#still deserved to be dragged by Bloody tho

[popcornforone]

Fan Fic based on Joel Miller

Knuckles

It’s fitting, that after episode 4 I should post a soft Joel Miller fan fic. I know there’s a lot of Joel stuff going about at the moment & he deserves it. But I wanted to do something very soft for him. & then it took a dark turn.

Synopsis: Joel & you have been partners & friends for almost 3 years, but one incident may lead into something more.

Warning: obviously this is based on the last of us tv show so there is an apocalypse theme. Angst & violence, abuse, pts, talk of death & execution, injury detail, vultures & creeps (you can say no in real life don’t be pressured into it) swearing, drinking & pain killer taking. Most of it is pining wanting & fluff tho. This is set before he meets Tess. Let me know if I’ve missed a warning off

Thanks as always for the read peoples, it’s really appreciated. All feedback is welcome.

He hits the deck hard. So hard that the entire Boston QZ probably heard it. You just stood there looking at Joel, knuckles bloodied & bruised, face angered & rage burning in the back of his black eyes. You had no idea that your friend would ever be driven to do this. The soft quiet man who just got on & didn’t ask any questions about anything & kept himself to himself, even with you, has just knocked a vulture out cold. Blood spewing out everywhere, eyes glazed over.

You were claiming your rations while he was busy getting “Information” about your next potential job, when you were interrupted by this guy. He’s at least 5 years younger than you, all pent up with anger, ready to explode like everyone else. But it was when after his feeble attempt to flirt with you, which you turned him down, that he started to make a scene. You tried to walk away after the comment about helping to repopulate that planet, but he didn’t take no for an answer & slapped you around the face before gripping your chin, which you know will leave marks there in the cold light of day. The next thing you know Joel’s come from out of nowhere to defend your honour, & after some initial words said to each other, which Joel had thought he’d resolved, the guy gave him what will eventually become a black eye calling you a smuggling whore whose dried up in all places. That’s what made Joel snap & he rugby tackled him into a wall & stated pounding him.

Dragging you away from the scene so that FEDRA don’t catch up with the two of you, he takes your hand & doesn’t look you in the face. “We gotta move baby” he says taking your hand into his palm. You squeeze it tightly & he winces, he’s clearly ruptured a nerve or broken something. You don’t want to look at how bad your own face looks when you eventually get to your apartment, let alone have to deal with his as well, but you know if it’s as bad as you imagine, his hand is likely to get infected or need setting, to heal. “Joel…” but he shhh you as he hears footsteps around the corner from your building. He doesn’t care who it is, he just wants to run Across the road & get you both upstairs so you can sit in a awkward silence, never mentioning that he may have just killed a random person, neither of you stayed around long enough to check. The group walk past & you both dash & slide into the lobby of your building, & fly up the three flights of stairs to your floor.

10 years of this pandemic have changed both your worlds, your life before the world changed & the infected becoming a thing was simple & happy, but now it’s solving all sorts of issues & trying to make a life to some extent. Surviving day to day is always an up hill struggle, in this new world. But to have found a best friend along the way was something unexpected. You lived together as you provided information to his brother Tommy & told him good places to smuggle or get his other supplies. You wanted more though. You know you never can with Joel. His heartbreak from Outbreakday still haunts him to this day. He wakes up from nightmares shouting Sarah’s name as he tussles. You saying it will be alright is his main comfort, that & the watch, never repaired, frozen in time for those few precious moments. She’s always with him.

“Joel for fuck sake, did you kill him?” You screech once the door is securely in place & he’s turned the radio on so there’s some noise. He knows youre both about to shout at each other & doesn’t want the rest of the building if anyone’s here to hear it. “No don’t think so” he stomps around the room, now clearly in pain form him hand, it’s throbbing. “If you did & we’ve just left him there, they will come for you” you say this as you open up the cabinet in the kitchen looking for whisky for him to drink & card so you can strap his hand together. “They won’t & if they did I will say exactly what happened “ “they won’t care about that Joel, they need people to have more kids to repopulate the planet, they’d have been like ahhh another mother give her 50 extra rations” you say in angst. The idea of anyone bringing a child into this world scares you, let alone that it could be you. “Well real men should take no for an answer” & he kicks a create towards the window & sits on the sofa head in hands, angry at himself. “We can’t go to the next QZ, we have a bad rep there already” he mumbles voice lowered as the realisation kicks in “I do, you don’t “ you say calmly as you sit down next to him.

In the last QZ in Philadelphia you had been caught with extra shoe laces than you werent meant to. They were for a local arts club, something you used to be a part of before the world collapsed. They were making warning signs for people, in a creative way as therapy. The teacher of the class stood up for you & said it was their orders, & they were sentenced to be executed & the art school was burnt down. You freed your friend the night before & tried to smuggle them out with Joel waiting in a car on the outside of the wall, but an officer caught up with the two of you, killing your friend but you strangled the office with those shoelaces, & wrote on his body a message as a warning to others before fleeing. The only place on the east coast who don’t know who you are is here in Boston, & going any further west means you won’t make it, so you’ve been lying low with Joel, doing what you can to help.

“I need to look at your hand” you say back in the now, passing him over his whisky. He winces as you touch two of his knuckles, trying to be brave but not being able to hide the pain it’s causing. “I think there’s a hair line fracture across it & one of your fingers” your say caressing the top of his hand. You both try & be as clean as possible, but living through the apocalypse means you’re always a little dirty. It makes your smooth palm along the top of his rough hand, an even more intense touch. What you wish those hands would actually do to you. “It’s okay I got this” Joel mumbles drinking straight from the bottle. “You’ve got to go to work to earn money Joel, at least let me strap you up, so you can lift stuff while wearing the gloves” & you dab his hand with some alcohol to stop any other type of infection. “It’s a bloody good thing I punch right handed as a leftie ouchhhh watch it” he was sniggering until you got to the third knuckle. It’s the happiest you’ve heard him in the 3 years you’ve know him. Any laugh or smile from anyone always fills the world with sunshine. For all of those 10 seconds the world seems a bit more normal.

You strap some cardboard to his finger as you believe they are broken & start to dress the hand, now all the dried blood has gone away as well as it can. While your attending to this, paying attention to his hand, & tracing every line, he’s staring at you, realising that maybe he could have some Happiness in this world, maybe it is time to tell you how he feels, after all these years. How when you comfort him, after he’s dreamed about Sarah, that it’s your voice & hands being reassuring, that makes him happy & calm. “There. Nice & easy, all done” you say triumphantly tying it off & going to move your hands from his, But he grabs them. “Don’t stop” he says & you lift your head to see his eyes meet yours. Eyes that are always so wide & full of sorrow & pain. But right now they are damp & dazzling. He holds onto your hands caressing them the way you did his. It means you’re both safe, but neither of you are breathing anymore, just transfixed on each other. He takes his hand & caresses your neck leading up to your face. “You are my purpose” he whispers.

Neither of you are sure who moves first but when your lips finally collide it’s electrifying. You’d always imagined what his would feel like as they brushed across yours. Closing your eyes all the built up emotions that you’ve hidden for the last few years, since your developed more than friendship feelings for Joel, wash up to the surface. His lips feel like they were made for this moment, plump & rounded, taking in each ounce of your own. His hand moves from your face into your hair behind your ear, cradling you. You have one firmly on his shoulder while the other is still locked in his hand caressing the injury you both seem to have forgotten about. This feels like the most right thing either of your have done since the start of the pandemic, & if the world ended right now you could die happy. “Joel” you moan into his mouth as you break away, remembering to breathe & you look him in his eyes as yours flicker open. One small tear trickles down his face. You face turns to concern, was that too much, have you both just ruined everything.

“Sorry, I promised to not get to close to anyone again after Sarah” he wipes the tear away & he drinks more whisky. Your hands are still entwined together, still tracing each others knuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why we did that” you mumble “I just don’t want to have the heart break of losing someone close again, you are my family & have been for a while, but I’ve never admitted it” Joel says & has another swig. Is this real emotional raw Joel Miller talking or is it the meds, drink & pain causing him to talk like this. Or is it a mixture of all the above. You don’t actually care, you bring his head down to your chest & rub his shoulders, soothing him as all his feelings finally start to come out after all this time “I’ve been your family forever Joel, but I will never replace your real one don’t worry, they are still the most important people in your life.” You say as you hand now reaches his hair to rough it up. After a few minutes of this he sits up & pulls you into his lap. “We got this, we might not be good people, but we can make this work” he sighs before you slowly while fluttering your eyelashes, bring your lips to his again. Smooth & full of wanting & needing, but nothing more. His hands stroke your back, trailing as far down as your waist band, making you moan, a collective want for more, but you know tonight’s not the night to do this. He tastes musky like the whisky, you can’t really smell him due the fact that everything now just smells the same in the world, but you imagine what Joel would have smelt like the day before outbreak day.

You eventually come apart from your long make out, his hands eventually stop their exploring. The radio then clicks off as there’s a power cut & you can both hear the thunder & lightning outside, making the moment even more dramatic as you look at each other. “I’ll go get the torches & candles” you whisper giving him one last peck on his cheek before heading to the kitchen. Finding the matches is the hardest thing to look for in the dark but you eventually find them. Upon returning to the sofa Joel is asleep. Hes sitting up but he’s snoring, his moustache slightly moving as his head faces up to the celling. You sigh & look at your exhausted, adorable, soft but pain in the arse brute of a man. How can a man who does such horrible & violent things, then be so soft & perfect for you. That’s why he is that, because it’s all to protect you, his new family. You grab two blankets & wrap one around him removing the half empty bottle of whisky & snuggle into him with the other one. You’re safe for now & so is Joel. You kiss his patch on his beard & whisper good night to him, wrapping your arms around him as you fall asleep to the sound of rain & thunder.

#minifics #fluff #my fics #fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fic #outbreakday #tlou fanfiction

[ghost-is-bae]

Cody Fern Character Prompt Imagines PART 3

|Prompts Used| ~ Fluff

'[ SCARED ]: sender, in a badly frightened state, finds the receiver and asks to spoon with them for comfort and reassurance.' and 'Jaw kisses'

Credit to these pages:

Part 1 here! | Part 2 here! |

~

|Character used|

Michael Langdon :)

"Get out, you Satanist!!!" Your mother yelled as she pushed you harshly onto the cobblestone path. She threw your bags on top of your already rain-soaked body and looked at you with a grimace before slamming the door in your face. Your wide eyes closed and you brought your bloody hands up to your face to cradle it as you sobbed. The rain pattered against your back with violence so you stood up and grabbed your bags before dragging your body down the road.

You shivered heavily and limped towards your best friend's house. You looked down at the large deep wound that spluttered blood onto your thigh and the dislocated knee with blurry irises. Your parents kicked you out after they found out about Michael and his antichrist behaviour. Your parents were Mormons and that didn't sit right with you from the start.

