#;; she is the 'breaker of chains' by then and suddenly she's IN CHAINS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uvobreakmylegs · 4 years

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Catch and Release

Long fic with over 9k words in which the reader is a bodyguard working for the Nostrades and is present at the events of Yorknew. Events in the Yorknew arc have also been altered

Warnings: kidnapping, threats of violence, degradation, kink talk, mentions of death, the reader makes some not very good choices

To say that it was nerve-wracking to be sitting in such close proximity of one of the Phantom Troupe would be a massive understatement. You, along with the other remaining bodyguards of the Nostrade family, had witnessed this man – the one Melody had heard being addressed as 'Uvogin' – slaughter an entire group of mafia bodyguards and four of the Shadow Beasts completely on his own.

And now that same man was sitting next to you in the backseat of the car, the only thing keeping him in place being Kurapika's chains.

Luckily, though, his attention wasn't on you.

“Hey, driver. You think these chains can hold me?” Uvogin sneered at Kurapika, “if you don't kill me now, you'll regret it later.”

“Shut up.”

It seemed that you and Melody had the same idea to keep quiet and avoid attracting attention to yourselves, as you both kept your mouths shut and avoided eye contact. You didn't feel safe in that car. With either of those men. Even though he was on the same side as you, Kurapika had been out of control earlier, and with how much clear hatred he had for the cannibalistic murderer sat next to you, you worried that he would snap and endanger everyone again. Hopefully Melody would be able to calm him down if it came to that.

“Don't you understand? This is a golden opportunity,” he continued to taunt.

“Stop wasting time and just-”

The chains around him tightened and you could hear him grunting in pain.

“I told you to shut up!” Kurapika yelled, as he went as far as to turn around in his seat to glare at his captive, ignoring Melody's pleas for him to watch the road.

Uvogin was clearly taken aback by Kurapika's abilities, struggling against the hold of the chains as best he could in his weakened state. He had been shot at point blank range with a anti-tank cannon, and now it was chains that were doing him in.

You silently prayed Kurapika's hold on him would remain tight; it would be so easy for this giant to lean over and take a bite out of your head. You happened to have the binoculars at the exact moment he did that to one of the Shadow Beasts, and of all the things you had witnessed tonight, that had been among the most disturbing. Either Kurapika's chains were able to keep his movements restricted enough, or Uvogin just hadn't thought to do that yet.

The death-glares were still being exchanged between the two men with Melody becoming increasingly insistent for Kurapika to keep his eyes on the road. Not wanting the car to crash, you were about to try and get Kurapika's attention back on the road as well when Dalzollene suddenly called.

“Kurapika, floor it! It's a tail!” your boss's voice sounded over the phone.

“A tail? But who-”

You all seemed to have the same thought, using gyo to look over Uvogin. A needle stuck out of his thigh, a thin nen thread leading past your face and out the window.

“Shit,” you hissed, pulling the needle out and tossing it through the window as you rolled the glass down. It vanished into the night as Kurapika sped up. It had to have been the rest of the Phantom Troupe following.

You stayed twisted in your seat, looking back at a car that was following. It would be hard to lose them in the desert, and it seemed unlikely that your group would be able to make it to the city to ditch them.

Then, though you had a hard time making it out, you saw something fall onto the hood of that car, and it suddenly began to move about like no one was controlling it. The headlights behind Dalzollene's car completely vanished after that brief commotion, and after a few moments, it seemed as though they had been stopped.

“I don't think they're following us anymore,” you said. One could hope, at least.

“Not sure why they stopped, though,” you added.

“It doesn't matter,” Kurapika said.

Surprisingly, Uvogin had been quiet the whole time. When you turned back around and glanced over at him, he was staring blankly at the ceiling of the car, his anger from mere moments before seemingly dissipated.

“This is our chance to hurry back to the city,” Dalzollene spoke again.

“Roger that,” Kurapika answered.

“We'll switch the location to pattern C,” Melody said. She then looked back to you.

“We don't want muscles here putting up a fight. You can do that, right?”

“Of course,” you answered.

Now was not the time to lose your composure; right now, you needed to prove that you did have value as a hunter working for the Nostrade family.

Bringing up your arm and holding your palm so it was facing up, you focused your nen, and a small anemone bloomed in the center of your hand. You turned to face Uvogin, who was looking at you now, an eyebrow raised in question as he looked at the flower made of nen in your hand. You blew softly at the flower, causing the petals to flutter off and into his direction.

“The fuck is that supposed-”

Uvogin couldn't get any more than that out before the petals hit him, vanishing as your nen entered his system and forced him into a deep sleep. He slumped forward, and you were finally able to relax slightly, now that you didn't have to fear immediate death from a man who proved he could kill without the use of his arms or legs.

“Don't relax just yet,” Melody chided, “we still need to get him into a secure location.”

You nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

You felt better when he awoke next. For one thing, you weren't stuck with him in a tiny, confined space, instead standing to the right of Dalzollene and having more than just Kurapika and Melody with you, as the entirety of the remaining hunters were surrounding him. It also helped that he had been completely strapped down to the metal table that took up the majority of the room, various restraints and wires around his neck and limbs keeping him secured.

Though with the way those bonds seemed to be straining against his muscles, you had to wonder if they'd be as effective if he didn't have the drugs that Dalzollene had pumped into him earlier.

He looked about the room after waking up, taking in all of you that surrounded him. His gaze seemed to linger slightly longer on Kurapika, you noted.

“Do you understand what's happening here?” Dalzollene asked, “where did you put the stolen merchandise?”

Uvogin seemed unconcerned, sighing a bit as he glanced at the hunters around him.

“What time is it?” he asked.

He spotted you, and asked “how long have I been asleep?”

You kept your mouth shut, instead looking over to Dalzollene, who seemed to have grown angry with Uvogin's nonchalance about the situation. Pulling his sword forward, Dalzollene readied himself for a strike.

“It seems that you don't grasp your current situation,” he growled, “I'm asking the questions here!”

He thrust the sword downwards, intending to stab the spider in the leg.

Uvogin's aura flared, and the tip of the sword broke off as it struck him. The piece of metal went flying into a breaker box on the other side of the room, lodging itself deep inside of it.

The noise echoed in the room briefly, and then silence overtook it. To think that even with those drugs in his system, Uvogin still kept his composure and was still able to use his nen so freely. He stayed quiet, looking blankly at the ceiling again. This man truly was something else.

He looked to Squala.

“Let's make a deal.”

“What?”

You hadn't even realized you had said that aloud until he looked over at you in response.

“I'll spare your lives, so let me up now,” he said to you.

“Huh? Wh-what is he saying?” Squala asked, looking to Melody, “is he insane?”

Although you and the rest stayed quiet, you were certain that sentiment was shared by most of your fellow bodyguards.

“He's serious. I think,” Melody answered.

It was easy to write this man off as just being insane, but when you thought about it more, it wasn't like that: the Shadow Beasts, nen masters who were more powerful than you could ever hope to be, had been so easily disposed of by this man. If he could take care of them within a matter of minutes, the rest of you didn't stand a chance. And he knew this. He was literally only making this offer because it would be less of a hassle for him.

Strange to think that this was likely Uvogin being charitable.

“Let me make something clear: We're after the auction merchandise that was stored underground,” Uvogin explained, “if you guys don't know where it is, I have no business with you.”

A beat of silence passed as everyone took in his words, broken by Basho as he began to talk, clearly annoyed by Uvogin's words.

“Wait a moment,” Melody said, interrupting him.

“You didn't steal the merchandise?” she asked Uvogin.

“The safe was empty when we arrived. The Shadow Beasts had already taken it all. I guess they didn't bother telling grunts like you.”

His words stung a bit, forcing you to acknowledge just how low the Nostrades were on the mafia social ladder, but to you, it didn't seem that he was trying to pick a fight or get a rise out of anyone. He was simply explaining the situation and calling it as he saw it: you and the others were insignificant, and even after going as far to kidnap and drug him, he saw all of you as being so little of a threat that he was willing to forget about it.

You didn't need Melody to tell you that he was telling the truth.

Squala was sent into a mild panic at the realization that Uvogin wasn't bluffing, and the way the spider smirked at that panic made everyone tense.

And then his gaze went to you.

“Everyone makes mistakes. We haven't stolen anything yet,” he said, and then looked back to Dalzollene, “so take these off, and pretend you didn't see anything.

“If you do that, you get to live.”

His words sent a chill down every spine in the room, and despite your best efforts to stop it, your hands began to tremble, forcing you to clench your fists so hard that your nails dug into the palms of your hands.

Everyone seemed to be in a similar state as you.

Everyone, except Kurapika.

“What about the guests?” he asked.

“Guests?”

“The guests who were in the auction hall. Some of our colleagues were there.”

It was a terrible thing to admit, but in the midst of everything that had happened that evening, you'd managed to forget about the hunters who had gone to the auction. They were likely dead. And Kurapika had to have known that.

Another thing you had managed to forget was Kurapika's reckless behavior from earlier. Perhaps you should have been impressed that he had kept his composure for this long. But if there had been any chance of your boss deciding to take Uvogin's deal in exchange for your lives, you could just feel that Kurapika was about to put an end to that.

“I see. That's too bad,” said Uvogin, “we killed them. It was part of our plan-”

Kurapika punched him in the face as anger clouded his judgment again, his expression turning to one of rage has he yelled “how many lives do you think you took to carry out that plan of yours?!”

Before he could get another punch in, Basho stepped forward and pulled the younger man away, yelling at him to stop.

Uvogin didn't seem upset at all, despite the bruise on his face and the blood coming from his nose. If anything, he seemed amused.

“If the merchandise is in safe hands, we don't need him. We'll hand him over to the community,” Dalzollene said, having regained his composure during Kurapika's outburst.

Uvogin wasn't paying attention to him, but instead was still grinning up at Kurapika.

“So no deal?” he joked.

You all left the room as Dalzollene stayed behind to double-check the restraints on Uvogin, but before you could exit, he instructed you to wait for him in the next room. Kurapika, Melody and the others went down the hall to another room while you stood outside the cell door. It worried you that Dalzollene had asked you to wait, and you had a bad feeling he was going to tell you to keep watch in the room where the prisoner was being held.

“I just made sure that he was attached securely to that table, and I've put in another dose of those muscle relaxants,” Dalzollene said to you as he came out of the room, “but just to make sure he doesn't do anything, I want you to wait in there until people from the community come for him.”

God fucking dammit.

“You think he'll be able to get out even with all of that?” you asked.

“No, but I want to make certain that he can't try anything,” he answered, “we've all seen what he's capable of, and I don't want to risk him bringing down this whole building just from his shout. If he looks like he's going to do anything, I want you to knock him out again. Among those of us who are left, you and Kurapika are the only ones who can do that easily.”

He sighed.

“And with how Kurapika has been acting, I can't trust him to not do something stupid, especially if he were to be left alone with him. So that just leaves you.”

“Okay boss,” you said, nodding slowly.

“If you think you can get any information out of him, then do it,” he continued, “but overall, just keep him in line.”

Dalzollene dismissed you with a wave of his hand, heading to the desk on the other side of the room, presumably to make whatever calls he needed to the community. You could hear him muttering something under his breath, something about wishing Baise were here instead.

