's trying to get his shit together #lol

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan modern AU: Feel

Chapter 8 of Inadvisable (professor Solas AU with Felassan and Abelas) is posted!

A special focus on Felassan and Tamaris today as Tamaris meets him, against her better judgment, for a date.

~7600 words, and I’m too lazy to format them all here; half the chapter is here. Read the whole thing on AO3. 

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

-TAMARIS -

Tamaris closed her bedroom door and headed to the main room, where Nare was sitting with her laptop. “I’m going out,” she announced.

Nare looked up with a smile. “That’s great – ooh, you look cute!” Her eyes darted over Tamaris’s tight jeans and flowy low-backed black top. “Are you meeting a guy?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just someone from last night.”

Nare’s eyes went wide. “What? You didn’t mention that you met someone!”

Tamaris waved dismissively. “It wasn’t worth mentioning. He’s just a guy.” This was a bit of a lie; her kiss with Felassan last night was exactly the kind of gossip Nare would have loved to hear about, especially given Nare’s dry spell for the past couple of years. Tamaris would usually have told the dirty details to both Nare and Athera without giving a shit, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like telling them about Felassan.

Unaware of Tamaris’s fib, Nare nodded. “Fair enough. So I guess you’ll be back late then?”

“You got it,” Tamaris said as she pulled on her leather jacket.

“Have fun,” Nare said cheerfully. “Take a condom.”

Tamaris snorted. “Thanks, Mom.”

At the other end of the apartment, Athera poked her head out of her bedroom. “Is Tamaris going out?”

“Yes,” Nare called back. “And she looks really cute.”

Tamaris shot Nare an exasperated look. A moment later, Athera appeared. “Aw, you do look super cute! Have fun! Take a condom!”

Nare grinned, and Tamaris tsked at them and shoved her feet into her boots. “Uh-huh. You better be asleep by the time I get back, you fucking nerds.”

They laughed, and Tamaris gave them a tiny smile before leaving the apartment. 

The meeting place she’d chosen was a smallish bar called The Neighbour’s House that she and the girls had been to a few times before. It had dim lighting and comfortable couches and booths, and the bartenders played a good mix of 80s new wave and lo-fi hip-hop. Importantly, it was in the opposite direction of the university, so the clientele boasted fewer students than the bars that were closer to campus.

She headed to the bar on foot. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk away, and she was due to meet Felassan in five minutes, which was perfect timing: by the time she got to the bar, he was already there.

It took her a minute to find him, though. He was sitting all the way at the back on one of the charmingly worn leather couches, and despite his undeniable good looks, he still managed to blend into the crowd somehow, making him oddly unnoticeable unless you were looking for him. Once Tamaris did spot him, her belly did a little twist. 

He was just as attractive as she remembered. He was wearing nicely fitted black jeans and clean Converse sneakers again, and his hair was still tied back in that loose but elegant bun at the nape of his neck. But he had switched out the t-shirt for a dark grey button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Tamaris could openly admit that his forearms looked hot as hell. 

He was scanning the bar with a neutral expression, but when his eyes landed on Tamaris, his face lit up with a smile. He shifted over on the couch to make room for her. “You kept me waiting on purpose, didn’t you?” 

She considered lying, then decided she didn’t care enough to lie. “Yeah,” she said as she sat beside him. “I didn’t want to risk being talked to by random strangers if I got here first.”

He chuckled. “I really should be flattered that you deigned to even look at me last night, shouldn’t I?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said dryly. “You don’t want to puff up your Arlathani sense of superiority.”

“Ah yes. Thank you for the reminder,” he said. “I’m not quite ready to have you write me off just yet.” He raised a hand to flag down a waiter, and Tamaris shot him a funny look. What made him think she was going to write him off right away? Not that he was necessarily wrong, since she was planning not to see him again after tonight. But what made him think that? And why would he care about keeping her around?

A waiter sauntered over with a smile. “Hey. What can I get for you?”

Felassan looked askance at her, and she looked up at the waiter. “I’ll have an Iron Lady.”

Felassan smiled at the waiter. “The usual for me. Thank you, Krem.” 

The waiter touched his fingers to his forehead in a casual salute before walking away, and Tamaris looked at Felassan in surprise. “You know the waiter?”

“I know the names of all the staff here,” he said.

“How?” she asked. “Do you work here or something?”

He shook his head. “No. I live just up the street.”

She nodded an acknowledgment. That made things convenient if she was going to go home with him tonight. “You come here a lot, then?”

“Reasonably often,” he said. “They serve good food here earlier in the day.”

“Oh,” she said. “I actually didn’t know that. I’ve only ever come here at night before.”

“I figured that to be the case,” he replied.

Tamaris raised one eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I took you for a night owl,” Felassan said. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” she said, a little suspiciously. 

He bowed his head politely. “it’s not a bad thing. I consider myself a night owl as well.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You sent me a message at eight o’clock this morning.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused. “I also have a strange tendency to wake up early.”

“So are you a night owl or a morning person, then?” she demanded.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m both. Maybe it depends on the season or the day.”

Tamaris narrowed her eyes. “You like doing this, don’t you?”

“Doing what?” he asked. 

“Talking in circles around people,” she said bluntly. 

He gave her a slow smile that made something simmer to life in her belly. “Call it an old habit,” he said. “You are the only person who has ever called me on it, though.”

She huffed. “You must spend a lot of time around stupid people, then.”

He laughed brightly, and the sound of his mirth heightened the feeling of heat in her stomach. “Or maybe you’re just extremely rude,” he said.

She smirked. “You’re right about that. Which begs the question of why you messaged me this morning in the first place.”

He draped his arm along the back of the couch, and a shiver traced down her spine at the nearness of his arm to her shoulders. “I could equally ask why you replied, if you find my so-called ‘talking in circles’ to be so obnoxious.”

“I didn’t say it was obnoxious,” Tamaris said.

“That’s kind of you,” he said pleasantly.

“I didn’t say anything kind, either,” she retorted. 

Felassan grinned. “Now who’s talking circles around whom?”

Tamaris snorted and folded her arms. At that moment, their waiter reappeared with their drinks, and Tamaris nodded a silent thanks as he set the glasses on the coffee table. Once he was gone, she took a sip of her drink before leaning back on the couch with her arms folded.

“Just answer the question,” she said. “Why did you message me?”

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, fine. You first.”

“My answer is simple,” he said. “I messaged you because I had an exceptionally good time last night.”

“But you walked away.”

“I certainly did. But if it puts your mind at ease, rest assured that you lingered on my mind for the rest of the night.”

She eyed him beadily. That was very smooth. “If you had such a good time, why did you leave?” she asked shrewdly.

His cheeky smile widened. “Would you have replied to my message this morning if I had stayed last night?”

Damn it, he was right. She lifted one sardonic eyebrow. “Well, you’ve got me all figured out. I guess I don’t need to tell you why I replied.”

“Come now, that’s unfair,” he said. “I want to hear it in your own words.”

“Looking for me to stroke your ego, are you?” she said snidely.

He pulled a mock-sad face. “Listen to you, assigning such distasteful motives to me. It’s very hurtful, you know.”

His tone was a humour-filled drawl, and Tamaris couldn’t help but smile just a tiny bit. “Uh-huh.”

He chuckled and casually crossed his ankle over his knee. “Truthfully, I am curious why you replied. I was uncertain whether you would.”

She shrugged. “You’re interesting. Or original, at least.”

His eyebrows rose. “Original? How so?”

“Your talking-in-circles thing,” she said.

“Oh, so you do like it,” he said brightly.

“It’s bullshit,” she said bluntly. “Interesting bullshit, though.”

He grinned at her, then turned away. “Krem,” he called.

A moment later, Krem appeared. “Something wrong, boss?”

“Not at all,” Felassan said. “But could you be so kind as to bring me some ice?”

Tamaris frowned. There was ice already in his drink. “Ice for what?” she asked. 

“For all these burns you’re giving me,” he replied.

She stared at his mischievous smile. Then, to her surprise, a laugh escaped her. 

She smacked his arm. “You’re so fucking full of shit.”

Felassan snickered and flinched away from her smack, and Krem rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “If there’s anything you actually need, let me know,” he drawled, and he walked away.

“Thank you,” Felassan called after him, then turned back to her with a smile. Tamaris tsked and folded her arms, but it was too late to pretend she was mad; she was already smiling whether she liked it or not. 