~

Your battered knuckles knocked against the door as you shifted back and forth in an attempt to ease the immense pain from your left leg. "Answer Damnit!" You cursed just before the door swung open and you were met with a concerned Michael. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" His wide-eyed gaze shifted from your face to your bruised knuckles and then to your popped out kneecap and the deep slice that was still oozing crimson.

"Oh my god, what the hell happened?" He asked as he held onto you and guided you in and over to his couch. "Give me a minute." He said as he went to go and get his first aid kit. He ran back towards you, kit in hand, and kneeled in front of you before opening the red box and taking out antiseptic. He opened the bottle and apologized in advance before he poured the stinging liquid onto your large cut. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration whilst he wrapped a fresh bandage over your thigh.

"You need to go to a hospital! I can't treat this- Y/n, what happened?" You looked away from his icy orbs so the waterworks wouldn't start again. "I...I got kicked out...because my parents don't like you..." Michael felt his heart squeezing inside his chest at the thought that he had caused all of this pain for you. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he pressed his soft lips onto your twisted kneecap tenderly.

~

Michael had persuaded you into going to A&E because of the amount of pain you were experiencing. Mentally and physically. You had been signed into a room and you were waiting for a doctor to come and access your injuries. You heard the door creak open and a soft voice entered your ears, "Hi there....Y/n. My name is Dr. Edwards and It seems to be my job to pop your knee back into place as it looks. Nurse Lorena is going to give you some morphine to soothe the pain and you are more than welcome to hold your partner's hand here."

You nodded and Michael held out his palm for you to hold onto and you let out a high pitched scream as pain shot up your leg and through your hip. Michael's face scrunched at the sound it made, which made you smile slightly. "Let's send her up for an X-ray once the morphine kicks in." the doctor told the nurse before he left.

~

You had just come back from the X-ray and were resting your eyes when you felt the bottom of the bed shift. You opened one eye and smiled at the exhausted look on Michael's features. After all, it was only 2am. You shifted to the side carefully to make room for him to slide in next to you. He shuffled in next to you and wrapped his arms around your torso before ducking his head down into the space between your neck and jaw and placed tiny butterfly kisses along your jaw. "Do you feel any better now?" he asked in a hushed tone. You nodded and snuggled closer into him before yawning and saying, "I'm going to sleep, wake me up when the doc comes back."

[lovinglapislazuli]

This was very fun so I did some more, Yes 5 villains as Heartcatch and viceversa!! At first I put Kawarino in the role of Dark Precure as a joke but they actually have a lot more in common than I thought...

Dark Precure’s Nightmare form is dragon based, and for Sasorina and Kumojacky I tried to distance the designs from Scorp and Arachnea as much as I could since they have the same animal motif :D

#Precure #Heartcatch precure #yes precure 5 #pretty cure #Kawarino is a terrible person and a great villain but I also pity him a little #still deserved to be dragged by Bloody tho #Bunbee #Girinma #Bloody #Hadenya #Kawarino #Desparaia #Dark Precure #Sasorina #Cobraja #Kumojacky #character design #my art

[indigowallbreaker]

37 heartbreak prompt for the dimiashe series!!! take ur time tho i’m just putting this now so i don’t forget later :0

(with part 6, we’ve officially reached the time skip! have fun everyone lol)

Previous part on tumblr

Whole series ao3

37. “I wish I could fix this.”

Nothing could have prepared Ashe for the stillness of Garreg Mach. He scaled the wall near the stables easy enough and perched there for a moment to just stare around. There we no knights patrolling, no students running to and fro, no monks huddled in groups. Only rotten wood, broken doors, and splatters of blood on stone.

Ashe dropped to the ground and readied his bow. He had assumed the place would be swarmed with Empire soldiers, but there was not a soul to be found. Mindful not to make much noise, Ashe crept passed the knights hall and the graveyard. He was on the bridge leading to the cathedral when the sun began to peek over the horizon.

Light washed over Ashe, and he stopped to look toward it. The dawn of the millennium festival. It was beautiful. Too beautiful to grace a hollow place like this. Ashe’s bow arm fell to his side and his shoulders drooped. Perhaps it had been foolish to expect anything from this visit. No one else would be so childish as to cling to a classroom promise.

“I wish I could fix this,” Ashe said to the sun. He meant the festival. He meant the leaderless Kingdom. He meant the continent and the war and the past and so many things. But it was juvenile to think that could fix anything by himself like this.

“... reprehensible, and they must be put down!“

Ashe spun, arrow notched and bowstring drawn. A voice, full of anger, was echoing from the cathedral. Ashe edged closer to the entrance. Another voice joined the first. No way could Ashe take on more than maybe three Empire soldiers by himself. All he needed was a single look inside, then he could decide if he should break his promise and flee.

But as soon as Ashe looked in, all thoughts of running away left his mind.

Dimitri was nearly unrecognizable. Eye patch. Filthy hair. Furred mantle. Tattered cape and bloodied armor. Yet Ashe would know him anywhere. Ashe knew him in sleep and in battle, in formal ball attire and chore-stained school uniform.

Ashe stood frozen. Not even the sight of the alive and well Professor Byleth could drag his eyes from Dimitri. “All that matters is killing those who deserve to die,” Dimitri was saying with a note of finality, shouldering passed Byleth. A sneer had twisted Dimitri’s face, making him appear bestial and sadistic.

Once his gaze met Ashe’s, however, Dimitri changed drastically. The sneer vanish. His jaw went slack as he took a step back to steady himself, single eye locked on Ashe’s expression of equal shock. He reminded Ashe of the Dimitri that had caught him in the kitchen so painfully long ago.

“You...” Dimitri swallowed. “You’re... here?”

Ashe’s weak laugh surprised even himself. “I promised, didn’t I?” He took a step forward, held out his hand. “Dimitri, I--”

Dimitri recoiled as if struck. “No, you don’t-- No.” His expression darkened. Ashe stopped, arm still outstretched, close enough that Dimitri could sway into his touch if he so chose. Instead, Dimitri shook his head and step-sided Ashe’s hand. As he continued on towards the doors, Ashe could hear him muttering to himself. Just like he had after the visit to the Holy Tomb.

Ashe didn’t realized he hadn’t lowered his hand until it came in contact with something. He turned and found Professor Byleth smiling at him, taking him gently by the wrist. “It’s good to see you, Ashe. You’ve grown.”

“I-It’s good to see you as well!” Ashe mustered up a smile. 

The Professor tugged him closer and Ashe went willingly. Their intent baffled him but right now, anything was better than looking at Dimitri’s retreating back again. 

A small gasp escaped Ashe as the Professor pulled him into a hug. “I’m not certain what’s going on right now,” they said into Ashe’s ear, holding him firm. “But we can fix it. Somehow we can.”

Ashe hugged the Professor back. If it had been anyone else, he might have worried he was squeezing too tight, fingers digging in too painfully. But he knew the Professor could take his strength and more. He rest his forehead on their shoulder. “I thought I was alone. I thought no one else would... that Dimitri was...”

Byleth stroked the back of his head and Ashe felt the dam break. Hot tears fell from his eyes. The Professor continued petting his hair as they said, “You’re not alone. And the others will come, you’ll see.” Ashe nodded, words unable to find a way through his sobs of relief. 

Having the Professor back didn’t fix everything. Not by a long shot.

But it was a start. 

#ashe ubert #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimiashe #dimitri fire emblem #ashe fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #breaking prompts #right moment series #ashe has needed a hug for like 5 years

[star1117-archives]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬

➵ Genre : Crack

➵ W.C : 939

➵ Warnings : N/A

➵ © 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost or use my work in any way, shape or form.

𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

Baby:

Drama queen

But is that weird ass toddler who likes tidying up

Very protective over everyone

Lowkey depressed from 2yrs old

Child:

Golden child

Helped the teacher tidy up

Ate all the leftover snacks as he tidies

Advises others on how to keep their rooms tidy

“Put the teddies at the top and the cars at the bottom so the teddies don’t get dirty!”

Teenager:

Fuckboy face

Fuckboy body

Cutest ray of sunshine

Because he was more reserved as a kid, takes his time to enjoy the simple things

Literally blows bubbles while his friends are talking about going to clubs

But also fusses and babies them all the time

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

Baby:

Model child

Likes to watch yt, especially mvs

Just sits there and babbles and laughs at the tv as the music plays

Could literally leave him next to a knife and he wouldn’t do nothing

Again, golden child

Child:

Always looking out for his friends, siblings and even his parents

”Excuse me sir? You can’t look at my mommy, or my daddy will kill you.”

The most helpful child ever

But can be real fuckin annoying when he’s singing at 3am.

Teenager:

Worked 3 jobs as soon as he could to buy sound equipment

Locks himself away all day making beats

Only stops for coffee and instant noodles which he eats raw because “genius takes time that he doesn’t have at this moment”

Does no studying but somehow gets the top marks

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

Baby:

Cheeks, cheeks, cheeks!

Did i mention cheeks?

Laughing all the time

Loves when people touch his cheeks/squeeze them

Literal ray of sunshine

Child:

Always happy for no reason

Would take a bullet to wipe the bright smile off his face

Everyone adores him

Gets away with literally every. fucking. thing.

Lowkey deserves the world tho

Teenager:

Yes he’s an angel, yes he’s a hoe, yes they exist

The kinda guy to twerk at a school dance

Probably onto mingi or smth

Never does the work but gets good grades????

“Okay but like, be truthful. is my ass phat, thicc or a pancake?” *to some poor random stranger*

𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

Baby:

Quiet and calm

Literally never cries only when he needs to

A sweet angel who likes to play with people’s hands

His smile brightens the room

Child:

Quiet little savage king

Literally never talks unless spoken to

Tomato cheeks and staring at his shoes when forced to talk

Completely different story when he gets home, could literally kill a mf

Even at his tiny age

Teenager:

Still the quiet kid

But is known for putting any bitches in their place

Meaning mostly Jung Wooyoung

Threatens Woo 24/7 but is also super depressed when his bff don’t come into school

“Hey dickhead! At least call me next time you ain’t coming, i was fucking worried.”

𝐒𝐚𝐧

Baby:

Modelled as a baby

Everyone’s whipped for his dimples

Spoilt brat tho

Needs a strict routine or can’t do anything

Child:

Gets away with literally everything

Bundle of fluff who drags his teddy everywhere

Feeds Shiber his vegetables at dinner through a hole made in his neck

Give him candy and prepare for war

Demon wrapped in gold and puppies

Teenager:

Oh god

Super popular class clown, forever violating people unprovoked

“You’re acting like i’m not better than you in every way possible”

Could be studious if he acc tried but he cba

Somehow manages to get decent marks with no studying

Always throwing shit at people

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

Baby:

He’s so fucking cute but he’s so fucking skinny and long

Nicknamed giraffe

Probably licked food off the floor

Or tried to eat a charger (me)

Child:

Has an accident slip every day

”Mingi fell over and cut his knee, cold compress applied” (also me)

All the boys in his year jumped on him for no fucking reason (…yeah me too)

So bloody snotty, always carries around tissues

Teenager:

Awkward giant

Would be pretty good at sports if he didn’t fall on his face in every game

Has bruises all over him from falling so much

Loud af and always gets detentions for laughing too loud at jokes

Eating snacks at the back of the classroom 25/9

𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

Baby:

Super cute and he knows it

So fucking whiny

Literally needs to be spoiled

It takes three bottles, 183 changes in sleeping position and a sacrifice to satan to get him to sleep

Child:

Super sassy and always making the grown ups laugh

Gets into fights with older kids because of his mouth

Everyone either loves him or hates him

“Respect the drip Karen” *to his teacher*

Teenager:

Lowkey needs to be slapped

Flirts with everyone

Literally everyone thinks him and his bestie are in a relationship but they’re not

“It’s totally normal to sit on his lap, why does it mean we’re dating?”

