Whumpee shuddered, trying to turn their head away. Gritting their teeth, they tried to ignore the feeling of Whumper's ice-cold hands on their skin, lingering by a large cut that was still bleeding sluggishly.
"I know you're awake," Whumper whispered, digging their sharp fingernails into Whumpee's cut. Whumpee screamed, every muscle in their body tensing at the pain and Whumper's touch.
: ̗̀➛ warnings: some suggestive (azul, malleus)
: ̗̀➛ words: 2.6k
: ̗̀➛ [a/n]: short drabbles based on different ways of kissing! might extend some of these into full lengths fics We'll See... for now, enjoy!
【Riddle Rosehearts】 -cheek kisses
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"I've told you before, Prefect, you should work harder on keeping yourself presentable."
In a secluded hallway, Riddle has pulled you aside to readjust your tie that had supposedly gone haywire sometime earlier that day. You didn't notice, and it seems Grim and the others didn't either, or didn't bother to tell you. Regardless of how this situation arrived, you and Riddle are intimately close. His deft hands work on the silk knot as he scolds you for tarnishing Ramshackle's name (as if it had a reputation to begin with). Securing the final tie, a small smile appears on his face as he admires his work.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Riddle?"
He shoots you a puzzled look that meets the smirk on your face, a delicate finger pointing to your own cheek. Connecting the dots, Riddle's face flares in a shade matching his own hair. He glances from side to side, assuring the coast is clear before heeding your wishes. Using one hand, Riddle gently thumbs your cheek while leaning into the other, placing a soft kiss. Flowers bloom where his lips were pressed a moment ago, fleeting and leaving a feeling of warmth in your body. You grin at his flushed face and return the favor, in turn, Riddle's face erupts into a more violent shade of crimson.
"See you, Riddle. Pull me aside if my tie needs fixing again."
You turn and stroll to your next class, practically hearing (and ignoring) the steam blow out of his ears.
【Deuce Spade】 -forehead kisses
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Shivering in the chilly weather that's managed to sustain through late March, you eagerly stand in the sidelines of the track field to watch your boyfriend's race.
Sage's Island winters were tough. Snow begins in late October and sustain until late March, until a random snowstorm attacks in April. The on-and-off of warm and cold weather has been getting on your nerves, today being no exception. An icy wind bites at your nose, practically the only part of your skin exposed to the elements. Though the 30 degree weather is better than January's negative temps, you're angry that it's cold in March in the first place. Seething, you hardly notice a tall figure loitering in front of you.
"You look a little cold, Prefect." A gentle voice snaps you out of your rage for winter. Anger dissipates as you look up at Deuce, whose smile could melt all the snow on the island.
"I should be the one asking you that, aren't you freezing in that?" Deuce's outfit consists of a thin long sleeved shirt under his jersey, along with matching black tights under his shorts. The compressed clothes cling to his frame, lining toned arms so you can see every muscle underneath. It reminds you how you didn't fall in love with him just for his dorky personality.
"Running keeps me warm, don't worry about me," he chuckles, taking a step towards you. Caressing your cheeks with both hands, he moves to place his warm lips square on your forehead. He's an oven, and you can't seem to get close enough to absorb his excess heat. After too short of a time together, he pulls away, taking his visible warmth shown on his cheeks with him too.
"Uh, I hope you enjoy the race," he stammers, realizing what he's just done. You smile back at Deuce, his glow radiating through your body for the rest of the day.
【Jade Leech】 -hand kisses
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Crash!
Stars spin in your vision as you take in the situation. Surrounded by broken plates and scattered silverwear, pain begins to bloom on your rear. Although you've been working as a waitress at Mostro Lounge for some time now, mistakes still happen. You just didn't expect who you crashed into.
"My, Prefect, I didn't see you turning the corner. Apologies, it seems I got caught up in bussing tables."
As your vision clears, a hand is extended towards you. You look up to see a pair of mismatched eyes peering down at you. Jade's seemingly innocent grin invites you to take his hand, which you graciously accept. His firm hand pulls you to your feet, being careful that you aren't injured by the broken glass. As you take your stand, Jade wraps an arm around your waist to support you.