Felassan continued to smile at her without speaking, and something about the soft quality of his expression made something writhe in her belly. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Take a picture, why don’t you? It’ll last longer.”

“A kind offer, but I’d rather paint one,” he said.

She looked at him in surprise. “Are you an artist?”

“I am, in fact,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. But he’d said he had a PhD. Professional artists didn’t need PhD’s. Hell, they didn’t even need Bachelor’s degrees.

She frowned. “What kind of art do you do?”

“I’m a concept artist,” he said. “But I’d rather hear about your art.”

She blinked at him. “What art?”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “You’re a tattoo artist.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah. But half the time I’m doing tats of other people’s designs.”

His expression sobered a bit. “Your vallaslin was your own design.”

“Yes, but it’s inspired by Dalish traditional patterns,” she said. “It’s not entirely my design.”

He leaned back slightly. “But you do create your own designs.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I can.” She took another sip of her drink and set it back on the table. When she looked up, Felassan was studying her thoughtfully.

“What?” she said, a little testily.

“You don’t see yourself as an artist,” he said.

Her gut twisted. She reached for her drink again. “Well. I mean, I’m not an artist like–” She broke off before she could say Nare’s name. There was no point mentioning any of her friends to Felassan since she was never going to see him again. 

She took a gulp of her drink and set it down once more. “I don’t do fine art or any fancy shit like that.”

“But you create your own tattoo designs,” he said. “And there is significance to the designs of your own creation.”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Then you are an artist,” he said firmly. “No matter what the alleged elite of the fine art world would say.”

Tamaris stared at him. His tone was light and casual as ever, but his face was totally serious.

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” she said.

He smiled faintly. “Did you do any schooling for the fine arts, by chance?”

“I did some,” she said cautiously. She didn’t want to tell him she hadn’t finished her BFA. He would ask why, and that conversation would get way too personal too fast.

He nodded. “Then you understand the degree of genuine bullshit involved in the study of fine arts.”

Despite herself, she snorted. Then she immediately felt guilty. Nare had a fine arts degree, and her education actually had helped her grow as an artist. Just because the program hadn’t been to Tamaris’s liking didn’t mean it was worthless. 

But again, she couldn’t say any of that to Felassan.

It seemed that he didn’t need to hear it, however; he was grinning at her now. “I see that you know what I mean without requiring further explanation. If your work stems from a Dalish tradition, I suspect you dealt with even more supercilious condescension than I did back in Arlathan.” 

“Maybe, yeah,” she hedged.

He nodded and picked up his drink. “Then I propose a toast. To creating true art: the kind that makes your professors’ skin crawl.”

Tamaris snorted a laugh and picked up her drink. “Fucking cheers to that,” she said. She tapped her glass to his and took a sip, then drummed her nails idly on her glass as she watched him sipping his drink.

He placed his glass on the coffee table and looked at her, then quirked his eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You’re fun she thought. She idly swiped some condensation from her glass. “Tell me about your art, then. I don’t really know what a concept artist does.”

“Ah,” he said. “ All right. You’ve seen The Archdemon Rises films, yes?”

“Multiple times, actually,” she said.

He grinned. “You enjoy monster movies, do you? Excellent. Well, whenever you see a monster in a film like that, there is an artist or a team of artists who listened to the writer’s ideas, then took those ideas and transformed them into the monster you see on-screen. Artists who drew a dozen different possible designs for that monster, or two dozen — sometimes more. And not just the monsters. The armour that the Hero of Ferelden is wearing, the layout for the ancient city, the different classes of darkspawn, every environment and location in the film: behind all of that, behind every fantasy or sci-fi film, there is a team of artists whose job it is to take the ideas in the script and to turn those ideas into the visuals for how everything looks.”

She stared at him in genuine interest. “And that’s what you do?”

“It is.”

“That sounds fucking amazing.”

A brilliant smile lit his face, and for once, there was none of his usual mischief in the smile. “I enjoy it,” he said. “Most of the time, at least, when my clients aren’t being overly demanding.”

She snorted. “I know how that feels.”

He smirked. “I imagine you do. Do you ever turn clients away for demanding horrible tattoos?”

“Creators, yes,” she said. “I had to reject a client just yesterday because he wanted — get this — a half-naked elven woman with tits that were almost bigger than her head. And he wouldn’t even negotiate down to the woman having more accurate proportions. I basically told him to fuck off to the nearest shitty tattoo parlour instead.”

Felassan laughed. “You robbed the world of something beautiful. Who doesn’t want to see a man with a garish tattoo of an objectified woman on his arm?”

Tamaris smiled faintly. “What about you? Do you often turn down clients?”

“I work freelance, so yes, I have the freedom to accept or reject work offers as I see fit,” he said. “But I always accept the contracts that involve drawing women with breasts as large as their heads.”

His smile was teasing once more, and Tamaris snorted in amusement. “You’d better not.”

“And what if I did?” he asked. 

“I’d up and leave right now,” she replied.

He grinned. “Fortunate, then, that I have more artistic integrity than that.”

She huffed again and sipped her drink. “So you’re a concept artist. Why the PhD, then?”

His smile faded slightly. “Ah. The concept art job came after the PhD, actually. I quit academia immediately after finishing my PhD. My supervisor was… less than thrilled, shall we say. But it was for the best in the end.”

She eyed him sympathetically. That was a lot of schooling to go through to just leave academia altogether. “Do you ever regret doing the PhD?” she asked.

He gave her an odd look. “You know, nobody has ever asked me that.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly. It seemed a natural question to her. “Well? Do you?”

“It’s hard to say,” he said slowly. He stretched his arms out along the back of the couch. “There are times when I feel like I wasted four years of my life. Eight, if you include the BFA.” He tilted his head. “Then I think that this was just the path I needed to take to get to where I wanted. A slow and convoluted path, maybe, but I hit my target in the end. Now I am doing something that I truly chose.”

Tamaris nodded slowly. “You went through a trial by fire to figure out what the fuck you wanted.” 

“Precisely,” Felassan said. “That’s… Yes, exactly.” He gave her a penetrating look. “You’ve been through some trials by fire of your own, haven’t you?”

Her belly jolted again. She shrugged and swirled her glass. “Maybe.”

His expression softened. “Avise alas’nirelan.”

She frowned at him. “Flame… what?”

“‘She who dances with fire’,” Felassan said. “It is an Arlathani expression for a person who walks boldly into challenging situations knowing they might come out burnt, but who walks into them regardless.”

His smile was strangely soft. She shrugged and looked down at her half-empty glass. “That’s not… I wouldn’t say I’m really like that.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that,” Felassan said quietly. 

For some reason, his words made her heart twist. She hastily gulped the rest of her drink and placed her empty glass on the table. “So. Um. You’re from Arlathan.”

His smile curled with humour. “I am, yes. But you knew this already.”

She ignored his response. “Is that why you talk like this?”

He gracefully lifted one eyebrow. “Like what? In a circular manner?”

“No,” she said. “In a fancy polite way, like an older man who’s trying to charm someone’s pants off.”

He laughed — a soft little laugh that warmed her belly. “You’re asking if this is how all Arlathani elves talk?” he said. “In this charmingly sophisticated manner?”

“If you do say so yourself,” she said dryly.

“I didn’t say so myself,” Felassan said. “You did. It sounds to me like you’re saying I could charm your pants off with the way I talk.”

Tamaris barked out a disbelieving little laugh. “That’s not at all what I said.”

“But you do think I’m charming,” he pressed.

She shot him a chiding look. “You are charming. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

He gave her a broad and incredulous smile, and Tamaris wrinkled her nose at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t believe anyone has ever complimented me with their words while simultaneously insulting me with their eyes,” he said. “I’d like to cement the uniqueness of this moment in my memory.”

“I didn’t compliment you,” she retorted.

“You did too,” he said. “You called me charming.”

“That’s not a compliment,” she insisted. “That’s a fact. It’s like the difference between calling someone handsome and being attracted to them.”

He lifted his chin slightly. “Explain.”

Tamaris sighed loudly and turned on the couch to face him fully. “Being handsome is just an objective fact,” she said. “Being attractive is subjective. It’s a matter of opinion. I wouldn’t fuck a guy who was just handsome. I’d have to be attracted to him.”

