#in my defense i had no headphones on and it was very noisy

[ozymoron]

i really hope in hl2vrai benrys reintroduced in the most anticlimactic way and just sends gordon into a spiral

#⚠️ #might not happen idk seems like too obvious of a joke to make to me #also would be very funny if he just catches passing glimpses of him looming around like gman #like hes just there and it drives gordon insane #also my dumbass despite dr coomer being my favourite character thought bubby did the trailer speech at first. #how. girl how. #in my defense i had no headphones on and it was very noisy #and they do sound a little alike

[funkylittlebidiot]

multiverse of madness

I found this little beauty in my notes and really wanted to post it 👀 It will make more sense if you read @elisaphoenix13‘s Mama Bear stories as it was originally written for that universe and mentions some of her OC’s, but besides that it’s completely independent of that world. 

Living in New York had been easy enough to get used to, as was the family he lived with. His house in Tennessee had been small and often empty; with his mom at work and his sister asleep, he often spent lonely nights in the garage on his own. He didn’t mind the solitude, but he had quickly grown fond of the noisy tower.

He never really had any friends at school, either, so he mostly knew how to entertain himself with books or sketches or just generally doing his homework. It hadn’t made him any more popular, but he wasn’t trying to be. He knew his future lay beyond their town; ever since meeting Tony Stark, he had known the world had bigger plans for him.

He had hoped that the future would be better earned, that he would get to prove himself enough to be allowed to work with the engineer. What he got, however, was tragedy striking.

Sometimes he hated himself for having wished for a getaway. In the darkest hour, the thought couldn’t leave him that perhaps his family dying had been the price to pay for his wish come true. The family he had gained, the parents, the brother and sisters, aunts and uncles… he didn’t deserve any of them.

It helped that Peter had gone through something similar. At first, the thought of another genius teenager, one who already lived in New York and hence could spend more time with Tony, had been scary, but he had quickly grown to like the boy, so it wasn’t too bad.

And when push came to shove, he had shared his home, friends, and family, and Harley couldn’t be more grateful.

Don’t get him wrong, Peter is still a dickwad, but they were brothers, so it was fine.

However, one very annoying thing about him was the other teen’s gig as Spiderman keeping him from walking home with him after school. Most days, Happy picked them up from school, but Peter often skipped out on the ride and swung over to Queens for his extra-curricular superhero-ing.

After the multiple kidnapping attempts and successes, security was pretty tight.

Harley did sometimes manage to get permission to walk home on some days. As long as he kept his tracker on and his phone wasn’t close to dying - which it was most of the time - he was allowed to walk the few blocks to the tower if he so wished.

New York might be a different scenery, but walking still reminded him of Rose Hill, where everything was on a much smaller scale.

Today, he started his way back to the tower, headphones in but not too loud to still be aware of his environment. He always took a different route, today choosing a riskier one through some less crowded areas and alleys. He was sure he wasn’t being followed, after all, and by now, he knew some self-defense moves if anyone were to jump him.

He was halfway through an ally when a sound filtered through his headphones. He took an earbud out and glanced around him, stopping in his tracks as he searched for the source. It sounded like hissing, almost like a snake or the hairspray bottles his mom used to have, followed by a rattling before the hissing continued once more.

He finally recognized it as he glanced up. Someone was standing on a landing a few floors up, hoodie pulled up over his head and bottle of spray paint in his hand. Harley took a few steps back and tilted his head to get a better look. The wall was devoid of any windows, and through the gap of the two buildings, the late afternoon sun illuminated the spot ideally. The art was beautiful, no doubt, and Harley stepped back further until he was leaning against the other wall, content to watch the guy’s progress. He had always been curious by nature.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but watching the artist’s movements was very calming. The way his arms spread out in big strokes and the way he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach a little higher. The first green color was quickly followed by red, and blue, and yellow until it was a beautiful mural of the New York skyline, complete with superheroes flying above.

The calm of the moment was disturbed by Harley’s ringtone blaring through the ally, and Harley cursed as he noticed the artist jump in shock. He watched as if in slow-motion as he stepped back too far, leaning backward over the edge and flailing his arms before losing his balance entirely and - … disappeared?

“What the -“ Harley asked, glancing around in confusion as he searched for ... - now probable the corpse of the other teen. It was only when the ally went silent that Harley remembered his phone had been going off, and now he was cursing for a different reason as he scrambled to return the call.

The whizzing of a portal had him sighing as he plastered on an innocent smile and turned to greet Stephen. “Hey, mom!”

“Harley? What are you doing?” Stephen asked, clearly confused that his son wasn’t bleeding to death or - more likely tbh - had been turned into a baby. A few months ago, Harley would have suspected Stephen to be disappointed by finding Harley as a teen, but with baby Val at home, one infant was more than enough; “Do you know how often I have had to find any of you in alleys? Your dad was already considering having FRIDAY alert him if any of you spent more than a minute in one.”

“I’m sorry; I got distracted!” Harley shrugged sheepishly, reaching down to grab his book bag off the ground.

“In an alley?” Stephen asked, squinting at Harley in suspicion, “we already have an alley cat at home.”

“Ugh, let’s just go,” Harley groaned, “I have to start my homework.”

“Alright then,” Stephen sighed, turning to motion towards the portal, “lead the way, cub.”

Harley did, but he swore he could hear stifled giggles echoing around the alley before it was drowned out by the sound of Wanda calling for him.

“Oh, good! You’re fine,” she smiled once he had stepped through the portal fully. “Bucky is sick, so I made cookies instead! Come get some with mint before Peter gets home, or we have to throw them out.”

Harley promptly forgot all about the alley and its mysterious artist as he moved to grab one of his favorite snacks and thanked Wanda profusely.

#harley keener #miles morales #harley keener/miles morales #into the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #harley x miles #spider-man #im 3 #mcu #marvel #stephen strange #multiverse of madness #mama bear stephen strange #mama bear supreme #miles x Harley

[relanah-qahs]

MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY

Whumptober 2020 No.3 

Title: The Only One Who Matters

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Prompt: Manhandled | Forced to their knees | Held at gunpoint

Rating: M for swearing and violence, Relationship: Elena & Gun (Emma) Words: 1709

Tags: Sibling rivalry, held at gunpoint, young Elena, near death experience, introspection, Elena hates the Turks, character backstory, hurt no comfort

AO3 Link.  FFNet Link

Summary: It was at the very moment Elena knew her life’s path had changed. If joining the Turks meant stripping away one’s humanity and empathy, then she wanted absolutely no part of it.

εγλ 0002 September 24. 21:47. Midgar Sector 6 Slums.

Elena was too shaken to do anything other than stare wide-eyed through the barrel of the gun pointed at her face. Her mind was completely blank and time seemed to stand completely still. Her fingers twitched, but she couldn’t bring her arms up to a defensive position. She simply stood there, her arms at her side, mouth wide open, breath vacuumed out of her.

Why couldn’t she move? Why was she freaking out now? She was at the top of her class at Shinra Military Academy, she had been studying marksmanship and other fighting disciplines since she was a kid. So why did her body fail her now?

“Gimme your purse or I will blast off that pretty face of yours!” The gunman’s gruff voice echoed in Elena’s ears.

She felt herself take in a shaky breath and choked out a sob. “Please, please don’t!” It was her own voice, but Elena had no control over the words coming from her. “I’ll do what you want, just please don’t hurt me!”

“Purse, now!”

Elena quickly, and without thinking, slid her pink handbag off from her shoulder and held it in front of her. The gunman snatched it from her but kept the gun pointed menacingly at her face. He was a very rough-looking guy; he was thin and appeared skeleton-like in his huge overcoat, his scraggly beard was matted with grime, and he was missing some teeth. The criminal reeked of mako--probably a junkie desperate to buy his next fix.

Elena sobbed while her attacker flipped through the contents of her handbag: Her dorm keys, her headphones, a pack of tissues, then finally the grand prize--her sparkly pink wallet. She would lose all her tips she got from her part-time job at the bar tonight, probably her train pass and student ID too. If only she could have brought her gun. She specialized in marksmanship, but she wasn’t allowed to take her weapon outside the shooting range since she was underage. But even if she did have her gun with her, would she even have the strength to shoot a real, living human?

“Okay, you got you what you wanted,” she said in a shaky voice. “Now will you please let me go?”

“Shut up!” The gunman dropped the purse and grabbed her hair. She yelped from pain and fear as her blonde hair was forcefully pulled at her scalp. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” He forced her down, her knees hitting the ground with a painful thud.

Elena was crying hysterically now. She had never felt so helpless. Why? That was the only word that echoed through her mind. Why? Why couldn’t she fight back? Why wouldn’t her body just move? Why did all her combat training fail to reach her at such a critical moment?

She felt the gun being pressed to her temple. Was this it? Was it really going to end like this? Her life suddenly flashed before her eyes. Her childhood memories at Dad’s house with her sister Emma. Then memories of elementary school, always getting the highest grades, but Dad never being pleased because Emma always did better. Then memories of the military academy flashed before her; she was always in a fierce competition with her classmates. She had no friends, only rivals. And being the daughter of the headmaster meant she was in a constant state of pressure. She worked as hard as she could to be the top of her class, to be the best marksman in the entire school. But all of that meant nothing now. Why? Why did she train so hard only to be helpless at the end?

Why couldn’t she fight back? Why did she push herself so hard? What was it even for? Why was Dad never pleased with her? Why was it never enough? Why was it going to end like this?

Why? Gunshot.

The loud bang overloaded her senses. It was finished.

But it wasn’t her life that ended. She slowly opened her eyes and took in the gruesome sight in front of her. The man who had threatened her laid dead, his eyes wide open, the blood oozing out of his skull and slowly pooling at the ground where she knelt.

“Elena, get up.”  The voice came from her right side. Elena could barely hear it over the ringing in her ears. She turned her head to examine her savior who was now holstering her gun.

It was Emma.

Elena burst into tears and sobbed from the relief washing over her. She quickly got up from the ground, her whole body shaking.

“Oh my god, Sis! You saved me!” Elena ran towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her in the tightest embrace she could manage.

But suddenly Emma forced her back. The young woman held onto Elena’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. Elena couldn’t tell what emotion Emma was expressing, but it wasn’t relief.

“Elena, you’re pathetic.”

Her cold words hit Elena like a punch to the gut. She stared at her sister completely dumbfounded.

“What? Sis, what are you-?”

“You could have taken on that guy, so why didn’t you? Why didn’t you fight him?”

Elena couldn’t find the words to respond. She lowered her gaze to the ground and felt the agonizing warmth of shame rush onto her face.

“You’re only a year away from graduating from military school. You train in combat every day, self-defense should be second nature to you! What was all that studying for, Elena? You show off in the gym only to choke the second you’re in actual danger? Get a fucking grip, Sis. When you’re out in the field, your life will always be on the line. You have to be stronger. You can’t break down and cry just because you’re scared. You will never make it into the Turks if you can’t get your shit together.”

Elena couldn’t help the tears from falling and the noisy sobs escaping her throat. “I’m sorry, Sis! I’m so sorry.”

Emma sighed. “Don’t be sorry. Do better.”

Emma called the Shinra Security officers and explained the situation. She ordered them to remove the body and to not question Elena. Being a Turk meant she had the authority to tell them what to do, and they obeyed without question. Elena couldn’t help but feel glad she didn’t need to talk to the Security officers; she couldn’t relive this again and expose her cowardice. She just hoped this incident wouldn’t reach her school administrators and, most importantly, her father.

What would he say? Would he be disappointed in her?

Emma insisted on escorting Elena back to campus. They didn’t speak to each other the entire train ride back onto the Plate. Elena focused only on controlling her emotions as she didn’t want anyone to see her cry again tonight.

They arrived at the school’s gates. Elena fumbled through her purse for her wallet to present her school ID. She might get in trouble for missing curfew.

“Get some rest, Sis,” said Emma. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Elena clutched her ID tightly and shot a pleading look towards her sister. “Emma, please, please don’t tell Dad!” She felt another sob rise from her chest at the thought of letting him down in such a terrible way.