"Ugh, I didn't think I'd crash to the floor like that." You rub your temple as you begin to regain your awareness, absorbing the situation at hand. His grip tightens as you lean into his side, taking full advantage of his kindness.
"You really ought to look where you're going," he pauses, tucking a lock of your messy hair behind your ear and bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Else," he continues, "you may hurt yourself again."
His cool stare into your eyes as he spoke sent a shiver down your spine and a warm glow to your cheeks. Although your pain dissipated from a simple kiss, Azul ended up letting you go home early, allowing you to rest from the collision. Your "rest" consisted of replaying today's earlier incident over and over in your head.
【Jamil Viper】 -eyelid kisses
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"You're welcome to study with me at Scarabia, I can give you a few pointers for the upcoming exam."
The sun had set a few hours ago, and studying was beginning to feel fruitless in Jamil's room. The two of you set up a work station on his bed, papers sprawled across the comforter. A small lamp cast a warm glow across his concentrated face, still fully focused on studying for the upcoming potions exams. You clocked out of studying about an hour ago, scribbling to appear busy so Jamil wouldn't scold you. The dim lighting, comfortable bed, and boring subject matter were the perfect conditions for you to slowly doze to sleep.
Jamil knew you haven't been studying for the past hour, as seen by your doodles now visible to him after you began sleeping soundly. He let out a small chuckle, there was no way Jamil couldn't be angry at you when you looked so peaceful sleeping. He began to organize your notes, placing them on the nightstand. Jamil pulled an extra blanket over you after noticing a chill run over your body.
"Jamil?" you mumble, eyes fluttering open from the blanket covering you. "W-what time is it?"
"Don't worry about going back to Ramshackle tonight. Stay the night here, it's too late to head back now. Could be dangerous." Jamil smiles as if he planned for this to happen.
"Mm, 'kay," you whisper, refusing to argue with his point. It was late anyways, and Jamil's bed was much comfier than the long walk back to your own. Jamil must have been satisfied with his answer, smiling once you closed your eyes and nestled into his sheets. As you lie still, he leans over and places a soft kiss on your eyelids.
"Sleep well, Prefect."
【Trey Clover】 -crook of elbow kisses
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"A little ballroom dancing, whaddya say?"
A few days ago, Trey invited you to be his "date" for a Heartslabyul ballroom dancing event, as a part of an unusual unbirthday party. You thought yourself as more of a dancing partner, but Trey seemed to treat you more like a date instead, intertwining your hands and holding you close around the waist. He couldn't help himself, your sleeveless red dress drew him to you, caressing you as much as he could. You felt the same towards him, his black tux with red accents complimented your dress, making you two the perfect pair at the dance.
"You look stunning tonight, I can barely keep myself away," he whispered, twirling and dipping you slightly, putting an even greater height advantage over you. You giggled at his confession, thinking his lovey-dovey mood was cute. Trey has shown interest in you before, but now he's seizing this opportunity to show you how he really feels. Swinging you back up to standing position, he raises your hand above your head, exposing the soft flesh of your inner arm. While holding eye contact, Trey presses his face into your forearm, slowly sliding his lips to the crook of your elbow, planting a light kiss. He hums as you squirm in his arm, not used to the sudden affection from Trey.
"Trey, you're embarrassing me."
"Heh, my bad."
【Floyd Leech】 -shoulder kisses
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"Mmm, it's too early to get up yet..."
Dim light peeks through the blinds as morning dawns, waking wildlife all around, except Floyd Leech, who is currently attached to your side, chest glued to your back as he squeezes your waist with his long arms. You tried to escape his grasp earlier, but he's relentlessly held onto you, maybe as a means of preventing the day from starting. More time spent laying by your side is time well spent for Floyd.
You accept defeat and huff out a sigh. Floyd wasn't letting go anytime soon, might as well enjoy his warm figure to melt into. Once you stop struggling, Floyd captures his prey and presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin. He can never get tired of this, sucking in as much of you as he possibly can. Floyd's clingy nature is evident by the way he protectively holds your body for hours at a time, refusing to let you go before he's ready to get up too.