Going back into that room was the last thing you wanted to do – especially when you would be completely alone with him – but you forced your legs to carry you back to that door.

Uvogin's eyes were on you the second you entered that room, making a chill run through you as he looked you over. You ignored it as best you could, situating yourself next to the door and leaning against the wall.

“So you'll be keeping me company while we wait for those mafia idiots to come and get me?” Uvogin asked.

You had really been hoping that he wouldn't talk, that he would be more like he had been in the car, or after he'd woken up. Dealing with him not speaking and staring at nothing would have been easier, but it seemed like he was riled up after Kurapika's outburst, and now you were the only one left for him to take it out on. And of course, now you had no excuse to disobey Dalzollene's orders to try and get information out of him.

“Looks like it,” you answered.

“Hm. Guess I lucked out with that,” he said, “you're easier on the eyes than some of those others in your group.”

'Please just shut the fuck up,' you thought to yourself.

“What, going to give me the silent treatment? You were pretty quiet earlier, too.”

He paused, thinking of something.

“You mad about your friends, too? Did we kill someone important?”

“.... Not really. I barely knew them,” you admitted.

He let out a low whistle.

“That's cold. At least that other guy cared.”

“It is what it is,” you said.

Maybe if you just kept your answers short, he'd give up on talking to you.

But probably not.

“So then this is purely business for you?” he asked.

You said nothing, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Is it worth losing your life over this?”

You couldn't help the way you tensed, and he chuckled at you when you when you crossed your arms over your chest. You were trying to appear nonchalant, but he saw right through it.

“It looks like the others have made their choice,” Uvogin said, “but my deal is still open for you: let me go, and I'll make sure you live.”

“I can't do that,” you answered.

“You were watching while I took out those mafia, right? You really think it's safer to side with people that weak? When I get out, you can be damn sure they won't be able to protect you.”

“If I let you out I'd need protection from them,” you snapped, “and right now I'm more scared of my boss than I am of some guy who's going to be tortured to death.”

“Hmm. Your boss, huh?” he said, looking back over to where the sword tip was still jammed into the breaker box.

“Can't say he impresses me. And you can't be anything special if a guy like that can keep you in line.”

Your eyes stayed on the floor, and you refused to react to the taunt. It wasn't like he was wrong.

“I can't help but wonder. Why the hell is someone like you involved with a mafia family?”

You stayed quiet.

“I asked you a question,” he growled.

His tone sounded dangerous, and it spurred you to reply.

“I need the money,” you said.

“What for?”

“That's private.”

He laughed.

“Well now I really want to know. What, you looking to save up for something? You got a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”

It wasn't anything like that, but you weren't about to explain yourself to him. You worried you might need to tell him something anyway. He seemed amiable enough at the moment, but it looked like his mood could change pretty fast.

“What's your name?” he asked suddenly.

“.... Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

Uvogin was the prisoner of the Nostrade family, and yet he was clearly in control of the conversation you were having as you complied with his request and told him your name.

“So how long have you been working for these idiots?”

“.....”

“Oh come on! Is it going to hurt that bad to answer a few questions? You said yourself that I'm going to be tortured to death, what's the harm in humoring a dying man?” he asked, “you think they're going to ask me about you?”

The 'you' at the end was virtually spat out, as if to cement the fact that you really meant nothing to anybody. Looking over to the camera that was in the far corner of the room, you wondered if Dalzollene could hear the two of you. If he could, he hadn't yet felt like he needed to step in. Your boss had told you to get information if you were able, but given how this was going, you weren't sure if it was possible to accomplish that.

“I... I only just started working for them,” you answered, “a lot of us were hired just for this job.”

“Just for the auction?”

“Yeah. Our boss wanted to bid on some of the items.”

“I'm guessing your boss wasn't among those that we killed,” he said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because why would you grunts go after us if there was nobody to sign the paycheck for you? If it was just one of you with a vendetta I'd get it, but all of you? Nah. The majority of you would have run off the second you lost your reason to care.”

…. His reasoning was pretty sound, though you hated to admit it.

“So who all did die at the auction?” he asked, “just a bunch of the new hires?”

“No,” you mumbled, “only one of them was.”

Uvogin scoffed.

“Too bad for them. But I'd say they were luckier than you.”

“They were lucky?”

“Yeah. They're deaths would have been pretty quick. But none of you are going to have a that luxury when the rest of the troupe finds you.”

It would be telling him too much to mention that you were almost one of those casualties. Originally you had been assigned to go to the auction with Tocino and Ivlenkov, but Baise had approached you and asked to swap places. She said that she was curious about the auction and wanted to see it for herself. It didn't matter much to you either way, so you had agreed, taking her place outside the auction house with Linssen and Basho. It was a simple decision, and one that had saved your life while it condemned hers.

Telling him all that would be far too much.

“You've gone quiet again,” Uvogin said, “you sure we didn't kill someone you cared about?”

“I told you, this is just business for me,” you answered, “I'm surprised you care at all. I would have thought it would be the same for you.”

“Oh, it's business for me as well. But this is a job I do because I enjoy it. If I see something I want, I take it. I don't give a shit about money.

“You'd probably be happier if you didn't care as much about money.”

“Good for you; not everyone can live like that,” you said dryly.

“More people should. It would make things more interesting.”

“I'm sure it would,” you sighed.

“Don't be like that. We'll probably be stuck in here for a while before those idiots come for me, so might as well make the most of it.”

“..... You're not worried about the community getting you.”

“Why should I be?” Uvogin asked, “you saw what happened with the Shadow Beasts, right? If that's the mafia's best, what do I have to be worried about?”

“Might be different when you're in custody,” you said, “they might have someone who can get through that nen shield of yours.”

Uvogin snorted.

“Doubt it. No one can take me down.”

“Except my colleague.”

Uvogin scowled at that and glared at you. You tensed again, readying your nen in case you needed to knock him out, unsure if he would let out another earth-shattering yell or start spitting pieces of human skull at you. With the strength and power he had demonstrated, you were grateful for the drugs Dalzollene had put into him, because the more you looked at that muscled body, the more you were certain that the restraints on their own weren't enough to keep him down.

“Yeah, except for him,” he hissed, “and you. I'd say it was impressive that you two incapacitated me and managed to not die afterwards, but sneak attacks have never done much for me, and they never work twice. Neither of you will catch me off-guard again.”

“I don't think we really need to,” you answered carefully, “you're not really going to be our problem after you're collected.”

He grinned at you again.

“Feel free to believe that.”

There wasn't much you could respond to that with, so you stood there in silence. The community couldn't get here soon enough. This situation was stressing you out more than anything else you had ever been through, and this was only your second day in Yorknew. If the mafia was able to get things under control, there would still be a few more days of the auction that you'd need to participate in for Neon's sake. And that was if the rest of the Phantom Troupe didn't try anything else for the rest of the days.

If the Phantom Troupe was as tight-knit as Uvogin was making them out to be, there was a chance they would come after all of you in retaliation.

Why the hell did you get yourself mixed up in underworld business?

“Oh, that reminds me – I might die before the community comes to get me,” Uvogin said.

“What?”

“That fat bastard from the Shadow Beasts infested me with leech eggs,” he explained, “apparently they're going to hatch inside of me and when they do I'll die. You might want to help me out with that unless your boss wants to hand over my dead body to the mafia.”

“..... I saw you being shot at by an anti-tank cannon. You seriously expect me to believe that you'd be done in by baby leeches?” you asked.

“It's a bit different when something is hatched inside of you,” he said, grinning as he continued “but I guess I can't force you. It's not like it's on me if I die before I can be interrogated.”

There was no doubt it would be bad if he died before he was in community custody, and since you were the only one with him, the blame would probably fall on you.

“How long before they hatch?”

“Who knows.”

The way he said that made it seem like he was lying, and with the way he grinned, it seemed like he knew that you knew and that you couldn't do anything about it. The man's body in the picture frame at the Nostrade mansion came to mind, and if that was what Dalzollene was capable of when it came to a slip-up, who knew what would happen if you failed on this.

Pushing off of the wall, you sighed.

“I can't take out the leeches,” you said.

“But,” you continued before he could say anything else “I can slow down their hatching process.”

Holding out your hand, another flower bloomed in your palm. This time it was a lotus. Just as you had done earlier, you blew on it softly, and the petals fell off and flew towards him, vanishing as they landed on his abdomen.

He watched in silence as the petals vanished before looking back to you.

“You said you were only slowing it down?” he asked.

“Yeah. I usually only use this to slow down a bad wound from bleeding out too much,” you explained, “but it should work for this. However long it'll take for those leeches to hatch, it'll take twice as long now. So if you only had 24 hours, it's now 48. That should be long enough for whatever the community does to you.”

“Hmm. You did something different in the car,” he mused, “what nen type do you have? Conjuration?”

You didn't answer, not wanting to tell him any more about your nen ability.

“So I'm right?”

“.....”

“C'mon, sweetheart. You can't answer that question?”

“I think I've been pretty good about answering your questions,” you said.

“Yeah, and I've got a feeling it's supposed to be the other way around. That boss of yours told you to interrogate me, right? And you can't even do that much,” he sneered.

“I came to the conclusion that trying to ask you anything would be a waste of time,” you snapped back, “you're not going to give me any meaningful answers so why bother talking to you about anything important?”

He seemed amused by your reply.

“Took you a while to finally snap. But how long will that last?”

'Stop responding,' you told yourself. That brief burst of anger that had built up purely because of how annoying he was insisting on being dissipated before he had even finished speaking, and by this point, you had just been ridiculed for far too long.

Uvogin demanded that you speak again, and even though you tensed again at the way he growled that order, this time you refused to say anything. He glared at you, and you readied your nen, preparing to knock him unconscious.

He tsked, but did nothing else, looking bored as he watched the ceiling. You didn't lower your guard, though, still watching for any sort of sign that he would try something.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, waiting for him to make a move.

When he did say something again, you managed to not come off as startled as you were.

“Was it also part of your instructions to be staring at me the whole time?” he asked, “not like I'm going anywhere.”

“I was under the impression that you liked having eyes on you.”

“Sure, I like the eyes of my victims on me before I kill them.”

You couldn't help letting out a little bit of a laugh at the corny threat. His eyes snapped over to you instantly.

“Something funny?”

His voice was low and dangerous, and the more sensible part of you knew that it was smarter to ignore him again. But the petty side of you wanted to see if you could upset him as a miniature vengeance for how the conversation had gone earlier.

“Yeah,” you answered, “I was just thinking that you're pretty lucky that it's me watching you and not one of my colleagues that you killed. She had the ability to make men fall in love with her by just kissing them. If she'd been here, she'd have had you spilling your guts about everything. She also would've had you liking the way you were tied up. Maybe have you begging her to step on you.”

You tilted your head to the side slightly as you smirked.

“That would have been pretty embarrassing for you, but it also would've been pretty funny for the rest of us.”

He didn't say anything.

You expected some sort of response. Maybe some outrage, maybe some threats, maybe even managing to flip your taunt back on you in some way and continuing to dominate the conversation as he had been the whole time. There was definitely anger in the way he looked at you, someone so much weaker than himself mocking him, but he still said nothing, just frowning as he looked back to the ceiling.