Emma shook her head. “He’s going to find out eventually. It’s better if he hears from me instead of the Security officers.”

“I can’t let him down! You said it yourself, didn’t you? I couldn’t defend myself when it really mattered! I’m a total failure. He’ll be so mad at me.”

“That’s not true!” Emma placed a gentle hand on Elena’s shoulder. “He’s not going to mad at you. He’s always worried about you! Just trust me, okay?”

“Whatever,” said Elena. She brushed off her sister’s hand. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. I’m going to bed.”

Elena turned and walked towards the gate, holding her ID to show to the school security guards. She stopped. “Sis,”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

Elena took a long, hot shower as soon as she arrived back at her dorm. She was desperate to get rid of all of the filth and remaining stench of death and gunpowder from her skin. She cried more. It was amazing she had any tears left. She breathed in the steam to try to soothe her aching nose and throat. By the time she dried off it was way past midnight. She quietly opened the door to her dorm to not awaken her roommates. She slid into her bed and hugged her teddy bear tightly to her chest. She could feel another sob rising from her. Her head ached terribly, her face red from the burning salt of her tears. She couldn’t allow a sound to escape her, she couldn’t show weakness to her roommates--her rivals.

You will never make it into the Turks if you don’t get your shit together. Emma’s words echoed through her mind.

Fuck the Turks. And fuck Emma.

If joining the Turks meant stripping away one’s humanity and empathy, then she wanted absolutely no part of it. Her ultimate goal ever since her first year of military school was to one day be one of the Turks, Shinra’s elite mercenary force. The agents who answered only to the President himself. Dad was so proud when Emma was hired, and he expected nothing less of Elena.

But now? Now after actually seeing them in action? No way. After facing death so closely, all she wanted was the comfort and kindness of her sister. But instead she was yelled at to do better. The Turks must beat the kindness out of their recruits.

It was at that very moment, Elena knew her life’s path had changed. No more pursuing the Turks. She would find her own way. Maybe she would quit marksmanship class too and switch her specialty to martial arts. Martial arts would teach her to be strong and she would never be helpless again.

No matter where life took her, Elena would be strong. And kind. That was her promise to the only person who mattered--herself.

#whumptober2020 #no.3 #my way or the highway #held at gunpoint #forced to their knees #final fantasy vii #ffvii #elena ffvii #fic

[anonfanfic]

4&14 Clexa

Clarke hated blind dates, with a fiery passion. Her best friend Raven just happened to know that and loved setting her up on them. Raven knew Clarke was too polite to cancel to not show up once the date was made. Raven loved to make Clarke suffer.

“This is the last one, I swear!” Raven yelled from their living room. Clarke was digging through her drawers trying to find something she could throw on to go out. 

“That’s what you said the last two fucking times!” Clarke replied, tossing piles of clothes onto her bed until she settled on an outfit.

Clarke walked out of her room and into the living room where Raven was lounging on their couch. Clarke wished more than anything she could just lay down next to her and just watch trash TV for the night.

“I mean it this time.” Raven looked over at Clarke and grinned. “You look nice, by the way.” 

Clarke did a quick spin and posed obnoxiously. “Gee, thanks.” 

“She’ll be into it.” Raven gave a thumbs up and pulled out her phone to take a quick snap of Clarke.

“Oh! I get to know my date is a woman?” Clarke raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

“What can I say? I’m a great friend.” Raven shrugged and tossed her phone down on the couch. “Now get out of here.” She pointed to the door. “And don’t come back until you get laid.” 

“Unlikely.” Clarke rolled her eyes, walking over to the front door and grabbing her keys. “See you soon.” Clarke didn’t wait for a reply as she walked out into the cool night air. She was looking forward to getting this over with and crawling into her bed.

The bar she was supposed to meet her date at wasn’t far, she decided to walk that way she had the excuse of leaving early so she wasn’t out late. 

Clarke put in her headphones and walked quickly down the street. She kept trying to think of who exactly Raven could have found for another blind date. 

The moment she walked into the bar Clarke froze. It was like something out of a movie, her eyes zeroed in on the one person she never would have expected to be waiting for her in that bar. 

“Fuck no.” Clarke shook her head and almost pulled out her phone to send Raven an expletive-ridden text. She turned around to walk right back out into the street.

“Clarke Griffin?” 

Too late, she’d been spotted. 

“Raven said you may try to run once you saw me.”

Clarke slowly turned around. She was going to have to have so many shots to get through this date. 

“Hi Lexa.” Clarke forced a smile onto her face. “How have you been?”

“Let me buy you a drink and we can catch up.” Lexa gestured toward the bar. 

Clarke bit back a sarcastic reply and just nodded. Lexa may not be her favorite person, but she didn’t want to give Raven the pleasure of having her storm back in thirty minutes after she left. 

“Sure,” Clarke let Lexa lead the way through the noisy room until they got to the polished bar in the back. 

“What will you have?” The skinny girl behind the bar asked.

“Vodka soda and make it a double,” Clarke requested. 

“I’ll have the same,” Lexa added, turning to Clarke as the woman walked off to make their drinks. 

Lexa drummed the edge of the bar. “So, are you still doing the whole art thing?”

Clarke turned to look at Lexa and couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“I am. Are you still a raging bitch?” 

“Whoa!” Lexa chuckled nervously and held her hands up defensively. “Coming out swinging.”

Clarke shrugged as their drinks were placed in front of them. She didn’t see a reason to beat around the bust. Lexa had been her worst nightmare in highschool. They had constantly been at odds and even battled for starting positions on most of their school teams. 

“I can be a bitch. But I’m a lot nicer now.” Lexa answered honestly, taking a sip of her drink. “I was an asshole though.” 

Clarke picked up her glass as well and downed half of it in one gulp.

“We were both assholes, I guess,” Clarke confessed.

Over the next hour the girls talked about their past and made sure their glasses were never empty. Clarke felt the alcohol making her head spin. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. This date was not  going the way she had imagined when she saw Lexa waiting for her. 

Clarke watched Lexa’s hand move across the bar to cover hers as they continued to talk. Lexa was very different than how Clarke had remembered. They were laughing together and before long their fingers were intertwined on top of the bar. 

Lexa’s thumb was caressing the back of her hand as they continued moving closer. 

“Do you want to stay for another drink?” Lexa asked, licking her lips as she moved her other hand to Clarke’s knee. “Or maybe you want to go back to my place?” 

Lexa lifted her eyebrow and waited for Clarke to answer. Clarke smiled, envisioning the cocky look on Raven’s face when she walked into their place the next morning. 

Clarke leaned forward slowly, watching Lexa’s expression change as she moved to whisper into her ear. 

“Let’s go back to your place.” 

She gave Lexa’s hand a squeeze and took a deep breath in. Raven had finally done it, she’d finally gotten Clarke laid.

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clexa fanfiction #prompt

[shinsoukokuvalentine]

20.,things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear?also i love your blog💘

(Thank you for your patience, nonnie-chan! This one took a while, but I’m really happy with the results. As I said before, I had wanted to do a fic like this for a while, so I wanted to be very careful to give it the time and effort it deserved. Thank you for waiting and for your compliments ^^ I’m so happy you love my blog.

This fic can also be found on Ao3, but as tumblr tends to eat posts with links, I’ll make a separate post for it. Also, this is based on the movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s really good!)

185/365: Never-Ending Moonlight

I don’t want to forget.

Ryuunosuke’s eyes open blearily. On his bedside table, his alarm beeps, inviting him to wake to an overcast day and piles of snow.

He sits up, shutting off his alarm, rubbing his eyes. He feels more tired than usual, but he doesn’t remember doing anything strenuous yesterday. Or was that what he didn’t want to forget?

With a groan, he throws his covers off and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He doesn’t remember what he didn’t want to forget, of course, making the morning confusing enough without what appear to be tear stains down his cheeks, which he sees once he looks in the mirror.

Ryuu frowns at his reflection. He never cries. He hasn’t cried since he was a child, abandoned on the city sidewalk like a discarded toy, his confused younger sister gripping his hand.

He had grown up quickly.

He sighs. He turns the sink on, washes the tears off his face, combs his hair. He can’t spend the entire morning trying to remember what he didn’t want to forget, and soon the thought’s gone as if it had been washed down the drain.

As he puts his shoes on, he sees that the shelf near the door looks empty, sparse. There’s an open space in the middle that looks like it would be a good place for a couples’ photo.

Ryuu frowns a bit. He moves things around briefly, eliminating the empty space. He doesn’t need any reminders that he’s single.

Standing at the train station, his scarf pulled over the lower half of his face, Ryuu waits in the middle of the bustling crowd. Snow drifts down from the sky again, and the people around Ryuu grumble at it. He closes his eyes and listens, listens to their words, listens to the crunch of snow beneath dozens of feet, listens to the train arriving on the platform below, bound for the coast.

His eyes open. He doesn’t know what prompts him to movie. Maybe he needs a change, a break from his work. But emotion he can’t explain get the better of him, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s moving, running, sprinting, nearly slipping down stairs. The coast. He has to go to the coast today.

Ryuu isn’t sure why. He isn’t sure why he rushes onto that train car before the doors close. He isn’t sure why he’s going in the complete opposite direction of where he should be going, to work, to his job.

Maybe it has something to do with that thing he can’t remember that he didn’t want to forget.

Even this early in the morning, the ports of Yokohama are already noisy, with people shouting back and forth, crates being unloaded, and cargo ships blaring their horns. Ryuu finds a small diner near the train station, away from the noise, but with a view of the ocean outside the window.

He orders an omelette. Something simple, but a breakfast that he rarely gets the chance to have. Not many patrons sit in the diner’s booths, as many people have undoubtedly already begun their jobs, excluding a few elders and a young man sitting a few seats down from Ryuu.

By chance, their eyes meet, and Ryuu quickly looks down at his breakfast. He thinks he hears the other man give a small huff of a laugh. His cheeks red, Ryuu bites into his omelette like he could blame it for the unwelcome feelings stirring in his chest like trapped birds, fluttering around his ribcage and crashing into his heart.

Why do I fall in love with every cute guy I see?

He’s out of there sooner than he’d like, and yet, not soon enough, leaving behind a silver-haired man with bright eyes.

His feet carry him aimlessly, down the coastline and through busy streets. He pauses at the ocean a few times, watches the ships move, listens to the ocean lap at the rocks below. Winds blow in and cause him to tighten his scarf around his face.

Around lunch, he sees him again. That silver-haired man with wide eyes. He stands at the same bus stop as Ryuu, who’s only there because he wanted to get out of the wind. The other man’s on his phone, typing away with fingerless gloves, not looking up until the bus arrives. As if being led by the pull of a magnet, Ryuu follows him on board.

Outside, Yokohama’s gray sky does little to dull the colors of the city’s many shops and people. Ryuu barely notices them. His attention in focused on the man in front of him, the one with silver hair, the one nodding to the beat of whatever song’s playing through his headphones.

The man suddenly looks behind him, and Ryuu looks away just as quickly. But he’s been noticed.

“Hey.”

Ryuu looks up. The man smiles at him in a polite, friendly way. Ryuu doesn’t respond, so the other man speaks up again. “You were the guy in the diner, right?”

Ryuu nods.

The man with silver hair turns more, resting his arms on the back of his seat, facing Ryuu. “I’m Nakajima Atsushi.” He introduces himself so quickly, so fearlessly.

Ryuu’s sunk further into his seat without realizing it. Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem with not saying anything and coming off as rude, but Nakajima draws an answer out of him with one look from those sparkling eyes of his. Oh…They’re two colors. Purple and gold, like miniature sunsets.

“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke,” he says, bowing his head a little once.

Nakajima’s smile doesn’t waver. “I’d never seen you at the diner before. Are you new around here?” Ryuu nods again.

“I’m from a different district,” he says quietly. Nakajima tilts his head.