Doesn’t learn shit and is always getting detentions

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

Baby:

Tries to fight everyone

Bit a kid and made them bleed

Is really cute when he’s not a complete demon

Growls and headbutts to show affection (my brother deadass)

Child:

Super strong for no bloody reason

Sporty kid who gets all the girls cause he can run the fastest

constantly trying to show his strength off

“I bet i can pick you up! Watch, i’m gonna pick you up!”

So talented in sports it’s fucking annoying

Teenager:

Underrated class clown

But also loses his shit when someone cuts his favourite teachers off.

He literally never listens in lessons but will shut anyone down in maths cause he likes the teacher

#the archives ☾❃☽ #seonghwa {❀} #hongjoong {❁} #yunho {✯} #yeosang {᪥} #san {✾} #mingi {✵} #wooyoung {❀} #jongho {❋} #ot8 {♫} #ateez as {➵} #fluff {♡} #seonghwa #hongjoong #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez as

[yungisstar1117-writes]

ATEEZ As Kids

─────────∘◦❀◦∘ ─────────

I’d like to make it clear this is fiction. This is not a realistic/fact-based representation of the guys it’s just my opinion.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!

─────────∘◦❀◦∘ ─────────

Seonghwa:

Baby:

Drama queen

But is that weird ass toddler who likes tidying up

Very protective over everyone

Lowkey depressed from 2yrs old

Child:

Golden child

Helped the teacher tidy up

Ate all the leftover snacks as he tidies

Advises others on how to keep their rooms tidy

“Put the teddies at the top and the cars at the bottom so the teddies don’t get dirty!”

Teenager:

Fuckboy face

Fuckboy body

Cutest ray of sunshine

Because he was more reserved as a kid, takes his time to enjoy the simple things

Literally blows bubbles while his friends are talking about going to clubs

But also fusses and babies them all the time

Hongjoong:

Baby:

Model child

Likes to watch yt, especially mvs

Just sits there and babbles and laughs at the tv as the music plays

Could literally leave him next to a knife and he wouldn’t do nothing

Again, golden child

Child:

Always looking out for his friends, siblings and even his parents

”Excuse me sir? You can’t look at my mommy, or my daddy will kill you.”

The most helpful child ever

But can be real fuckin annoying when he’s singing at 3am.

Teenager:

Worked 3 jobs as soon as he could to buy sound equipment

Locks himself away all day making beats

Only stops for coffee and instant noodles which he eats raw because “genius takes time that he doesn’t have at this moment”

Does no studying but somehow gets the top marks

Yunho:

Baby:

Cheeks, cheeks, cheeks!

Did i mention cheeks?

Laughing all the time

Loves when people touch his cheeks/squeeze them

Literal ray of sunshine

Child:

ALWAYS happy for NO REASON

Would take a bullet to wipe the bright smile off his face

Everyone A D O R E S him

Gets away with literally every. fucking. thing.

Lowkey deserves the world tho

Teenager: 

Yes he’s an angel, yes he’s a hoe, yes they exist

The kinda guy to twerk at a school dance

Probably onto mingi or smth

Never does the work but gets good grades????

“Okay but like, be truthful. is my ass phat, thicc or a pancake?” *to some poor random stranger*

Yeosang:

Baby:

Quiet and calm

Literally never cries only when he needs to

A sweet angel who likes to play with people’s hands

His smile brightens the room

Child:

Quiet little savage king

Literally never talks unless spoken to

Tomato cheeks and staring at his shoes when forced to talk

Completely different story when he gets home, could literally kill a mf

Even at his tiny age

Teenager:

Still the quiet kid

But is known for putting any bitches in their place

Meaning mostly Jung Wooyoung

Threatens Woo 24/7 but is also super depressed when his bff don’t come into school

“Hey dickhead! At least call me next time you ain’t coming, i was fucking worried.”

San:

Baby:

 Modelled as a baby

Everyone’s whipped for his dimples

Spoilt brat tho

Needs a strict routine or can’t do anything

Child:

Gets away with literally E V E R Y T H I N G

Bundle of fluff who drags his teddy everywhere

Feeds Shiber his vegetables at dinner through a hole made in his neck

Give him candy and prepare for W A R

Demon wrapped in gold and puppies

Teenager:

Oh god

Super popular class clown, forever violating people unprovoked

“You’re acting like i’m not better than you in every way possible”

Could be studious if he acc tried but he cba

Somehow manages to get decent marks with no studying

Always throwing shit at people

Mingi:

Baby:

He’s so fucking cute but he’s so fucking skinny and L O N G

Nicknamed giraffe

Probably licked food off the floor

Or tried to eat a charger (me)

Child:

Has an accident slip every day

”Mingi fell over and cut his knee, cold compress applied” (also me

)All the boys in his year jumped on him for no fucking reason (...yeah me too)

So bloody snotty, always carries around tissues

Teenager:

Awkward giant

Would be pretty good at sports if he didn’t fall on his face in every game

Has bruises all over him from falling so much

Loud af and always gets detentions for laughing too loud at jokes

Eating snacks at the back of the classroom 25/9

Wooyoung:

Baby:

Super cute and he knows it

So fucking whiny

Literally needs to be spoiled

It takes three bottles, 183 changes in sleeping position and a sacrifice to satan to get him to sleep

Child:

Super sassy and always making the grown ups laugh

Gets into fights with older kids because of his mouth

Everyone either loves him or hates him

“Respect the drip Karen” *to his teacher*

Teenager:

Lowkey needs to be slapped

Flirts with everyone

Literally everyone thinks him and his BFF are in a relationship but they’re N O T

“It’s totally normal to sit on his lap, why does it mean we’re dating?”

Doesn’t learn shit and is always getting detentions

Jongho:

Baby:

Tries to fight everyone

Bit a kid and made them bleed

Is really cute when he’s not a complete demon

Growls and headbutts to show affection (my brother deadass)

Child:

Super strong for no bloody reason

Sporty kid who gets all the girls cause he can run the fastest

CONSTANTLY trying to show his strength off

“I bet i can pick you up! Watch, i’m gonna pick you up!”

So talented in sports it’s fucking annoying

Teenager:

Underrated class clown

But also loses his shit when someone cuts his favourite teachers off

“Let Miss finish! What were you saying Miss?”

Like, he literally never listens in lessons but will shut anyone down in maths cause he likes the teacher

© 𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez headcanons #ateez crack #star's library {📚} #Ateez hongjoong #hongjoong ateez #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #ateez yeosang #yeosang ateez #ateez san #san ateez #ateez mingi #mingi ateez #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #ateez jongho #jongho ateez #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #Seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #jung yunho #Yunho #yunho fluff

[xsugarysweetsx]

Hiii! Love your work btw! Can I request a (modern au) katsuki bakugo x reader where he is a mafia boss and they’ve been together for a while now and totally in love but she doesn’t know he’s the mafia boss until she gets kidnapped by the enemy and once he rescues her she feels betrayed and lied to and ignores him for a couple of days until she finally decides to meet him and tries to break up with him but he doesn’t let her and convinces her to give him another chance. And maybe end in a smut? You don’t have to tho :)

Hello anon, I’m happy you like my writing! I’m not sure you’ve seen it but smut writings start AFTER October 9.

This may be a little long!

warnings; Some Language (It’s bakugou)

Please enjoy~🍰

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

“Y/N, I’m home..“ Bakugou announced as he enters the home you both shared. You’d usually be in his arms by now but it was a bit too quiet. He carefully walks through the home looking for you. 

“Y/N? Babe?“ he called again but there was no response. Coming to the livingroom his heart stops for a moment. Pictures broken, vases shattered, the coffee table flipped over. Now his heart starts to race as he flies up the stairs to find you. 

“Y/N!“ You weren’t in the bathroom, or the guest rooms, or the closets. He felt like his world was coming down down on him. What could have happened? Just then he gets a call, looking at the screen it’s one of his men 

“Hello...“ he said monotone with a hint of pain 

“Boss! Come quick! T-They got Y/N!“

------

You wake up, sore and stiff. Opening your eyes your met with a cage, trying to move wasn’t possible. You were tied to a chair in the middle of an empty cell.. this is the kind of stuff you expected to see if movies but never happened to you. You hear footsteps approaching your area, a man stops at the front of the cell.

“Well, well..look who’s awake. Did you sleep well?” He sneered. You didn’t answer feeling your heart pound in your chest “That boyfriend of yours really scored a pretty one.” he opens the gate to the cell and walks in. Just his presence was uncomfortable to be around

“What..are you talking about?“ you asked cautiously

“oh, so you don't know his line of work do you?” he smirks “Your precious Bakugou is a feared Mafia boss. One with a weakness, being you” he chuckles 

“No..you’re lying....h-he would have told me..” you could feel your heart pound, do blood fresh in your mind spin. “I-I mean something to him....right...” you whisper the last part.

How could he have kept such a big favor from you. This is supposed to be the man that you love, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. Instead, he might be a part of the mafia? 

You could feel your heart ache, from processing this.

“Well, it’s true, he is a very well known, very wealth mafia boss. He has been stealing lots of turf and business from me, and frankly it’s annoying. So, I’m using his precious girlfriend to lure in what I want and if I don’t get what I want-“ you hear the cock of a gun in the silent room as the cold runs along your cheek 

“There’ll be a price to pay“

------

“Damn it can you go any faster?!“ Bakugou scolded his driver “Who knows what that maniac will do if we don’t get there soon enough?“

Kaminari wanted to fulfill his boss’s wish but getting there fast was something reckless. They had to under the radar if they wanted this to be a smooth rescue. Either way he wasn’t supposed to come, in his words he said 

“Knowing you idiots, you won’t know how to handle or explain everything to her“

Bakugou stares out the window, the only thing on his mind was you. Now he had to tell you what he did, who he was. He never wanted to drag you into this, you didn’t deserve to be brought into this mess. All he wanted was to give you a happy comfortable life. 

All those times spent together. Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, he wanted to spend every moment with you. Yet, it was his fault you were in this position. 

“We’re here...“ car came to stop at the gaze on to a rundown building. Sure I’d love to run down, but this was just a cover-up.

“I’m coming for you Y/N, just hold on....”

 ------

What else could he be hiding for me? Does he even love me.....I’ve been in danger this whole time. Is he the same man I fell in love with? can I have been so blind.... all those late nights at “work“, leaving randomly early in the morning. I should have seen it coming....