He feels your body relax, sinking his head further down your body. Floyd's nose rests atop your shoulder, breaths steadily escaping his nose and tickling your collarbone. You feel warm lips press against your shoulder, fleeting, but ending with a quick nip of his razor sharp teeth.
"Ow. Just for that I should force you out of bed."
"...Five more minutes."
【Malleus Draconia】 -collarbone kisses
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"The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they, darling?"
Malleus greets you at the door to his room, dressed to the nines in a black tux with an emerald green pocket square peeking from his suit. He can hardly hold in his grin as he soaks in your appearance; a sleek black dress shaping your curves and small jade earrings decorating your ears. Malleus waves Silver away, who kindly escorted you to Malleus' room at this time of night. A few days ago, your boyfriend sent a letter requesting your presence for an outing, dressed in your absolute best. You were nervous that the dress wasn't up to par, but from Malleus' hungry looks, it appears that your choice was perfect.
"Come in my dear, I have something special for you."
You follow the prince into his quarters, which is completely dark, save for the moonlight shining through the open window. The chilly breeze adds to the elusive atmosphere of Malleus' dorm, attracting you to the enigma that is Malleus Draconia. Next to the window stands a tall, floor-length mirror. While checking your appearance, suddenly, Malleus appears behind you, nearly making you jump. His tall figure and broad shoulders tower over your body, reminding you just how small you are next to the prince of Briar Valley. Your heart speeds up as he makes his brooding presence known.
Malleus reaches around your neck and places a cool pendant to your warm skin, burning an imprint of the metal onto the crest of your clavicle. Silver metal adorned with two green gems illuminate your bare neck, completing your outfit. You look up from the pendant to see his face congruent to yours, whispering into your ear.
"It's a family heirloom, my love. It's been passed down from generation to generation in the Draconia bloodline." His voice lowers, raspy vocals tickling the fine hairs lining your ears. "You'll help me continue my bloodline, won't you?"
Your face heats up at the implication of his words and the prized heirloom now placed on your neck. It nearly feels weightless now, having adjusted to the temperature of your skin. Malleus' lips are still centimeters from your ear, though short-lived, as his face continues to travel down your neck, resting adjacent to your newfound necklace. He plants a kiss on the peak of your collarbone, just next to your new heirloom. You can feel a smile spread across his lips, knowing that he's claimed you as his own.
【Azul Ashengrotto】 -thigh kisses
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"You're taunting me, aren't you?"
Face to face with ocean blue eyes lined with a mischievous glint, Azul has you trapped with both hands flat on his desk. You sat yourself on his work, forcing him to pay attention to you. Although most fall into Azul's schemes, you know exactly how to press his buttons and get what you want. Your legs dangle off his desk, brushing against his, eliciting a response of something close to a sigh. You lean close to his ear, voice raising barely above a whisper.
"Kiss me, Azul."
The lips would be too easy, wouldn't it? If you're going to play games with him, he would surely be a tough competitor. He leans his face close to your lips, pausing just before contact. Your eyes travel to Azul's gloved hands that are finding comfort in squeezing your thighs. He doesn't break eye contact as a thumb brushes underneath the hem of your skirt, rubbing small circles while breathing on your lips, feigning the kiss you so desire. Slowly, Azul brings himself down to a kneel in front of you, hands still massaging your soft flesh. Pushing your left leg open, he ghosts his lips above your inner thigh, teasing a kiss you've desired since he walked into his office.
"As you wish, princess."
Cool lips like ice cubes press onto your contrasting warm skin, sending a tingling sensation through your spine. Azul isn't short with it either, peppering kissing along your thigh until his once-cool lips match your body temperature. You comb your fingers through his silk silver locks as he rests his cheek along your thigh, soaking in your warmth and accepting your comforting hold. You both rest in silence, appreciating each other's presence.
【Ace Trappola】 -temple kisses
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"What's that, are you scared of getting caught?"