“An interesting theory,” Felassan said. “Which is it, then?”

“Which is what?” Tamaris said impatiently.

“Which one am I?” he said. “Handsome or attractive?”

She scoffed. He was so fucking cocky. “What if I said you were neither?”

“Then I’d be deeply wounded,” he said. “And I would wonder why you met me tonight.”

She clicked her tongue and looked away from him. Why was she feeling like he had talked her into a corner? And why was she actually enjoying it?

He shifted a little closer to her on the couch. “That is the real reason you met me tonight, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “It’s not because you thought I was interesting, not really. It’s because you are attracted to me.”

His voice was intimate and warm like the light of the candle on the coffee table, and it was fostering an answering warmth in her blood. She shrugged and refused to look at him. “Maybe I am,” she said casually.

“Come now, Tamaris,” he said coaxingly. “There’s no need to be coy. You met with me tonight because you want to fuck me, don’t you?”

A streak of heat bloomed through her body at the rawness of his words. Surprised into reacting, she looked at him.

Creators, his eyes: they were so brilliantly violet. She’d never seen such perfectly gemlike eyes in her life. 

She finally found her tongue. “Yes, okay?” she said. “I want to fuck you.”

He gave her a slow and heated smile that made her heart thump in anticipation. “Hm,” he murmured. “That’s very interesting.”

Tamaris licked her lips. Felassan’s gaze was so unnervingly intent that she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t stop staring at his impossibly pretty eyes. 

“Fine then,” she said flatly. “Now that I’ve admitted it, are you going to suddenly fuck off and leave me on my own like you did last night?”

His smile widened. Slowly, very slowly and without breaking from her gaze, he shifted closer to her on the couch. By the time their knees were touching and they were almost nose-to-nose, Tamaris felt like her pulse was vibrating right beneath her skin.

Felassan tipped her chin up with one finger. “Kiss me and find out,” he murmured. 

Smug asshole, she thought, and she kissed him.

Read the rest on AO3. 

#felassan #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #inadvisable #professor solas au #professor solas #pikapeppa writes

[atamascolily]

Okay, I have calmed down enough after reading Aftermath: Empire’s End that I can address the bit that really got to me.

TL;DR: the entire “Contigency” business is based on an extended chess metaphor and... I have questions.

Previously, we have learned that a Jakku orphan named Galli Rax stowed away on Palpatine’s Space Yacht so he could get away, only to be caught by Palpatine. Palps told the kid that he had two choices: die, or go back to Jakku and make sure no one stumbled across the Mysterious Thing (”the Observatory”) Palps was constructing out in the desert. Galli chooses the latter, and Palps sends him back to Jakku and Galli does his thing. Ten years later, Palps shows back up with the space yacht to compliment Galli on a job well done and take him away.

O.... kay. I’m not sure how Palps was able to ensure Rax would keep his end of the bargain. Sure, he has a supervisor Yupe Tashu and a bunch of droids, and I suppose they could have killed Galli, but... there didn’t seem to be anything stopping Galli from running away? I doubt even Palps would have bothered to stalk one kid just to prove a point, but it just seems really weird from Palpatine’s perspective to be so hands-off.

Anyway, so the first thing they do in their Big Reunion is Palps teaches him how to play chess. And I don’t just mean Thinly-Disguised Space Chess as a stand-in for the real thing, I mean actual chess.

Here’s the passage that made me start to howl and gibber from a world-building perspective:

“It’s a very old game. Shah-tezh, in this interation, thought over the eons I have seen it spawn many variants. Dejarik. Moebius. Chess. In most of the iterations the core mechanism remains.”

To be clear: this is Palpatine talking. What the hell does he mean by “over the eons I have seen”? That’s not the sort of thing you say if it’s something you know from a book or a story, that’s what you say if you’ve personally experienced it. Is Palpatine really that old?? If so, this is HUGE, absolutely earth-shattering bombshell from a world-building perspective. Is it ever followed up on? Not that I can tell.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

(To be fair, I’m not against this, per se, but I just... feel like if it was important.... it should be relevant.... and not name-dropped once and never mentioned again? Like, it matters? AAHHHHHHHHHHH.)

The other thing that made me scream, is, of course, the fact he comes right out and says it’s Chess In Space, which.... While I have used “holo-chess” as a synonym for “dejarik” in my fics, and Wookiepeedia says “holochess” is an accepted synonym for dejarik in nu!canon, this particular passage reads weirdly to me because it implies that chess as we know it on Earth is a separate but related game to dejarik, not just another name for the same game. And I... have questions about that, just like I would if “poker” suddenly appeared in the GFFA lingo along with “sabacc”.

{Also, I just want to note that the Persian word for chess is shatranj. Per the “History of Chess” article on Wikipedia:

Players started calling "Shāh!" (Persian for "King!") when attacking the opponent's king, and "Shāh Māt!" (Persian for "the king is helpless" – see checkmate) when the king was attacked and could not escape from attack. These exclamations persisted in chess as it traveled to other lands.

This isn’t the first time real-life details have migrated into Star Wars - “Tatooine” is named after a location in Tunisia, and the Lars’ farm is located in the “Great Chott” which actually exists on Earth.... but still. I’m just saying.}

And again, this is probably me being stupid and petty about Details That Don’t Matter, except that the one is actually huge from a plot and thematic perspective, so it’s hard not to get tripped up on it.

Anyway, so Palps instructs Galli in the intricacies of shah-tezh, and it all boils down to one thing: “without the Imperator, the demesne cannot survive”.

And That’s the reason why Palpatine has to personally make sure the world burns after his death, because it means that his Empire has completely failed if he dies and deserves to be punished. O.... kay then.

(Granted, Palpatine is a crazed narcissist, but... there’s like no way this makes logical sense, right? And Rax doesn’t even think “oh, that’s insane, but I have to agree to stay alive”. Even at this juncture, when he barely knows Palpatine at all, he’s completely swallowed the Kool-Aid. Which is odd because he’s very skeptical about other things.)

Anyway, Palps repeats it because it’s his guiding principle: “If an Empire cannot protect its Emperor then that Empire must be deemed a failure. It collapses not only because its central figure is gone, but because it must not be allowed to remain.”

He’s so incensed he nearly strangles Galli, but then he relents, and says Galli is “the Contigency” and if he fails, he’ll be replaced, because literally, “destiny”. Then they go watch opera, because Palps hasn’t found anyone to watch opera with him since that one time with Anakin and... Vader isn’t into that, lol.

(The problem with making opera Galli’s thing is that ALL OF THOSE SCENES ARE FLASHBACKS or referred to in passing in the narrative rather than viewed directly. So we don’t see him poised at the opera, plotting, the way Palps did in ROTS, or contemplating art like Thrawn does. So it’s easy to forget that he has this quirk. Also, it makes him feel like a Thrawn knock-off. But I do like that it’s canon that he’s just the Biggest Drama Queen ever, though.)

I’ve said this before in earlier rants, but to repeat: I do not see Palpatine as having the relative humility needed to even consider his own death seriously. in ROTJ, he acts 100% confident that he’s gonna come out the winner. So to come up with an entire elaborate plot, on the off chance that someone might off him seems just... kinda OOC?

Sure, he’s the type to have wheels within wheels and all kinds of schemes going on simultaneously, but... this one involves placing a lot of trust in Galli Rax going along with the script, and I just... don’t get why he would assume Rax would automatically go along with it, or be able to. There are just so many variables that the novel doesn’t seem to address and it’s just hard for me to imagine Palpatine doing this without making other/additional Contigencies, not just one.

Anyway, so it turns out “the Contingency” is to lure both the Imperial remnant and the New Republic fleets to Jakku and then literally blow the entire planet up to take everyone out at once, while a handful of specially chosen loyalist ride off in Palpatine’s Space Yacht for the Unknown Regions to form a new Empire. Which... okay, sure, why not. In theory, this sounds pretty cool and it involves all of Palpatine’s favor tricks, including a planet-destroying superweapon.

Where it actually breaks down is in the details, of course. And Palpatine is still dead, of course, so it does shit-all for him, except for some vindictive satisfaction while still alive, I guess. 