Negative thoughts start to invade your mind as you sat in the cell. Thinking about all these things made you feel cold and alone. I could practically feel your heart break your trust for him fading from your mind

“No, no please, I’m just a guard I-” enough voice please before a loud explosion was heard. The door pops off its hinges and hits the floor with a loud bang. A beaten and bloody guard laid on the floor. The man who was in the cell before stands from his chair and applauds slowly.

“Wow, you got here quicker than I thought“ he smirked looking at his watch

“I’m giving you 5 seconds before I rip your head off“ your boyfriend said dangerously 

“I’ll hand her over unharmed, in exchange for some territory and some cold hard cash“ he walks over to your chair hands landing on your shoulders massaging them gently “but it’d be a shame to see her go. Such a lovely girl, maybe I’ll keep her-“ 

“Like hell am I letting that happen!” one second he was behind you the next he was pinned to a wall by the throat by Katsuki. “Taking her was one thing, touching her is another. You’re just asking for a fucking death wish aren’t you“ 

Letting him go, his body drops to the floor, and his men come and and take him away. He comes to you and cuts the rope off your hands and legs 

“Y/N, I’m sorry I wasn’t home to protect you, I’m sorry you had to see this shit“ he gives you a hand to stand up and cups your face “Did he touch you, are you hurt?“ 

You pull your face away and look to the ground “I’m fine..can we leave now?” he takes his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Giving a signal, two of his men come to your side 

“Take her home and make sure the area is safe and clear. I need to take care of things here then I’ll get back“

“Yes sir!“ these were the same men he had claimed to be chauffeurs. You turn without a second glance and start walking, his men not too far behind. The drive felt longer than it should have, your head was pounding.

Arriving at the large home, you felt sick. As soon as the doors close you collapse to your knees feeling the sickness come up. Instead of throwing up  body raking sob breaks through you. 

Anger, confusion, sadness, heartache, everything mixed into one and broke you down. You loved him so much, with all your soul and heart.....but yet this happened. You pick yourself up still sniffing as you look around the place you called home. You walk to your stairs, looking at the various pictures on the wall.

The way he held you, looked at you, kissed you.....it meant everything to you. You rip your eyes away and continue up the stairs. You wipe your tears and open the door to your shared room. The bed that once help memories of cuddling together. Endless times spent watching movies, making love, or just admiring each other.

You grab a bag from your closet and start to stuff it with your belongings. Your clothes, shoes, and anything else you can fit. You would come back for the rest, but you felt like you had to leave. You don’t know where you would go...maybe a friends house but away from here.

“What are you doing?” A voice appears making you jump and whip your head around. Bakugou stood at the door with a lost expression. You turn back around and keep picking your things.

“Hey what are you doing?” He says walking to your stopping you from putting anything else in the bag.

“I’m leaving, what else does it look like” he froze and had no idea what to say. “I don’t want to live with someone who would lie and betray me”

“I would never do some shit like that-“

“Then why didn’t you tell me about this whole mafia thing?!”

“I-I....I couldn’t...I was just...I wanted to protect you!”

“So you lie to me? What else are you hiding?! You know what” you close your bag and pick it up “I don’t need this and I don’t need you..” believe it or not those words hurt you more than it hurt him.

“You don’t mena that...get back here we need to talk this over” as you open the door he slams it back shut trapping you against the door and his body. He takes both your write and line then above your head. Your bag dropping to the ground

“Let me go!” you struggle in his grip 

“No! Listen to me!“ you stop struggling but continue to try and get away “Don’t you every fucking think for a second that I would ever betray you! I fucking Love you! I’d rather have the truth hidden from you to keep you safe then to see you get hurt“ you stop for a moment 

“I’ve been shitty keeping things from you, all I wanted was for you to be happy. To stay out of this bullshit I o just so I can give you the life you deserve“ you look up with a guess to see glassy eyes staring into yours. “I love you so fucking much....if you ever got hurt...I...I wouldn’t be able to live with myself...please you’re the only reason I have for living...p-please ” his voice begins to crack as he finally confesses to what he’s done. “Don’t l-leave me...” he fell to his knees as tears cascade down his cheeks.

“Then promise me something..“ you said almost whispering 

“Anything!“ his eyes shot up to yours

“No more secrets, you tell me everything....and maybe we can work things out..” you hire your lip “I....can’t deny that I love you Katsuki but I can’t live with someone who will hide something so big from me”

He stands and takes your hands into his large calloused ones

“I swear to you... I’ll tell you everything but once you know there’s no turning back...” he warned “but if it means you’ll stay....I’ll do it..”

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

Sorry this was so much longer than expected, hope this was okay❤️

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boko no hero academia #anime #anime x reader #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

[azraqnar]

Thoughts on Agony of a witch (Spoiler warning! (Duh))

Oh boy I was doubting this series’s before but not anymore! This episodes is easily the best in the season. Grom doesn’t have shit on this episode! Everything was just great about AOAW, the music, the suspense, the action, the story, the animation, it was all wonderful!

- for one, Hooty is damn creepy when he fights not only does he effortlessly kick the emperors covens ass (you’d think they’d be more powerful than this but whatever) but he has a tea party with their unconscious bodies after. That was an interesting (& creepy) choice & it has me curious if Eda created him or not. We need a hooty backstory.

- Eda’s curse is getting worse and after episodes of not mentioning it they finally acknowledge how bad it’s getting & how Eda needs more potions or a higher dosage to barely keep it under control KEY WORD “BARELY”. It does remind me of when my aunt had cancer and her chemotherapy stopped working they had to higher the dosage. Good job on finally talking about it.

- When Luz leaves I do like how Eda & King reflect on how the “vibe” of the house changed when Luz showed up & how King thought they were gonna eat her (I guess it confirms witches do eat human kids)I am picking up a familia love from Eda & King so now we have the found family trope (Which I love). I thought it was cute when Eda decided to make a cape as a sign of gratitude & how it sets up how important this cape is when Eda talks about the material it’s made out of.

- Luz’s class is going on the field trip to the emperors coven but isn’t Bump the principal not a teacher?At my school whenever we had a field-trip it was the Teachers that went with us not the principal, Bump didn’t even play a big role so they could have swapped him out for a Teacher & nothing would change.

- Amity’s leg is still broken so she can’t attend the field-trip, which I thought was a good idea she didn’t go. I feel like the writers would try to force in more Lumity moments and it would distract from the plot. I do like Lumity but if Amity was there then fans would focus on that rather than the story & the last two episode were Amity focused so she wasn’t needed in this episode. Smart move from the writers, maybe if her legs heals next episode she could be there but idk.

- Now while Luz was thinking about stealing the healing hat I was a bit conflicted on it. I don’t like how the show is telling viewers it’s okay to steal but In Luz’s case it’s for a good cause, she wanted the hat so she could heal Eda’s curse. It’s like those cases you hear of people stealing groceries to feed their families, I felt the same here. Yeah stealing is bad but if it’s for saving someone you love is it really that bad? Idk if the writers wanted us to be conflicted over that dilemma but they succeeded.

- “Good luck with puberty” I laughed when Lilith said that, can’t believe Disney let that slip in.

- I have to say I do like the lore we get in this episode. Emperor Belos established the coven system 50 years ago to “honor the titan” which is the boiling Isles where they might get their magic from, before that witches were doing wild magic in what was called “the savages ages” it’s setting up more lore about the emperor like how did he rise to power? Who was he before? What were these “savage ages” like? If it was 50 years ago then there still are witches & demons that were alive in the savage age & they could tells us what life was like before. It also means Emperor Belos is 70+ years old. I’m just saying a human could live that long. 👀

- Now emperor Belos, wow his designs looks cool as hell, his voice is amazing too, it’s kinda sinister yet soothing at same times. As shown, it looks like he’s in a weakened state, he has to take these weird bird glowing green slime thing to have energy. We don’t know why or how he got like that, but it seems like he wants to Capture Eda so she doesn’t try to overthrow him since he’s weak. In fact, that might be the reason for the coven system, if he limits their magic then they aren’t strong enough to overthrow him. We only saw him for a bit but he gave a good impression when Luz said that no one will know about her stealing the hat we hear Belos voice echo: “ I will know” in the most bone chilling voice ever! The crew did a great job on him! Tho one thing I noticed is why is every big villain always in a weakened state? Darth Vader, Hordak, Aaravos, Zarkon, every anime villain. I just noticed this trope is overused, but I hope we can see Belos at his strongest and see how powerful he is. I have high hopes for him!

-Lilith discovers Luz is there & decides to use her as a decoy to lure in Eda. Which she succeeds when Eda goes there all angry for daring to drag Luz into her issues. I love how Eda doesn’t even try to stay calm she just straight up attacks Lilith & you can feel her angry.

- Speaking of that fight, best fight in the series thus far! The animation, the spells, the music, the raw emotion, it was all down great! It does remind me of a DBZ style of fighting when they’re moving so fast that your eyes can’t catch up & their magic surrounding them like Eda went super Sayion, I’m not complaining I like those kinds of fight & The intensity you feel in the fight is overwhelming. Luz’s life is at stake and Lilith even uses her as a human shield. She knows how much Luz means to Eda & was willing to kill her. Hell, she even threw Luz toward the spikes and Eda had to save her, then they both struggle with Eda trying to lift her up & Lilith trying to press her against the spikes & then Eda slowly turns into a monster THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE A FIGHT (takes notes she ra)

- Now the biggest bomb drop in the series. IT WAS LILITH WHO CURSED EDA. she blurted it out in a rage of jealousy it seems. They were insulting each other on how one is better than the other. Then when Lilith says “THEN WHY WERE SO EASY TO CURSE?!” My jaw dropped, I suspected they would tell us but not this episode, you see can see the hurt & betrayal in her eyes when it was her own sister who cursed her. Like ouch. From what I suspected is that Lilith was jealous of Eda from what their exchanges told us. But why was she jealous of Eda? Friends? Magic capabilities? Power? Maybe fighting over a crush? What? Whatever the reason is does not excuse doing that to your sister and your YOUNGER SISTER AT THAT. Goodness & I thought Edric and Emira took it too far with the diary thing. I’m officially part of the hate Lilith club. Idc what you do but hurting your sibling like that is the worst thing you can do to them, just imagined how much Eda suffered for DECADES with this curse. No redemption can fix that. But boy do they need Family therapy or just punch it out that works too.

- I loved it when Eda went into rage mode when she found out it was Lilith who cursed her. Her own sister. Like damn that has to hurt knowing your own family did that to you. She deserved to beat Lilith to a bloody pulp & I’m happy she didn’t even bother to listen to Lilith she just wanted to attack her & I don’t blame her one bit.

- Ugh the scene where the curse overtakes Eda was a heart wrenching one. She knows she slipping away and tells Luz to take care of King & Hooty & to stay safe before she slips away. When Lilith told Luz that Eda is with her true family made me want to punch her more than Amity’s parents. You feel how helpless Luz felt & I hope they work towards her character with that feeling because Luz is happy go lucky & seeing her in despair makes for great character development.