Ocean waves lap over the white sand. You're sat snugly against your boyfriend's chest while looking over the glittering stars, just outside of Royal Sword Academy. Ace had the slick idea of sneaking out during the academy's Founding Day to watch the fireworks with you. Though a troublemaker through and through, his sense of romance is endearing to you. For once, the two of you are silent, absorbing the gentle sounds of incoming waves, distant chatter of the academy, and the slow rise and fall of each other's breaths. You could have fallen asleep here from how calming the atmosphere was.
"Don't sleep on me, Prefect!" Ace whisper-shouts, squeezing your sides. "The show's starting!"
Looking out at the sky encompassed before you, bright and colorful lights begin flaring, the boom following shortly after. The two of you are entranced by the light show, each successive firework grander than the one before. Ace looks over at you, fondly smiling from the pure child-like wonder on your face. Have you ever seen fireworks before? He'd have to prod and poke at you about that later. Right now, Ace wants nothing more than to just paint your cute expression into his memories forever.
Without thinking, he pulls your head closer to him, pressing a firm kiss onto your temple. You stiffen initially, then relax into his touch and melt in his arms. Though unpredictable⎯and rather mean sometimes⎯Ace really did care about you.
Summary: In another world, few months after Bojan attempts his solo career, Kris messages him and plays "Gola", persuading him to come back to the band. Not in this one, though.
In this one, Bojan leaves and Kris takes his place as the lead singer, trying to keep the broken pieces of both the band and his heart long enough for them to repair. So when Bojan comes back to Slovenia 5 years later, Kris is more than reluctant to hear him out. However, when circumstances force them to work together again and Kris begins to see cracks in Bojan's seemingly perfect foundation, he has to make a choice. Hear Bojan out and unpack what went down five years ago, or potentially lose him again, this time for good.
Pairings: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin
Word Count: 3,368
Warnings: For this chapter, I think only emotional damage? do let me know if I missed something though
Notes: This was originally meant to be a fic for the JO big bang, but alas, work happened. So as things stand, I'll do my best to update this every Friday. Enjoy!
Ao3 link
2017.
Fuck.
It was one of those days where Kris felt as if everything was going wrong. It began when he slept through his first alarm - a rare occurrence - which meant that he had much less time to get himself ready for class, and resulted in stressing him out and desperately scrambling for time to catch up throughout the day.
A previous agreement with Bojan to meet before practice meant that he had to make it to the band's rehearsal space before everyone else too. Despite how overwhelmed he felt, Kris allowed himself to feel relief over this. His interactions with Bojan were tense at best as of late, and a much-needed talk could resolve things.
Perhaps it could be the one good thing he could have by the day's end.
The rehearsal space was empty, as he expected. Kris decided to make himself comfortable. He took off his jacket and parked himself on the couch, taking a few moments to toss his head back, run his fingers through his light brown hair and catch his breath, affording himself a few minutes of peace - something he welcomed, as he was dangerously close to being overwhelmed just a few minutes prior.
What could possibly go wrong? He thought to himself.
Bojan arrived ten minutes later, prompting Kris to look up upon hearing him. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and Kris could not help but notice that nothing changed, like the fog of tension had not dissipated. Bojan sat on the smaller couch across from him, his face a carefully controlled mask despite his rumpled shirt messy hair. Like a sun completely shrouded by clouds.
“I’d…like to take a break from working with the band,” he said slowly and deliberately. If Kris didn’t know him well enough by now, he would have missed the way Bojan’s brown eyes, ringed by dark circles beneath them, shifted nervously over the empty space around them before settling on Kris once again.
Kris was caught off guard by his words.
“What?”
“I think it would be good for everyone. We’ve been arguing constantly and we haven’t been productive. I haven’t written a single new verse in a while.”
Kris felt as if the room was spinning around him. Felt like he was a planet spinning far away from the Sun, and hurtling towards the desolate reaches of outer space.
“But-we always argue! We-”
“Not like this,” Bojan cut him off curtly.
No. Not like this. That much was true. Ever since Kris broke up with his last girlfriend, a simmering tension had begun to brew between him and Bojan. It was bound to snap eventually, but Kris didn’t think it would happen like this.