“So you’ve never been to Tanizaki’s?” he asks. When Ryuu shakes his head, Nakajima’s wonderful eyes widen. “You have to go there for lunch. They have the best ochazuke.”

Ryuu shrugs a bit. Ochazuke sounds good; he hasn’t had a bowl in a while. “Where is it?” He asks.

Nakajima gives a small chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you,” he says quickly, but he suddenly ducks behind the seat a little bit at his own words, like he realized how straightforward he had been. “That is… If you don’t mind going with me. I would completely understand if you didn’t want to.”

Ryuu’s cheeks have become red again, so he pulls his scarf over his nose and looks to his side, out the window, away from Nakajima’s bicolor eyes. “... I don’t mind,” he says. From the corner of his eye, he sees Nakajima’s smile return.

They spend lunch together. The cafe’s styled traditionally, and its ochazuke really is as good as Nakajima said. He eats two bowls in the time it takes Ryuu to eat one.

They spend the afternoon together. Nakajima shows Ryuu his favorite park, and Ryuu buys him a balloon, partly as a joke, but Nakajima ties it around his wrist and keeps it there for the rest of the day.

They spend the evening together. They walk along the docks, in areas where they’re probably not allowed to be, behind old warehouses and around rusty fences. While exploring like children, they talk. Ryuu talks about his position as an executive in a stuffy company. Nakajima talks about his job as an assistant to a private eye.

“That sounds more interesting than my job,” Ryuu says, climbing over crates in a crumbling storage building. From the top of the pile, swinging his legs over the side, Nakajima huffs.

“You’d think so,” he sighs, “But my boss hardly ever does his paperwork, so while he’s off on cases, I’m left to sort through his files.”

Ryuu hums in understanding as he finally reaches the top, sitting next to Nakajima on the large crate. From up there, they can see the moon through the worn, broken panels of the warehouse’s roof.

“I guess you were off today,” Ryuu says. Nakajima chuckles sheepishly.

“About that… I ditched.”

Ryuu turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type,” he points out. Nakajima shoves him a bit, playfully, but hard enough to make Ryuu wonder if his companion doesn’t know his own strength.

“You’ve only known me a day,” he says, apparently not noticing as Ryuu grips the side of the crate a bit harder than before and rubs his shoulder. “Besides, Dazai-san ditches me all the time. It’s about time he got a taste of his own medicine.”

Ryuu watches as Nakajima leans back, laying his back flat against the crate, possibly getting splinters in his hair and jacket. In the small amount of time he’s known Nakajima, Ryuu knows him well enough to assume that he doesn’t care if he gets dirty.

“What about you?” Nakajima asks, peering over at Ryuu. “You weren’t off either, were you?”

Ryuu purses his lips, turning away from Nakajima, pulling his scarf over his nose again, and Nakajima laughs a little. “Knew it.”

“I didn’t plan to skip today,” Ryuu says in his defense. “It mostly just happened.”

Nakajima sighs, watching clouds drift across the night sky. “Same here,” he says. He turns to Ryuu again, smiling, and his eyes are soft as he says to him, “Maybe it’s fate then? Destiny?”

Nakajima’s expression sends Ryuu’s heart into overdrive, but he takes slow breaths, laying down beside him and turning his gaze to the sky.

“I’m not sure it matters how we met,” he says quietly, trying not to jump in the air when he feels Nakajima’s fingers brush his own. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He looks beside him, and Nakajima’s still smiling. A breeze rustles his hair, his eyes shimmer in the moonlight, and if Ryuu hadn’t fallen in love when he first saw Nakajima, this sight alone would have ensnared him. But since he’s already in love, all he can do is hide his blush.

“Did you have a good time today?”

Atsushi takes his eyes off his phone, looking at the man sitting beside him on the train. Akutagawa looks forward, watching city lights pass by the windows across from them, his hands in his coat pockets. He spoke without turning to Atsushi.

Turning his phone off, Atsushi watches their reflections in the window, looking in the same direction as Akutagawa, but not seeing the same thing.

“I did,” he says quietly, peering at his companion’s dark eyes as reflected in the glass. His heart beats a little faster when he admits it, and he smiles again, hoping to hide his nervousness with it. It’s worked all day.

“Did you?” he asks Akutagawa. The other man shifts a little, and crossing one leg over the other, he nods once. Inwardly, Atsushi lets out a small sigh of relief. Spending the day with Akutagawa has been a joy for him, and he wanted to know that his companion felt the same way, even though he probably hadn’t developed an immediate crush like Atsushi did.

The train’s automated voice cuts through Atsushi’s thoughts, announcing that the next station, Atsushi’s stop, is five minutes away. Atsushi’s knees bunch together as his face falls. Five minutes. He has five minutes left with Akutagawa.

He turns to the side again, looking over his companion’s face. Akutagawa’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen, with hair that looks as soft as doves’ feathers, eyes that constantly reflect the sea at night, and a pale, round face that somehow manages to be both adorable and mature. His expression never wavers, giving him an air of mystery that lures Atsushi in.

And, Atsushi thinks with a sad smile, he’s almost as impulsive as he is.

“Hey,” Atsushi says quietly. Akutagawa turns only his eyes to look at him, leaning back against the seat while Atsushi’s bent over on his knees.

“Yes?” Akutagawa asks in that deep voice of his. Atsushi takes a deep breath, even while his brain reminds him of the many ways that this could go wrong.

“Since, you know, we had fun today,” Atsushi says slowly, inwardly cursing himself for using the word “fun” like a kid, “Would you like to… Do it again?”

Akutagawa doesn’t take his eyes off of him, only blinking once, but staying silent as if he’s mulling it over. Atsushi watches him, almost shrinking back under his intense gaze.

“Yes.”

Atsushi can feel his heart skip a beat. “You mean it?” he asks incredulously, picking himself up, leaning forward towards Akutagawa. His excitement picks up as if pure adrenaline is being pumped into his veins. “You really want to see me again?”

Akutagawa nods, and if he scoots away a little, Atsushi barely notices. His heart’s too busy doing backflips.

“T-then, uh,” Atsushi all but pats himself down, searching through his pockets for something to write on, “w-would you like my number? I mean, it would be hard to meet again if one of us didn’t get the other’s number…” he trails off, stopping when Akutagawa merely holds out his hand to him.

“Your phone,” he says. Wordlessly, Atsushi nods, pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it before passing it to Akutagawa. Despite only knowing him for a day, he trusts him with it.

Akutagawa says nothing as he types on the screen, Atsushi leaning over his shoulder, watching as Akutagawa puts himself in Atsushi’s contact list.

“No need to waste paper when you have a phone,” Akutagawa says, handing it back to Atsushi, who stares at the name AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE and the number attached to it as if trying to commit it to memory. “I doubt you have a pen, anyway.”

Atsushi flushes red, and he could swear that the small huff Akutagawa gives is the faintest hint of a laugh.

“Call me tomorrow,” adds Akutagawa, turning away, leaning back again. “I’ll actually be off then.”

If Atsushi can get any redder, he does. Not only does Akutagawa want to see him again, he wants to see him tomorrow . He feels like he might pass out.

Instead, he beams, standing as the train pulls to a stop and the doors open. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Akutagawa-san,” he says. Akutagawa nods again, watching him as he walks to the doors.

“I’ll see you,” he echoes, waving a little, not taking his eyes off of Atsushi until the doors close again and the train pulls away. Atsushi watches it round a corner, making sure it’s completely gone before he leaves the platform, humming to himself, kicking up snow like a child and watching it fall around him.

He’s never felt in love like this before.

Gone, but not forgotten is that feeling when he reaches his apartment. He stops in his tracks, keys in hand, starting at the thing on his doorstep. It’s a package, a large cardboard box with Atsushi’s name and address on it. It sits in front of the door to his apartment, illuminated with yellow light, wet patches on its cardboard from melted snow.

Atsushi frowns. He doesn’t remember ordering anything. He doesn’t recognize the return label, either; it seems to be someone’s personal address, coming from someone named Higuchi Ichiyo. Atsushi’s never heard of them.

Atsushi stares at  the box, watching it as if something might jump from it. But the box is completely still. He shoves it a bit to get to his door, never taking his eyes off of it, surprised at how heavy it is.

Either he’s gullible or his curiosity gets the better of him, but Atsushi takes it inside.

There’s a letter attached to the top of the box, Atsushi realizes once the door’s closed behind it. He opens it first, peeling away the tape that binds it to the package, tearing it open gingerly, almost not wanting to admit to himself how scared he is of its contents.

The only thing in the letter is a harmless piece of paper. Atsushi checks the envelope twice to make sure of this; no powder, no razors, no glitter. Nothing dangerous. Atsushi sighs like he’s just defused a bomb.

But after he’s read the letter, he feels as if someone’s relit it.

Frantically, Atsushi tears open the box. It’s filled to the brim with material, inconsequential things, like plush toys and picture frames and a few crumpled pieces of origami. According to the letter, less than a few weeks ago, these were all Atsushi’s.

And he doesn’t remember any of them.

Atsushi’s heart feels ready to burst from his chest, and not in the giddy way that he felt when he was with Akutagawa. It’s the way that makes Atsushi’s stomach turn, his throat go dry, and his eyes widen in horror. He’s throwing things out of the box now, shaking, realization creeping up his spine like a cold hand. It’s all fake. It has to be.

But it can’t be.

Band tickets. Calendars with dates circled in red. Poems signed by their author, a name Atsushi can’t stand to read. A small blue box, a diamond ring still inside it, never presented.

Breath escapes Atsushi’s lips in ragged pants when he reaches the bottom. Under love letters and fridge magnets, a small flash drive hides, just as Higuchi wrote in her letter.

Atsushi freezes. The words of the letter pierce through his skin like knives, tearing into him, shaking him to his core.

To Nakajima Atsushi.

He takes the flash drive, holding it as if it could kill him if it got too close, but also careful not to let any harm come to it.

I am Higuchi Ichiyo. This may come as a shock to you, but you opted to receive treatment to have your memories of a certain person erased.

Atsushi plugs the flash drive into his computer. His breath catches in his throat when he sees all of them; photos, possibly hundreds of them, all of him and someone he thought he had never met.

Of course, you do not remember receiving this treatment. The memory of that was erased as well.

Atsushi’s never been to these places. He’s never been with that man before. He definitely has never kissed him before, but dozens of photos say otherwise.

I am a former employee of the doctor that carried out treatment for you and many others, Doctor Mori Ougai. It has recently come to my attention that this process is unethical. This is my attempt at making amends.

Atsushi covers his mouth with his hands. Sobs lurk behind his lips, tears slip from his eyes whenever he blinks. He can’t do this. He can’t keep going, can’t look at them anymore, can’t see himself smiling at a man he’d never met before today.

We took everything from you. Every memory, every photo, every object that may carry some trace of that person you wanted to forget. I’m giving them all back to you.

He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He’s curled up in his desk chair now, knees to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He has to keep going, he tells himself, even while a whimper escapes his lips. He has to find that final file.

In this package, there’s a flash drive. It includes anything digital that we took, such as photos or videos. You’ll also find a recording of your verbal consent to this treatment there.

Atsushi scrolls past all the photos, not wanting to look at any more of them, but still catching glimpses every now and then, glimpses of a life he can never get back.

I hope you’re able to forgive me and come to peace with this. All the best,

Higuchi Ichiyo

The audio file’s at the very bottom. Atsushi doesn’t hesitate. He clicks on it, letting whatever’s on that file play through his computer’s speakers, echoing through the apartment. This can’t be real, he thinks to himself, still shaking. This can’t be real, and this will prove it.

“What’s your name, sir? ” a faceless male voice says, sounding like it was recorded through a low-quality microphone. Atsushi can feel his shoulders relax a bit; there’s no way a doctor’s office would be using such cheap equipment.

“Nakajima Atsushi. ”

Atsushi freezes. Yes, it sounds horrible through the recording. Yes, it’s nothing like how he sounds in his head. But that’s definitely his voice.