That made you more on edge than if he had begun to yell at you.

The air between you two was far more uncomfortable than it had ever been, and you found yourself wishing that the people from the community would show up already.

“You really don't pull off the tough act very well, sweetheart,” Uvogin said.

“But congratulate yourself on managing to piss me off.”

He said nothing more than that, continuing to stare at the ceiling as if he hadn't said anything at all.

Fuck you messed up.

The regret from saying the things you did hit you like a bucket of cold water. Why the hell did you do that?

The sound of the door opening made you jump, forcing you to stand to attention as Dalzollene walked in.

“The people from the community should be here soon,” he told you, “I'll meet with them when they arrive, so you go to the room where the others are.”

Before you could answer, you heard Uvogin scoff behind you.

“Making sure all of your subordinates are gone so you can get the full credit?” he asked, the distaste clear in his voice. He looked over to you, asking “why do you follow a guy like this?”

“You should be worrying about yourself, not her,” Dalzollene snapped.

He motioned for you to leave, which you did. You looked back one last time before the door closed behind you.

Uvogin looked bored again.

Not even five minutes had passed after entering the room with the others when Uvogin's roar echoed through the building, shaking the foundation and making you cover your ears in a feeble attempt to protect your hearing. There was no time to question what had happened; Melody ordered everyone to follow her, and you all did, running down to the express elevator and piling yourselves into the car as you heard walls being smashed behind you. For whatever reason, no one came after you, and you were all able to escape back to the hotel where Neon was staying.

It wasn't hard to figure that Dalzollene had been killed, and now there was no leader and a very angry spider who would be coming after you for revenge.

The events that followed were like a whirlwind for you: Kurapika was voted in as the new leader, Light Nostrade was coming in the next day to take Neon back, and then Kurapika realized that sensitive information regarding the Nostrades and the buildings they owned in Yorknew was available on the Hunter website, and from that, he had determined that Uvogin would find your current location. You'd then needed to move Neon and all of her things into a new room at the same hotel while Kurapika stayed in the top suite to wait for him.

“His focus will be on me,” Kurapika had said, “as long as the rest of you stay in the new room and don't come out, he'll leave you alone.”

You were happy to listen to his instructions and had been ready to wait for him to take care of Uvogin once he arrived.

But then Neon started complaining about something.

Evidently she had lost a cellphone charm, probably in the other room, and was throwing another tantrum until she could get it back. The two women who worked as her servants were, understandably, a bit nervous to go out into the halls while everyone waited for the spider to arrive. So you had volunteered to go for them, making a bit of a show for Neon as you said that you would go get it and for her to wait for you to come back. That had seemed to calm her down, and the one servant, Elisa, whispered a small “thank you” as you left. You weren't stupid enough to go back up to the top suite, however. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in the crossfire. So instead you planned to hang out somewhere on one of the lower floors, and then you'd go back up for Neon once you had gotten confirmation that everything was safe. Hopefully during that time the servants would be able to placate Neon until you got back.

You made your way down a few flights of stairs before picking a random floor where you would wait.

The door opened before you could grab the knob.

Uvogin stood there.

Time seemed to stop as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes widening in surprise as you looked at him in shock. You were completely alone with him, again, and this time there was nothing restraining him.

You were going to die unless you did something now.

It took only a few seconds for your nen to conjure a flower you could use to get out of this situation. But it was a few seconds too long. Before you could bring your hand up Uvogin had grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall in the stairwell, holding you at eye level so you were several feet off the ground. Your hands went up to your neck as you tried to pry his fingers off when he began to squeeze.

“I was wondering if I'd see you again,” he said, “I thought maybe you'd have run away from Yorknew after last night. Good to see that you stuck around.”

Black splotches were starting to appear at the edge of your vision, and you let out a pathetic wheezing sound as you tried to get in a breath.

“Need to breathe already? I guess I can do that if you do something for me first. Blink if you understand.”

The grip around your neck left you unable to concentrate and form something with your nen, so you complied, blinking at him.

“Good. Now, blink once for 'yes', twice for 'no',” he said, “is the chain-user up there?”

You blinked once.

“Good.”

True to his word, his grip on your throat relaxed slightly, and you took in a few desperate gulps of air while he chuckled at you.

“Not so fun when you're the one being held against your will, is it?” Uvogin asked. When you didn't respond, his eyes narrowed and he growled “huh? Didn't I ask you a question?”

“N-no...” you said, finally finding your voice.

“That's what I thought,” he sneered, “before the night is over that chain-user is going to learn a few things, too.”

He looked up at the stairway.

“I'm guessing he's waiting up there for me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “he-he knew you'd be coming, and he wants to f-fight you by himself.”

That blood-thirsty grin appeared on his face and you shuddered.

“That's great. I can't wait to pummel that guy into nothing.”

He looked back to you.

“But what do I do with you? I can't just let you go, can I?”

His grip was becoming tighter again. Your struggles were renewed, clawing as best you could against him and trying to push him away with your feet.

“Wait-!” you began.

“Settle down.”

He pushed himself against you, the arm that held you up now pressing uncomfortably against your chest while the other went down to hold your leg in place against the wall.

“Where'd that sass from earlier go? Or were you acting like that just because you thought you were safe when I was chained up?”

“Wait-!” you tried again.

“Should've taken my deal,” said Uvogin, “then you wouldn't be here, begging for your life like a pathetic wretch.”

“No-!”

“The underworld is a nasty place, sweetheart. You should've realized that before you signed up for this. I gave you a chance and you threw it away. Now you have nobody to blame but yoursel-”

You had continued to struggle, your free legging pushing against him as best you could, and somehow, one of his legs had ended up between yours, and when his thigh had brushed against your clothed cunt, you gasped.

He stopped talking, looking slightly confused until he looked down.

Moments that felt like small eternities passed in silence while you continued to pull at his hand, managing to wrap one hand around his thumb.

Uvogin began to laugh.

“What, you like that?” he asked, pushing himself harder and grinding against you. You couldn't help the way you blushed, and the shame you felt was overwhelming when he continued to laugh at your expense. The noises leaving your mouth didn't help either, and they didn't stop even when you bit down on your lip to try and keep quiet.

“I didn't peg you for a slut, but I guess you learn something new every day,” Uvogin said, clearly enjoying himself as he continued his ministrations.

“Stop! I don't want this!” you yelled.

“Don't lie to me sweetheart. Not when it's written all over your face just how much you enjoy this.”

He grinned at you.

“You mentioned something earlier about me liking being chained up and wanting to be stepped on,” he whispered, “was that you trying to tell me what you wanted to see?”

“No!”

“I can't believe that. It was too specific of a thing to bring up without being into it. You liked seeing me tied up, huh? Do your colleagues know about that? Do they know how much of a desperate slut you are? I wonder....”

He trailed off, then leaned in closer to whisper directly into your ear.

“Do those nasty little kinks of yours go both ways? Would you like it if I chained you up and tossed you around? What else are you into? I'd love to find out.”

Your hands left his one that held your throat, pushing against his face to try and get him away from you. He didn't budge, not even slightly. All you accomplished was him laughing at you again while your pride was slowly torn to pieces.

Without any warning he let you go, and you tumbled to the floor in front of him. You scrambled back into the corner of the stairwell, one hand raised as you prepared to defend yourself. Uvogin remained relaxed, smirking down at your shaking form in the corner.

“Don't bother trying to do anything; I'm not going to let you hit me with that again,” he said, “if anything you should be grateful.”

“.... Grateful?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah, because I'm going to let you live.”

“Huh?”

“Tch. That's all you can say to that?” he scoffed, “be a little more happy; you're not dying tonight.”

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Once I take care of that chain-user, I'll be back for you. I was actually thinking you might be worth leaving alive anyway; I think my boss might like certain aspects of your abilities. And once he's taken them, I'm sure he won't care if I keep you for myself afterwards.”

You were lost for words and could only shake your head at him.

“I told you earlier,” he said, “the underworld is a nasty place; you've got no one but yourself to blame.”

Finally, finally, he turned and began to make his way up the stairs, leaving you in that corner while you tried to process what just happened and the things he had said. You wanted to run, to at least get out of that stairwell and into a space that felt safer, but until Uvogin was further up those stairs and far away from you, you stayed still.

He paused when he began up the second flight of stairs, looking back to you and speaking your name in a way that made you tense again.

“You can try to run if you want,” he said, his tone more serious and seeming much more collected, “but if you try that, I will find you. And things will be much, much worse for you if you run away, you can count on that.”

He grinned, and somehow this one seemed deadlier than any other you had seen thus far.

“I'll be seeing you.”

And with that, Uvogin continued to make his way up the stairs and to the top suite where Kurapika waited. You heard his footsteps echoing against the metal of the stairs, getting softer as he went further and further up, but you still didn't move. Only when you could barely hear him on the stairs did you finally get up.

Bursting through the door, you all but scrambled to get to somewhere safe. You were a mess, your thoughts all over the place and emotions running wild, and all you could do was pray to whatever God might be listening that Kurapika would be able to dispose of that man.

In his state of zetsu, Shalnark standing behind a corner went unnoticed by you as you ran off. Had he not been listening to your conversation with Uvogin, he would have killed you right there. But instead, he smiled to himself, waiting until you were out of the way completely before entering the stairway himself and continuing to follow Uvogin as he had been all afternoon.

Kurapika didn't come back.

The late night had transformed into morning, and he didn't come back.

The immediate thought shared by the group was that he was dead, and the second one was that Uvogin was going to be coming back for the rest of you.

Basho and Melody were the ones doing best at keeping level heads and trying to keep the group calm. Just because Kurapika isn't back yet doesn't mean he's dead, Melody had told all of you. He'll be back, she assured you.

God you wished you could believe that.

It had been determined that you all should wait until Light Nostrade made it in, then he and Neon would leave with a few of the bodyguards while the rest moved to a different building to continue with the auction. At this point, bidding in an auction was one of the last things you wanted to do, but you had a bad feeling that you wouldn't be one of the lucky bodyguards that would be leaving with the Nostrades.

Uvogin's words repeated themselves in your mind, and every time his name was mentioned you couldn't help the way you shuddered. No one seemed to notice that, however.

Except Melody.

She caught you in the late afternoon when you were alone and asked what was troubling you, citing how rapidly your heart would beat when Uvogin's name was mentioned.

The emotions that you'd been trying to bottle up overflowed and you broke down, full-on crying in front of her as you told her everything. From the time with him in that room to when he'd caught you in the stairwell, you told her every little thing he had said to you, every threat he had made and just how terrified you were of him coming back to get you like he said he would.

Melody had been horrified at your confession, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you felt genuine compassion from another human being. She held you and rubbed your back in a soothing motion as you sobbed into her.

“He won't get you, I promise,” she said, “everything will be okay. But I'll make sure that you go back with the boss tonight, alright?”

You didn't answer. You just tried your best to calm yourself, wiping away your tears while sobs still hiccuped from your throat.

“Maybe some fresh air would do you some good. Basho was complaining that there weren't any good snacks in the building. How about you run down to the store and grab some things for everyone?” Melody suggested.

“Should.. Should I really leave? Right now?” you asked.

“I'm sure it'll be fine. It's just a quick run to the store, right?”

“.... Okay.”