“This isn’t just about the band, is it?” Kris asked.
Bojan dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment, unable to hold his gaze. But then he seemed to have steeled himself, squaring his shoulders and looking up. Kris observed that he hadn’t shaved in days.
“I want to try and pursue a solo career. I received an offer and-”
“And you decided arguing with us isn’t worth it if you can just do away with us and do whatever you want on your own,” Kris snapped furiously.
Bojan winced, but didn’t back down.
“Wouldn’t you take that chance, if you were in my place?”
Were his hands shaking? Kris wasn’t sure. He felt so angry, so helpless in the face of Bojan telling him he was just going to up and leave the band. Leave him . Leave whatever it was that he foolishly thought was building between them all this time.
“No, I wouldn’t have. Not without at least making the proper arrangements first, at the very least!”
“What the hell do you think I have been trying to do, all these months?!”
Kris gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the hurtful words that threatened to spill out. Yet, as he remembered every heated glance Bojan sent his way, or the way they kept circling each other, and only each other onstage, the tension that seemed to hang thick in the air whenever they stood close to each other -
“Funny. That’s not how I remember it.”
Something akin to fear flashed in Bojan’s chocolate brown eyes before he swiftly pulled the shutters over his emotions.
“My decision is final.”
“Fine,” Kris hissed, “leave, then. But if you leave now, don’t you dare come back. You can tell the rest of them on your own, like the grown ass man you think you are. After all, you’ll be doing all of this on your own now, won’t you?”
He pulled on his jacket as he got up from the couch, then marched towards the door. He felt Bojan’s burning gaze on him, but he made no move to stop him as he strode out, refusing to look back.
Two months had passed, yet Kris was still haunted by his last encounter with Bojan - the final nail in the coffin after a series of stressful events that came after a point in time when they felt like they were on top of the world and that anything was possible. It left a gaping hole in his chest where his heart should have been, as well as a similarly shaped hole in the band. They had no further practices. There was no point in practicing without the lead singer, after all. It all just felt pointless for everyone. Like they were planets in the night sky, moving aimlessly along their orbits, around the empty space where the Sun used to be.
He spent countless sleepless nights pondering on what he could do. Of course, he had to acknowledge that there was always the option to beg Bojan to come back, but that was off the table. Yet, one other solution came to him. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready for it yet, however.
Which was why Kris found himself picking at his salad as ideas and possible solutions, mixed with a heavy dose of anxiety, simmered in his head.
“What's wrong?” Miha asked gently, snapping Kris out of his reverie.
They were alone, Maja and Maks were still at school, and his mother was attending a meeting with industry names. Kris was not quite sure if he was relieved or nervous about being asked if something was the matter. His father knew him too well, sometimes.
Kris was about to shrug, brush the question off and say it was nothing, knowing his father would not push. Miha recognized that he was already eighteen after all. And yet, Kris was forced to admit that if someone could understand him, it would undoubtedly be his father. Miha used to be part of a band before he eventually went solo, and he had years of experience writing songs that Kris simply did not have. If anyone was going to give constructive feedback or tell him honestly if he was about to make a bad decision…surely there was no better person than his own father?
“Still haven't heard from Bojan,” Kris half stated and half mumbled as he looked down and stared at the meat and vegetables on his plate.
“He's quit the band then?” Miha said, his tone surprisingly light. Kris fiddled with his fork.
“I think so.”
“Did you talk to him since he said he is taking a break?”
Kris pursed his lips.
“He’s the one who quit on his own volition, and he’s a grown ass man. Shouldn’t he reach out first? It’s the least he can do.”
Miha sighed.
“Kris, don't be like that. You’re better than this, and you two have been friends for years. He helped you a lot too, got you to play the guitar in the first place, and invited you to join his band.”
“I know that,” Kris phrased through clenched teeth, punctuating every word.
“Isn't it worth reaching out to him first, then?”
“He doesn't want me to, dad. He made that quite clear.”
“What a shame. He’s a talented kid.”