(And if he is planning on coming back, it seems weird to burn down the house you plan on re-occupying later? I guess? *shrugs*)

Anyway, it turns out that Palpatine has a whole network of Observatories, where he does all kinds of secret, evil things:

Palpatine began establishing the Observatories before the start of the Galactic Empire, infusing each with purpose: Some were meant to house ancient Sith artificats, others designed to host powerful weapons designs (or the weapons themselves), others still meant as prisons harnessing the lifeforces of those captured within for a variety of strange purposes.

(which, given that the Ashmead’s Lock prison on Kashyyyk is powered by its inhabitants’ life force a la The Matrix, strongly suggests that it, too, is an Observatory, although the book does not say that directly and canon will probably never mention the energy-harvesting thing again despite ALL OF THE QUESTIONS THE EXISTENCE OF SUCH TECH RAISES.)

I’m okay with this passage, because it means that the Maw Installation, the Eye of Palpatine, and Wayland are all part of this system. It feels very much in-character. However, only Jakku is part of the Contigency, at least according to Galli, but--tbh, I kinda doubt it, because when have we ever known Palpatine to tell the truth? Or have Only One Plan?

Anyway, for decades, the Observatory computers have been plotting a route through hyperspace into the Unknown Regions. (I thought this was something only Jedi could do, since they were supposedly hard-core Space Navigators? Otherwise, what was even the point? *shrugs* Why do you even need a “Sith Wayfinder” anyway? *cough cough*) Then there’s an obligatory Thrawn reference, since Thrawn is canon, but Rax is pretty dismissive and says that the only reason Palps tolerated Thrawn was for his secret navigational insights into the Unknown Regions.

So if Palps loses his original demesne, he’s just gonna go conquer the Chiss or something? Except he can’t, because he’s dead, so what ever. I don’t even know, okay? Does anyone know what happened to Thrawn or the Chiss post-OT in the Disney ‘verse??

Anyway, Palps is convinced there’s something in the dark side waiting for him out there, which Galli is dismissive of. You’d think a guy who had literally been Force-choked would be more accepting of this instead of assuming it was just wishful thinking, but okay then. This is pretty clearly meant to be an obvious Snoke reference, which gets wonky with the TROS retcon that Snoke was a clone-puppet of Palpatine the entire time!

Anyway, Rax gets Yupe Tashu all geared up with Secret Evil Sith Gear and a Magic Kyber Crystal and tosses him into the planet’s core, and it starts the self-destruct process. Except it doesn’t because Rae Sloane kills Rax at the last moment, puts a stop to it, and steals the yacht full of feral children and flies off into the sunset to carry on Rax’s master plan because the New Republic destroyed the Imperial fleet while she was distracted and she apparently is tired of all this shit? Okay.

Anyway, she makes a deal with Armitage Hux that she’ll keep Brendol from abusing him if he keeps the feral kids from attacking her, and apparently it works out. This is supposed to be the origin of the First Order, and I guess they find Snoke or something, but none of the details are ever explained in any material I can find, so.... *shrugs*

I just really don’t understand how the First Order can be functional under the conditions herein described and how it logically evolves from This One Ship to a massive, disciplined force capable of wiping out the New Republic.

So I finished the book and... was kind of mad, because it just felt like a complete waste of my time. Overally, this whole thing just seems like a lot of build-up that doesn’t go anywhere, and provides weird backstory that only raises more unaddressed questions for things that really didn’t need it. 

also, it’s darkly amusing to me that this book comes out saying, “yup, the ST is a literal game-board reset of the OT, and Palps fully intended for it to be that way, even though we at Disney had no plans to bring him back as a villain at first” and I just... well, props for honesty, I guess?

anyway, the whole thing is a mess from a world-building perspective, and even though Star Wars is Fake and In Space, I just get grumpy when things don’t line up, especially since that was supposed to be one of the major selling points of this new canon in the first place.

#star wars #WHY DISNEY WHY

[juki227]

{||~1080p-HD~ ]] Regarder C'est la vie  film complet [[2020]] en Franacais

29 avril 2020  / 1h 43min / Comédie De Julien Rambaldi Avec Josiane Balasko, Léa Drucker, Alice Pol Nationalités Français, Belge 29 avril 2020  / 1h 43min / Comédie De Julien Rambaldi Avec Josiane Balasko, Léa Drucker, Alice Pol Nationalités Français, Belge