Grabbing a hoodie on your way out, you pulled up the hood and kept your face down, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying. It felt strange to run such an errand during a time like this, but maybe Melody was right and it would be good for you. And maybe by the time you came back, Kurapika would have returned.

With two plastic bags full of junk food and a few drinks, you had exited the convenience store at the corner, the bell on the door ringing as you stepped outside. There had been a bit of a line behind you so when you were given the change from the cashier, you had hastily thrown it into one of the bags as you were eager to keep the line moving. After leaving the store, you stepped to the side of the building, your back facing the street as you began to dig through the bag you had thrown the change into. It wasn't like it was even that much, but you didn't like the idea of just leaving it in there with everything else.

As your sole focus was on reaching around inside of that bag for the change that had made its way to the very bottom, you didn't notice the large group of people that had come up and were passing by you.

Not until you heard a familiarly deep, boisterous voice that made you freeze.

He was talking to someone, saying something about still being mad that they had followed him. A different voice responded saying that it was a good thing they had done that. There was an answer from him, but you couldn't hear it very well with the way your heart was beating in your ears.

The voices were getting further away now. You tentatively peeked out from under your hood to see if it really was who you thought it was.

Even from behind, there was no mistaking Uvogin in a crowd.

He walked with a group that you recognized some of as being the other spiders that were there with him on the night of the auction attack. Others you didn't recognize, but if they were traveling together, they must have also been part of the troupe. At the head of the group was what looked like a man in a long black coat, seemingly leading the group.

Right in the direction of the Nostrade's hotel.

You swore that your heart was beating so loud they all should have heard it and then you would have been at their mercy. But they continued walking, not paying attention to anyone else around them. Realizing that you hadn't taken a breath since you had heard Uvogin's voice, you let out a soft, shuddery breath as they walked further and further away. They were still close enough for you to see clearly when Uvogin gave a playful slap on the back to the samurai in purple robes, who stumbled forward slightly and began to curse out the taller man.

When he had pushed him forward, you noticed a small piece of folded paper that slipped out of his robes.

The group turned a corner, and only when you couldn't see any of them anymore and you could no longer hear any of their voices did you move, slowly walking forward down the sidewalk, constantly checking to make sure none of them came back as you went for that slip of paper.

Your hands were trembling as you picked it up. Why you were concerning yourself with something they had dropped you didn't know. There were more important things, like getting back to the hotel before them and warning the others, but your brain was in a horribly familiar panic-mode and you weren't thinking straight.

Unfolding the paper, you found a set of pictures – headshots of the Nostrade family bodyguards. Dalzollene's picture had been crossed out, but Basho's, Squala's and everyone else was featured.

But what truly sent you into a panic were the two pictures that had been circled in pen.

One was of Neon.

The other was you.

All you could hear for a bit was your own harsh breathing, unable to focus on anything else while you looked at that bit of paper.

He was doing as he had promised. Uvogin and those others were going back to that building and they were going to kill everyone and then take you.

The remaining time you had to warn the others was slipping away and you stood petrified as you tried to figure out what you could do.

You couldn't fight them.

None of you could. The only one capable of that was Kurapika, and if Uvogin was still walking around, then he had to be dead.

You couldn't fight them.

The paper and the convenience store bags you had been holding fell to the ground as you bolted off in the opposite direction. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you until you were out of breath and aching all over. And even then you continued running. Uvogin's words, the things he did and the way he looked at you were still fresh in your mind. You couldn't face that; you knew you wouldn't win and you just needed to do whatever you could to get away from him.

Even if it meant only saving yourself.

Your kept running, sometimes bumping into people or cars, ignoring them as they yelled at you so you could keep going.

When you were thoroughly exhausted and ready to fall over, you made it to the airport, taking a few seconds to stop and catch your breath, resting your hands on your knees as you were ready to heave out your lungs. One of the airships would have to be departing soon. Buying a ticket wasn't an option; you'd need to go with a riskier route.

You jumped the fence into the airfield and were stopped almost immediately by a security guard.

“I don't know what you're thinking,” he yelled at you, “but you'd better be ready to-”

You focused your nen and a hyacinth formed, and you blew at the petals in the direction of the guard. When the petals hit him, he stopped his rant and his gaze turned blank as he stared at you.

“Let me on to the next departing airship,” you ordered.

“Yes miss.”

He moved robotically, leading you to an airship at the end of the field. Luckily nobody else approached you two. When you controlled someone with this ability, you could only give them three simple orders, and you could only use it on only a few people during a short period of time, and you didn't want to waste any of it using the guard to keep people off your back.

When you reached the airship, you told him “go ask the stewards to meet me at the entrance. And when you're done with that, I want you to go back to your station.”

“Yes miss.”

Once your last order was completed, he would be out of your control and would have no memory of you or anything that happened.

After ordering the stewards to take you to an empty cabin and to not let anyone enter during the flight, you let them go, slumping down in the window side seat after you had locked the door. The airship was taking off, and soon you'd be away from this nightmare.

The others wouldn't, though.

The reality of the situation struck you then, that you really had just run off and left them to fend for themselves. Unless some miracle happened, they were going to die. Melody didn't deserve that. Neither did Squala. Or Basho, or any of the others working for the Nostrades. Neon was a brat and she had proven that she didn't care for you or anyone else who worked for her, but that really wasn't her fault. And even if it was, it didn't mean that she should suffer for it. Not like that.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around your knees as you curled up into your seat, cursing yourself for your cowardice and for just how pathetic you were as the airship lifted you higher.

The story you read months later was that of a mystery disappearance of multiple people in the hotel owned by the Nostrades. The bodyguards and employees had all vanished, leaving behind hotel rooms filled with signs of violence, but no sort of blood or bodies in sight. The only one left was a thoroughly traumatized Neon who could barely speak and was unable to offer any explanation as to what had happened. Not even her father was able to get her to speak. Nor could he get her to use her ability, and without his daughter's fortune telling, he lost that place he had carved for himself in the mafia community and quickly fell from grace.

The articles in magazines and newspapers focused more on that aspect of the story, of the millionaire who fell from his high social standing. No one seemed to care much about the people that had vanished. Very few articles mentioned the bodyguards, and fewer still bothered to name any of them. Your name had been listed in one of those articles as one of those who were missing, but what had made you sick was reading the names of the others and knowing that they weren't missing, but that they were dead.

'This was what you chose,' you told yourself bitterly. Instead of trying to take on the troupe in an effort to save them, you ran away like a coward. Though it wasn't like anything would have changed if you had confronted them, but maybe if you had, you wouldn't need to live with the guilt of knowing that you did nothing to try and help.

You were just too weak.

The world of the hunters, that thing that you had worked towards for so long, having gone through that exam so many times and coming so close to death every time you did, was no longer something you wanted to be apart of. The dream that you had of everything being alright in your life if you could just get that license was shattered after learning about nen. Even with that treasured license, you were still so horribly insignificant in this world, and the power that you held was ultimately meaningless in the long run.

After that eye-opening experience, and after everything you had been through in Yorknew, all you wanted was to go back to a normal life.

You sold your license and made a new home for yourself on the other side of the world, far away from Yorknew and anything remotely to do with the mafia community. You lived in a humble apartment and worked a decent job while you lived life with your head facing down, staying under the radar as best you could. Just existing with yourself as best you could.

Not a day went by that you didn't think about the people you had abandoned, or the words Uvogin had said to you on the stairs. That he would find you if you ran, and that the consequences would be worse for you if you did that. Months had gone by since that day, but your anxiety didn't allow you to relax in the slightest; he had been confident in his words, and after everything you had seen, you were certain that he wouldn't give up on finding you that easily.

Time had continued, and you were coming up on almost a year since the incidents in Yorknew. Returning late to your apartment after your shift, you were struggling to keep yourself awake as you slipped the key into the front door lock. You were ready to pass out as you entered, turning as you shut the door behind yourself. Had you been a bit more alert, you might have noticed the light that was on within your apartment that shouldn't have been on, or the shadow that loomed behind you the second you turned your back to lock the door.

What you did notice were the two strong arms that wrapped around your form and pulled you against a solid chest, and the breath that tickled against your ear as a terribly familiar voice whispered to you, putting you on full alert as you realized who held you.

“Gotcha.”

And like that, your time of living in hiding came to an end.

#yandere hunter x hunter #Uvogin #hxh uvogin #uvo x reader #yandere hxh #yandere #yandere x reader #kurapika #melody hxh #dalzollene #reader insert

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ambraambrose · 2 years

Text

A surprisingly enjoyable Halloween

Series: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Raiting: fluff (maybe a few swear words)

Author’s notes: I tried not to spoil anything of Game of Thrones.

The mention of Casey’s scar will be explained in another story I’m working on.

All characters belong to pixelberry and George R. R. Martin

Dedication: I want to dedicate this fic to @crazy-loca-blog

Ethan sighed when he left the hospital. This awful day was almost over. It was Halloween, Ethan hated Halloween and all the hype about it. Some other doctors and nurses appeared to work in costume. Ethan would never done this, he hated costumes anyway and thought it would be also unprofessional. He hadn't anything against it when someone at work wore a costume, especially the nurses who had such a hard job, most of the time they had to take all the blame for the anger and frustration of doctors or patients and got a shit of money for this. On Halloween they usually felt happier in their costumes and because of that Ethan wouldn’t have said anything against this ever. but he was annoyed that some of his colleagues tried to force him to join them and didn't let him of when he kindly refused. He knew Donahue's would be full of drunk people in costumes but he needed his scotch at Reggie’s bar to clear his head after that awful workday.

A few minutes later he sat at his usual spot at the bar, Scotch in hand eyebrows knitted in concentration while he was surrounded by Clowns, Ghosts, Nuns, Superheroes and animals. He should ask Reggie to forbid costumes next year. while this idea was attached him more and more he heard an now too familiar voice. "Hey Dr. Ramsey. Are you weighing up if you get Reggie to ban all this weirdos?", she asked smiling. "Rookie, how do you get the idea i would do such a thing?" She just raised an eyebrow and both laughed.