- it kind of reminds me of when Queen Angella sacrifices herself In season 3 but I hated how they never acknowledged it since season 4 & she doesn’t even return by the end season 5, they pretty much forgot about her. We know for sure Luz will never leave Eda behind & will go save her.

- So we know Luz will go back to save her cuz we do see her wearing the cape Eda made her in the promo. Also we have 1 episode left so we know she’s gonna attempt a rescue mission for Eda but will she succeed? She’s up against the emperors coven! She’s gotta pull all her cards on the table & team up with her friends.

- A witch loses a true way. It could refer to Lilith officially turning to the dark side or Eda being lost in her curse even into season 2. Knowing Disney, they will give us a happy ending cuz it’s Disney but I will be pleasantly surprised if Luz fails to save Eda by the next episode.

- One last thing, I like the credits had no music, just silence. It reminds me of in full metal alchemist whenever a character dies the credit are always silent. I guess it’s meant to represent despair in a way? Or change? Yeah it think it’s change.

- This is why shows should focus on the plot because when you do, it delivers for some great storytelling & this episode surpasses all of the episodes combined. when you focus on the story & lore & characters it makes for great emotional impact of an episode and I hope Dana and the crew continues to do this. This show has so much going for it & people who only watch a show for a ship are clowns because this is what you’re missing out on. an amazing story. I applause Dana & the crew for this episode, really outdid yourselves!

- Overall 9.7/10 it was phenomenal!

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #owl house #eda clawthorne #willow park #gus owl house #toh spoilers #toh #toh hooty #king the owl house #lilith clawthorne #emperor belos #Emperor coven #agony of a witch

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings. 

#ficswithluv #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #95linenet #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #v fanfic #v smut #v fluff #v angst #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #greek god au #ddaengtan #s: mag

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

[mfingenius]

Okok, can you do Angsty Drarry where Harry has to go and do something with the Durselys, like sort something out and he comes home and breaks down and Draco is confuzzled because he hasn't really heard the extent of what happened? Only if requests are still open and only if your comfortable with it. Either way I love u and your blog is so amazing!!!

Okay, so I am going through what is possibly the WORST writer’s block in my fucking life so imma make this into headcanons

So, while the war was going on, Harry had no flashbacks whatsoever to the dursley’s abuse

also not right after it was over

bc well, everything was so horrifyingly traumatic that most of his panic attacks and or nightmares were about the war and voldemort and death eaters, and not something that seemed - at the moment - as unimportant as what the dursley’s did to him

EXCEPT

he starts going to a mindhealer and talking through everything what happened during the war, and the dursley’s come up

and harry just… freezes for a moment

bc it drags up everything and it’s so fucking weird bc he hasn’t thought about it recently and he’s just now realizing that it’s not unimportant, that it was fucking traumatic

and he tries to brush it off, but he can’t

bc he was a fucking child and now that he’s older that’s what keeps bothering him 

like he knows he was young during the war, but with the dursley’s he was literally a fucking child and he can’t ever imagine doing that to any child, let alone someone who is his family

and so his nightmares start being about the war AND the dursley’s, sort of mixed up and it’s fucking weird

and by this point he’s Draco’s parole officer (he testified at his trial and no one else wanted the job)

and so he has to see him every couple of weeks and it’s usually alright but harry’s been sleeping like crap and he’s so fucking stressed bc of an ongoing case

and so he has an anxiety attack

and Malfoy is surprisingly helpful in calming him down

and when it’s over he’s shaking and he can’t think and he just sort of… tells malfoy everything 

about the dursley’s

and Malfoy is quiet until the end, and instead of making fun like Harry thought he would - after his brain was back online - he just slides down the wall next to Harry and sighs

i’m sorry potter, you didn’t deserve that

Harry is quite literally speechless

and they bump into each other in a muggle coffee shop a few weeks later - bc he’s his parole officer harry knows that malfoy has left the magical world entirely and is living as a muggle, but he never expected to bump into him 

and Malfoy just stares at what harry ordered - a salad bc he’s trying to be healthy even tho he hates them - and scoffs

come on potter, i’ll get you some good fucking food

and he takes him for the best italian sub harry has ever tasted

and they start seeing each other more after that in the muggle world

ironically enough it’s malfoy showing harry muggle stuff rather than the other way around - and isn’t that fucking hilarious??

aaaaaaaaaaand robards finds out that they’ve been going out - and he takes it as going out - and immediately fires harry as malfoy’s parole officer

still, they keep seeing each other

and one day they run into the dursleys

at the supermarket

while harry’s accompanying draco to get groceries

and harry’s just…. paralized

and of fucking course draco recognizes the look on his face bc he’s only ever seen harry look like that while he talks about the dursleys

so he very kindly goes up to vernon dursley and says 

fuck you you bloody coward

and drags harry out of there

and it’s the moment harry realizes he likes him

—————————–

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[dudeandduchess]

Why....Why did I read the Demon Train Arc?! I MUST drop it after anime-ending...Holy...Can I ask you to write a story where Rengoku was brought at Butterfly Est. after battle with Akasa, but, unfortunately there is no way to save him. And he talks to his wife one last time before his death. Please, make it painful! Much more! I am sure after that kind of pain, I will be able to see the film!

Hey hey, bby! I know how you feel. I didn’t leave my house for three days after I read that. But the rest of the manga is really, really good, so please don’t drop it after the anime ending. 

Hope you like this one tho. Another anon asked for something really similar, but with the Kamaboko gang, so I included them. UwU

Also, this was written while listening to Save Myself and Soon You’ll Get Better.

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Last Goodbye (SFW Scenario):

Warnings: Character Death, Mentions of Blood, Angst, Sad Ending

The moment that the crow came with the news, (Y/n) had dropped all of her duties for the day and headed to the Butterfly Estate.

On the way, however, her heart raced constantly inside her chest; all while her tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She felt like she was already dying, what with the all-consuming pain that made her want to stop and just wrap her arms around herself.

Because, no matter how hard she wished otherwise, she would have to get used to being the one who held herself together.

After that day, she would have to go on living with the harrowing pain that losing her husband entailed. It was something that she wasn’t ready to face; even if he had told her years before to always be ready to let him go at a moment’s notice.

Losing him would be like losing a part of herself. She just knew that she would never be the same after that day.

Still, she put on a brave façade and willed her legs to go faster. Because she wasn’t sure if, as it was, she was going to make it to Kyōjurō while he was still alive.

She had never been religious before, but she found herself sending up a long string of prayers to all the gods up in heaven. It was one last desperate attempt to plead for Kyōjurō’s life, but still... no answer came.

As she had expected.

***

The entire Butterfly Estate was silent as (Y/n) raced up the steps to the infirmary. She had been there on more than one occasion, so she didn’t bother knocking or calling someone to guide her up there.

With each step she took, the heavier her heart grew in her chest. And by the time that she was outside the room that her husband was in, her entire body felt so stiff and frozen. The tips of her fingers felt numb, and the tears that she had been trying so hard to hold back burst forth with an involuntary sob.

She wanted to compose herself before he saw her— as she didn’t want his last memory of her to be of her crying her heart out. But that seemed inevitable, as more and more tears rolled down her face.

As it was, her heart felt like it was slowly breaking inside her— with every piece crumbling into nothingness the moment it broke off. So, in a desperate effort to ease the pain she felt, she placed a hand on top of where her heart resided, and clutched the area tightly— to no avail.

She was so scared of having to face tomorrow without Kyōjurō, but she had to.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Shinobu’s light and airy voice cut through her heartbroken sobs, just as the petite woman’s arms wrapped around her in a hug.

(Y/n) couldn’t even bring herself to hug her back; that was how numb her body was.

“He’s been waiting for you,” The younger woman stated softly, before pulling away from her friend and wiping her tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “He doesn’t... he doesn’t have very long, so you should go.”

With that, (Y/n) nodded her thanks at Shinobu, then steeled herself right before she entered the small room.

Three other Slayers— whom she knew to be Tanjirō, Zenitsu, and Inosuke— stood at one corner. All of them kept wiping their tears, as they gazed on at the fallen Hashira.

And when her gaze swept over her husband’s supine form on the bed, she couldn’t help but desperately hold back the loud sobs that wanted to escape her lips. Her chest hurt so much with the effort, and her vision blurred so badly with the influx of new tears, but she told herself to be strong.

One foot in front of the other, in slow and hesitant steps, she drew closer and closer to Kyōjurō. His eyes were closed and his face looked so serene, that it felt like a punch to (Y/n)’s gut.

He was clearly suffering, judging by the wound that was barely being covered by the bloody blanket, yet he didn’t show any indication of it. Because, just like her, he was forcing himself to be strong.

“Kyōjurō,” (Y/n) called softly, as she gently sat down beside her husband and touched the tip of his nose with her fingertip. “Wake up, goshujin-sama. I’m here.”

It took a while, but the Flame Hashira eventually opened his eyes; only to sport the brightest smile he could muster when he saw his wife sitting next to him.

“Come here. Lay down next to me,” He implored softly, before he lifted a hand to weakly tug at (Y/n)’s forearm.

At that, the young woman gingerly moved to snuggle against his side. She carefully used his arm as a pillow, while her right hand pressed flush against the top of his chest; right above where the blood stained the blanket.

She could feel his heart beating very slowly, and the inevitable chance of his death made more and more tears pour from her eyes. So, she closed them and pressed her face against the side of Kyōjurō’s chest; if only to feel his warmth one last time.

In her desperation, however, she began spouting nonsensical promises and ideologies; as if those would tempt him into keeping on fighting. “Please, Kyō... we’ll paint the house red like you wanted. We can even decorate with those daruma dolls that you have around the house... just... please don’t leave me.”

A short laugh escaped the Hashira’s lips at that, which was followed by a pained grunt, as well as a hefty sigh. “I wish I could stay forever with you, (Y/n). But we’ve talked about this. You have to take care of yourself, alright? Take your medicine everyday, and drink that special tea I got for you... since I won’t be around to remind you to do those things anymore.”

A heart wrenching sob from (Y/n) reverberated off the walls at that statement, and she burrowed closer into Kyōjurō’s side, as her desperation increased. She wanted to keep talking to him, but her cries and sobs prevented her from doing so.

But, no matter how excruciating her emotional pain was, it was dulled down by Kyōjurō’s sturdy hand that gently patted her hair. “If you get lonely, you can always talk to Senjurō. He’s going to need you as well; now more than ever. And...”

A pained grunt cut the Hashira off, yet he pushed past the pain and continued, “When your heart is ready, I want you to find a man who’s a hundred times better than me, and let him love you. Because you deserve all of that and more, my love.”

Kyōjurō chuckled once more, then closed his eyes, and took deep breaths to slow down his blood loss. He just needed a few more minutes; even just one would do. “You three... take care of my wife, will you? When she gets too hardheaded on a mission, you have my permission to drag her back home— kicking and screaming.”