Kris felt his hackles rise at that. It was always Bojan who was considered talented. Everybody seemed to think so, at least. Kris knew his dad certainly thought that from the first time he heard him sing.
“It's always him who’s the natural, isn't it?” the bitter words tumbled out of his mouth before he could bite his tongue.
Miha blinked, clearly taken aback by his words before his eyes softened.
“No, Krisko, that's not what I mean. You’re my son, of course you’re very talented too. The initiative and interest you showed, and the progress you’ve made with the guitar…that’s uniquely yours.”
Kris scoffed.
“But I will never be Bojan.”
Miha reached over the table, taking Kris’ hand, which was gripping the fork painfully. He gently pried Kris fingers free of it and squeezed his hand gently.
“No. But he will never be you, either. And you are my son, not him. I’m sorry if I didn't make it clear enough, but I’m proud of you, more than you can imagine. Always will be.”
Kris felt the pressure of tears all of a sudden. His lip trembled and he sunk his teeth in it, willing it to stop.
“Of course I’m upset that you lost a singer in your band, but even more than that, you lost a good friend. I know how much he means to you.”
This time, Kris couldn’t stop the tears, nor the sobs that escaped from his lips. He curled more into himself, crying over the half-eaten plate of food.
“Oh, Krisko,” Miha said, getting up and hugging him tightly.
Despite being nearly two meters tall, Kris felt like a small child again, crying in his father’s arms. Yet, not even his embrace could fully soothe his anguish.
“I hate him! I hate him so much! Why did he have to fucking leave?”
Miha held him through all of it, until all of Kris' tears were spent and he was left empty. No more sadness, and most of the anger had escaped him, washed away by his tears. Yet, something remained in him – a spark of defiance.
“I want to…try to take up the position of lead singer.”
Miha took a step back, before kneeling in front of the chair. Observing him. Kris knew he must have looked like a mess after crying. Yet he tried to hold his head high, meeting his father’s gaze.
“Are you sure? It’s a lot of pressure to take on.”
“Do you think I can't?”
Miha gave him a small smile.
“Of course, you can. But do you want to?”
Kris nodded slowly. Paused for a moment, before nodding with more conviction.
“Yes. I do. Will you…will you help me?”
Miha's smile widened.
“Of course. We'll practice together, perhaps hire a singing coach for a little assistance if needed, and then you can show what we come up with to your friends. Deal?”
“Deal. Thanks, dad.”
Miha ruffled his hair.
“Anytime.”
They practiced for several weeks after that. Experimenting and adjusting both the songs and Kris’ own singing voice so they could flow more naturally, to create something new. Kris felt more confident in his idea, even if he was not yet fully convinced.
Yet, he still found himself tossing and turning in bed on some nights.
It was one of those nights once again, and after what seemed like hours upon hours of tossing, Kris huffed, turning over to the side and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. 1:34 am flashed brightly over the screen, illuminating his face in the dark.
Kris tapped the Notes app on his phone, looking at the unfinished song Bojan had started working on before everything fell apart. A song they argued about particularly often. He figured out the melody that Bojan struggled with, and some bits and pieces of lyrics, with his father's help. However, he couldn’t bring himself to finish it. It was as if there was something missing . Yet, as much as he thought and thought, he could not come up with anything that clicked. Try as he might, he could not come up with the appropriate burst of inspiration, much unlike the way Bojan seemed to operate.
Bojan…
Only Martin remained in contact with Bojan since he left the band. They knew he was alright, but Martin refused to give any other details. Matić tried to press the issue once, saying they deserved to know, but Martin simply said he did not want to pick a side, and refused to reveal anything to Bojan about the band’s progress - or the lack of it - either. So that was that.
Kris clicked on Bojan’s contact number and his fingers hovered over the keyboard. He thought about his father's original suggestion. He could make it easier for himself, swallow his pride and send Bojan a message, asking him to meet. To show him what he worked out on Gola. To give him another chance.
He began typing out the message, his fingers shaking. As he did so, the status next to Bojan's icon changed to Online . The sight of this caused Kris to freeze. He hastily deleted the message he had typed out and exited the chat.