Ethan drank her appearance in watching her costume very close up and down rubbing his index finger over his chin. "And who are you tonight?" "I am Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons." With raised eyebrows and open mouth Ethan looked confused at her. She looked to the floor and bit her bottom lip a little bit ashamed her hands folded behind her lower back. "I guess you don't know the book series "a song of ice and fire" or TV Show "Game of Thrones" that's based on the books." "You're absolutely right." Somehow he wanted to take her embarrassment away and he didn't want to let her go he only wanted to keep her here with him as long as possible. Although she was pure beauty to him the way she looks he adored her in this costume cause she looked so damn cute and sexy, a wig of long blond locks with some parts in braids, a brown leather crop top showing her beautiful stomach where her skin looked as soft as all of her. He recognized a scar on the left side of her ribcage what brought a sudden concern to him. What happened to her? He wanted to know really badly but would never ask her about it, not yet. He tried to focus on her in her costume in front of him. The matching leather skirt over a pair of riding pants really made her look like a warrior queen, his little warrior queen he allowed himself the thought. Completed was the outfit by three toy dragons, a black/red colored one on her left shoulder, a green one on her right upper arm and a white one on her left wrist. "Alright i don...", she started wanting to return to her friends cause she thought she would annoy him. Ethan realized she was about to leave and suddenly he felt a strong wish to get to know what Game of Thrones is about. "Hey Rookie, what is it about?" surprised and confused she asked, "what is what about?" "This ice and fire stuff." "You really want to know?" "Yes!" "Well this will take a while." in answer he gave Reggie a sign to bring both of them new drinks. With a shy smile she settled herself on the seat next to him and started to tell him the whole story. They were turned to each other, Ethan leaned his chin and cheek on his hand and listened attentive to her. The way she told him the story, also explaining the differences between books and TV series was intoxicating to him he could listen to her all night long. By the time she finished she looked up at him with relieved sigh and he smiled at her. "Sounds really complicated and similar to the hospital life", he said to show her how interested he was in what she told him. “And this Daenerys is your favorite character?” Her eyes lightened up in excitement when she answered: “It is hard to chose one favorite, but she is definitely one of them.” He smiled: “I understand. Well, I like this Tyrion-guy.” She laughed at that. “Why doesn’t that surprise me.” They looked at each other, both searched for a reason to spend more time together. “So…”, Ethan started. “I bet I can guess who your friends are dressed like.” Only the look on her face was enough reward only for his idea itself. “Okay, I’m game. What are the conditions?” “If I win I can ask you one question.” “What question?” “One that helps me on my observation of the mysterious Casey Valentine “, okay he had definitely too much alcohol otherwise he would never acted so inappropriate. But she smiled. “Fine. But if I win… you’ll come with us to the next bar for more costume-weirdos and Halloween-karaoke-night.” Hell no, he had to win this bet. “Ha, you’re going to lose, Rookie.” He felt so carefree when he was with Casey. “We’ll see.”

He started, leaning unintentional closer to her: “Okay, Dr. Greene is this bastard, Jon Winter or was it snow?” “’Snow’ and this is correct.” He continued with a smile. “Dr. Trinh is his little sister, the revenge-girl.” Casey nodded. Euphoric he went on: “Dr. Olsen is this evil kid king. Is Lahela the mother of this evil kid? Cers… Cars…” “Cersei, correct and correct.” “Okay and Dr. Varma is the nun who enjoys to punish Cersei. And the paramedic is the horse king and your husband.” He couldn’t help but feel a little ache in his heart. Did this mean, they were a couple? He tried to focus on the moment and Casey seemed to want to explain. “Yes, Bryce thought Khal Drogo was perfect for Raf. And you got all correct, I’m impressed.” She smiled lovely at him and he couldn’t help but return her smile. He must look like a goof and he hoped she wouldn’t notice how whipped he was by her presence. “Thank you, Rookie. So did Lahela chose who wears which costume?” “No, we all did for someone else, but I guess Elijah and I weren’t really fair because we did each other a favor with our choices for each other.” She looked on the floor while saying this but when she looked up again, she had an even lovelier smile on her beautiful face. And of course it was a relief for Ethan that she and the paramedic didn’t decide to do a couple-costume-thing. “So do you want to cash your prize now?” In the moment he opened his mouth again to say something someone shouted for her. It was Dr. Varma: "Case, we have to go!" "Coming!" was there a hint of disappointment in her eyes? Was she eventually enjoying his company as much as he enjoyed hers? "So that's my cue, we are heading to the bar you saved yourself from visiting." Both smiled at this private joke. She pursed her lips, considering something. “I know you won but of course you could still join us, it will be fun." was there a little bit of hope in her gaze? Did she want him to come? Wait did he want to go with them? He wanted to go with them just to spend more time with her but he didn't want to risk to be longer and closer in her company, he was too afraid someone would realize how enchanted he was by her and even if this goddamn evening was more fun than he ever could imagine, he still hated Halloween. "Thanks Rookie, really but i should head home and as much fun this Halloween-night surprisingly was i better not push my luck too much." "That's a pity but i totally understand. Good night Dr. Ramsey." "Good night Rookie, see you on Monday." “Oh and think about a good question you want to ask me.” She winked at him.

Ethan watched her and her friends go and when they were out the door he heard someone clear his throat he turned his gaze back to the counter. Reggie slid a book to Ethan and nodded knowing. It was the first part of "a song of ice and fire". A faint smile crossed his lips and with an rueful look he thanked Reggie.

Monday morning Casey was standing at the nurse station signing files when Ethan appeared, "hello Dr. Valentine would you please order these test results for a patient?" "Of course, i go get them immediately", she said with a smile. "Thank you,… Khaleesi", Ethan said smiling mischievous at her stunned and surprised expression. She finally smiled shaking her head.

Author’s notes, part 2: Raf chose Landry’s costume as Joffrey. A nod to chapter 16(?) of book 1, where he tells Casey that he never trusted him. I also considered Littlefinger but I thought he was to clever for Landry.

Thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed it.

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

Here are some really bad pictures of the characters in their costumes (i have only the free versions of some photo-apps so i was not able to make the skin of the faces the same color of the rest of the bodies). But i hope they'll make you laugh. I had to visualize especially Bryce and Jackie (and of course Bryce wears nothing than a nude thong under his dress)!

#casey valentine #choices stories you play #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan ramsey #open heart #sienna trinh #jackie varma #bryce lahela #rafael aveiro #elijah greene #landry olsen #Reggie #Donahue's

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head.

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more.

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes.

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion.

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you.

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still.

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second.

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily.

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that.

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together.

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real.

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want.

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment.

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky.

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii

#so aha.... not the dystopian au #but i was inspired by a song in the car and this happened <3 #mingi #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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greenhappyseed · 3 years

Text

BnHA 322 - Parallels and comparisons

Not gonna lie — the first part of this arc was really rough. Luckily, from 317 onwards we’ve had some jaw dropping, beautiful moments. This chapter came on strong with ALL the feels and ALL the imagery. (I’m not going to post those images because they really need to be read fully in context.) Bakugo and Izuku as their elementary/middle/high school selves, standing on puddles of water instead of submerged in a river, Bakugo bowing to Izuku and addressing him by his real name, Bakugo essentially telling Izuku that he is — and always has been — a hero, Bakugo racing to catch Izuku with both arms when he falls, Bakugo’s war injury bleeding as he “reopens” his childhood wound.

Here’s the most impressive part to me: Bakugo courageously lays it all bare in front of the class without demanding that they “watch him” or be his audience. He no longer cares about being vulnerable in front of them, so if they happen to be there it’s fine, but he’s not apologizing FOR them or FOR him — it’s something he has to do for Izuku. Bakugo may still have his eyes set on surpassing All Might, but damn if he didn’t just surpass Enji. And Shoto fucking knows it.

After such intensity from Bakugo, I highkey love that we DON’T get an immediate reaction from Izuku. Instead, Izuku is inspired to offer his own mea culpa. (As always, Izuku looks up to and imitates Bakugo before thinking about himself.) The class just watched Bakugo apologize for his worst, and now they’ll watch Izuku apologize for HIS worst. I mean, Izuku said, OUT LOUD, the exact thing DvK2!Bakugo accused him of — looking down on others. If Bakugo can get past his bullshit and recognize Izuku’s heroism, Izuku can apologize for hurting his classmates and recognize their heroism. With everything out in the open, Bakugo and Izuku are no longer “proper rivals,” but TEAMMATES. There’s still a long way to go until they’re effective as a team with the rest of the class, but this is where the unity of the team begins. Kamino, the exact place where All Might ended, is now this team’s starting line, as Momo points out.

It’s also good to see the story acknowledge, again, that Izuku isn’t dark or edgy. He IS still the same sweet kid but AFO had him trapped in a loop. He was scared out of his mind that people would get hurt because of him and because of that he couldn’t think of a strategy to find and defeat AFO, but if he accepted help from others to come up with a strategy, then they could get hurt because of him… and around we go. This is the true terror of AFO, leaving no options for a zero-risk victory.

Next we jump to an unrecognizable UA fortified with most intense wall since Game of Thrones (because that wall was so good at keeping out the White Walkers /s). Look, we all know it’s gonna fail, but in the meantime I very much enjoy rat principal building an elaborate cage for his humans.

Also, sounds like we’ll soon see Shiketsu (Inasa! Camie! Hair dude! Meatball dude!) but no Ketsubutsu (Ms. Joke, Shindo, turtle girl). I still want to see Ms. Joke in the aftermath of the war, but I accept it’s probably not gonna happen.

It wasn’t clear from the text leaks, but looking at the images of the full chapter, it does seem Ochako’s going to try and confront the angry mob, which makes my brain think of scenes like this:

Which is to say, I have concerns this will go well. Yes, I know BNHA is a shonen, so the teens will change the world. But even within the BNHA world, suspension of disbelief is required when Present Mic, a popular radio host and pro hero who arrested Dr. Ujiko, is getting shit from the crowd. Of course, “heroes” as a group are at fault for the war, and Mic struggled with the media the last time UA was breached.

(But Mic does take a gentler approach with civilians vs the media.)

If civilians are in such a frenzy that they’re angry at Mic (who DID succeed at something notable during the war raid) and Deku (a child who fought in the war and has been rounding up Tartarus-level jail breakers ever since), then Ochako needs to BRING IT like it’s never been broughten before to make a difference. While she’s never had a major media stumble, and she’s adorable AF, giving inspirational speeches and rallying the class has never been her strength. If she suddenly blinds the crowd with brilliant oratory, it’s a bit of an ass pull for her character. Jiro and Momo have more depth in this space, though Momo’s elite background may not help in this particular situation. Ochako’s become much better at working the bureaucracy, from the entrance exam where she asked Present Mic to give her points to Izuku, to appealing to Nezu in order to bring Endeavor to UA for a confrontation about Deku.

If a crowd speech really is in store for us, then I’d love for it to involve All Might and/or Stain somehow. Both of them have incredible charisma and can inspire civilians to action. And I’ve written before about All Might’s media whoring [affectionate] being its own super power that the pro heroes are ignoring. Nobody in this arc (including Deku) has used All Might as a resource based on his decades of experience with the media OR with AFO. Why is everyone acting like All Might is useless because he’s quirkless and no longer a ranked hero? He's still got his brain and his memories. Does a "hero" need to wear a costume or hold a license to use their brain? As Kirishima says in this chapter:

Or maybe Aizawa will finally appear to defend his problem child, just like he defended Bakugo previously? (Admittedly, my solution for everything rn is “Aizawa” because I’m dying to see him.)

Anyway….I love that Ochako was inspired by Bakugo. Her face before/during/after the apology is amazing. You can watch her recognize his courage in real time and build on it, like links in a chain. Like a power that grows as each person contributes…….huh…….

Also, I think Izuku needs to hear Ochako talk openly about helping the heroes who protect the citizens. He doesn’t really understand her style of heroism yet, and he needs to see the strength of her ideals —especially the power of saving and rescuing — before he sets off to save Shigaraki. She also needs to tell him what happened to her in the war aftermath, because he doesn’t know any of it. How she fought Toga and how Toga cried. How she watched other heroes quit, and how she’s inspired to help heroes who are in pain. It would be great to see Ochako and Izuku bond over a shared desire to save heroes AND villains who are in pain.