Tanjirō, Inosuke, and Zenitsu all nodded fervently; while their tears kept flowing as well. They couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for such a loss, even though Rengoku had kept telling them that it wasn’t their fault.

It was their survivor’s guilt gnawing at them from the inside. And all Kyōjurō could hope for was that it would push all three of them to strive to become stronger.

“And you...” The Hashira coughed once more, which had his wife clinging tightly to him and pressing her face further against his side. But he wanted to see her face one last time, so he took her face by the chin and gently tilted it up for his perusing.

He could feel his own tears stinging his eyes, yet he pushed them back and retained the smile he had on his face. “Whenever times get rough and you feel like giving up, always remember that there was once a man who loved you with his whole heart. You saved that man from his own hubris and kept him grounded.

“You changed my entire life, (Y/n); and I will forever be grateful for that. There is never a day that will pass by that I won’t love you, so always remember that. Even if it takes me a hundred lifetimes to get back to you, I promise I’ll make it back to you.” Kyōjurō leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of her head, then pulled her closer into his side; because, he knew... his end was coming.

“And when I get back to you, you’ll never be lonely again. I promise.”

((If you liked my work, please consider buying me a ko-fi. UwU Every ko-fi will go towards taking care of my dogs’ daily needs. Thank you so, so much!))

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #demon slayer kyojuro #kny x reader #kny requests #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer requests #anon #ask #jen writes #angst

[tiny-pun]

Have you considered a bit of prompt where the both hero and villian are taking a break because how bloody they are and they start verbally fighting and hero says somthing along the line of"I have to be good, I have to be the hero" and villian retorts with among the lines of "Your no hero" Thanks my dude, also honored to be your first prompt giver.I always love to see your writing pop up.

Hey! Thank you honestly so much! I know this sounds kinda cheesy but I'm honestly so happy about your feedback!

And thank you for the prompt! I believe you meant it in a more funny, sarcastic kind of way but I just wrote what came into my mind and it went a different route. Sorry.

But I'm gonna come back to this prompt when I'm in a more fitting mood! Anyway I hope you like this!

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

The sounds of their swords and their continuously shorter breaths was the only think the hero could hear. With every clash, it was if their energy was dragged out of their own body, fighting a war with their body itself, to stay for just a little while longer. But the fight has been going on for too long and the tremble of their body was bordering on violent. The hero barley escaped the villians sword, pressing their own sword just enough against the others, just enough to not be sliced in two.

Now there was only the panting for air to be heard. The hero vaguely registered that the villian was in just as bad of a shape now, as they were. That neither of them had the power for another collision of swords. That their only chance was to push harder, to make the other surrender by being the last one to stand, even if that meant standing there, trembling, bleeding and out of energy. But before the hero had time to process, let alone act on them, they buckled. It wasnt clear who lost their balance first and it didnt really matter now did it? .

With barley a sound, their swords started gliding down on one another, and with them their wielders.

Tho everything seemed to suddenly slow down, the ground coming closer and closer, the hero was unable to react properly. Shortly before they collided with a ground, they held up their arms a little, knowing full well how much that will hurt. But better than their head.

The hero tried to focus on their breath, taking air in, longer and deeper with every breath. Their head was buzzing and the ringing in their ears filled up any other senses. It was as if their body existed only to the end of their lungs, pounding against their ribcage, taking away their senses. Curling their hands into fists, the hero tried to get a grasp of their body again. Trying to remember how to feel it and even more so: how move it. With a couple more longer and deeper breaths, the hero tried to sit up. It took longer than they wanted but when they finally sat, clutching their chest, hoping it would ease the burn in their lungs, they could finally think clearly again. They pressed their eyes closed, trying to focus a bit more for a second and then tried to keep moving.

This time it was easier. Somewhat at least. They tried not to stare at the villian or to think of their obviously failed mission. But it seemed like they were cursed with exactly that. The villian looked just as defeated in all the wrong ways, they felt themselves. Down on the ground, bleeding and panting, with an expression screaming, they weren't done yet. The villian rolled onto their back, closing their eyes. The hero tried not to think of the amount of pain the villian must be in. And how all of this was their fault.

'It doesn't matter.' The hero tried to tell themselve. ' they're a villian. They deserved this. If they just would've listened, if they would've tried to do better, to BE better, this wouldn't have happend'. More convincing. But it only working barley. 'Just cause they did a few things wrong, doesn't mean, they deserve THIS', another part of them argued.

The hero collapsed onto the wall the villian had already pulled themselves up against. They sighed.

"This isn't over. Just so were clear." The hero finally croaked out. " This isn't over." The hero could feel the villians gaze boring into them. "Why ?" The villians voice quivered but the hero couldn't really judge them. After all, they weren't in a much better shape either. They tried to gather themselves enough to answer. "What do you mean 'why'? " "Why do you always have to keep fighting? Why are you doing this?" The villian sounded desperate now, fear and confusion laceing their voice equally.

The hero still didnt dare to look at the villian. To scared what they'd see. Too scared to wonder about, who would heal the villians wounds, who would embrace the villian and comfort them, when they got home. Too scared to remember they weren't supposed to think about these kind of things.

" I have to. I have to do good. To BE good. To be a hero." The lack of firmness surprised them. The flatness of their voice, combined with a lulled voice sounded unconvincing. Even to themselves.

"You're no hero"

The hero hadn't been prepared for their body flinching this hard. All of their wounds seemed to close and reopen again, stones settling heavily in their stomach.

The villians whisper cut deeper than their sword could've ever had.

With burnin eyes and trembling lips, the hero finally turned their head, meeting the villians eyes. Keeping their hand, pressed tightly to their chest again, as if to hold their body together and keeping it from shaking so violently, the hero could barley hear their own words. "What?", they whispered, just as desperately as the villian had earlier. They knew it was a foolish question. One they shouldn't have asked, furthermore shouldn't have even THOUGHT about asking. Since when did a hero need the validation of their villian?

But the hero knew that this wasn't about validation. Or at least it shouldn't be. It should be about moral. About what is right and fair and what is wrong and unfair. 'Everybody knows: the lines between those things are blurred. Sometimes what is right isn't fair and what's fair isn't right.', the voice in their head was taunting them. 'Maybe it wasnt really taunting, maybe it was begging?', the hero contemplated.

"You're no hero. I know you think you a-." The villian coughed and then pulled themself up, to sit a little more comfortable. It didn't look more comfortable. ' But how could it, when-' "I know you think you are a hero but you're not.", the villian interrupted their thoughts.

"Look at the mess you've made of the city. How many buildings crashed and burned because of you. How many people were in it, you couldn't save. That I couldn't save. And look at me! Look at yourself! How long are you gonna fight for them? For what they represent? Its obvious, that you dont believe in them. That you're just doing you're task, like you're a robot. Making excuses after excuses, that you're doing the right thing, never looking back at the chaos you create just to point fingers at everyone else. So tell me: Why? Why are you fighting a fight that you dont believe in? What do they have on you? Just: Why?"

The hero hadn't noticed how close the villian had come. How they were now basically leaning into one another. Their opponents eyes were filled with tears and desperation, their hands twisting the heros shirt.

'They dont have anything on me.', Is what they don't say. 'I'm helping them because I want to. Cause I belie-'

Memories of their time with the Organisation, of their training, of their fights filled the heros mind. The time they were recruited, how happy they were to be part of something, something big. The first time they managed to be top of their class and how since then, that hadn't changed a day. All the times they ditched a party or meeting or hang out in favour of going up against the villian. All the times they've been told about the evil nature of the villian. All the times they berated themselves for doubting the Organisation. All the times they wondered 'what was even the point in fighting this fight, if the ones, who seemed to truly believe in the fight, wouldn't dare to fight it themselves. Who would rather sit behind a monitor and lecture them on all the ways they fucked it up this time.

"Say something. " The villians desperate cries pushed them back into reality, into the present. "Dammit. Just say something. Why aren't you sayi-" The hero caught the villians hand, that had reached out to take a swing, which wouldn't have done any damaged anyway.

"I'm sorry." The hero finally croaked out. "I am so sorry." The hero finally took in all the damage they had done to the villian not only half an hour ago. Examining the villians torn clothes revealing, purple bruises and red, angry cuts. Examining the broken gear, hanging off of their belt and the bloodied ground. Examining the beheaded statue nearby and cuts in the ground and walls, marking the frequently rising violence of their fight.

Finally the heroes gaze dropped back onto the villian. At their messed up hair and busted lip, just to follow the path of a long gone tear back into the villians eyes. "I am so sorry.", the hero repeated. This time their voice didnt crack. Instead there was the firmness and passion, they had missed before. The villian held their gaze for few calculating seconds, nodded and leaned into the hero. The hero laid a protective arm around them, pulling them even closer, ignoring the pain it caused.

The hero knew they had a lot to make up for. A lot of things to take a responsibility for. Afterall the fight wasn't over yet. But it was between the two. Them against the Organisation. And at the next fight, the hero had a hunch, they will actually believe they are a hero. And more importantly: they will belive in the fight itself. Cause what is a hero worth, what's a fighter worth, who doesnt believe in the war they're fighting?

#villian x hero #villian hero #hero x villian #hero au #super hero #villian prompt #villian #coldflash #drarry #sterek #supercorp #pansy x hermione

[thecursedhellblazer]

At the Edge of Nowhere

(( So, guess who went ahead and scratched that crazy itch I got yesterday? Yep, Scotty did. It turned in a small fic instead of a drabble, since apparently I had more to play out than I initially thought, but...here it is. I took the chance to experiment a bit with the writing style too, while I was at it, ‘cause...why not? ))

(( I’m not really sure of where the idea came from, I just really wanted them to have interact, somehow, without inventing something too complicated. And this was the result. Also, it doesn’t mean that I won’t try to shove Five into John’s universe or vice versa at some point, but for now I’m good with this xD ))

(( Sharing just in case anyone is in the mood for some random oddity! ))

(( I even posted in on Ao3 if anyone wants to have a look at it there! ^^” ))

They sit side by side, watching the eternal sunset of Eternity stretching before them, swinging their feet past the edge of the Abyss, unfazed by the danger of its depths. The darkness seems to be threatening to suck them down, condemning them to an endless fall, and yet they pay it no mind, each of them far too interested in sipping and enjoying his drink.

The silence floods past them, over them, through them, carrying the whispers of their lives. However, for this ephemeral moment, they are given the almost unique chance to ignore them. It’s a rare gift, one that deserved to be savoured, like a fine well-aged vintage. Like the ambrosia that the ancient gods, legit and false, so much have lauded.

And so they sit, the Boy and the Fool, side by side, on the edge of the Abyss.

The atmosphere is almost companionable, as much as it can be when shared by two strangers who carry with them too much baggage. A past and a present that are too dark, too painful. There’s as much kinship and understanding between them as there’s mistrust.

They let the quietness linger for a while, listening only to the taste of the alcohol that coats their tongues, knowing that the stasis won’t last. Neither of them is good at keeping his mouth shut when something is making their skin itch.