He bitterly recalled their last conversation, when he warned Bojan that if he left, there was no way of returning.
With the painful memories resurfacing once more like an old wound throbbing, he opened up a new group chat they made. One without Bojan.
Kris: Can we have a band meeting tomorrow?
Jan: as long as it’s not in the morning
Matić: I'm in
Martin: 3 PM?
Jan: 4?
Martin: fine
Kris: Deal
Matić: see ya
Kris placed his phone back on his nightstand, his heart racing. The leap he was about to take the next day was enormous. It could all go wrong. Reaching out to Bojan was the safer choice. Smarter, even.
His anger and bitterness still raged inside him, however. If Bojan changed his mind, he would come back on his own accord. He did not, and so Kris decided that he might as well carry on without him.
With that in mind, he finally drifted to sleep.
The next day, everyone surprisingly arrived on time. Even Jan, which was the most shocking surprise of all. Kris’ procrastination due to dread meant him arriving at the rehearsal space at five minutes to four. He froze at the door when he saw everyone was already there.
Jan was lounging on the couch, looking like he rolled out of bed, with his messy bun and his leather jacket tossed on over a half-open shirt, but he was there. Matić sat next to him, looking fully alert. Martin sat on the separate chair across from them, and though he looked like his usual neat and dignified self, nervousness replaced the usual calm manner he had.
Kris felt his own anxiety spiking as everyone turned their attention on him. He cleared his throat.
“Well. This is a surprise. Which one of you two dragged Jan here on time?”
“Jan dragged himself,” Jan said, a ghost of a smile on his face as he brushed some strands of hair away from his face, “because if this meeting was important enough for you to inform us about at…1:30 in the morning, it must be something big.”
Kris swallowed and took the seat at another chair facing the couch. He felt everyone’s gaze still burning into him as he stared at the floor. He thought he would have more time to prepare in the rehearsal space, banking on everyone arriving a little bit later, but that did not happen, and he was clearly out of time. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for their reactions.
“I don’t think Bojan is coming back to the band.”
Jan didn’t look surprised at the admission, if a bit resigned. Matić’s face dropped, but he did not look particularly surprised either. Martin, on the other hand…he looked uncomfortable.
Does he think we aren’t aware? Or is there something else he knows and isn’t telling us?
“Unless there are any new developments Martin has to share?” Kris gave him a chance, watching his face closely.
Martin drew his lanky limbs closer and seemed to curl more into himself. He shook his head.
“No.”
What little hope began to bloom within Kris’ chest extinguished just as quickly as it ignited. Of course. Bojan was adamant about pursuing his solo career. They were truly on their own.
“So, this is it, then?” Matić asked.
“I wanted to propose a solution. Or, well - something we could try, at least? Before fully dropping the whole band idea?”
“Finding another singer would be difficult,” Martin said, biting his lip, “especially someone who fits in with our style of music.”
“I thought I could give it a try,” Kris said quickly, before his courage left his body.
This prompted another shocked silence, so he continued talking before they could say anything.
“I know I’m not Bojan and we’ll have to change some things… a lot of things perhaps, but my dad can help with songwriting and I can practice! I really don’t want to lose everything we managed to build in this band. Even without Bojan, I think we have a chance.”
“I’m in,” Jan said.
Kris snapped his gaze towards him in surprise. There was that spark in Jan’s eyes that he sometimes got when he was really determined. He gave Kris a small, defiant smile.
“I’m not giving this up. If you think you can do this, why not give it a try? We can always try something else if it doesn’t work out.”
All of a sudden, Kris remembered why he befriended Jan in the first place. He was brilliant and experimental, yet also loyal to a fault. They could clash all they wanted – Kris’ perfectionism stood in stark contrast to Jan’s willingness to try crazy things, but when it came down to important things like these, Jan always had his back. Kris smiled back.
Matić shrugged.
“Why not? Not like we have much to lose by trying it out.”