Finally, I want to appreciate the Izuku-Iida-Kirishima trio for one more moment. In this chapter, Kirishima skids to a halt catching Izuku, just as he caught Bakugo for the initial escape from Kamino. In both instances, Kirishima’s understated but steady and unbreakable commitment to his friends was CLUTCH. So, so good!

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 322 #mha 322 #bnha meta #mha meta #deku #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #kirishima ejirou #iida tenya #present mic #yamada hizashi #I snuck as much Present Mic as I could in this post

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

||𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

We shouldn't be doing this. I thought we all agreed? It was too risky putting her in there, even if she is backup. But Y/n insisted.

There were just too many things that could go wrong.

What if the plan didn't work? What if he caught on before he got in the sauna? What if he breaks out?

Everyone seems pretty confident in the plan, and it is a strong plan. But... they don't know the Mind Flayer like I do. They don't know how determined he is.

Especially when he's angry.

"Y/n...?" I wince internally when my voice comes out softer than I wanted.

She looks over her shoulder, away from the huddled party, and steps away with me out of earshot while Lucas finishes up the details. She took my hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze, already reading my thoughts.

"I'm still doing this, hon,"

I can't help but sag my shoulders, avoiding her eye and nervously I begin playing with her hands. "You don't have to though,"

"I know," she says. But with one look I can tell she's trying to bury her worry. "But we've got no other choice,"

"Yes, we do. We can wait for more backup. We could finally find Dustin? Get my mom, the chief...?"

I trail off as Y/n gives me a bittersweet smile, tracing my hands with her thumbs. My gut sinks.

"You said it yourself, Will. We need to do this as soon as possible. If it is him, he could hurt someone,"

This time it's her turn to trail off, and finally, I speak with a gentle, countering voice. "Like you?"

She sighs, sagging her head against my shoulder and lazily snaking her hands around my waist in a hug. I hug her back, trying to enjoy this moment. I can tell she is too. It's then I hear her mumble against my shoulder, "I'm too stubborn to die,"

I laugh to myself, hugging her tighter and over her shoulder I see the Party split up. Mike was tailing El, Lucas was most likely out on the hunt for a lock of some sort as he had volunteered earlier and Max stayed put with the binoculars.

Against my better judgment, I pull away and meet Y/n's eye. The look of adoration in them was hard to believe, and it still made my knees weak. Thankful again for her and this moment, I planted a kiss on the crown of her head and she smiled.

"You trust me, right?" She asked, her voice unusually delicate.

I moved my chin off of her head so I could gawk at her, completely appaled.

"What?" But she was serious, and it broke my heart. "Of course I trust you. It's him I don't trust. I know what he's capable of and... I know what he thinks of you."

Y/n doesn't say anything this time. She just looks back at our interwoven hands and then back at me. She shoots me a quick, forced smile that unintentionally told me she was feeling more and more uneasy. But because it was Y/n, she was trying to brave for others. She was putting it aside for the great good.

She shouldn't have to. She doesn't have to. I just wish she knew that.

"Come on," she says, pulling me along after Lucas. "Let's go."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

We found Lucas in the maintenance shed, digging through multiple boxes. I fell quiet and immediately got to work searching the shelves. Behind me at the door, Y/n hesitated, almost unsure of the silent tension in the room before ultimately shrugging it off and getting to work.

So far, all I was seeing was gardening gloves and other gardening supplies like pesticides, undoubtedly for lawn maintenance in front of and around the pools.

"Uh, Will...?" Lucas asks, shooting a nervous glance between me and Y/n from over his shoulder. "Um, you know about yesterday...?" Lucas asks softly.

Y/n hesitated from beside me for a moment, and in turn, so does Lucas. But he seems determined to make things right.

"It's fine, Lucas," I say, looking up from the box. "You don't have to say anything."

"I know..." Lucas continues, closing whatever lockbox he had found himself in. He was obviously nervous doing this in front of Y/n, but I guess I couldn't blame him. "But it's just... it was a really cool campaign. " he looks between both of us now, earnestly. "both of you did a great job."

He looks back at me, and Y/n shifts by my side, a frown on her face and her mouth in a small 'o' shape.

"And Mike and I should have never-"

"I don't care anymore Lucas," I say, moving on to a new box. "I really don't. We have bigger things to worry about now,

I know he's sorry, but I also know that if I dwell on it any longer I will only grow more upset. And I was already too worried about how this was going to go.

A pile of metal in the next box caught my eye. It was a long rope of steel chains and I pulled it out of the box, showing it to them.

"This should hold him,"

They both nod, looking somewhat relieved. But as I had feared, the matter wasn't being put to bed. Y/n had turned back to Lucas with a quirked brow and an edge in her voice and asked the last question we needed in this moment.

"Mike and you shouldn't have what?"

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The chain lock on the door undid itself and the azure gate swung open, allowing El to stride inside.

'A fake man' is what she was told to look for, at least that's how the others summed it up when she asked what a "dummy" looked like. Her first answer had been from Max - "easy, we both dated one" - she told El. She had rolled her eyes despite fighting back a small smile. She half expected a rebuttal from Y/n but El had turned her head just in time to see Will pulling her away, and El's shoulders sagged.

She wasn't gonna think about it, or get her hopes up. El was determined to keep her mind on the task at hand, even now as her wide eyes scoured the shelves of many peculiar items. Finally, a flash of bright red caught her eye and she knew immediately why they called it a fake man.

El picked it up off the shelf and tried not to think about how much it creeped her out. Its head, arms, and legs flopped around when she picked it up and suddenly she was filled with aggravation. But it had not been from this dummy. It had been from the one that followed her.

"Hey, I found the breakers," El didn't turn her head, she just grimaced and sighed. The last person she wanted to see now was Mike. "Woah, that thing is super creepy. Let me see it-"

He took it from her arms abruptly when she turned, and she frowned up at him. Mike didn't notice. With a goofy smile, he held it up in his arms like a puppet.

"I think this'll work. Right buddy?" His other hand moved to the dummy's chin, making it talk in a grating high pitched voice. "'Right Mike',"

El was done waiting, and she certainly wasn't impressed with his behavior. She gave him a purposeful, deadpan glare before taking the dummy back and making a break for the door. Alone.

But Mike didn't still didn't seem to take the hint. Why was he laughing and joking, she wondered. Why was he acting like nothing was wrong?

"Hey, El," he calls after her, for once sounding earnest.

Against her better judgment, she turns around.

"I just," he sighs, beginning to fight nervously. "I wanted to say..." he shifts on his feet. "You know when I said Nana was sick?" He took another, plunging deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought."Well, she wasn't. I lied."

"I know."

El turned to leave, and Mike called out again. "Right, right, right, I just... I think it was important for you to know the context," he adds.

Her eyes tighten in a glare, she was growing impatient.

"Hopper," Mike says quickly. "he went crazy on me. Telling me I'm spending way too much time with you. He made me lie, I mean, you're the most important thing to me in the world-"

"-What if he's right?" El cut in, dropping the dummy on the ground.

"What?"

"Hop," she challenged, stepping forward.

A lazy grin took over Mike's face, a mocking grin, and he laughed dismissively. "Oh, no, no, no. He's just some angry old man who hates joy,"

The girl grits her teeth, reminded more and more of Diana's truth lasso and the Amazon warriors Max and Y/n had taught her about. And it gave her more confidence in her answer.

"But if I only see you," she explains slowly, putting on a facetious tone and jabbing a finger in his shoulder. "and I'm a different species than you, then I should be with my species more."

"What are you talking about?" Mike asks, flabbergasted as El retrieves the dummy from the floor. When she nears the gate, his jaw drops in shock when it clicks. "...Did you spy on me?"

"That's totally against the rules!" He cries, and she heaves the dummy over her shoulders.

"I make my own rules,"

And with that, El had left leaving Mike alone and in shock.

The silence had lasted only moments before a crackle of his walkie startled him.

"Mike? Are you there?"

"Yeah!" He can't help but snap, still much too in his own head.

"Where are you guys?" Max asks from her station at the car.

She hadn't left, nor had she taken her eyes off of Billy since everyone split.

"I'm coming... just hold on a second- Mike!"

Max did a double-take at the walkie when she barely heard the second voice in the background. It sounded like Y/n. But Mike had already shut off his coms. So Max shrugged, setting down her walkie and taking another hesitant look through the binoculars at her stepbrother.

"I hope it's not you," she says under her breath. "I really hope it not you."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Mike!"

Mike stumbled back against the shelves, startled when Y/n came storming in and he nervously closed his walkie.

She looked livid.

Will and Lucas were right on her tail, fearfully and hesitantly trying to persuade or calm her in some way.

"The hell is wrong with you, Wheeler?"

"What?!" He asked, completely dumbfounded.

"You heard me! What the hell is your problem?"

"You tell me! Apparently, I'm messing up everywhere," he exclaims, gesturing after El. "you're gonna have to be more specific,"

"Y/n, really, just let it go. I'm over it-" Will eased.

"-Well, I'm not." She spits, glowering at Mike. "Why the hell would you say that? How could you say that?!"

"Say what...?!" Mike's heart and stomach sunk 6 feet when he met the saddened eyes of Will, and he felt he might hurl. He had been kicking himself since it came out of his mouth, just as he had with his fight outside the mall with Y/n. It was getting harder and harder for Mike not to explode these days, everything instinct seemed to be the wrong one. "Oh..."

"Yeah, oh," she snarls, completely disgusted. "None of us said that to you when El was gone for a year now did we?"

Mike picks his eyes back up off the floor where he had guiltily been avoiding everyone's eye and meets her fiery glare, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. The more and more she looks at him the more he feels like he's standing on hot coals.

But despite her intimidating stature, her voice grew quieter and more intense.

"And you spent all those nights in her fort, testing the channels and calling out to her?When we all thought she was dead. Did we ever say anything so horrible?"

He shifts again, his heartbreaking and anger swelling up in his chest at himself as he recalls what he said to Will. "No, you didn't."

"No, we didn't. Because friends don't do that shit."

"No, they don't,"

"They also don't shit all over their friend, leaving him behind, mocking things important to him either," she says pointedly, now sharing that look with Lucas but it was less severe towards the Sinclair boy. "huh?"

They both nodded, and Will stayed quiet.

-"No,"

-"Huh-uh,"

She turns back to Mike, shaking her head with her arms folded over her stomach. She was still passed but the boy looked well past sorry. And suddenly her face went blank, scaring Mike.

"What?" He asks carefully.

"You drew first blood, metaphorically speaking," Y/n informed, still trying to tamper down her anger. "so you have to apologize. A real one, not a fake one, and not out of defense."

Mike fell silent again, looking between her, Lucas, and finally Will. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she finished.

"Do it when you mean it, Mike. Not because you got caught,"

And then, like deja vu, she was gone leaving him and this time, his friends in silent shock. And with one lingering look, Will had left with her.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Erica, do you copy?"

Erica buckled the helmet under her chin, her head still getting used to the weight of two flashlights and Dustin's walkie headset.

Night had fallen and everyone had locked up, including their very own Scoops Ahoy. With the addition of one Dustin Henderson and Erica Sinclair of course. The girl tightens her backpack over her shoulders and stands ready at the latter.

"Mm-hmm. I copy. You nerds in position, or what?"