PLAY==> http://ver.yess-movie.com/movie/tt9162090/c-est-la-vie.html

Its somewhat ironic that a movie about time travel can’t be reviewed properly until your future self rewatches the movie. It’s bold of Nolan to make such a thoroughly dense blockbuster. He assumes people will actually want to see C’est la vie more than once so they can understand it properly, which some may not. This movie makes the chronology of Inception look as simplistic as tic-tac-toe. Ergo, it’s hard for me to give an accurate rating, without having seen it twice, as I’m still trying to figure out whether everything does indeed make sense. If it does, this movie is easily a 9 or 10. If it doesn’t, it’s a 6. It’s further not helped by the fact that the dialogue in the first 15 minutes of the movie is painfully hard to understand / hear. Either they were behind masks; they were practically mumbling; the sound effects were too loud; or all of the above. The exposition scenes are also waayyy too brief for something this complex — a problem also shared with Interstellar actually. (Interstellar had this minimalist exposition problem explaining Blight, where if you weren’t careful, you’d miss this one sentence / scene in the entire movie explaining that Blight was a viral bacteria: “Earth’s atmosphere is 80% nitrogen, we don’t even breathe nitrogen. Blight does, and as it thrives, our air gets less and less oxygen”). I guess it’s a Nolan quirk. Hopefully, a revision of the film audio sorts the sound mixing out. I do like the soundtrack, but it’s too loud initially. I liked all the actors. You think John Washington can’t act at first, but he can, and he grows on you as the film progresses. And Pattinson is his usual charming self. Elizabeth is a surprise treat. And so on. Its worth a watch either way. See it with subtitles if you can. And definitely don’t expect to fully understand whats going on the first time around. Its one hell of a complicated film. It will be very hard for an average viewer to gather all the information provided by this movie at the first watch. But the more you watch it, more hidden elements will come to light. And when you are able to put these hidden elements together. You will realize that this movie is just a “masterpiece” which takes the legacy of Christopher Nolan Forward If I talk about acting, Then I have to say that Robert Pattinson has really proved himself as a very good actor in these recent years. And I am sure his acting skills will increase with time. His performance is charming and very smooth. Whenever he is on the camera, he steals the focus John David Washington is also fantastic in this movie. His performance is electrifying, I hope to see more from him in the future. Other characters such as Kenneth Branagh, Elizabeth, Himesh Patel, Dimple Kapadia, Clémence Poésy have also done quite well. And I dont think there is a need to talk about Michael Caine Talking about Music, its awesome. I dont think you will miss Hans Zimmer’s score. Ludwig has done a sufficient job. There is no lack of good score in the movie Gotta love the editing and post production which has been put into this movie. I think its fair to say this Nolan film has focused more in its post production. The main problem in the movie is the sound mixing. Plot is already complex and some dialogues are very soft due to the high music score. It makes it harder to realize what is going on in the movie. Other Nolan movies had loud BGM too. But Audio and dialogues weren’t a problem My humble request to everyone is to please let the movie sink in your thoughts. Let your mind grasp all the elements of this movie. I am sure more people will find it better. Even those who think they got the plot. I can bet they are wrong. C’est la vie is the long awaited new movie from Christopher Nolan. The movie that’s set to reboot the multiplexes post-Covid. It’s a manic, extremely loud, extremely baffling sci-fi cum spy rollercoaster that will please a lot of Nolan fan-boys but which left me with very mixed views. John David Washington (Denzel’s lad) plays “The Protagonist” — a crack-CIA field operative who is an unstoppable one-man army in the style of Hobbs or Shaw. Recruited into an even more shadowy organisation, he’s on the trail of an international arms dealer, Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh in full villain mode). Sator is bullying his estranged wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki) over custody of their son (and the film unusually has a BBFC warning about “Domestic Abuse”). Our hero jets the world to try to prevent a very particular kind of Armageddon while also keeping the vulnerable and attractive Kat alive. This is cinema at its biggest and boldest. Nolan has taken a cinema ‘splurge’ gun, filled it with money, set it on rapid fire, removed the safety and let rip at the screen. Given that Nolan is famous for doing all of his ‘effects’ for real and ‘in camera’, some of what you see performed is almost unbelievable. You thought crashing a train through rush-hour traffic in “Inception” was crazy? You ain’t seen nothing yet with the airport scene! And for lovers of Chinooks (I must admit I am one and rush out of the house to see one if I hear it coming!) there is positively Chinook-p*rn on offer in the film’s ridiculously huge finale. The ‘inversion’ aspects of the story also lends itself to some fight scenes — one in particular in an airport ‘freeport’ — which are both bizarre to watch and, I imagine, technically extremely challenging to pull off. In this regard John David Washington is an acrobatic and talented stunt performer in his own right, and must have trained for months for this role. Nolan’s crew also certainly racked up their air miles pre-lockdown, since the locations range far and wide across the world. The locations encompassed Denmark, Estonia, India, Italy, Norway, the United Kingdom, and United States. Hoyte Van Hoytema’s cinematography is lush in introducing these, especially the beautiful Italian coast scenes. Although I did miss the David Arnold strings that would typically introduce these in a Bond movie: it felt like that was missing. The ‘timey-wimey’ aspects of the plot are also intriguing and very cleverly done. There are numerous points at which you think “Oh, that’s a sloppy continuity error” or “Shame the production design team missed that cracked wing mirror”. Then later in the movie, you get at least a dozen “Aha!” moments. Some of them (no spoilers) are jaw-droppingly spectacular. Perhaps the best twist is hidden in the final line of the movie. I only processed it on the way home. And so to the first of my significant gripes with C’est la vie. The sound mix in the movie is all over the place. I’d go stronger than that… it’s truly awful (expletive deleted)! Nolan often implements Shakespeare’s trick of having characters in the play provide exposition of the plot to aid comprehension. But unfortunately, all of this exposition dialogue was largely incomprehensible. This was due to: the ear-splitting volume of the sound: 2020 movie audiences are going to be suffering from ‘C’est la vieis’! (LOL); the dialogue is poorly mixed with the thumping music by Ludwig Göransson (Wot? No Hans Zimmer?); a large proportion of the dialogue was through masks of varying description (#covid-appropriate). Aaron Taylor-Johnson was particularly unintelligible to my ears. Overall, watching this with subtitles at a special showing might be advisable! OK, so I only have a PhD in Physics… but at times I was completely lost as to the intricacies of the plot. It made “Inception” look like “The Tiger Who Came to Tea”. There was an obvious ‘McGuffin’ in “Inception” — — (“These ‘dream levels’… how exactly are they architected??”…. “Don’t worry… they’ll never notice”. And we didn’t!) In “C’est la vie” there are McGuffins nested in McGuffins. So much of this is casually waved C’est la vie as “future stuff… you’re not qualified” that it feels vaguely condescending to the audience. At one point Sator says to Kat “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” and she shakes her head blankly. We’re right with you there luv! There are also gaps in the storyline that jar. The word “C’est la vie”? What does it mean. Is it just a password? I’m none the wiser. The manic pace of C’est la vie and the constant din means that the movie gallops along like a series of disconnected (albeit brilliant) action set pieces. For me, it has none of the emotional heart of the Cobb’s marriage problems from “Inception” or the father/daughter separation of “Interstellar”. In fact, you barely care for anyone in the movie, perhaps with the exception of Kat. It’s a talented cast. As mentioned above, John David Washington is muscular and athletic in the role. It’s a big load for the actor to carry in such a tent-pole movie, given his only significant starring role before was in the excellent BlacKkKlansman. But he carries it off well. A worthy successor to Gerard Butler and Jason Statham for action roles in the next 10 years. This is also a great performance by Robert Pattinson, in his most high-profile film in a long time, playing the vaguely alcoholic and Carré-esque support guy. Pattinson’s Potter co-star Clemence Poésy also pops up — rather more un-glam that usual — as the scientist plot-expositor early in the movie. Nolan’s regular Michael Caine also pops up. although the 87-year old legend is starting to show his age: His speech was obviously affected at the time of filming (though nice try Mr Nolan in trying to disguise that with a mouth full of food!). But in my book, any amount of Caine in a movie is a plus. He also gets to deliver the best killer line in the film about snobbery! However, it’s Kenneth Branagh and Elizabeth Debicki that really stand out. They were both fabulous, especially when they were bouncing off each other in their marital battle royale. So, given this was my most anticipated movie of the year, it’s a bit of a curate’s egg for me. A mixture of being awe-struck at times and slightly disappointed at others. It’s a movie which needs a second watch, so I’m heading back today to give my ear drums another bashing! And this is one where I reserve the right to revisit my rating after that second watch… it’s not likely to go down… but it might go up. (For the full graphical review, check out One Mann’s Movies on t’interweb and Facebook. Thanks.) As this will be non-spoiler, I can’t say too much about the story. However, what I can is this: C’est la vie’s story is quite dynamic in the sense that you won’t understand it till it wants you to. So, for the first half, your brain is fighting for hints and pieces to puzzle together the story. It isn’t until halfway through the movie that C’est la vie invites you to the fantastic storytelling by Christopher Nolan. Acting is beyond phenomenal, and I’d be genuinely surprised if neither Robert Pattinson nor John David Washington doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination for best actor. It’s also hard not to mention how good Elizabeth Debicki and Aaron Johnson both are. All around, great acting, and the dialogue amps up the quality of the movie. The idea of this movie is damn fascinating, and while there are films that explore time-travelling, there’s never been anything quite like this. It has such a beautiful charm and for the most part, explains everything thoroughly. It feels so much more complex than any form of time-travelling we’ve seen, and no less could’ve been expected from Nolan. Oh my lord, the score for this film fits so perfectly. Every scene that’s meant to feel intense was amped by a hundred because of how good the score was. Let me just say though, none of them will be found iconic, but they fit the story and scenes so well. In the end, I walked out, feeling very satisfied. Nevertheless, I do have issues with the film that I cannot really express without spoiling bits of the story. There are definitely little inconsistencies that I found myself uncovering as the story progressed. However, I only had one issue that I found impacted my enjoyment. That issue was understanding some of the dialogue. No, not in the sense that the movie is too complicated, but more that it was hard to make out was being said at times. It felt like the movie required subtitles, but that probably was because, at a time in the film, there was far too much exposition. Nevertheless, I loved this film, I’ll be watching it at least two more times, and I think most of you in this group will enjoy it. I definitely suggest watching it in theatres if possible, just so you can get that excitement. (4/5) & (8.5/10) for those that care about number scores. At first, I want to ask Christopher Nolan one question, HOW THE HELL YOU DID THIS? Seriously I want to have an answer, How did he write such as this masterpiece! How did he get this complicated, fabulous and creative idea? What is going on in his mind? The story is written and directed perfectly, the narration style was absolutely unique. I have no idea how can anyone direct such as this story, that was a huge challenge, and as usual Nolan gave us a masterpiece that we’ll put beside (Memento), (Inception) and (Interstellar) The movie is so fast-paced in a good way, there was no boring moment. The chemistry between John David Washington and Robert Pattinson was great and funny and both of their performance was really good. Elizabeth Debicki performance was the best in the movie because she had the chance to show her acting abilities and she cached up that chance and showed us an A level acting. The music wasn’t unique and distinct as the music of Interstellar for example and I think this movie needed the touch of Hans Zimmer, I’m not saying that Ludwig Göransson failed but Hans Zimmer in another level. If there was something I’d say that I didn’t like it in the movie would it be that Nolan discarded any set up or characters backgrounds except Elizabeth Debicki dramatic story but it wasn’t that bad for me, I didn’t care about that, the exciting story didn’t give me the chance to focus on it. But the actual problem was the third act, it was really complicated and I got lost and I convinced myself to discard the questions that were in my head and enjoy the well-made action sequences and Elizabeth Debicki performance. I think this kind of movie that gets better with a second and third watch. I honestly don’t quite know where to begin with C’est la vie. I love Christopher Nolan’s work but I have never seen a more complicated film (and I understood Memento). After nearly three hours, I came C’est la vie from C’est la vie not knowing myself, my mind reduced to nothing more than piles of ash. Was there time travel involved? Hmm, there was definitely something about time inversion. I mean, does Nolan even understand what he wrote? Look, I give credit to the director because he’s one of the few directors left who knows how to create a compelling and intelligent blockbuster. C’est la vie is full of Nolan trademarks — the gratuitous Michael Caine cameo, a loud, really loud score, complete with stunning cinematography and slickly inventive action set-pieces. This time around however, Nolan has finally managed to ‘out-Nolan’ himself: the palindromic plot, whilst creatively ambitious, is simply far too complicated for its own good. C’est la vie is overlong, overstuffed, pretentious and too exhausting to comprehend in its entirety — it makes Inception and Interstellar look like Peppa Pig by comparison. I’m aware of the technical wizardry and creative mastery in this film and lord knows I’ll have to watch this again. For those who want a puzzle, C’est la vie at least provides a unique cinematic experience. But to actually enjoy solving it Nolan wants you to work

#Regarder C'est la vie

[ill-skillsgard]

Nothing Wrong - Gordan Merkel

Characters: Merkel x busty fem reader

Warning: 18+ sex/BDSM/rope bondage/body+breast worship

Note: This piece was commissioned through my Ko-Fi by one of my most treasured beauties <3 Please visit my page if you're interested in commissioning a fic of your own! Patreon subs got early access to this fic (and much more).