They all turned to Martin, who still seemed troubled. Kris worried the most about his reaction. Not because he didn’t think Martin would be against him singing, but because he knew Martin was Bojan’s best friend. They knew each other before Kris even knew either of them. If Martin thought Kris wanted to replace Bojan, of course he would naturally be hesitant. Kris could not entirely blame him for it, even if he couldn’t help but feel some lingering bitterness. Bojan was the one that left them , not the other way around. Kris would never have had to resort to finding ways to fill the void had he not left in the first place.
“I can’t be Bojan, but-”
“But if he doesn’t want to continue singing in this band, we have to continue without him,” Jan cut in, but he stared at Martin in an intense, almost intimidating manner.
Martin sighed, hanging his head for a few moments before finally nodding in agreement.
“You’re right. I’m in.”
Kris breathed a sigh of relief. He felt dizzy with adrenaline, like he had just run a mile, rather than merely having a simple conversation with his bandmates. Then, Jan stood up and went over to hug him. Kris laughed slightly in surprise before returning the hug. Jan was rarely affectionate unless it was towards particularly close friends.
“To our new lead singer,” Jan said, teasingly nudging Kris’ shoulder.
Then Martin and Matić joined, forming a tight group hug with Kris in the middle. The young guitarist smiled, looking at his friends who were all awkwardly huddled together around his chair. While the spot Bojan would usually take still felt like a gaping, empty void, it no longer seemed to hurt them as acutely and painfully as before – it was still there, but it was also as if something was beginning to heal, or change in a way that made its presence more bearable. Maybe the band could survive this, after all.
Ohhhh! Okay, nice. I didn't work on this one for a hot minute.
Context: everything you write shows up on your skin, Aemond and Luke had a rough revelation of the bond and Aemond had even more trauma after.
Aemond didn't like therapy. Yes, he was aware it was helping. No, someone digging through his head would never be pleasant.
"I thought we could talk more about Luke today."
Aemond scowled and crossed his hands over his chest.
"And here I thought you'd prefer in more detail how I almost burned down a church."
Sara sighed. She set her pen down and just focused her gaze on him. Aemond tensed. Sara looked nothing like Alys, her hair was black instead of red, and her face had a completely different structure. And yet, when omeone watched him so closely he always felt uncomfortable.
"You have been in therapy with me for some time now, Aemond. Almost two years. And while I admire the progress you made, I find your deflection everytime I mention Luke worrying."
Yes well, that happened when one is practically trained to be sick at the mention of their soulmate. The fact that that still persisted made him feel so angry. At Alys? At himself? At Sara? He didn't even know.
"What do you want me to say? I still feel disgusted at merely seeing him. Repeating those are learned reactions, doesn't fucking help. And the fact that he is still the bastard that took my eye doesn't encourage me to try and fix that."
Doctor Carmilla stood in the hallway of the Aurora, wracking her brains. All she had to do to entertain Jonny was give him a gun, and when that failed she could always play cards with him (even if he always won by an embarrassing margin), but Nastya was different. Carmilla couldn’t just leave the Cyberian to her own devices, of course, but being immortal meant that remembering what you did when you went to school was very very hard. Carmilla wanted some time to herself today, and that meant an especially hard programming puzzle or maybe a logic game--- or a philosophical issue. Her face cleared and she opened the door to Nastya’s room. “I have something for you to think about!”
Nastya shook her hair back and looked up. “You sound like my tutor.”
Carmilla decided to take that as a compliment and push forward. “Well, then, consider this homework and give me the answer by tonight. So, if you have a ship, and you replace a few of the windows, is it the same ship?”
“Obviously,” said Nastya.
“And then if you replace the engine?”
“Still the same ship.”
“How about if you replace every single part of it over time, though, until there’s nothing that was there originally? What then?” the Doctor asked.
Nastya frowned, clearly thinking, and Carmilla had to keep herself from smiling in triumph. She was such a brilliant teacher, thinking of a problem that would keep her child’s brain working all day while she did other things!
“Yeah, it’s not the same ship after that,” said Nastya firmly.
I dunno if people are interested but I updated an ongoing fic for bishamon x fem!reader (from noragami) and i don't know where else to promote this so...