"Yeah, we're in position," Robin answers softly, careful not to draw any attention like last time despite the lack of company. "It's It's quiet here, so you've got the green light."

"Green light. Got it." She nods, beginning her ascent. "Commence Operation Child Endangerment."

"Can we maybe not call it that?" Robin plead.

"See you on the other side, nerds." Was her only response and the line went quiet.

Erica had begun her journey into the vents.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

After several painstaking, hair-tearing minutes the trio finally heard a response.

"Alright, nerds. I'm there,"

"Do you see anything?" Robin asks.

Erica peers through the vents with little interest.

"Yeah, I see those boring little boxes you're so excited about,"

"Any guards?"

"Negative,"

"Booby traps?" Robin inquires.

Erica scoffs as she slips the backpack off her shoulders.

"If I could see them, they'd be pretty shit traps, wouldn't they?"

Steve fights a smirk, but it wasn't hard given his stress level.

"Thank you for that," Robin deadpans.

Erica rears back her legs and with a fearsome cry she kicked out the vent and tossed her backpack out onto the floor. And nary a booby trap in sight. So far.

Her feet collided with the ground and she gave a firm nod.

"I'm in,"

Those words hit Steve harder than anything they had done all week, and he feels suddenly as if a giant weight had been placed on his lungs preventing him from breathing.

"Oh, god," he groaned into his hands.

They were sending an actual child - not to mention a child he barely knew - into certain danger for the sake of reward. Oh, he definitely went too far, this was bad. This was so very bad.

A far-off buzzing pulled his eyes back to the doors just in time to see them swing open. And out waltzed Erica who was waiting for them with a knowing look.

"Free ice cream. For. Life!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A choir of crickets sings into the starless night. The warm breeze blowing in from the east enunciates the sway of the trees and carries with it the smell of chlorine drifting in from the closed pool. The concrete was still wet from today's patrons, and the last of the darkened footprints on the concrete had begun to dry. Including the trail that led all the way into the men's locker room.

Billy stood under the gentle stream of water, allowing the freezing water to soak all the way to his bones. He had been in the shower for at least an hour, trying desperately to quell the fire in his veins but he only managed to subdue it to a small ember.

Finally, he kills the water, and the locker room falls deadly quiet. Billy liked the quiet, he always had. And now more than ever.

Towel secured around his torso, he now stands at and opens his designated locker, and begins to change. His mind wanders aimlessly, anything that wasn't the obvious when suddenly, the silence is first disturbed.

The moaning of the metal door bounced off of the long stretch of lockers with an echoey tin, and Billy bristled.

"Pool's closed,"

Metal cried out to him again, finished by a shuddering clang from the door yet again.

"Hey!"

No answer.

He slams the locker shut so hard the whole row shakes and he takes off down the hall after them in a blind fury.

"YOU HEAR ME?!"

Again no answer, but Billy wouldn't accept it.

"The pool is closed!"

He throws his fists against the exit door, confused as to why it wasn't opening. Unbeknownst to him, a certain brunette was hiding in the shadows across the locker room, playing with the door - and the lock now trapping him inside - all without lifting a finger.

Angered and confused, Billy continues his assault on the door; slamming fist after fist, push after push but there was no give. He was locked inside.

And the lights cut out.

Billy was high alert now. And so was He. Billy could feel him prickle, far back in his mind but he was there. Watching.

Waiting.

"Billy," came a distant, sing-song voice.

"Who's there," he seethes.

"Billy~"

He stalked back around the corner as he echoes the mocking, sing-song voice.

"Who's there~"

More rattling preceded a chilling, squeaky laugh that echoed seemingly from everywhere. Billy takes a chance and rips open the first shower curtain, but finds nothing. The voice calls out again, once, twice. It laughs.

"You think this is funny?" He asks, in a frighteningly low voice.

The voice laughs, once again, in response and hisses another taunt. "Billy! Come and find me!"

He stalks further and further, edging the end of the brick wall as his eyes prowl across the room in search of movement.

"I find you, it is your funeral," he promises.

His eyes lock on the closing door leading to the weight room, and as if reading his thoughts, the voice eggs him on.

"Come and get me! Come on!"

Slowly he maneuvers towards the door, reaching ever so slowly for the handle. And in one swift motion, he rips it open and storms inside, finding no one but himself. At first.

"Billy!" The voice cried again, closer than ever. Another taunting laugh.

But Billy's eyes were dead set ahead on the sauna door, and more specifically the silhouette of moppy hair waiting for him behind the foggy glass window. The corners of Billy's mouth are yanked up in a disconnected smile that never quite reaches his pained eyes.

"Got you,"

His lips curl back into a snarl - an exaggerated smile - as he claps his hands and cackles, marching in for the kill.

He's already ripping open the door, face falling and realizing the truth of it all when he registers the voice clear as day and flatter and angrier than ever.

"Come and get me you piece of shit."

A fake. A goddamn fake made out of a stolen CPR dummy was the only thing waiting for him, harnessed from the ceiling. In a flood of anger, Billy steps forward and grabs the dummy in a chokehold, its rubber head hitting the ceiling with a thud. And that's when he spots it.

The walkie-talkie duct-taped to its chest and still talking to him.

"Hey. Behind you,"

Billy whirls around to find one of the girls from the night before.

El.

"Hi,"

Billy chucks the dummy into the sauna floor, but before he can do anything else, the girl flicks her head with a grunt and he's sent flying into the tile wall. It shatters where his back makes contact and he cries out in pain, falling to the floor in a heap.

"Now!" Mike cries.

The lights return with a sharp click and across the room, the Party emerges from their hiding spot in the locker rooms.

Billy's already on his feet, blood pounding in his ears just from his furious screams as he storms after El. But El is faster. She rakes one clawed hand through the air with a grunt and the door swings shut with a loud bang, where the others got to work.

Y/n had stopped at El's side where she was mostly hidden, for once allowing her best friend to shield her from the man pounding and screaming against the glass like a rabid dog. The others had already secured a smaller metal pipe through the door handle and the pipes attached to the wall, encircling it all with the rope of chains Will had discovered.

"Come on! Come on!" Mike reflexively cried, with nothing more to do but help hold the door closed and watch as Billy atta ked inches from his face.

He could feel the door moving.

At last, the click of the lock reached their ears. "Got it!" Lucas cried.

The four of them scurry back to El's side, watching in horror as Billy descended into madness before their very eyes.

The lock and chains rattled, as did the pipe and with every flinch of the door, the edge in the air grew sharper. Y/n felt a hand squeeze her own and she knew it was Will, and she gave his hand a thankful squeeze. Nobody said anything as he roared in anger, and they all feared what might happen next but not a single one of them expected what did.

His face slowly fell, his screams dying out with it as his expression turned to gasp when he noticed a particular individual.

"Max,"

His voice was a whisper, barely a breath, as he looked upon the girl. Her expression was unreadable, but it didn't take a genius to know she was trying to be brave. He looked - and sounded - betrayed. One by one, her friends look to her, her ocean eyes dead ahead on her brother.

"Do it," she says.

Releasing Y/n's hand, Will runs forward to the controls, commencing the sauna test.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The trio, now quartet, stood packed together inside the locked room, peering over the same Imperial Panda box that was identical to the others piling the shelves. Steve handed Dustin's pocket knife back to the boy after splitting the tape. He pries the lid open, popping the remaining bit of tape, and unfolds the cardboard to reveal an unexpected sight.

The four of them peer in to get a better look at the single metal box with one indented handle in the very center. Steve sends them each a curious look before twisting the lid until he felt and heard the satisfying click and hiss of air releasing from the inside. Discarding the lid revealed to all four figures four similar handles inside corresponding cylinders; steam spilling out from all sides.

"That's definitely not Chinese food," Steve says finally.

He makes a grab for one of the cylinders but stops himself, motioning for the three.

"Uh, maybe you guys should, uh, you know stand back,"

Robin shrugs and complies, and Erica steps off the box of Kauffman Shoes she had been standing on but Dustin doesn't move. He just shakes his head defiantly.

"No,"

"Just step back, alright?" Steve says, eyeing the handle while trying to shoo the kid away.

"No,"

"Step back!"

-"no!"

-"seriously!"

-"No!" Dustin cries, growing upset. "If you die, I die,"

The room goes silent and everyone stares at Dustin as he gives Steve a challenging look. And after several moments of silence, Steve concedes.

"Okay," he finally shrugs.

Steve turns back to the handle and draws in an anxious, and unlikely-but-also-not-impossibly last breath, and unlocks the cylinder. Again, it hisses and more and more steam spills out but all eyes were on the glowing green substance in the cylinder Steve now held up.

"What the hell?" Steve gasps.

"What... is that?" Robin can't help but ask.

The billowing sound of grinding gears and squeaking pulleys rang in their ears and they all felt an invisible force sway them on their feet. They hadn't previously thought it possible, but their attention was stolen away from the mysterious glowing substance and towards the room.

"Is that just me or did the room move?" Dustin murmured.

"Booby traps," Erica croaked, for the first time sounding scared.

The room was filled with more and more clicks that only grew louder and Robin snapped into action.

"Okay, you know what? Let's just grab that and go," she says, snatching the cylinder from Steve's hands and begab securing it in Erica's backpack.

Dustin made a break for the panel, where Erica had shown him and wasted no time in pressing, "door open," but nothing happened. Just the empty clicks reaching his ears as he feverishly pressed the button over and over and tried not to panic.

"Which one do I press, Erica?"

"Just press the damn button, nerd,"

"Which one, I-" He gulps nervously, swiping at his sweating brow trying to maintain a level voice. "I'm pressing the button, okay?"

"Press 'open door'!"

"I'm pressing 'open door'!"

-"Just open the-- press the other button!" Steve cuts in, and all four of them begin shouting over one another as they spiral into a frenzy.

-"Guys, just get out of the way so she can press the button!"

"-would you stop?"

"-I'm trying!"

"-Would you let me just do it?! Would you just stop?!"

"Just open the door!"

Pulling a hail Mary, Steve hit every button he could see and a sudden jolt shook the room with the loudest clang they had heard so far. They all stilled; the room falling silent around them apart from the wailing of the gears.

A giant red barricade had unsheathed itself over the door, blocking their only exit and their stomachs dropped. Literally. The room itself was suddenly plunged at a sickening speed, knocking them into the walls and floors with terrified shrieks. As Steve gripped the shelf and the wall, trying to steady himself, his widened eyes fall on the upper wall - or lack thereof - where concrete walls and rows upon rows of lights were rushing past them all confirming to him the worst.

"Oh, shit,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A Step By Step Guide on How To Blur Protestors Faces to Protect Their Identities:

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Twitter link or @/BlackCollective

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theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years

Text

Pink Chains

Pt 3

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment.

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly! F! Reader. ❤️

Kyo had walked you to school after the both of you had calmed down. He hated seeing you cry jesus christ, it hurt him to his core. All he could think about was those tears running down your pretty face down to your fake smile. He was really falling for you, this was a first for him so he had no idea if what he had been doing was right or what.

You skipped ahead of him, he glanced up a couple times and got a big smile on his face. You had on a blue dress with flats and his jacket on, it was too big for you of course but you insisted on wearing it. And that's when he knew he was doing it right. Seeing you in his clothes and having that big smile on your face that was just for him.