I know I haven’t been posting a whole lot recently, and I feel bad about it. Life has been a real motherfucker lately! I have had little time to sit down and write recreationally and when I get the chance, my attention is elsewhere. I’m hoping things settle down soon, but who knows! Thanks for supporting, reading and existing here with me. I love you!

The weight of a secret knows no bounds...

He came out of nowhere on a crisp Autumn afternoon outside of the convention centre and noted her black button-down shirt. She had left the top three buttons alone, as trying to fasten them would cause rather uncomfortable stretching across her chest. It was better this way. There was nothing wrong with a little eye candy to entice customers, she thought. Nothing wrong with that at all.

He spoke to her under the guise of wanting to know what booth she belonged to since she looked like she was on a short break as a worker and not a visitor. He lit a black cigarette and asked her more questions, all of which he already knew the answers to.

"Do you have a business card?" He asked.

She tapped her pockets and realized that she had left her business cards on the table inside the convention.

"Shit. No. I don't have them on me," she regretted.

"Here. Please," he dipped into an inner pocket and produced a card with a double Carrick knot emblazoned in silver on a pure black field. Gordan Merkel. Then there was an e-mail address.

The man with the striped jacket and fitted black pants tipped some ash from his cigarette and flashed a smile sinful enough to tempt a demon. The sides of his head were shaved down and he had the look of a man that spent a lot of late hours awake.

"I'd give you my card, but I left them all inside," you told him.

"Don't worry. Just send me an e-mail. Just as good as a card."

"Sure. Good to meet you, Gordan."

"Merkel."

The man had eyes like hypnotic stones, high crests for cheekbones that angled down to a pair of cherub's lips.

And they fit together perfectly. They had sex that first night and the noises she made when he had her coming sounded like the call of heaven to him. He laid beside her, spent, watching her breasts rise and fall steadily with her breathing and decided that she had something inside of her that needed to be unleashed.

She was different. She didn't ask things of him. She was just content to be beside him and that was what he needed.

Days turned into weeks and he knew that he liked her in a way that he hadn't liked anybody in a long time. He wanted to keep it that way which meant a lot of ambiguity. At first, she never questioned him. When he said he had to leave after an afternoon of fucking on the stairs she bid him farewell and told him to come back soon.

No matter what, he came back. And she grew to love the days he would show up again at her door with some manner of material flattery; a bouquet, a new scarf, an antique silver bracelet, his favourite sweets from his childhood. Anything to get her to smile before he ravaged her in whatever room she would allow.

Weeks bled into months and she realized how long it had been one day when Merkel was in the shower. When he came out ready to leave, she looked up at him from the sofa and batted her eyes. "Do you really have to leave so soon?"

His neutral expression melted into an apologetic pout. Merkel reached out and touched her cheek. "I promise I'll be back, darling."

"Where do you go all the time?"

"To work, of course."

"I still don't quite understand what it is that you do," she stated.

He leaned down, kissed her with both hands clutching her head and pulled back an inch to nuzzle his nose against hers. "I'll tell you all about it some other time. Right now, I must go."

"Okay."

It happened a few more times until she couldn't take it anymore. He would never get to the bottom of his job or his life or even what he liked to do in his spare time. She thought she was what he did in his spare time. Their time together was the only unstructured thing about him.

She drew the most natural conclusions; He was cheating on her, he had a family somewhere and she was his distraction or he wasn't who she thought he was. Merkel was bad at giving answers and great at concealing information that might lead her to find out what he always disappeared for.

There were already too many secrets and if he could be sneaky, she decided, so could she. Which led her downtown on a covert mission to find out where the hell Merkel went at 8 PM on a Saturday. When she saw the name of the establishment he entered, her heart sank. It wasn't exactly what she had been expecting, but it was close enough and perhaps worse than anything she had envisioned.

She knew the place but never entered, simply waited outside for hours until Merkel showed his face. When the familiar scent of clove cigarettes wafted by, she perked and found him leaned up against the painted black brick wall of the establishment she had followed him to.

"Now you know."

"Yeah. I guess, now I know."

"But you don't know the whole story," Merkel said with a hint of regret steering his words.

"Do I need the whole story?"

He approached her and quirked a useless smile. "Yes. You do."

The whole unadulterated story made her angrier before it provided any kind of relief. He was a teacher of sorts; a master. She gawped at him like her jaw was too heavy to hold up.

"The longer a secret like that is left to fester, the worse it gets. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I didn't want to scare you away."

"What else are you hiding?"

Merkel lifted his hands, the cigarette between his index and middle finger an afterthought. "Nothing."

"I can't believe you."

"I'm sorry."

"So, you're a... BDSM master. Okay. Nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing wrong? Tell that to every other failed relationship."

"Maybe you should have been honest with them." Her tone carried hotly, but she didn't seem to want to get away from him. Not yet.

"Nothing good ever came from being honest."

"Wish you would have just told me," she grumbled as if he weren’t there.

"I wish I did, too."

They were quiet while Merkel smoked the last inch of his cigarette and flicked it off the sidewalk onto the frosty street. He turned to her, eyes begging for a conclusion.

"I want to try it." She wasn't aware of her admission until it made his eyebrows shoot half-way up his forehead.

"Really? You do? I didn't think you would be into that."

She stood up and began walking away slowly but stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "Well, you never asked... Master."

His sleep-deprived eyes darkened under the lamplight. "Very well, pet."

~*~

He laid down the rules firmly as a true professional would. There was nothing erotic about his long-winded explanation of her obligation to tell him if she started to experience discomfort, claustrophobia or numbness. He drilled her with questions until he conceded that she was an open territory for him to explore.

"You will call me master. I will consider any other address inappropriate and it will result in immediate punishment."

Merkel had walked in wearing a fur coat and carried with him a doctor's bag, presumably full of items that needed no explanation. He dropped the leather bag on the floor and smiled before kneeling to pop open the tarnished frame clasp. He laid out a large coil of coloured rope and returned to her attention as she stood robed in the middle of their chosen play space — the comfort of her bedroom.

"I will only start with the small stuff tonight. Just harnessing your chest and restraining your arms, if you're comfortable with that. You will have full use of your legs. But those tits are mine."

He knew his materials and unwound a fair length of red synthetic fibre rope. He blinked up at her and quirked the left corner of his mouth. "Since you're such a new, sweet, little baby... You get the nice soft rope. Wouldn't want your precious skin to suffer too much."

She nodded her head, unprepared to call him by his chosen title just yet. But that's exactly what he was, and she watched him with her mouth closed while he circled her.

"Whenever you want to start, you can take off your robe."

The confidence she had built up began to shake beneath his stare. The rope in his hands was ready to be laid over her skin. Breathing in deeply, she moved to open her robe and shrug it off her shoulders. He kicked it far enough away to not obscure the surrounding pathway.

"I've dreamed of what those tits would look like tied up for me. So, so many times."

His opening line was enough to have her chewing her lip. Now that he mentioned it, flashes of his hands groping her breasts whizzed by her mind's eye. He always liked to touch and squeeze, paying extra special attention to her sensitive nipples. The recollections made her skin buzz to life.

The soft running of the rope over his hands hissed behind her. She didn't risk looking back at him but closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, fully entrusting him to guide her through this new, impelling experience.

"Lift your arms and bend them in at the elbows, touching your collarbone."