“And why are you choosing to have this procedure, Nakajima-san? ”

The room seems to spin. Atsushi’s vision goes blurry. Every photo he saw in that flash drive feels as if it’s being burned into his memory, leaving scars as a warning to never forget again.

The Atsushi in the recording can he heard taking a deep breath, coming out as static through the poor quality of the audio.

“Because I hate Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.”

"I want to forget Nakajima Atsushi. ”

“He’s irrational. He’s got a naive, childish outlook on life and needs to grow up .”

“Everywhere we go, he wants me to buy him a plush toy. A plush toy! He’s a grown man! ”

“He took a picture from his phone and got it printed and framed. What kind of sentimental idiot does that? ”

“He’s impulsive. I’ve spent so much on his stupid impulses and he never learns. I’ve almost been arrested because of him, all because he wanted to ‘explore.’ This has happened more than once. ”

“He doesn’t know how strong he is. He accidentally broke my arm once. How do you accidentally break someone’s arm?! ”

“He gets jealous if I so much as look at another guy .”

“I hate the way he eats .”

“I hate the way he talks .”

“I hate the way he drags me around .”

“He’s the only person that’s ever made me cry .”

“And… I loved him .”

There’s a pause. The Ryuunosuke in the recording stops for a moment, and he can be heard letting out a breath through clenched teeth as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I want to forget about him. I want to forget about loving him! ”

The doorway creaks. Ryuu looks up from his spot on the floor, surrounded by souvenirs and pieces of paper and framed photographs. He’s there, in the standing in the open door, appearing like a phantom but clutching the doorframe like a scared child.

“… Just like he forgot about me .”

“How much of that did you hear?” Ryuu asks quietly, closing his laptop and shoving it away like it offended him. Still standing there, Nakajima doesn’t meet his eyes.

“... Enough,” he says just as quietly, one arm wrapped around himself, the other supporting him against the wall as if he’d fall over if he didn’t have something to hold on to. He clears his throat a bit. “I had your address on a piece of paper. It was in the box,” he admits softly. Ryuu merely grunts in response.

There’s silence for a minute, in which Ryuu looks down at the pile around him. There’s even a shirt in there, decorated in colors he can’t imagine wearing, featuring a arrow with goofy letters beneath it saying “ I’m HIS boyfriend! ”

“Did you really think that?”

Ryuu looks up at Nakajima, a frown on his lips. Nakajima, with his eyes on the floor, doesn’t notice.

“Did you really think all those things?”

Ryuu huffs, causing Nakajima to pick his head up.

“Even if I did, I can’t remember it, can I?” he snaps. Nakajima shrinks back a little, his eyes wide as if he’s been frightened.

Ryuu stares at him, the anger falling from his face as he watches him, scared and confused, like a kicked dog. Ryuu’s shoulders sag and he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Nakajima walks inside, leaving his shoes at the door, his socks stepping gingerly around everything on the floor until he’s next to Ryuu, where he slowly sits.

“... We could try again,” he says softly.

The very idea causes Ryuu to turn away, covering his mouth with his hand, folding his knees beside him. He hears Nakajima sigh.

“I mean, not picking up where we left off,” he says. From the corner of his eye, Ryuu can see him wrap his arms around his knees. “But… Starting over. Going on our date tomorrow, like we talked about. Easy things.”

Ryuu closes his eyes, as if not looking at everything on the floor would cause it to disappear. “It might end up like before,” he whispers.

Slowly, gently, he feels lithe fingers brush against the back of his free hand. He turns, looking down, seeing Nakajima’s hand on his.

“It might not,” Nakajima says just as quietly, his eyes on their hands as well.

Ryuu feels himself begin to tremble. Subconsciously, or perhaps not, he leans against Nakajima, who breathes deep and slow.

“I think that… If I could remember who I was before,” Nakajima murmurs, a bittersweet tang to his words, like strawberries picked too soon, “That version of me… Would be overjoyed that he gets to discover you all over again.”

Ryuu squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t cry. He won’t cry, not in front of someone he’s just met.

But they haven’t just met. They met moons ago, danced moons ago, kissed moons ago. That same moon is still out, and it’s ready to watch them learn to dance once more.

#shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku #akuatsu #man this took a while #sorry guys #i meant to have it posted yesterday but i don't trust my proofreading skills after 11pm #Anonymous

[fueledbysprite]

Nathmarc November Day 24: Stargazing

well this is fluffy and crack and fun. it’s also 3k words but you know, i feel productive

The bus ride was agonizingly long and uncomfortable. Chloe ditched the bus within ten minutes and called up a private ride instead when Mme Mendeleiev told her she couldn’t skip out on the field trip, and Marc was starting to wish he had the money for a private ride, because this was starting to really get on his nerves. The bus was noisy and crowded, and even though he and Nath had both chosen seats at the very back where they didn’t have to share with someone else, the smooth, paved roads were far behind them, and every bump on the road hit them with maximum force.

And yet Nathaniel still somehow managed to sleep through the whole thing. Marc had never found himself so capable of falling asleep anywhere, and the chances of him successfully achieving even a minute of shut-eye with all this noise were very near impossible. He could only hope that tonight made up for the ride. Marc dared to let his imagination race with the possibilities, reminding himself not to set his hopes too high and expect anything, but dreaming far ahead of himself all the same.

Wishing for the millionth time that he’d thought to bring headphones, he put in the one earbud out of the pair that still worked, covered the other ear and turned the volume all the way to the top. He turned away from the window, the cloudy skies and dark trees on his side becoming unbearable to watch, and shifted his body so he was sitting lengthwise on the bus seat, facing Nathaniel’s seat on the other side. Marc leaned back against the window and kicked his legs up so his shoe soles were almost against Nathaniel’s, then closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his imagination run free.

He’d almost forgotten about the rowdy mob of people occupying the rest of the bus, almost drifted away to the point he’d forgotten they were going somewhere at all, until his head painfully bounced against the window on one final bump, bus jerking to a stop. Marc winced, rubbing his head and pulling the earbud out, and sitting up so he could see what was going on up there as Mme Mendeleiev stood up to give them directions. He only glanced away to see Nathaniel getting up himself, looking around confusedly until his attention snapped to the front.

“Everyone listen up!” Mme Mendeleiev commanded. “You all know who your partners are, stay with your partner throughout the entire afternoon, you’ll have time to break apart and mingle later, but don’t dare go exploring unless at least one person is with you! Am I understood?”

Chants of “Yes, Mme Mendeleiev” echoed through the bus and Marc mumbled it himself quietly in accord.

“Good,” she said. “You know what to do, I should be able to trust you enough to exercise common sense and complete the tasks you have been assigned to do. You are all aware of what’s off-limits so please be smart and we can all have a safe and fun trip!” She smiled encouragingly, much to the caution and terror of the students, and descended as the bus doors opened.

Nathaniel sat up, stretching. “Here already, huh?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Marc tried to ignore the sleepy flush in Nath’s cheeks and the adorable way he spoke when he still wasn’t fully in the moment.

“Er, yeah,” Marc answered. “You’ll be with Alix, then,” he said uselessly, wondering why he was trying to make conversation like this. Maybe because he liked hearing Nathaniel talk- no. There was no point of getting himself all worked up when the school trip had barely begun.

Nathaniel nodded, leaning back in his seat. Alix shouted for him from wherever she was at the front, and they both looked up to see. Marinette was waving at Marc to come join her, so he bade one last glance at the redhead before gathering his things and joining his partner.

Although Marc would theoretically ideally have partnered with Nathaniel, and Marinette with Adrien, he had to retrospectively appreciate he’d picked Marinette. Although it meant less time with the person he’d have liked to spend the most time with, there were things that had to be done before the day ended, and Marc was sure they wouldn’t have been able to get them done this efficiently and relaxedly if he’d been with Nathaniel instead. Plus, he and Mari didn’t often get a chance to interact like this, and he wasn’t going to complain about working with his good friend. Though that didn’t stop Mari from looking wistfully over at Adrien and Kagami.

“Plans for tonight?” Marc asked, half-teasing. That was another thing he would have never dared to do if Nathaniel had been there. Marinette laughed.

“I wish,” she admitted. “What are the chances a guy and girl’ll end up with their sleeping bags next to each other out of almost 50 people? What about you? Don’t you have certain hopes for this trip?”

Marc chuckled too.

“Well, I mean, you know,” he said, flushing slightly. “Probably not gonna happen, but uh, I have some hopeful dreams,” he shrugged vaguely. Marinette grinned at him impishly.

“Still more hope than me,” she said, studying the trip itinerary. Marc gaped at her for a subtle moment.

“How would you know what I wanted to do?” he challenged, only slightly wary.

“Mm...” was all she gave in response, not at all helping his nerves.

Was he that obvious? Marc shrank in on himself, feeling suddenly anxious. Marinette glanced at him and looked up.

“Relax, I’m just playing with you,” she assured him. He looked at her with uncertainty, and she smiled reassuringly.

“Whatever you say...” Marc mumbled under his breath, before his attention was diverted by the list of things that had to be done before tonight.

***

“Dude! You should have seen his face! It was freaking hilarious!” Alix told the group that had gathered around the campfire. Nathaniel sat next to her, nodding along amusedly while clearly attempting not laugh.

“What happened?” Marc asked, taking a seat next to Nathaniel and trying to act casual.

“Kim- I don’t even know what he was doing- he ended up in the lake somehow and good thing Ondine was there with Lila- Ondine had to literally go in and get Kim out,” Nathaniel explained, smirking slightly.

“But I thought Kim was a swimmer?” Marc asked in confusion.

“I know!” Alix said. “Apparently Max was using Markov to take a sample of lakewater for some test, I think Kim wanted to know if it was safe to swim in, but then it fell in and Kim tried to save it?” she finished with a laugh.

“Okay, in my defense, Max designed that piece of equipment himself! Who knows how much it was worth?” Kim countered, arriving at the site with a towel around his neck, shirt open.

“Did you figure out if it was safe to swim in or not?” Nathaniel smirked in spite of himself. Marc didn’t remember Nath being this energetic or confident before.

Kim glared at him.

“I did, actually. Ondine and I are going to have a race tomorrow after breakfast,” he informed them.

“That’s great, Kim!” Marinette told him encouragingly, sitting down next to Marc so he was squished slightly against Nathaniel. He flushed.

Adrien arrived after that, Alya quickly convincing him to sit beside Marinette, and Marc was squeezed even closer against Nathaniel. He squirmed slightly, shrinking in on himself, until Nathaniel noticed and moved slightly over on his own side to give him more space. Marc wasn’t sure if he was thankful or disappointed at the gesture. At least he still had his comfort in personal space, he supposed.

“Kay, guys,” Kim said, once the whole class plus some others had gathered around a recently lit fire. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

He was met with general discordance, and groaned.

“Come on, you guys are no fun,” he complained. “What do you wanna do, then? Play hot potato and sing songs around the fire? What are we, six?”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Alya said brightly, much to Kim’s chagrin, and they began a half-hearted chorus of Smelly Wolf and 99 Bottles. They were on bottle 69 when some immature boys started smirking, and the singing ended rather soon after that.

“Why don’t we play Never Have I Ever?” Kagami suggested. “It’s less wild than Truth or Dare but it’s not something boring a ten-year-old would play.”

The others seemed to agree with that. Marc feeling a knot suddenly growing in his stomach, but nodded along with the rest. Nathaniel didn’t seem to have a problem with it, and Marc didn’t want to look like a wimp.

“I’ll start,” Alix volunteered. “Never have I ever fallen into a lake on a school trip.”

Half the group laughed at that, Nathaniel included, and Kim glared, putting down a finger. Markov closed one of his metal digits, too, out of respect for Kim, justifying that it had been his own apparatus that had fallen and caused Kim to go down too.

Next was Nathaniel. “Never have I ever, uhh, been on the very top of the Eiffel Tower, I guess?” he shrugged. Some people nodded, a surprising number having to put down a finger for that. Lila looked annoyed.