“Th’ ‘ell ‘s a lad like yeh doin’ in such a place?” The Fool finally asks, turning his eyes away from the magnetic horizon and landing them on his unlikely companion.

The Boy scoffs. Why is it always the same old story with everyone he meets? “I’d watch my fucking tongue if I were you, young man,” he shoots back, with a withering look. “I’m far older than I look. And I’m older than you for sure.”

A half laugh rises with a small cloud of smoke, but it dies in the matter of seconds as the seriousness of those declarations settles in.

“Blimey. Yeh ain’t pullin’ me leg, are yeh? ‘Ow old are yeh s’posed to be den, mate?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Trust me, mate, I’m not. I’m fifty-eight. And I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen-years-old. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Bloody ‘Ell. Fifty-eight n’ still a lad? Tha’s...insane. I dun envy yeh. Nay.”

The Fool shakes his head, but, despite the lingering astonishment, there is a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Tell us, tho. Woh’s yeh secret? I gots me diabolical trick to slow down agin’ n’ all, but it obviously ain’t workin’ as well as yehs.”

“I got stuck in the future for forty-five years and, when I finally figured out the equation to go back to my time, I missed a typo and...this is the result.”

“Soddin’ math. ‘S one o’ th’ bloody reasons why I ne’er managed to get alchemy rite. T’in’s keep blowin’ up in me face.”

“Sodding math indeed. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their glasses together and go back staring at the frozen skyline. Two sets of blue eyes. Different shades of the iris, similar heaviness burdening them.

The Boy steers his drink with his straw, lips pursing pensively. “Speaking of things that suck, what is this place exactly? Am I dreaming? Or did I accidentally take some of my brother’s drugs and this is like the most boring trip in history?”

The Fool scoffs. “Gonna pretend tha’ yeh didn’t jus’ insult me too, together wit’ dis soddin’ place.”

His gaze wanders for a split moment, touching their motionless surroundings. “Ah, I dunno, mate. Could be yeh dream, aye. Could be mine. Or maybe we bot’ stepped inside another real wit’out noticin’ n’ ‘ere we are. Wouldn’t be th’ first time for me. Won’t be th’ last either.”

“I’ve never been in another world. I’ve travelled through time, maybe a bit too much, and I’ve rushed through the fabric of space but this…” The Boy waves his free hand. “This is new. It’s easier to think of it as a dream, so I’d go with that, if you don’t mind. The last thing I need is another headache.”

“Wohe’er works wit’ yeh, mate. I get it. At times, ‘s be’er pretendin’ life ain’t real. ‘S good for yeh mental sanity. Even if yeh got none left.”

The Fool takes yet another drag from his cigarette. Curiously enough, it doesn’t seem to be shortening, even if the ash falls down on his trench coat.

“One t’in’ I can tell yeh ‘bout dis place, tho. It ain’t somewhere e’eryone can visit. Yeh gotta carry some serious shite wit’ yeh to ‘ave stumbled in ‘ere. Do yeh?”

The Boy shrugs. “Maybe? I kept pushing and pushing, even after my father had told me not to and I ended up after the End of the world. I heard the bastard’s voice echoing in my head for the past forty-five years.” He makes his voice thicker for a moment. “I told you so, boy. I told you so. Asshole.”

A long sip from his drink, as if he is trying to wash away that intrusive voice from his ears, before he continues.

“I worked for this organisation that monitors the timeline for a while as a trained assassin. They made me into the perfect killer, a tool for their plans. I had my goals, though, since the start. I took their deal just so that I could go back to try to stop the Apocalypse and save my family. We ended up breakin the world anyway, so I dragged them all back in time to try again. Of course, all that shit followed us. Because it’s never that easy, is it?”

The Fool nods and the Boy can tell that his companion knows that sort of feeling far too well. It’s nice to be fully understood, for once. Even if the understanding comes from a nameless stranger he’ll probably never see again. Assuming that their meeting is truly happening in the first place.

“So...We saved the world this time but broke the timeline. And now my childhood home is gone and me and my siblings are stuck in a timeline that holds no place for us anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. Oh, and that bastard of my adoptive father is hunting us down using the kids he adopted in our place. It’s a real mess.”

There’s bitterness colouring his voice, the embers of a fight that’s too stubborn to die just yet, but the exhaustion is stronger.

“Though, between you and me...All I really want is a decent nap and a dozen more drinks. Maybe get a dog too. Not necessarily in that order.”

The straw produces a light slurping sound as he takes the next sip. “What’s your story? You must have one too, since you’re here...wherever here is.”

The Fool tips his head, in a sign of acknowledgement. No comments follow the tale, and there’s no real need for them there, out of time and space.

“Grew up in me own particular version o’ ‘Ell. Me oul man was th’ fuckin’ opposite o’ ‘father o’ th’ year’...So, I ran in my teen years, still thinkin’ I coulda owned th’ world. Stuck me nose in e’ery bloody t’in’ tha’ was magic n’ occult. One nite I got too cocky and damned an innocent girl to Hell. Earned a bloody place wit’ me name down there too in the process.”

The voice that spells out the words is casual, but there’s something haunted in his expression, darkening his eyes.

“Spent all me life tryin' to make up for tha’ bloody mistake. Ended up messin up meself and most o’ me mates n’ th’ people who ‘ad th’ ‘orrible o’ puttin’ their faith in me as a result. Girl’s still in ‘Ell, th’ bloody Devil ‘imself gots an eternal grudge against me, I gots demon blood in me veins n’ me soz arse ‘s still damned. I might not be a professional like yeh, but I bet I gots jus’ as much blood on me ‘ands. N’ even more souls on me conscience.”

The ice clinks against the transparent walls as the glass is lifted. More sourness to wipe away the one that the words have left on his tongue.

“Nowadays, ‘s mostly me, meself n’ I. Me best mate, too, from time to time. No clue o’ ‘ow he survived bein’ by me side for so long. ‘M still tryin’ to make t’in’s rite, but...for th’ most I jus’ try to be there to do th’ bloody dirty job no self-appointed ‘ero gots th’ time to do. I might be lost, past th’ point o’ no return, but there are lots o’ people out there who aren’t yet. Th’ fuckin’ least I can do ‘s tryin’ to ‘elp ‘em, aye? Make dis soz existence o’ mine wort’ more than misery n’ destruction.”

A drag from his cigarette and there’s a small hand landing on his shoulder, in a brief pat, before he has finished sucking the smoke in. The light pressure says more than a thousand words could.

“Between you and me, tho...I could use a dozen drinks too. Maybe more. N’ a bloody vacation. To sod off somewhere, even for jus’ a day. Maybe take me best mate n’ dis other lad I know. Oh, he could use a break too, th’ poor sod.”

The Boy makes a sound of agreement and he is back stirring his drink. “What a pair we make, you and I. And I don’t even know you.”

“I ‘ear tha’ loud n’ clear, mate. Bloody loud n’ bloody clear. Woh’s tha’ yeh drinkin’ anyway?”

“What? You ne’er seen a margarita? Where the hell are you from? England or Mars? Come on, try it.”

“Oi, I know woh a fuckin’ margarita is, oul man. Yehs jus’ a bit...flashier than woh ‘m used to.”

“Special recipe. I perfected it myself.”

“Now, tha’s more like it. I like a bloke who can make ‘is own drinks. There. Yeh like g n’ t?”

The glasses pass from one hand to another and then they both turn to look back at the unchanged horizon, holding each other’s drink.

A moment to sniff the liquors, in unison, and then the Boy dips his lips in the clear spirit while the Fool wraps his mouth around the straw. The tastes mix in the silence and it’s a symphony of citrus and sourness, with just the right amount of sweetness coming at the end.

“So, what happens now?” The Boy asks, after a moment.

The Fool shrugs. “Ah, I guess we wait till all dis fades. Or till we do. ‘S always ‘ard to tell when it comes to dis sort o’ shite.”

A huffs, with the faintest hint of irritation. “For someone who’s supposed to know a lot about this stuff, you give the worst cryptic answers. I can’t tell if you’re that ignorant or if you’re just fucking with me.”

A nudge in a smaller, slender side and a sharp smirk. “Who knows, mate. Yeh guess ‘s as good as mine. Keep th’ drink. I gots more back where I come from. Consider it a safe trip back home present. I’ll keep yehs as a reminder.”

“A present from a guy I never truly met? And a reminder of something we didn’t even speak about?”

“Nay. Jus’ th’ memory o’ some peace n’ quiet in decent company.”

“Fair enough. I can drink to that.”

#hellblazer #the umbrella academy #john constantine #five hargreeves #number five #tua #crossover #(( scotty writes ))

[queenl712]

Secret admirer part 1/? (Please be gentle this is the first time I ever tried to write a fanfic, if anyone likes it I'll write a part 2😅)

You were walking home from work like you usually do,you worked in bakugo's hero agency. When you reached in your purse for your phone only to realize that you didn't have it.

Y/n: shit, shit. *You ran back to work with lucky you hadn't made if very far before realising you left your phone back on your desk at work, it was 10:30pm and you ran for the closing elevator just in time , panting with your hands on your upper thighs only to look up and see crimson eyes you gasp before stumbling back hitting your head in the elevator door

Yn: oh bakugo you scared me , working late again?

You and bakugo have known eachother for since middle school when you broke down his walls if his so called bad guy arua which couldn't be more wrong because he was actually a really sweet guy with a bad temper ever now and then. You to were practically inseperable since then until your third year of UA when the villan dabi had attacked UA with the league and kidnapped you along with some other students for your quirks primary attack quirks and you were on your way to becoming a prod hero but unfortunately after the torture for resisting to cooperate with the league you were terrified of using your quirk which was a like a element bender as you could bend air, water and earth and you would have mastered fire if not for the kidnapping because now you refused to even use it anymore. When aizwa and fat gum had saved the kidnapped students you were not at your best state seeing as you were tramuatized and would not use your quirk so now you worked as a event planner and was recently hired by bakugo to plan a gala for his hero agency as he was named number one hero, something he was aiming for since middle school . After the incident 6 years ago you left UA and enrolled in a normal highschool and eventually became a event planner but on the down side you eventually stoped contact with bakugo your long time close friend only reunited because of the gala you were supposed to plan .

Bakugo: tch "of course I'm working late dumbass I'm the number one pro hero remember" he said in a teasing voice looking down at you.

Yn: pfff- "still as charming as ever I see" you nudged him in his side earning a chuckle from the hero who was a good two heads taller than you now.

Bakugo: "let me guess you forgot something as usual" he said with his arms crossed

Yn: you puffed out your cheeks pouting at him while leaning on the elevator wall along with him "must you tease me while I'm so miserably tired usually I'd take you own buuuuutttttt my bed is calling me , and yes (╥﹏╥) I forgot my phone"

Bakugo: he smirked with a teasing tone "well it's not my fault you don't take a break from what I heard you've been working non stop why not take a break and visit me instead hmm"

Yn:"hmm don't know wouldn't sir hero be busy ?"