She obeyed him and allowed herself to look down when his hands came up under her arms to lay a flat run of rope over the tops of her breasts. It came around tightly to the back where he looped it and pulled taut.

"Perfect. Stay just like that for me."

His breath was close to her ear as he coiled another run beneath her chest this time, creating a lovingly snug frame. She spilled forth from the binding already, but he had plenty more to do.

"Beautiful. Such exquisite flesh. I would love to see you in jute."

Again, no sound from her. Merkel knotted the rope behind her and his hands came under her arms again. Slender fingers ran along the length of softened chord and the sensation mimicked down her spine.

"Oh, yes. Your body is so responsive to me. Isn't it?"

She nodded her head much to his displeasure. He stopped and pulled the rope tighter. A few breaths permitted to come and go before he leaned over her shoulder, intaking her scent as a wolf might sniff his prey before lunging.

"It's yes, master. You don't want this to end in punishment so soon, do you?"

"No, master," she chirped nervously.

"Good little pet."

When he came around and passed the rope over her shoulder to dip down between her breasts, he took a full, loose-lipped look at how the luscious flesh protruded from the binding. Endearingly pink and bristling from sensation, he bit back the urge to give one of her perked nipples a pinch. That could wait until she was fully restrained.

Her arms were clasped with the same amount of pressure as her chest had been. Fully knotted and unable to do anything but watch her master admiring his work, she bit her lip again and helped him to snap out of his self-evaluative trance.

"How are you feeling, little one?"

"Good, master."

"No discomfort anywhere?"

She smiled. "None whatsoever... Master."

He nodded and bounced his shoulders out of the fur coat, revealing the straps of a purposefully distressed tank top.

"On your knees," he pointed at the floor.

She carefully lowered onto the ground, never breaking eye contact on the way down.

"Oh-so-obedient, my little pet. Fuck, I'm going to have to take it rather slow with you and savour our first playtime because you look magnificent. Those lovely tits... Oh, my." He acted as though he had never seen her before and that bore a grain of truth.

"I will use you for my pleasure tonight, understand?"

She nodded but remembered what he said last time about not using her words. "Yes, master."

"My pleasure might entail many things. It is your responsibility as my pet to attend to my needs with fervour and dedication. You know what to do if your body tells you enough."

"Yes, master."

"Good, pet. Now... Let's see that tongue."

His belt came undone as she opened her mouth. A long hand disappeared beneath the fabric and came back out, clutching a hardening cock.

"I know how much you love to please me, so let me give you a treat. Open wide," he instructed, coat bunching down into the creases of his arms as he stepped forward. The moment the tip contacted her warm tongue, his eyes rolled, and eyelids flickered.

"Gorgeous pet. Yes, you love the taste of your master's cock."

Merkel used her in all the ways he promised he would until they were both sweating on the bed, him with his legs spread wide over the mattress and her being pulled down by the knots running down her back and arms. Inflamed red skin bounced and slapped, static imprints peeked out from beneath bindings, the breathless din of submission pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

Before it was too late, he threw her down on her side while he got up to administer a shot of cum over her face. Obscene as it was, he cradled her gently and stroked her cheek as he let drip his seed over her damp, puffy skin.

"Beautiful. So lovely. Yes, oh, you look beautiful with Master's cum all over your pretty cheeks."

After he finished tapping her cheeks and making a mess, he helped her to stand and began untying her wrists first. She had been wound tight, but not tight enough for her to give up. She had been the perfect pet, as he lovingly told her over and over while unwinding her from all the intricate passes of rope. Every inch that slackened helped her to relax and regulate her breathing until she was free to move her arms.

"Breathe with me now, darling. You did so fantastically. So very well. I've never been prouder."

"Thank you for trusting me," she said.

"There's nothing wrong with admitting you were wrong. And I was wrong. We should have done this a long time ago."

#gordan merkel #merkel stuff #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard imagine

[darkshadowismyspiritanimal]

Okay, so I have an idea for headcanons for any characters you see suited if that’s okay. If not, I’ll give some if asked. So, whichever characters chosen, having a quirkless s/o who goes to a music academy, have their own band where they sing and play the drums. Like, they seem like the type that probably goes to your average school and lives an average life but once they’re on stage, they have a completely different aura. Please and thank you!

//Note: Sorry it took so long to reply! Midterms, you know? I did headcanons for Bakugo, Midoriya, and Jiro. They aren’t necessarily directly related to your prompt (I tend to get side tracked). Hope you enjoy!// 

Quirkless S/O in a Band (Headcanons) Bakugo, Midoriya, Jiro

Bakugo

Look this boy is controversial when it comes to quirkless people.

For most of his life he was taught that you needed a powerful quirk to be successful.

So, yeah, he can be a bit hateful towards quirkless people.

But that was before All Might lost his quirk.

And that was before he met you.

He met you after All Might lost his quirk, when he was starting to realize how hard it must be for Quirkless folks to live in a society designed around having Quirks.

You met by accident, running into each other quite literally in the grocery store (Your fault, you were scrambling around trying to find ingredients for dinner you had somehow gotten roped into making despite being a lousy cook).

Bakugo snapped at you - of course he did - but you acted as though he hadn’t yelled “Watch where you’re fucking going!” at you and asked where he got that particular jar of spice in his cart - it was on your ingredients list. 

The poor boy was so confused at your complete non-reaction.

 It throws Bakugo for such a loop that he just grumbles something about you being useless and grabs your shopping list. 

 That was how you spent the next hour helping a complete stranger (you) shop for groceries.  

You never exchange numbers and honestly, Bakugo kind of forgets you for a while.

Then Mina drags him, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima, to a concert for a popular musician that she is obsessed with. 

 That musician, happens to be you. 

 Mina got seats practically at the front, so when you stepped out on stage Bakugo could see you clear as day and 

Shit, it’s the pretty idiot from the grocery store.

Except now you were in some especially dramatic getup which looked silly to him - until you started singing.

Holy shit, you were beautiful. Incredible. 

 After the show a security guard came up to the Bakusquad and invited them backstage. 

 Mina was overjoyed and the rest of the boys were pretty excited but Bakugo just crossed his arms and sighed. 

 He wondered why they were getting spontaneous backstage access. It couldn’t be because you recognized him, that was silly. Then why was he hoping that was the reason?

The gang was ushered into a room with the band - the members were all finishing up talking to fans who had actually bought backstage passes. 

You finished up talking to the person in front of you quickly and shouted “Grumpy Grocery Store Boy!” 

 Looking straight at Bakugo with the biggest grin. 

 He fucking hated your grin. It was making him want to smile back at you.  

“Grumpy grocery store boy?” Sero asked with a smirk, looking at Blasty. 

“Hmph.” 

You greet all of his friends with a big grin and infectious personality - your stage persona has yet to wear off. 

 When you got to Bakugo he just grumbled about you being more annoying than he remembered. 

 You just grinned wider and said “But you remember me.” 

 He literally growls at you. 

 You just laugh. 

 You had been so angry with yourself for not asking for his number at the grocery store, and now here was another chance. 

 You hit it off with his friends, and make sure to find a time to subtly exchange numbers with Bakugo without his friends figuring it out.

You two immediately start texting each other all the time. 

Soon enough you are spending all your (limited) free time together. 

Up until this point you’ve kept Bakugo from seeing the - less than pleasant - part of your career. 

But then you get a huge opportunity - you’re asked to perform at one of the largest events in the city - and the hate towards your quirklessness erupts. 

And honestly? You’re kind of worried about how Bakugo is going to react. 

Then during a show he launches himself at a group of people who are protesting your performing.

You’re all about being the better person but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t one of the greatest moments of your life.

Later that day Bakugo hugs you out of nowhere and tells you that he used to think lesser of people without quirks. (Boy opens up). 

He tells you how he bullied a quirkless boy and was awful - and how he knows better now and is trying trying to unlearn the hate.

And then he tells you he’s sorry you have to deal with it. And that you deserve your successes more than anyone else because you didn’t have a quirk to start you off.

And it took you off guard because hot damn this grump of a boy was bending over backwards to make sure you knew you were special, and if that wasn’t the sweetest thing.

When he’s finished listing reasons of why you’re great, you actually say “you are such a sweetie.”

He says “Fuck you.”

But he’s smiling.

Midoriya 

You meet Midoriya when your band is booked to play at the UA festival.