Marc swallowed when it was his turn, felling the others’ eyes on him expectantly. “I, uh, never have I ever...” he searched his mind for ideas. “Drank a cup of something that wasn’t what I thought it was,” he decided finally. The others were initially confused, then broke out into groans and laughs and remarks.

“Dang, Marc, way to expose me,” Nathaniel whispered, and Marc felt his cheeks grow warmer in embarrassment.

“S-sorry,” Marc mumbled. “It just came to mind,” he shrugged.

“You probably know how many times I’ve accidentally drank paint water, huh?” he asked playfully. Marc swallowed- of course the first thing that came to mind would have been linked to Nath somehow. Typical.

“Okay, okay, but guys!” Adrien called out over the rest of them, and they quickly silenced, more or less. “How do you know you haven’t ever drank a spiked drink. How would you know, huh?” he asked, and they all broke into energetic chatter about conspiracy theories and whether or not milk was really milk or actually just water and some other foreign substance.

Marc sighed into his hand, wishing he’d picked something else. Now everyone else was discussing something else and he and Nath were both silent.

“What do you think?” Nathaniel poked him gently, and he looked up. “Is juice really juice? I water really water? Are you sure what you were talking about?”

“Who knows,” Marinette answered for him, leaning over. “It’s all just one big hoax perpetrated by the illuminati,” she whispered, and Nathaniel noded seriously.

Marc found himself awkwardly in the middle as they went off discussing some of the wildest conspiracy theories he wouldn’t have ever been able to imagine himself. What were those two even high on?

It barely felt like any time had passed at all until Mme Mendeleiev shouted over the group and informed them it was getting late and they should be getting out their sleeping arrangements before it got dark out. Nathaniel set off to locate his own bag, and Marc headed over to the sheltered structures to change into his sleeping wear, quietly praying he found a spot near Nathaniel before the site filled up. He ran back to the field just in time to catch Nathaniel rolling out a sleeping bag, and stopped, staring.

“What?” Nathaniel asked, noticing Marc watching him intently. Marc didn’t say anything, just watched him in surprise. “What, my pajamas? I’m a comic book fan, don’t you know me yet?” he smiled, slightly unsurely, Marc could tell.

“N-no, I think it’s awesome you still wear Marvel pajamas,” Marc said quickly before Nathaniel’s confidence disappeared and Marc was left forever guilty.

Chloe apparently didn’t think the same. She had stalked over with a rather pretty bag of personal items in one hand (Marc would never bring something that expensive on a camping trip), followed by Sabrina who was carrying a large uninflated air mattress and comforter. She took one look at Nathaniel and clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“What are you, ten?” she asked. “Who the heck wears those to a school trip? You’ve got some nerve, wearing those in front of the whole grade.”

Nathaniel looked down, Marc swallowing nervously, until both sensed Chloe audibly freeze.

“A-Adri-chou...” they heard her say, voice distant, and Marc’s gaze snapped up. “What are you wearing?!”

Nathaniel looked up too, and followed Chloe’s gaze to Adrien who was set up not too far away, wearing the brightest red and black-polka-dotted onesie any of them had ever seen. Marc stared.

“Something wrong?” Adrien asked unconcernedly.

Chloe gaped at him for a good thirty seconds before gathering herself and sashaying off to a different part of the site. Marc couldn’t help himself from giggling. Nathaniel looked at his own pajamas with a small smile, then at Adrien, who offered him a wink and a thumbs up. The redhead grinned.

They entertained themselves by observing the others’ interesting pajamas- mostly generic and typical of their age, but some truly iconic. Max’s night wear still had glow-in-the-dark decals that grew apparent as the sky darkened. Wayem’s pajamas were straight out of one of the Adrien advertisements all over Paris, but he was grateful not to find himself alone- at least four other boys were wearing the exact same ensemble. Juleka’s pajamas, although not looking very comfortable, were a level of gothic style that made even Marc envious. He wondered if he could pull off black lace as well as she did.

And then, it was too dark to even make out who was wearing what. The trees cast shadows as twilight neared, and Mme Mendeleiev finally re-appeared to shout at them again for not being calm and peaceful. Marc lowkey suspected she had been waiting for it to grow dark so no one would comment on her pajamas, and deal with the same as M Damocles suffered for his owl-themed pajamas.

Marc sighed happily, laying back on his sleeping bag, as more and more torsos dipped down and out of view, more and more students lying back to fall asleep. The stars were coming out now, and the sight was truly incredible- most of the students just wanting to lie back and enjoy the view. That was what they were here for, after all. Taking a break from the bright glare of the City of Lights, and appreciating the natural view for what it was. Marc thought back to what Mme had told them- this wasn’t even close to the truly natural, unadulterated night sky. If this wasn’t even comparable, Marc wondered how that must look. He glanced over at Nathaniel, expecting the redhead to have fallen asleep by now, but Nathaniel was wide awake. Marc partially sat up in surprise.

“You’re awake?” he whispered to the redhead. Nath blinked and turned his head.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “I’m lowkey nocturnal, I sleep in the morning and the day, and then I’m wide awake at night and don’t fall asleep until like 3am,” he explained.

“Yike,” Marc said, pulling his blanket over his shoulders after a sudden unexpected breeze. “What do you do?”

“I usually draw my comics then,” Nath answered, supporting his head on one arm. “Some reason I work better then than during the day.”

Marc nodded in understanding, leaning back slightly.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he murmured, wondering suddenly why that phrase seemed so familiar. Nathaniel quietly smirked, looking at him with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“You know what else is beautiful?” he asked quietly, almost daringly, and Marc’s breath caught in his throat. He had to force his mind to go quiet, because this couldn’t possibly be heading where he thought- hoped- wished it was heading.

“Wh- What?” Marc asked, not daring to breathe.

Nathaniel hesitated for a moment (which didn’t help Marc’s nerves at all), smirk slipping slightly. Marc couldn’t read his expression very well in the dark, but Nathaniel’s eyes seemed to be darting nervously.

“Uhh...” Nath started.

“Y-yeah?” Marc asked carefully.

Nathaniel closed his eyes for a full five seconds, then opened them again, looking Marc dead in the eye. Marc’s stomach fluttered nervously.

“You,” Nathaniel breathed, and Marc didn’t even have to silence his mind because it abruptly crashed and shut down right then.

“M-me?” he repeated softly, sounding stupid even to himself.

Nathaniel barely nodded, as much as he could in this position. Their gazes were locked, Marc couldn’t break away even if he tried.

“Really?” Marc asked again, not at all believing him.

“I’ve liked you for a while, now, I just- uh….” Nathaniel said very softly, trailing off.

“Me too,” Marc responded, voice unusually steady. “I like you too.” He wasn’t sure why he kept repeating things but so long as he wasn’t messing up his words this time, he could give in to a bit of stupidity, he supposed.

“So...you like me...and I like you...and we’re here, camped out, under the stars, confessing to each other while everyone else is falling asleep,” Nathaniel summarized unhelpfully, for lack of anything else to say. Marc nodded mutely.

“Yeah, unless I actually have fallen asleep and I’m dreaming, that’s what we’re doing,” he said, willing himself to stop being repetitive.

Nathaniel didn’t say anything for a few moments, then broke into a wide smirk, all but laughing.

“We should make a comic book out of this or something,” he said. “Romantic goals, amirite?”

Marc chuckled quietly.

“I can’t tell if you’re being silly or serious right now,” Marc laughed in both humour and relief.

“Both?” Nath shrugged. “Neither? What do you say?”

“I’d say,” Marc said, poking Nathaniel gently in the arm, “this is all some crazy dream I’m having and I’ll wake up in the morning and none of this will have happened at all.”

“Do I feel real?” Nathaniel asked. Marc frowned, thinking.

“It’s crazy realistic, but for all I know, you could be one of the best dreams I’ve ever had,” Marc said honestly.

“Then why don’t we make it the best?” Nathaniel offered, leaning in and closing the space between them.

Marc pulled away after fifteen seconds, breathless.

“Did that feel real?” Nathaniel asked.

Marc shook his head vigorously, mouth hanging open in surprise. Nathaniel chuckled and sighed, picking up his pillow to swat Marc with it playfully.

“Go to sleep, dork,” he said affectionately. “Maybe when you wake up I can try again and prove it to you.”

But Marc didn’t fall asleep. Marc lay with the widest of smiles on his face, eyes closed, seeing stars.

#nathmarc november #nathmarcnovember #nathmarc #marcnath #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #fluff #crack #miracuclass platonic interactions too #hints of kimdine and kimax and stuff too #just a highly self-indulgent fic #nomnomnom

[sincerely-marigold]

Hurt so Good: A Songfic (Part One)

(So, I’ve been listening to a lot of Mipso lately. They are a glorious bluegrass band from North Carolina and this song came on (not to be confused with Mellencamp’s, which is also brilliant) and I thought, “WOW. This just *sounds* like Tristan and Darren”. It’s a very sweet little tune about falling in love for the first time and just... being bratty kids. Lol. The result was my first ever songfic. If you are unfamiliar with my work, a quick peek at “The Ballad of Virginia Hardwick” on my FF.net account might be helpful so you aren’t totally confused by this modern-day pairing. I’m nearly done with it, but the document is so large that I did not want to spam everyone’s newsfeed with it, so I am uploading it in parts. Yay!) 

Hurt so Good (Part One)

A “Patriot” Oneshot/Songfic by TheCaffeinated Hummingbird

Pairing: Wilkins/OC

She felt badly for him. Being plucked from his hometown at such a young age, tossed back and forth through the Carolinas by both of his parents and adopted by a new, local family before turning 15 would take a toll on anyone. Darren was no exception. They remembered one another from kindergarten and the beginning of grade school. This was before Tristan found her books and Darren found his plethora of varying interests, all leading to the same place—trouble. Cliques formed and grew in impenetrable mats long before the children who were part of them could realize how brutally the excluded one another. During open activities and recess, Tristan and Darren mixed with the others like oil and water and thus, gravitated towards one another. 

Of course, they would find each other. Of course. The magnetism between them was centuries old and counting, altered only by their changing names and the sands of time. At their core, she was Hardwick and he was a Wilkins. That knowing, welcoming glance across the playground on the first day that they spoke would do more than enough to reopen that channel; it would allow them to let the other in and seal that nearly ancient bond. He felt badly for little Tristan, too, that day and so, he made that journey across the playground, unaware of what was being set in motion.

There was something about Tristian that Darren liked. His eyes would often drift to the mirror-like sheen of her obsidian hair that grew to her waist and hung above the floor as she sat, Indian-style, two students in front of him at story time. During other activities, she would sit across the room, always adjacent him, like the loyal, unwavering secondhand of a clock. He thought that she was beautiful, although he didn’t quite understand this concept just yet. She reminded him of one of his mother’s porcelain dolls, fair and round in face with dark eyes that glimmered with a permanent smile. Despite her modern attire of washed out overalls and t-shirts that were once neon but faded by the secondhand cycle for goodness knows how many years, Tristan had a timeless face, like one that you might find in an old-fashioned photograph or in the pages of a storybook.

Somehow, she had managed to hoist herself onto the tallest swing in the set beside the sandbox. She swung her feet, trying to move, but her little legs weren’t powerful enough to give her flight. Thank heavens Darren was so tall! He moved in swiftly, giving her no more and no less than a reaffirming smile. He touched his hands flatly to her back, feeling the sharpness of her shoulder blades and her warm, soft body expanding with air. He might have been too young to comprehend it in full, but those moments of contact that they shared before she shot off into the air, as far away from him as the chains on the swing set would allow, revealed to Darren how precious and fragile she was.

Darren did not know. How could he possibly have known? That this was the same cycle that they had followed through in every life prior? He would have her for only a moment and then have to watch as she flew out of his grasp. Again and again. He held her steady before pushing her away, weaving his hands through the curtain of her long, black, strawberry-scented hair. Her tresses left behind a trail of sweetness on the breeze as she climbed upward into the cloudless sky. Most children would shout, “Higher! Higher!” But not Tristan. All that Darren could hear was a gentle, satisfied trill of laughter in those brief seconds that she was perched on his palms.