Bakugo: " I'd always make time for you sparks" he winked

Yn: "wow I haven't heard that name in so long" you laughed

You had been given that name on trip to the shrine on new years night when you accidentally set off the fire works at the entrance while trying to stay warm using your quirk to start a little fire.

The elevator opens

Bakugo: "well what it gonna be dinner with the number one pro hero or waste away by yourself sparks" he got off on your floor walking to your office you temporarily have for planning, you open the door and got your phone out your desk.

Yn: hmm it's pretty late and like I said boom boom guy im terribly tired so maybe some other time" you yawn

Bakugo: "hmm how about tomorrow?" He pulls out his phone for you to give him your number. "So you don't disappear like last time" he eyes you suspiciously.

Yn: you took his phone typing your number in " yeah yeah I won't disappear I was just busy last week" you srugged. " Tomorrow's fine but I won't be available until 9 I got to handle a girl's sweet sixteen and she's really picky and Im not exaggerating it's really bad she's such a brat but I just have to go along with it" you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed

You and bakugo walk out his hero agency catching up a little

Bakugo:"you want a ride home?" He gestured to his car.

Yn:hmmm sure its just a few blocks from here I recently moved into a apartment for the while being " you got in the car

You and bakugo were in his car anlong with an awkward silence.

Bakugo's pov

It was middle school and everyone kept saying he could never be a hero more like a villan who'd what to be saved my someone like him which actually made him sad but he put up a wall so he couldn't get hurt until on day he met you, you were standing up for him

Yn: hey leave bakugo alone he'd make a great hero he can even be number 1 and I'd like to be saved my him rather than any of you jerks " you huffed and crossed your arms , intimidating mode on , glaring at them "hero's are supposed to make people feel safe and good and non of you are being anything like a hero for bringing down someone who isn't bad at all ,I won't come down to your level by saying you guys won't be good heros so just stop treating him like that" you said while activating your quirk moving water from the sink and hovering it above their heads. "Scram" you said while giving them a death glare.

Bakugo blinked thinking; what in the world why did she do that for me. Still staring at you in awe.you looked back at him which for some reason made his heart skip a beat.

Yn: "you okay?" Deactivating your quirk. "Don't take what they say to heart they just need someone to teach them a lesson" you said while cracking your nuckles . He noticed you had a bruise on your cheek

Bakugo: "what happened to your face?" He stepped closer to touch your cheek before he realized and stepped back with his face flushed red.

Yn: "got in a fight with a highscholler" you said nonchalantly

Bakugo looked at you and grabbed you wrist to drag you to the nurses office still trying to process how pretty he thought you were even if everyone thought you looked to boyish for a girl. You sat down in a chair and he stared wiping you bruise with a wet cloth .

Bakugo: " why did you do that for me earlier?" You looked at him

Yn: "become I think you're really cool and your quirk makes it 10 times better I still can't control fire and when those brats said those things about you I lost it" you said with your eyes sparking making bakugo's face turn red why he didn't quite understand.

Bakugo: "I'm convinced you never had it to begin with I mean who fights a highscholler and defends a kid they don't even know" you smiled making him gulp and blush again .

Yn: " those highschollers deserved it they were talking bull about my all might " you said while hitting your chest proudly "I did a good job two I gave one a bloody nose and the other a black eye not to mention soaked both " you said holding your stomach laughing.

Bakugo didn't know what to think you were pretty,fiesty,funny,caring and most of all were a all might fan to. He raised an eyebrow and said "what which punk talked shit about my favourite hero" now laughing to.

You two were practically inseperable now in UA and bakugo finally understood why he always felt so needy and possesive when he was around you he liked you but didn't know how to tell you and he was worried you didn't feel the same way so he didn't say anything in hopes you could keep your friendship . You both met and had a lot of other friends at UA now from kirishima,kaminari,sero,Ida,todoroki,mydoriya,shinso,ureraka,mineta,jiro and momo . It was his 3rd teary at UA new term now starting when UA was attacked by the league and a strong villan dabi and to his horror many of his friends were kidnapped and even worse you. Bakugo was hurting and a whole month had passed when fat gum and aizwa had rescued his friends and you from the league but when he finally got to see you his heart dropped. You were frantic clinging to fat gum who you had interned for begging him to get you out of here and when he tried to see you , you refused contact with anyone including him your longtime friend,he knew something had to have happened but he couldn't contact you he found out you had left to live with your grandmother and dropped out of UA when he tried to find out what happened fat gum had explained that you were tortured and wanted nothing to do with hero work anymore and that it would be better if he didn't see you.............he loved you and as much as he wanted to respect your decision he had to see you it had been a year until he found you and he was shocked . You had grown out your hear and he was a small time party planner,you looked happier and he over heard someone asking you about UA and if you had friends there then you said I don't like to talk about that and don't plan on doing it again in a serious tone and his heart sunk realising you probably didn't want to see him so just like that he went back home and worked hard to become what you thought he could be even tho he never spoke to you not ever letting you see his presence ,he was watching over you.

It had been 4 years when he became the number one pro hero and fat gum decided to plan his gala and surprised him with you planning it you had longer hair got a little taller and had the aura of a business woman with your black pencil skirt,purple blouse,black heals,long free hair and lip gloss along with your tablet in your left hand and that warm smile he loved ,over the years he'd always leave letters for you from a secret admirer so you wouldn't be reminded of what you wanted to forget tho he hadn't personally seen you In 4 years you looked absolutely stunning he talked to you for a bit trying to catch up but before he could ask to hang out you vanished. He had been leaving work on the way down to the first floor on the elevator when he saw you running for it and decided to go back up with you ,he wondered if you found anyone you liked and he missed you so he invited you to dinner tomorrow.

Back to the story ..😊

Bakugo broke the silence "so where do you wanna eat tomorrow" he said with a slight blush to his face .

Yn: "hmm don't know maybe some pizza like the old days" you said playfully thinking he'd say no

Bakugo: "okay do you wanna come over to my place or me to yours" he said already calling it that you thought he'd say no ,he smirked at you.

Yn: you really still can read me like a book huh?" Side glancing at him with a smile that had him week

Bakugo was red from the smell of your perfume and what smelled like lavender which he assumed it was your shampoo you had reached to your apartment building about to go in the building before he stopped you by grabbing your wrist slightly tugging you back, you looked at him confused seeing a slight pink on his face.

Bakugo: "you never answered yours or mines" pulling you in for a hug like old times he felt you hug him back and burry your face in the crook of his neck which had him giddy.

Yn: "hmm how bout mines boob boob man" smiling up at him ,his arms still wrapped around you ,your heart beat was already to fast and if possible it sped up even faster when he pulled you back into a hug holding you closer ,you blushed with your ears red as he pulled away .

Bakugo: "night sparks" he winked at you

You made your way to your apartment completely red ,you always loved bakugo and it hurt not to see him over the years but you didn't want him to see you weak and now you missed him even more you couldn't believe your feelings hadn't subsided over 6 damn years . You got ready for bed dreading the party you had to make sure was 'glitery perfect' as the 15 year old described just thinking about it gave you a migraine but atg the same time you couldn't wait for tomorrow to see bakugo. Your secret admirer hadn't been active for a while now but for some reason you couldn't help but miss him too .

You went to sleep

#bakugo/reader #bnha #secret admirer #mha

[hell-heron]

3, 6, and 20 :)

Thank you so much! So

3- scene I look forward to but can never find the setup- for the longest time it was the scene of dream things true where Mercutio complains about Tybalt and Benvolio and how they were both wrong for him in their own way and so on, until it fit into this setup. Now what u really can't manage to write is my special take on Paris' death, which I think could be a whole fic though.

6 - characters more fun to write--Tybalt, Sansa, Jesper tho I never wrote his POV

20 - meta stuff I want to ramble about - agdhsj this needs a bullet point list but mostly:

- I really liked what I did with the dream symbolism of worthless to two, specifically the Romercutio factor of the snapshots of childhood memories where he sees Juliet where Mercutio was, like dancing in the river and attracting dragonflies etc. Like ultimately he feels like he had known Juliet his whole life but it hurts that it isn't the case because they were never allowed to meet or interact, but it's very important to him, and it hurts thst in reality the experience they shared was just one night of making out followed by extreme trauma rather than the innocence they deserved, and he subconsciously wants to fix that . And of course he subconsciously associates her with someone else he's attracted to bc realizing his own feelings is impossible for this boy

- per within the gentle heart abideth love and worthless to two, both Mercutio and Romeo's suicidal ideation manifests with visualizing their corpses getting eaten and decomposed because they are weird like that

- I'm mildly embarrassed now of how over the top the Montague family dynamics are in "If you wake up and you're still scared" but it was a work of spite and love because I just find it obnoxious of like, the revival, Toho etc emphasizing like crazy the fanon of the Capulets being Terrible and the Montague being, ugh, also basically a mob family but look at how quirky and actually united and functional and wholesome they are!! So everything was more terrible than necessary. But there are actually some differences - like, I can accept it that the Montague have a less rigid hierarchy but it also leads to all this competition and infighting for power within the family, while with the Capulets there is just one heir and one boy of the family, no competition to be done. And it's extra bad because of course Lord M would want Romeo to take charge after him but it's very difficult for him both because well, it's not exactly compatible with his personality and because I'm guessing the Montagues had some trouble conceiving him so all of Lord M's siblings/henchmen had kids before him, so at least now they're mostly teenagers it would be hard for Romeo to have authority on his older cousins, and it muddles things. Hence in this situation Benvolio is sort of seen as the leader of the younger Montagues and a sort of second in command but it isn't meant to be permanent (like maybe at the beginning his dad was kinda hoping for that for him, maybe the power struggle happens in every generation etc but by now it's obvious he doesn't have any interest/attitude in doing power games, like as the actual leader Romeo would still probably be better at taking initiative and so even if Ben is doing better at the lower level) and he will definitely be Romeo's second in command too when they're older, so it leads him to kinda internalize this feeling that as long as he's useful no one cares about him beyond that and the individual is secondary to the Family Interest. Hence why both these boys are insecure to death and both feel inferior to each other. But the main spite is Mercutio absolutely falling for the Montague Facade of Cool Crime Family and getting thoroughly fucked by the reality of things , which is kinda my personal commentary on mafia romanticization etc but let's not get into that too much

- I decided the aforementioned fic is part of my headcanon because... It's just so cool, both to Explain Romeo being so emotional and catastrophic about things (Gerard what the fuck is J'ai peur about I'll kill you) if he's still getting over this sort of trauma, and why the kids get attached so hard, bc they probably don't recognize each other when they meet the second time bc Romeo was all beat up, bloody etc and Juliet was also all ruffled and crying and in general looking like a 13 year old girl just dragged from her bed to witness a torture session, so when he saw her with contacts and make up dressed nicely they couldn't recognize each other. But then they must have realized and it had a lot impact on them being codependent, idealizing each other etc. And I love the symbolism of them meeting for the first time in this terrible, grave-like place, and then having their false first meeting at a beautiful party but it's obviously a false start so quickly.