You’re a huge fan of his - and turns out he’s a huge fan of your band.

When meeting him, you hang back, expecting the usual rush of people to go straight towards the lead singer. (You play drums).

And most of class 1-A does, except Midoriya.

He nervously goes up to you - and says hi.

You two, the lovable dorks that you both are, hit it off immediately.

You tell him how talented he clearly is - how you just know he’s going to be the best when he becomes a pro hero (the boy hides his face behind his arms because compliments make him blush).

He tells you how he’s kind of a huge fan of yours - “it’s just that, you know, you are top of your class at the [big name elite music school for musically quirked individuals] and you don’t have a quirk, which means you must work really hard. And that’s incredible.”

God, now you are blushing.

Soon it’s time to part ways but you both exchange numbers and make plans to hang out soon.

When they’re leaving, you accidentally overhear a red spiky-haired boy clap Midoriya on the back and say “That was so manly! Asking them out like that.”

Midoriya squeaked in reply and you smiled to yourself.

Jiro 

You both were friends in middle school, first.

In middle school, everyone assumed Jiro would be going to the Elite Music Academy in the city.

When Jiro made it clear that she wanted to go to UA and become a pro-hero, the teachers, adults really, always responded with “don’t you think your talents are better suited for a career in music?”

The first time you heard someone telling Jiro that - it was before you were friends - you made sure to go after that person. Telling them off about how they clearly know nothing about Jiro’s Quirk and how she is obviously destined to become one of the greatest Pro-Heroes.

Jiro had been surprised that you had stood up for her; after all, you were bullied. A lot.

You see, you don’t have a Quirk.

Which is fine.

The prejudices and hate towards you hurt, of course they do, but you are determined not to let them impact your life.

And for as long as you can remember, you’ve had one goal: Go to the Elite Music Academy.

You and Jiro became fast friends, the two students with “unattainable goals” as you overheard your homeroom teacher describing you both one day.

When everyone found out that Jiro got into UA, they were stunned.

When everyone found out that you got into the Elite Music Academy, they thought you were lying.

But that’s okay, you’re used to people sucking.

Flash forward and you and Jiro stay in touch, but you don’t really see each other much.

You both have extremely busy schedules - outside of school Jiro has her internship and you have your band.

Jiro is extremely happy for you - for your success.

But then one day in class Kaminari was waving a magazine around wildly and absolutely gushing about your band. And more specifically, you.

Jiro had an urge to slap Kaminari. And for once, he wasn’t actually doing anything annoying.

This day is important for two reasons: (1) You and your band were on the cover of a popular magazine that was writing a piece about up and coming musicians, and (2) it was the day Jiro realized she had a crush on you.

She didn’t know how to handle this, and didn’t know how to handle you the next time she saw you in person.

It had been months (months!) since she had seen you.

She was sitting at a table in the cozy coffee shop, when you walked in - wind blowing behind you - and oh.

In middle school you had been all elbows and knees and now here you were - in a soft sweater, with a soft smile that grew into a grin when you noticed her.

Jiro stood up to greet you and when you hugged her she just wanted to melt in your arms.

Fucking hell, you were going to be the death of her aesthetic.

But she was kind of okay with that.

#my hero academia #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #kyoka jiro #jiro x reader

[venus-says]

Pretty Rhythm Aurora Dream Episodes 01-12

Desperate times ask for desperate measures.

So life happened, and my schedule was completely screwed for this week. As I've mentioned before I'm trying to keep at least one thing consistent in my life, but I didn't watch all the episodes I needed for the other series I'm covering and I needed something that would be quick to watch and easy to write so I decided on Pretty Rhythm because it seemed the more "brainless" of the options I had that wasn't one of those short anime that have 3~5 minutes episodes. Because this is like a "filler" series, this won't have a regular schedule neither a set amount of episodes I'll watch every time, because I saw early in the week that I'd have problems posting I could prepare myself and this post happened to be about 12 episodes that more or less cover the entire of the first arc, but that won't be a rule, some times it can be 12 episodes, other 24, or even just 4, so don't expect much for these reviews.

Before I start, here's a bit of my history with Pretty Rhythm. When I first started watching Prichan I wasn't really liking the show but I was determined to watch it completely because I was liking Aikatsu Friends and I knew there was this huge fandom rivalry between the two franchises and I wanted to see it for myself if there was something to back up this dumb thing. My plans were to watch Aikatsu first because it was the show I already had a history with and that I was also liking more, but the Aurora Dream torrent finished first and so I went to watch it and I didn't like it very much, I think I dropped it at episode 20 or so.

While rewatching these first 12 episodes I could see why I didn't like it, I still have my issues, but I think now I have a little more of appreciation for this thing. It's still pretty boring, but it has its moments.

I think one thing that is pretty evident is that this show is cheap as hell, the animation is pretty stiff, the drawings go off-model very often, the background characters are just colored silhouettes, the CGI is clunky, they don't even have their own ending sequence, they just put the PV with a black border like if this was one of those YouTube channels that upload the Aikatsu performances but have to edit the videos in order to avoid copyright strikes. But even with all that they still managed to do something decent. The story in this beginning is pretty much non-existent, I feel like they've used interesting things way sooner so they don't have the exact effect they were trying to have, but as a journey to discover these characters, it wasn't all that bad.

I don't buy the fairy/plushie teachers thing, I don't think they add much and they would fair better as just keychain mascots rather than as sentient beings. I also don't like the romance, it's awful, the male characters aren't good and I don't feel compelled to root for any of the ships. And one thing that just exacerbates my dislike for these characters being present is the fact this show has an unhealthy obsession with marriage to the point where they say, on episode 11, "A wedding dress is the symbol of a woman's success in life" and seeing this show trying to sell marriage as the only pinnacle of women's life infuriates me. Like, Rizumu's goal is to perform Aurora Rising so she can reunite with her mom, but they say that to perform Aurora Rising "one must be a bride who loves and is engaged to Prism Show", just being passionate about your hobby/career isn't enough, they gotta "marry" figure skating, and this is ridiculous and dumb in so many levels, that's probably my least favorite element of this show.

The lack of diversity in songs performed is kinda disappointing, but they have a good array of Prism Jumps and they wear different costumes to perform pretty often so I think it balances out. Another thing I think it's good is that they really embrace the theme of fashion, yeah, sometimes it's a bit too much, but I like seeing that these clothes have some thought and they're always trying different things too so I think I can stand whenever Aira goes in one of these rampant of her.

And speaking of Aira, let's dive into some of the characters. Our protagonist is pretty boring, I feel like she has no personality. The show is always trying to give her things, but I don't see much being developed. Like, in these final episodes Aira kinda sacrifices her performances in order to make sure Rizumu can perform perfectly after the sabotage happened, but that didn't really feel genuine to me, it felt like the show was trying to make us feel very sorry for her at that moment so when they make her be special we feel like it's justified and not something they came up with just to push the protagonist, and I feel like a lot of Aira's plotlines are like that, it's the show forcing to make Aira look like a good character when she's actually just bones, no meat. And it's kinda sad that it's this way because I feel like they could've done more with all that stuff with her dad, that should've been a big moment, but it happened so early it kinda killed any good conflict that could happen in the show up until episode 12.

Rizumu, on the other hand, is pretty great, I can feel that she's genuine and the few episodes focused on her were pretty decent, she's definitely my favorite member of the cast (even though she doesn't get to do much). I know from my research she was the original protagonist for the game and I kinda wish they've kept that for the anime because she has the best backstory, she has an actual goal, she's more than just a quirk. She has a more solid character and I wish I was following her story instead of Aira's.

I would talk about Mion but she didn't have a relevant role in the story yet so I have no opinions other than, her song is amazing. The side characters are pretty boring, Jun is just a gimmick where he likes to embellish his speech by saying pretty words, Kyoko is kind of a dick, I hate all of Callings, and poor Meganee don't get enough screen time for me to create any kind of bond, Aira's and Rizumu's families aren't anything special, but I absolutely despise Aira's father, he's gross.

And that's pretty much everything, I ended up writing way more than I thought I would considering I wrote all of my notes in a very small piece of paper, but I'm glad I was able to do this so smoothly. If you have any thoughts please share them in the comments. I'll see you all around, hopefully soon.

#Pretty Rhythm #Pretty Rhythm Aurora Dream #prism series