They remained in a world all their own until recess finally came to a close. Even after the bell rang, Darren gave Tristan not one, not two, but three tiny voyages across the sky before helping her back down onto the rough, brown earth. She continued to laugh, shyness stealing away most of the volume. The wind had ruffled her otherwise pristine hair and Darren watched with fondness as she patted it back into place, laughing with quiet breathlessness. The teacher shouted for them, but neither moved. At least, not until the moment that Tristan realized that she hadn’t thanked him for the sweetest gesture any of her classmates had ever shown. He was easily three heads taller than any of the other boys his age and Tristan had to get up onto the tips of her toes to… well, once she decided what she was going to do, there was no stopping little Tristan Stone!

Spurts of laughter sounded from the perimeter of the playground where their classmates had assembled, dumping sand from their shoes and lining up for the fluoride-rich water of the drinking fountain. Darren didn’t mind the ridicule. Neither of them did, really. The warm, partially damp brush of her lips against his cheek and the semi-tight wrapping of her arms around his waist were all that mattered, really. Many would argue that the human heart needs years of wear and tear, a certain accumulation of knowledge and understanding in order to feel love. I say that a heart knows how to love from its very first beat. What’s more, his heart was made to love her, and it did. As her face disappeared against the netting of his jersey, Darren felt his chest begin to throb. It was a familiar pain, one that you might feel moments before crying. But he did not cry. All at once, joy rushed in to anesthetize that aching, making it fairer and identifiable only to those who have loved in full.

It would take years for Tristan to make that same discovery. She and Darren would play together until the day that he left Waterford for Raleigh. Once he was gone, she would find solace and friendship in the library. She never played again. But she also never forgot, despite the kinship that she formed with the consistent and unfailing characters of science and mathematics. Tristan never let go of the sweet, ephemeral memory of human contact. There were other boys in Waterford who tried to befriend her. The witty, charismatic lads of her junior high debate team and the young Einsteins of the science club. Any one of them could have easily filled the void in her heart, any one of them would have been a more compatible match, but it was not meant to be and so, fate saw to it that it merely did not happen.

Tristan’s first weeks of high school passed in a blur. She rejected involvement of any kind, befriending only a handful of teachers and the exceptionally kind librarian who allowed her to have her lunch in the stacks. She was coming into her own, as anyone could see and no longer donned those overalls, t-shirts and cross trainers, stained red by the natural Carolina clay that collected on them as she trudged through the neighboring woods for her biology “experiments”. Her part-time job as a docent at the Waterford Planetarium provided her with just enough income to acquire a collection of jeans, jean jackets and eyeliner, all in varying shades of grey and black.  Unapproachability, that was what she thrived for and she did not disappoint.

One late afternoon, several months into her freshman year, Tristan was scrambling from the heart of the library to where its exit met the hallway. Her lunch period had ended over five minutes ago and she had missed the transition bell’s chime from over her headphones and grey hood. The next grouping of students were already migrating down the hall to the cafeteria and a noisy cluster of boys wearing their brand new letterman jackets cut her off. They grouped around a table by the computers, dumping cans of Pringles of every variety across the surface and hardly paying any mind to the pieces that had fallen onto the carpet.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” Tristan growled, “there’s a geography class going on by the maps two stacks over.��

The boys elected their candidate to scare Tristan off, a portly bully by the name of Chris, nicknamed “Crispy” by the others. Not only was the freckled redhead with a permanent scowl intimidating, he knew how to identify just about anyone’s weakness and cut straight to their heart with very few words. “We can go anywhere we want!” He gave her an ugly glare. “Unlike you. Hiding in the library at lunch because you don’t have any friends. How pathetic!”

The other boys munched rudely at their Pringles, one initiated a quarrel by pulling a vial of Sriracha from his sleeve, soiling the smorgasbord and drenching the table with bright red. They were perfectly intent on watching the ‘show’, save for one. Darren watched at the center of the group with a straight face as Tristan’s large, dark eyes filled with unconcealable pain. She stood her ground for a moment more, staring daggers at each glutenous jock. She didn’t break contact once to look at the floor or shed a tear, but as their laughter swelled, she stepped back. Darren stood immediately. What his next step would be, shush his friends or go after her, he could not tell. Tristan looked at him last, confused by how familiar he was, pained by how unpleasant the reunion with her one friend was turning out to be.

“What?!” Was the single, defensive word that she gave him before storming away. TO BE CONTINUED.

#songfic #mipso #fanfic #the patriot fanfiction #fanfiction #wilkins #oc #writing #writer

[silhouetted-beauty]

Keep Quiet

Word Count: 2,936

Warning: Nothing but smut mixed with fluff.

A/N: I had to change it up a little in this story. I feel like we always read about Suga as the controlling, dominating, aggressive guy (and there is nothing wrong with that, trust me. I like all forms of this man). But I feel like there will be times when he will turn into an absolute sweetheart for his girlfriend… when she is not bugging him. ^^ Please enjoy!

You entered into the boys’ dorm which was a lot quieter than it usually was. Earlier while you were at work, your boyfriend had called you and asked if you could stop by his place. He didn't tell you why and got a little irritated when you kept pestering him for the reason. Knowing Yoongi, he was secretly plotting something. There were rare times when he would do romantic things for you. He would keep to himself, preparing everything on his own just to show you how special you are to him. Sometimes he would get annoyed at you when you questioned his actions but that was only because he was nervous, although he would never admit it. At the end of the day, you two would snuggle up together, pleased at how it all turned out.

You took off your shoes, unaware that someone was seeking your attention. You heard a small whimper and turned to see a tiny brown puppy excited to see you. Dropping to your knees, you greeted him.

"Hi Holly! Have you been a good boy?" Rubbing the playful dog in your arms. "Yes you have. Yes you have."

You stood up, still holding Holly. Glancing around the room, there wasn't a person in sight. "Come on," you spoke. "Let's go see what daddy is up to."

The place didn't look any different from how it usually was. Maybe you were wrong about Yoongi's motives after all. You opened the door to his shared room, thinking he might be inside. Of course he was there. His headphones were on and his laptop was opened. He was working. As soon as you found who you were looking for, Holly wanted out of your arms and into the arms of his owner. You sat him down and watched him scurry to Yoongi, jumping into his lap. He easily became distracted and removed his headphones.

"Sorry to disturb you while you were working." You teased. Yoongi's head whipped in your direction, finally noticing your presence.

"I wasn't working, I was just keeping myself occupied."

"Yeah? Doing what?" When he realized he was working, he became defensive.

"Did you come here to interrogate me?"

"No, I came here to spend time with my boyfriend." You giggled, walking over to stand behind him planting a kiss on his neck. He smelled so masculine, it drove your hormones crazy. "Where's the rest of the gang?"

Yoongi placed Holly on the floor and grabbed your hand, guiding you around to sit on his lap. "I asked them to leave for the day."

"Why did you do that?" You asked curiously, already knowing what he was going to say. You just like hearing it.

"It's been awhile so I thought we could have date night. We could order your favorite food to be delivered and watch a movie or whatever you want to do."

"Aww Yoongi-poo! You left your schedule open to spend the day with me? That's so sweet of you!" You teased, watching his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"If you're going to ruin the moment, you can leave." He turned his head away embarrassed. You laughed.

"I'm sorry. That sounds like a wonderful idea," you kissed his lips. "Thanks babe."

The two of you sat in the kitchen waiting for the food to arrive. You were sitting on the counter and Yoongi moved to stand between your legs. His arms wrapped around you, resting his hands on your ass and your arms draped loosely around his neck. You smiled, taking in his presence.

"I'm really happy you are back. You don't know how much I've missed you." You kissed the top of his head.

"Yeah I missed you, too. But the good news is that I have a couple weeks to relax before I have to leave again."

"Does that mean we'll get to spend more time together?!" You asked excitedly.

"I can't make any promises but I'll try to makes as much space in my schedule for you."

You smiled and nodded, deciding not to push the subject further. The kiss was supposed to be a quick peck but it soon became heavy. The sounds of your wet tongues and breathing were all that could be heard from the kitchen. Yoongi's strong warm hands entered under your shirt, running up your back. Your hands tangled in his hair in an effort to pull his body as close to you as humanly possible. This went on for some time before he broke away.

"Can you stay the night?"

"That depends, am I allowed to?"

"I didn't ask the guys to leave just because," he replied smartly. "I don't want anyone to disturb us when I take you tonight. I want to hear you moan as loud as you can for me."

"I can definitely do that."

You leaned in for another kiss only to be stopped by the sounds of someone knocking on the front door. You and Holly waited on the couch as Yoongi retrieved the food. Deciding on a mystery thriller, the two of you ate and watched the movie, having small debates along the way. You snuggled up close to him, laying you head on his shoulder and your arm around the front of his waist.

Halfway through the movie, the beeping of the door followed by noisy chattering of six voices flooded the living room.

"Hey hyung, hey noona. What are you guys doing?" Jungkook asked curiously.

"Oh cool! You ordered food!" Taehyung yelled as he ran over to the table, eyeing the leftovers. He didn't ask for permission to have some and immediately started eating.

"What are you guys watching?" Hoseok asked, leaning over the back of the couch separating you and Yoongi.

By now, your once quiet romantic evening was being invaded by the other members. Jungkook and Taehyung ate the remainder of the food, you and Jimin were having a conversation, Hoseok was pestering Yoongi, and Jin and Namjoon commented on the movie. Yoongi's was getting pissed by the second. This was not how he saw this day going. He abruptly stood, drawing everyone's attention.

"Y/n wait here. Everyone else in the bedroom."

You watched them all get up and leave out the room. Once inside the bedroom, the door was shut rather harshly.

~

-Meanwhile in the room-

"I thought you guys were staying the night out?" Yoongi questioned.

"Yeah... we thought it over and we wanted to come back." Jungkook answered sheepishly.

"Why?"

"You weren't the only one that just came back from tour. We wanted to rest at home, in our rooms, in our own bed." Jin replied crossing his arms.

"But you knew what tonight was. I had asked you guys to stay out for a reason."

"Well if it's that important to you, why don't you guys just go to her apartment like you usually do?" Taehyung joined in.

"Why can't we spend time here for once? Why can't we just have a moment to ourselves?"

"Because you live with six other guys. Privacy no longer exists." Jin stated as a matter of fact.

Yoongi was about lost his temper and Namjoon noticed, quickly offering a solution. "You guys can continue your date and we won't bother you. We'll just stay in our rooms for the night. Will that help?"

Yoongi didn't answer, instead he walked out of the room slamming the door behind him. He dropped down on the couch next to you and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was pissed and you could tell. You wanted to calm him down but was worried you would say something that would set him off further.

"Please don't be upset, Yoongi. We could still have a good time."

"It's just the one time I ask them to do something for me, they don't want to. They can be very insensitive sometimes and right now it's driving me crazy! I shouldn't have to always leave home to spend time with you." He leaned forward resting his head in his hands. "I just wanted everything to be perfect and for you to be happy."

You stood up and kneeled in front of him. "I am happy, Yoongi. It didn't matter if the boys were here or not. What's important to me is that you thought about me enough to make time in your schedule for us to spend time together."

Yoongi lifted his head and kissed your lips. He leaned back to look into your eyes. The fire in his eyes had died down a bit and seemed calmer. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

You pecked his lips again. "Yes, I'm positive."

The boys kept their word and stayed hidden. The two of you settled back on the couch to watch the remainder of the movie. Yoongi was stretched out, lying on his back while you rested on top of him, between his legs. Due to you being at work all day and listening to his heartbeat, you were beginning to doze off. He hadn't spoken for awhile and you were sure he had already fallen asleep. You shifted, throwing your leg over his, leaving one to rest in between his. Doing this, you unintentionally rubbed against his groin. Instantly waking up, you let your mind run wild with thoughts of fucking Yoongi on the couch and became horny. He was only dressed in sweats and a simple black shirt so it wouldn't be difficult to access his member. Your hand moved to the inside of his pants. You slowly stroked him, rubbing your thumb along the head of his penis over his slit. Slowly but surely he was growing harder in your palm. So much so that he pressed right against your covered pussy. You removed your hand and braced yourself on the couch to lightly grind on him. You heard Yoongi's deep voice mumble something but you couldn't understand it. Glancing up at him, his eyes were closed and you thought he was just talking in his sleep. This time you angled yourself so that his bulge rubbed against your clit. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning. You could already feel your panties absorbing your wetness. Your head was down, watching what you were doing to him. Both of his hands rested on your hips, helping you grind on him. Initially, you were stunned but when you look at Yoongi, not only were his eyes open but he had a smirk on his face.

"Why so surprised?" He teased.

"I didn't think you were awake."

"So you thought I wouldn't catch my little vixen in the act, trying to get herself off without me?"

"Does that mean we can still have sex? I'm so horny, Yoongi." You whined. He chuckled and nodded.

He was about to pull you on top of him but you stopped him. You eased further down his legs until your whole body nested in between them. Grabbing the waistband of his sweats, you pulled them down letting his cock spring free. Your mouth watered at the sight. You missed how he tasted and how he would grow in your mouth. You held his cock up by the tip, planting soft wet kisses up the shaft. You moved your hand so that your mouth could latch on to the head, sucking away all the precum that tried to escape. Yoongi groaned above you, sitting up to remove his shirt. He watched you take more of him in. The tip of your tongue traced over the band of tissue connecting the head to his shaft. You knew that spot made his toes curl. And just as you figured, you heard him take a deep breath. You held onto the base of his cock and slowly bobbed your head in a rhythmic manner. Yoongi's hand tangled in your hair, helping you with your movements. The movie had long since ended, and the light from the TV illuminated your bodies. When you looked up at Yoongi, his head was leaning back and his lips were parted as he enjoyed the feeling you gave him.

Your hand stroked his cock at moderate pace as you moved to place his balls in your mouth. Knowing how sensitive they were, you handled them with great care. Each tender sphere jumped around your small pink tongue. Yoongi's grip tightened on your hair before releasing it all together and pushing you away.

"Baby, stop before you make me cum over that pretty face." He grunted.

You sat up and watched him undress out of his pants, letting you know it was time to remove your clothes. Yoongi stood to help you, allowing you to lie back on the couch where he just was once you were naked. He spread your legs and situated himself between them. He leaned forward and took a nice long lick up your slit before resting back on his ankles, bringing his middle and ring fingers to his mouth wetting them. He placed them at your opening and shoved them inside. Right away, Yoongi fucked you on his fingers at an extremely fast pace. You could feel yourself dripping onto the couch but the movement of his fingers had you lost for words.

"If we are going to do this then we have to be as quiet as possible. I don't want them disturbing us again. Do you understand?" You opened your mouth to talk but nothing came out. "Y/n, do you hear me?"

You knew that if you had opened your mouth to answer, the entire apartment complex would know what Yoongi was doing to you. You nodded your head in agreement. He removed his hands, bringing his wet fingers to his lips licking away your sweet nectar. He leaned forward, guiding his cock to your entrance only leaving the tip inside before resting on his forearms. Yoongi bucked his hips causing him to slide into your warmth. You were seconds away from moaning out but Yoongi covered your mouth with his own. He slowly rocked his hips into yours, making love to your body in the most sensual way. You rested your hands on to his smooth back, pulling him in closer. You suck on his tongue as he pushes your legs further apart with his body. Yoongi gave you slow but deep thrusts, rolling his hips into yours. His actions only made you want him even more. You hungrily play with his tongue but all administrations stop when you both hear a light whine by your heads. Breaking the kiss, you both look towards the sound and find Holly staring at you two with doe eyes and his head resting on the cushion.

You are the first to turn away, quietly giggling. You pepper kisses on Yoongi's neck.

"I guess I'm not the only one who wants your attention tonight." You whisper in his ear.

"Fuck! Out of all the nights..." he mumbles to himself, trying to think of what to do. The last thing he wanted was his dog watching him have sex. Using gestures, Yoongi tried to get Holly to lie on his dog bed.

"Yoongi..." you moaned out, rolling your hips. He turned his attention back to you and kisses your lips. Thrusting into you once before Holly whimpered again.

"Min Holly..." Yoongi groaned in frustration as he looked back at his puppy. "I promise I will give you all the attention you want, just give me thirty minutes."

As if he understood every word, Holly walked away. You shook your head, amazed at what just happened.

"That's why I love that dog. He understands me," Yoongi chuckled and looked down at you. "Now, let me tend to my other spoiled baby."

His lips were on you in seconds. Sucking a purple mark on your neck. His hip movements were deep but now his thrusts were filled with a bit more urgency. You looped your arms under his and held onto his shoulders. Biting into his collarbone to keep from screaming. Feeling the tight pinch in his skin and your muffled moans only motivated Yoongi to move faster. Rotating your hip upwards and spreading your legs wider, he was able to slip deeper inside of your pussy. Yoongi moved to lay behind you, lifting your leg in the air. In this position he was hitting spots you never knew existed.

"Fuck... Yoongi..." you breathlessly cried.

He held you as close as he could. His arm came up under yours and rested at the base of your throat. He turned your head to connect to your lips. You cried in his mouth as a signal that you were near your end.

"All most there baby." Yoongi groaned, pumping his dick in you faster.

He could feel every detail about your velvety wet center when you squeezed around him. You had entered into another dimension when your orgasm passed through you. You couldn't speak or hear but only feel Yoongi's cock guide you out of it. His thrusts started to subside soon after, unloading a never ending string of cum to paint your walls. You both lay there breathlessly, softly pecking each other lips.

"I love you." Yoongi smiled.

"I love you too, Yoongi-bear."

He groaned causing you to giggle but a clearing of the throat interrupt the moment. You both look at the doorway to find Namjoon with his eyes covered.

"Now that you two had a good night, Yoongi I think you need to clean up after Holly before-" The shriek of Jin's voice echoed through the dorm. "Jin stepped in it." Namjoon sighed.

~

©2017 Silhouetted_Beauty

#yoongi #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #bts yoongi smut #bts min yoongi #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts suga #suga smut #yoongi scenario #suga scenario #bts imagines #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

[hejin57-blog]

MUSIC MASTERS: CD ONE

Might want to rewind a bit...

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RETURN OF THE SPACE COWBOY: PART SIX

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To any other person, today might seem like a perfect winter day.  There was but a light blanket of snow covering the streets and buildings in Akihabara, and even the normally noisy city ambiance was restrained in its intensity.

But all Arashi could focus on was that snide smirk on the face of the young man across from him.

They sat together by the window side in a small cafe, having ordered drinks and little else.  Arashi's remained untouched, but his companion had already taken a few greedy sips.

He was dressed in a nice chalk gray suit, hair slicked back and fingernails trimmed to perfection.  His aftershave reeked like gasoline, and despite all of his nice clothes, one could still see the fanged teeth of his dragon tattoo visible on the bare skin of his collar.

Arashi's eyes remained hidden as always under his sunglasses, and he held back any reaction as the man spoke.  From when he first arrived, he had originally introduced himself as Sho.

"This is a pretty nice neighborhood, you know?  I like it here.  I'd like to raise some kids here some day.  Get me a nice girl and have a nice little family." he remarked, looking on wistfully onto the street as people bustled on by.

Arashi said nothing in response.  Whatever games this man wanted to play, he would be no part of them.

Sho wasn't too fond of that, of course.  "Your sister is a nice girl.  I saw her once at the arcade.  She's really a looker.  She's, what, sixteen now?"

To Sho's surprise, Arashi didn't flinch.  He did, however, answer back.

"I'd like to think you called me here to discuss more than just my sister."

Sho smiled.  More than one of his teeth were clearly fake.  "Well, actually no.  God Symphony sent me to speak to you, that much is true, but Nami is very much the subject of today's discussion."

The man leaned in, clasping his fingers together.  There was something very uncomfortable about the knowing smile on his face.

"We'd like to offer her a job." he said, quite frankly.

"Really now?" Arashi replied, feigning just the slightest bit of interest, if it would end this infernal meeting any sooner.  Arashi had always despised these Yakuza and their underhanded dealings, but for them to be Music Masters as well just made the whole situation all the more unpleasant.

"Don't be so surprised.  I mean, let's face it, there's a lot of untapped potential there.  We could use a Music Master like her for some of the bigger stuff.  Plus, the big boss seems to be a fan of hers.  Says he goes to see her at Shori-Platinum once a month, at least."

Arashi's eyes narrowed under his sunglasses.  He understood the situation perfectly now.

"My sister in your organization?  Out of the question.  I'm sorry, but you've wasted your time."

Despite the sternness in Arashi's tone, Sho was far from finished.  "Oh come on.  The perks are pretty nice.  Good money, and just imagine the respect she'll get from those regular Yakuza who don't even know what we can do.  The job's to die for, I'll tell you."

By this point in time, Arashi was standing up.  He was in the process of counting bills in his pocket to pay for his drink when the man's tone changed from friendly to threatening.

"Did I forget to mention something?  I wanted to be respectful and come to you as a formality.  But if you're going to be like this, then I have no problem letting my men know that they can pick up Nami within the hour."

His snide grin was all too real for Arashi now.  Defensive words seemed stuck in his mind as the man continued.

"The bill's on me.  Sit back down and get comfortable." Sho assured, clearly in the position of power now.

Like a lapdog, Arashi slowly took a seat again.  Even with all the seething rage boiling inside him from this criminal's threats, Arashi's expression never changed in slightest.

"Now we're going to make this very simple." Sho explained, taking a wad of yen bills out of his pocket as he counted out the tab for their drinks.  "You're going to take me to your sister, and you're going to explain to her that God Symphony has offered her a wonderful position that you highly suggest she take.  She'll be going abroad for awhile per her assignment, but you'll see her again."

"And if I don't?" Arashi stated, not a hint of fear present in his tone of voice.

"Then I will personally find her, and I will personally drag her out of that arcade kicking and screaming.  And let me assure you that you won't see her again in this lifetime."

With that, the suit-wearing man put out for a handshake, basking in the power of his threat.

"Are we at an understanding, Nagataki-san?"

Many thoughts went through Arashi's head before he took the man's hand.

One thought surfaced among them as he replied.

"I'll take you to her."

Sho smiled, now clearly satisfied.

Arashi knew that he would have only one chance at this, lest Nami disappear from his life this very night.

-----

It was only a half-mile walk between the cafe and Shori-Platinum, but it felt like an eternity for Arashi.  Meanwhile Sho seemed to be talking with him as if they'd been friends for years.  Every laugh and joke were only made worse by the threat beneath them.  Still, it gave Arashi the time he needed to mentally plan out the situation.  Anything to stop this degenerate and his Ensemble from forcing his sister into their ranks.

They were only two blocks away when Arashi found the secluded alleyway he'd pictured in his mind while they shook his hands at the cafe.  As they passed it, the boy stumbled, pretending as if he dropped something on the ground.

"Excuse me.  Strong drink, I guess." he commented in his best joking tone.

His music player tumbled out of his jacket pocket, and through sleight of hand, Arashi subtly reached for it.  With his headphones already resting around his neck, he could have a song effect up in a few seconds.

His finger was just above the controls when he heard an audible click, and felt cold metal press against the side of his head.

"What, did you think I was born yesterday?  I might be a Music Master, but I haven't forgotten the good old-fashioned way of doing things." Sho declared, as he held his gun steadfast on the now kneeling Arashi.  "Or is this just your way of trying to say that you'd prefer to die in this alley, while your dear sister never finds out what happened to you?"

Arashi said nothing as the moment of tension held him in place.  He felt his own breath, heard each thump of his own heartbeat, but despite it all, he willed himself to remain calm.

Nearby, the sound of a dog barking distracted Sho for but a moment.  He turned his head expecting bystanders, and in that split-second, Arashi reacted.

There was a loud crack as the gun went off, but Arashi had been fast enough to knock Sho's arm aside and avoid the bullet by a hair.  He pushed forward with all his might, slamming Sho into the brick wall of the side street.  Having clicked play on his music player, all Arashi needed to do was hold him down for but a few seconds more.

Arashi felt a punch across his face, and a kick to his stomach, causing him to stagger back.  Sho's snide smile was now gone, replaced with an expression of pure rage as he closed his fists in preparation for a beating.

"Or maybe shooting you is too easy.   Well, I haven't gotten my hands dirty in awhile, so I'll make sure to take my time." he assured the Japanese teen through his teeth, not initially aware of the music now playing in the air.

-----

-----

It was when he tried to take a step forward that he realized something was very wrong.  His arm wouldn't move from the wall, as is someone was physically holding him in place.  Sho tried his legs but they too were stuck, firmly grappled into position.

Arashi stood up, shooting back at Sho a cold stare, as the former Yakuza realized that large, red-fingered hands emerging from the wall itself were what was keeping him still.  They manifested from heart-shaped graffiti now sprayed all over the wall, and their grip was seemed unbreakable no matter how hard Sho struggled.

The music was so inconsequential to Arashi, and he addressed Sho with the same lack of emotion even as Concept of Love played in the air around them.

"I would tell you to inform God Symphony that my sister won't be accepting their offer, but I sense you won't be seeing them again in this lifetime." Arashi told him without mercy, mentally pushing his song effect to finish its deadly task.

Sho could only scream as he felt his entire body being pulled back into the street wall itself.  

There was no blood, as each of his particles seems to de-atomize as they were painfully integrated into the matter of the brick and mortar.  

Sho's hands grasped out weakly as the tiny graffiti-hearts with their red-fingered hands pulled him into the wall as if was the depths of hell.

But a few seconds later, and the wall itself now showed only an extravagant graffiti design of red hearts and arrows.  No sign of Sho remained beyond the silver handgun he'd left behind.

Holding it in right hand, Arashi held the piece of evidence forward.  Like urban gremlins, the red-fingered Sentonals grasped at the silver weapon, deconstructing it into the wall in the same manner as the human before.  

Satisfied now, Arashi stopped his music, and in response, the graffiti design disappeared.  Now all that remained was the blank alley wall that Sho had been standing in front of just moments before.

The transition from having just killed someone to thinking about his sister took but a second.

Nami was probably hungry by now, Arashi thought, from all her dancing at the arcade.

He would make tonight special for her.  A new ramen shop had just opened by Shori-Platinum, and knowing his sister's childhood love for the dish, he had a feeling she would be more than happy to try it out.

She wouldn't leave his side just yet, no matter who God Symphony sent.

-----

Arashi's eyes snapped open.

He remained sitting cross legged among the detritus of Semi-Sound, having been pondering their situation for almost an hour.

The memories of his encounter with Sho over a year ago never became any less real.  

The true reason behind their issues with God Symphony, the fact that their debt to them was Nami herself, was something that still remained with him and him alone to this day.  

And though God Symphony never did make the connection between Arashi and Sho's disappearance, they had only backed off so much from their pursuit of Nami.  With that old man appearing at the arcade so brazenly, Arashi knew it was only a matter of time before they made their move and took her by force if necessary.

And he could never tell Nami a word of this.  It would only cause her to act rashly and take her focus away from the task at hand.

Realizing his mind was wandering too long, Arashi physically shook himself.  Clearly the time for thoughts was over.  He lifted himself up, suddenly feeling somewhat naked without his sunglasses.

He mentally noted to pick up a replacement pair before he tracked down Nami to the nearby arcade.

With so few of them left in this country, it fortunately made it relatively easy to pin her down.

All Arashi could think of now was how he would reconcile with her.  Apologizing had never been his strong point, and right now he needed Nami to be in top form if they would have but a chance at tracking down Rob Prototype.

But as Arashi walked along, his foot nudged a seemingly innocuous instrument nearby.  There was a sound of strings being strummed as they popped against the ground, and Arashi's eyes now focused on the white bass guitar that laid on the floor beside him.

That would have been it, until he saw an unmistakable detail on its pristine white surface.  In the shape of a small thumb print, fresh blood stained the bass guitar's painted surface.

In the span of a few seconds, the entire fight with Rob Prototype and Michael seemed to playback in front of his eyes.  He remembered each movement from the afro-headed teen, and noted his dripping blood originating from both of Nami's previous attacks.  

Though he hadn't seen it, Arashi quickly inferred that even in his weakened state, Rob had attempted to use this very same bass guitar.  And in the chaos, some of Michael's blood had gotten onto him, leaving physical proof of his contact with the instrument.

And physical contact for a Synkronized Music Master meant everything.

But rather than destroy it, Arashi picked up the bass in his hands, marveling at the beauty in its craftsmanship.

Suddenly this guitar had become very important.  

Like some sort of glowing lure to a starving fish, it was something that even the stoic Rob would never be able to resist.

-----

Michael couldn't remember the last time he gotten so little sleep and felt this good.

For almost four hours he'd remained alone inside of the sound studio, practicing with a new song effect that he'd only decided on using out of desperation.

But there had been no fear in him when he'd Harmonized, and luckily it didn't kill him in the process.

When Michael finally emerged at 3 AM, there wasn't a single drop of sweat on his body despite the hours of dancing.  

Expecting to see Colleen waiting with her arms crossed as he entered the living room, Michael kept any grin or smile off his face in an attempt to seem somewhat regretful.  Anything to lessen the blow of having to explain everything.

Instead, Michael was met with the sight of his older sister fast asleep on the loveseat.  She looked peaceful and uncharacteristically relaxed.

Next to her, Rob was breathing normally, now sitting up and awake.

Michael was about to open his mouth and loudly exclaim his relief, when Rob quickly put a finger to his lips.  Thankfully, that was enough for his nephew to remain silent.

Motioning for his nephew to follow him, Rob walked with slow and clearly weak steps towards the soundproof studio.

When they were finally inside, and Rob clicked the door locked behind him, Michael's words seemed to come out all at once.

"Look Rob, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean any of it.  Please, please don't leave again.  Colleen's already going to ki-"

Rob put a hand over his mouth as quickly as he could, though it was a somewhat joking gesture.

"This place is only so soundproof, Michael.  You really want to wake her up already?" he said, before taking his hand away and brandishing a smile.

"Good point." Michael replied, now clearly more relaxed.  "You feeling any better?"

"Still alive, it seems.  You pulled some stunt back there." Rob commented, but Michael seemed steadfast in his defense of himself.

"Hey, if I could bamf my way out of there, I would have.  You're one amazing Music Master."

As Michael smiled, Rob began to stagger.  Grabbing onto his nephew, he found himself sliding down onto the polished wood floor to rest.  Michael knelt down as Rob took in each labored breath before finally speaking.

"Not without my bass.  That guitar...I've had it since before you were born."

Michael searched for any hint of reassurance on his uncle's face, but it was always hard to tell what he was thinking under his wide-brimmed cap.

"It can be replaced, right?  Maybe if we got to Audio Empire, we can fin-"

"No!  It can't be replaced!" Rob said as he cut him off.  "But the next best thing is waiting for me at Semi-Sound.  And the longer I spend away from it, the worse these spells are going to get.  When you're Synkronized, your body craves a musical connection.  If I can just get my hands on that white bass..."

Michael stood up quickly now, realizing the magnitude of the situation for once.  "Are you crazy?  You want to go back to the place where we both almost got killed?  Tell you what, why don't I text Calvin and tell him to go get the bass for you.  He'll answer once he figures out this is an emergency."

"You're the crazy one if you think I'm having any of your friends getting involved in my mistake.  Besides, I still have my cassette player.  I'll be fine." His uncle assured, putting his hand on Michael's shoulder as he began to stand up.

It seemed Rob was perfectly fine for the moment, his posture strong and confident.  Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds for his legs to begin to buckle and Michael was holding him up for support.

"This is all my fault, Michael." Rob admitted as the weight of the situation dawned upon him.  "It's my problem, and I need you here, so Colleen at least doesn't completely freak when she wakes up."

But his words just bounced off Michael.  His nephew looked back at him with confidence in his eyes.

"I haven't seen you for ten years, Rob.  You really think that I'm going to let you walk to your death, just like that?  I know everybody thinks I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

Rob said nothing in response.  He had forgotten in all these years what it was like to have people by his side like this.  Faces like Seth and Lex felt like they belonged in another lifetime.

"You need backup, and you know it.  So either we go together, or I go by myself." Michael declared as his ultimatum, though he was only somewhat sure Rob had no way of stopping him in this state.

If Rob was debating this decision, then Michael sure couldn't tell.  

"I've been practicing all night with a new song.  I think I can take that girl now." the boy added.

Rob simply adjusted his cap as he forced himself to stand up straight.

"Then we should head out now.  It's our best bet at avoiding them." Rob suggested, much to Michael's happiness.  He grinned wide as he opened the door to the studio.

Michael was smart enough to whisper as they quietly checked for Colleen.  Thankfully, she was still fast asleep as before.

Words seemed to just roll out of Michael's mouth as they left through the lobby of Rob's building.  Talking had always been his stress reliever, and this situation was no different.

"Just wait until you see this new song.  Those two won't even see it coming."

Rob nodded as he allowed his nephew to continue, ignoring the pain of keeping his movements as consistent as possible.

"That girl was all talk anyway.  I mean, I didn't actually fight her now that I think about it, but really, just how bad can she be?"

-----

Nami shook her head as the competition walked away.  She could feel frustration building even more inside her even as she stared at her perfect score.  Her former opponent, meanwhile, hadn't even come close to an eighth of her points, and they weren't even playing on Heavy difficulty.  Worse yet, they didn't even look the least bit affected by their loss.  

This so-called St. Marks Place Arcade had turned out to be a nest of clowns.  In addition to the fakes that called themselves players, there were no people to cheer her on, nor were there any adoring fans to ask her for dance lessons or signatures on their body pillows.

As Nami sat down at a booth nearby, she buried her face in her arms.  Their poor excuse for ramen remained untouched once she'd taken the first sip.

All in all, this had been the worst day ever in quite some time.  As she looked up, she found herself actually missing her annoying spectators and fans.  She missed Japan, she missed the lights and sounds of Shori-Platinum, and she even missed her ungrateful brother.

But most of all, she missed winning.  To lose against Rob Prototype was a personal affront, and even here against these losers, victory felt beyond meaningless.

Nami hid her face back into her arms, silently praying that they had never taken this job in the first place.

An answer to her prayer came from across the table, from a voice she knew better than anyone else's.

"All is not yet lost." Arashi said in Japanese.

She looked up, narrowing her eyes angrily.  Her brother sat in front of her, arms laid out in front of him and a shiny new pair of black sunglasses on his face.

"I'm sorry, Nami.  I should have started with that." he admitted with his best apologetic tone.  It took a few seconds, but the frown on her face shifted to a smirk.

"Eh, I was getting bored of beating everyone here anyway.  So did you take out Prototype-san all by yourself?" she joked, as she chuckled through the gap in her teeth.

"Of course not." Arashi replied, his tone shifting back to be more serious.  "But I need you back at the store with me.  I sense he'll be back sooner than we think."

Nami was looking off into space now, joy beginning to rise in her chest as she began to fathom the thought that they might not have lost just yet.  "How can you be so sure he'll be back?"

In response, Arashi picked up the white bass guitar from underneath the table.  Nami's eyes widened as she noticed the spot of blood upon it, but she quickly grinned with satisfaction once the dots connected in her mind.

"This should be proof enough.  I have a plan, Nami.  And it accounts for his nephew, if he shows his face as well.  I'm going to need you to keep him busy so I can handle Rob uninterrupted."

At the sound of her brother's words, Nami was now truly listening.

She leaned in close as she made a joyfully devious declaration in response.

"Keep Afro-kun busy?  Oh Nii-san, I'll do a lot more than that..."

Fast forward to the next track...

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