“Kyooo!!! I gotta go!”

He shook his head walking to you and putting his arms around your shoulders. “Do you? Skip sweetie.” He teased looking over you to see people staring.

“Kyo!” You gave him an angry face and he just laughed kissing your head. “I'll turn you into a rule breaker yet. Have a good day sweetie.”

“Not uh!” You squeezed him tightly for a minute. “Dont sweat this morning kay?!? I can fight with you, are you working today?”

Your words cut him deep, sure his friends had his back but this was .. different. You were willing to defend him from anything . Hopefully you never had to do that. He ran his fingers through your head and swayed a bit whispering in your ear. “People are staring,”

You giggled just squeezing him more and Kyo smirked , he placed a light smack on your thigh stepping back chuckling at the little yip you did .

“Kyo!”

“Yeah sweetie i work today but im closing early, beach volleyball with friends . Ill text you when i close up shop okay?”

“You better!!” You placed a kiss on his chest and ran off into the school looking back and waving before disappearing.

Kyo waited till you were in the school before leaving. He shot everyone a smug ass grin too as he made his way down the street. Fuck his car was still at the store.

Kyo was not in any rush to get to work. Hell it was his store whos gonna rage at him? No one . Hes the boss. And besides Iwaizumi is most likely there already opening up the store anyway. The heavy rings on his right hand clicked all around while he made his way down the boardwalk strip , hands in his pockets while he eyed all the shops.

Buncha no good stores. If it didn't cost so much to get his brand up and running he could have a bigger building , or at least a better location-… he stopped walking and shook his head. “That's a terrible idea. Kyotani cmon get it together.” He sighed, rubbing his sleeve. “I would never had met her..”

Bbbbbbeeep

“Mad Dog chaaaaaaan!!!!” A car zoomed up to him skidding to a stop . Oikawa peaked out the window grinning.

Meanwhile, you were just getting into the first class of the day. Everyone was sneaking looks at you because of the jacket but you had no idea. You were too caught up on last night to really pay attention. Trying to take your mind off it you pulled a red notebook from your bag to doodle while listening to the teacher.

Soon enough the blank notebook page was full of design ideas; red pandas with hats , clothes and big fluffy tails. The designs were really cute , your teacher even complimented them from time to time . But you really just wanted a brand to pick you up, graduation was soon and you did not want to not have a job lined up.

“Y/n.. hey y/n”

A voice next to you alerted you to look up and over to see Kio, the girl who sat next to you in class.

“Oh hey Kio, whats up?!?”

Kio placed her hand on her head with her elbow on the table looking you over in this jacket. She never really talked to you unless she needed notes and was only taking this class for the credit she needed .

“That jacket is so different from what you wear y/n. Where'd ya get it?”

You were about to answer her but heard a snicker behind you , must be Yukio, Kios friend, also in need of credits for graduation. Would probably be best not to mention the store, Kyo did not need the harassment.

“Its my boyfriend's jacket!” You told them pulling it close with a big smile on your face.

Kio and Yukio locked eyes then looked at you .

“Boyfriend?” Kio asked.

“Looks like he has the opposite style as you y/n.” Yukio chimed in , leaning over her table. “Was he that guy with you this morning?”

“Yep!!!”

“He looks.. familiar..” Kio said tapping her pen on his lips.

“He does huh?” Yukio said leaning closer. “Whats his name hm?”

“..Kyo?” You were starting to get uncomfortable with all the questions.

“Oh!!!” Yuki yipped looking at Kio. “Kyotani! The Sendai Frogs!!!”

“..the Frogs? So hes..” Kio shot you a look. “He beat up Bokuto. For no goddamn reason.”

You shuffled around in your seat sneaking glances at the clock hoping it would somehow speed up so you could leave. It was not their business to know the reason behind it. Kyo was a very sweet guy , you had only known him a day but in those hours together you had never been happier; he opened up to you, cried even. Kyotani genuinely feels bad about that incident. He helped you through the tattoo instead of getting upset and brought you around his friend. The smirky smile he threw you always gave you butterflies in your stomach and sent your heart a flutter. He was just a misunderstood guy trying to start over with his friends.

You pulled the jacket off as soon as you heard the sweet sound of the bell and gathered up your bag standing up with the jacket over your arm close to your heart.

“Where do you think youre goin?” Kio got up following you out of the classroom along with Yukio. “Were not done y/n.”

Yukio grabbed your bag yanking it back and You spun around with a big smile and a sweet but slightly angry voice. “Kyo is a good guy and i really like him. I don't care if you two don't. You dont know the whole story either. And please stop following me, its not nice.” You waved at them so they could see your tattoo and you left in a quick pace down the hall . You pulled your phone from your bag texting with shaky hands.

Oikawa had dropped Kyo off at his store so he could drive home to shower and change and then go back to start his shift. He was tired and thankful no one could tell he had been crying the night before. Iwaizumi probably knew but he did not say anything, not with Oikawa around.

Kyo had on his shops uniform shirt which was a red dog house on a black shirt that said The Dog House on the back wrapped in chains. The summer line was selling smoothly and Mattsun had let him know that Yahaba agreed to come to the beach volleyball . He helped Iwaizumi unload a shipment while Oikawa was manning the front .

“So how'd it go last night?” He asked, passing Kyo a box.

“I told her .. everything.” The box was set down

“Oh ..? You? You did? What she say?” Iwa got another box groaning from its weight and giving it to Kyo

“Fucking hell.. would it kill them to pack the boots in all the boxes.. she said she was not scared of me. Dammit Iwaizumi she said she would fight with me.” He set the box down cursing .

“Fuck.. Kyotani.” Iwaizumi closed the truck up patting the back watching it drive off. “I know you've only just met her but she seems- Kyo?” He looked at his friend and he was staring at his phone , he looked like he was going to punch something .

Y/n: Kyo.. these girls in my class asked me about my jacket so i said it's my boyfriends and they asked your name cuz you look familiar and I told them and they .. brought up the Incident .

Y/N: i uhm, i did not say anything else but they were upset cuz they like Bokuto i guess but.. i left and they followed me and.. yanked me back. I .

Y/n: i was tough like you would be and asked them to leave me alone and i left. But.. uhm.. can.. can you call me when you can please..

“Iwaizumi...”

“You dont gotta say it. I can watch the front for a minute. “ he put his hand in Kyotanis arm watching his friend huff and puff . “Relax. Take a deep breath. “ Iwaizumi left his friend and Kyotani sat down on a box outside looking at the clouds in the sky with his phone to his ear.

“Kyo…” you sounded shaky and panicked

“Sweetie. Take a deep breath.” He was surprisingly calm sounding. He wanted to explode on the inside though, march right back to that school and take you into his arms and scare the hell out of those girls..He heard you breath in and out a few times till it evened out.

“Alright. Where are you right now Sweetie?”

“The.. outside.. courtyard..”

“Is it pretty there? Tell me what you see.” He leaned back on a box with his back to his shop. He brought one knee up tracing his index finger around in one of the holes in his jeans tugging at the strings making it bigger.

“Uhm… magnolias.. an oak tree.. some students are studying. It is pretty..”

“Sweetie..”

“Yes..?”

“Everything is okay now. Okay?”

“I.. yeah.. I tried to be tough but..i don't know. I said your a good guy cuz you are and I asked them to leave me alone.”

He ripped a few strings in the hole maging it even bigger over his knee. “Do you want me to pick you up after school?”

“Yeah.. i .. i just.”

“Ill be there sweetie.” He suddenly got an idea. “Promise. Now hows my happy girls day going now?”

He heard you giggle and the both of you relaxed slowly while you talked on the phone. You told him about your classes and the doodles you did too and Kyo asked you to send him them, he did not say why though.

“I gotta go sweetie. Ill be out front okay?”

“Kay.. have a good day Kyo.”

“You too Sweetie.” He hung up the phone and got up feeling the fire in him grow again.

After moving the boxes in he went to the front pulling Kawa and Iwa aside to the register explaining what happened. They were both upset over what they heard. Kyotani smirked texting Mattsun then looking at his friends.

“So after beach volleyball you know what we gotta do right?”

“Ou im excitedddd.” Kawa said with a big smile

“I gotta say im excited too.” Iwa said smirking and leaning on the register . “Im sure Mattsun is eager too.”

Kyo looked down reading the text with a side smirk. “Fuck with my girl and see what happens…”

@squeaky-ducky @zoppzoop

@haikyuu-but-low-iq @mochababes @kozushiki. @milkbreadcat @derpeedoo

#PinkChains #kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani 💕

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Text

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter ten: the kind of love we gather

word count: 7.5k

rating: m for mature

warnings: there is an interaction with an abusive ex-husband that eludes to physical/domestic violence. also, i think it's fair to warn against joseph himself--whatever argument there is to be had about the sincerity of his feelings, there's a few times where it feels like there's definitely some emotional manipulation happening.

notes: this is an interlude chapter, a little flashback/prelude going through isolde and joseph's relationship--or, at least, a significant part of it (still some secrets to be discovered!). i've had this chapter drawn up for a while and i thought this would be a great cliffhanger/changing point in the story to give their relationship and their dynamic a little more context, so i hope that's alright with y'all!

some of you folks who follow me here on tumblr may recognize a part of this chapter as a smut oneshot i wrote for them; that was the alternate universe to this instance in time, which is firmly rooted in their canon. lmao

it should go without saying that i have yeeted canon out the window for all of ancient names and witching hour, and the way that the seed brothers were pre-reaping and hope county is subject to much the same.

—Before—

The first time that Isolde saw Joseph, she knew she was in for it.

If he had been any other man, she thought, it wouldn’t have been so clearly a disaster waiting to happen. She would have been able to crash and burn with him as she pleased: but he wasn’t just any other man. He was John’s man, his older brother, the one that he tried so hard to live up to and impress. She had only heard of him in passing, but that was all it had taken. Isolde knew exactly how John felt about him.

“Who is that?” she asked, when she spotted the cleanly dressed man across the room. The office was dimly lit with the lights lowered; people mingled and chatted, drinks in hand, as everyone celebrated that they’d been able to move into a nice, new office downtown, with a whole floor to themselves.

John’s gaze followed hers. His expression flattened. “Stop it.”

No fun. Isolde feigned innocence. “Stop what?”

“That’s my brother Joseph, Sol,” he hissed. “Do not try to fuck my brother.”

“You have a couple, don’t you?” she asked. “What’s the one?”

“Fuck off.”

She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. Just her luck. A Seed boy, and yet, so fine. What a waste. “Fine, Johnny,” she said, patting his shoulder. Across the room, she saw Joseph’s gaze land on hers as he politely smiled at one of the other partygoers, and then stay locked, right on her. “I won’t fuck your very hot brother, who is very plainly making eyes at me from across the room.”

“He’s never had great taste in women.” John grimaced. “Off-limits, Isolde, I mean it.”

“Scout’s honor.”

So much for that, anyway, she thought later, when Joseph crossed the party and made his way up to her. He was even more handsome up close, and though long hair wasn’t typically her type, it looked good on him, pulled back and slick. Just enough to look polished.

“You’re Isolde?” Joseph asked, and his eyes swept over her. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Are you the authority on Isoldes?” she replied. She arched a brow loftily at him. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of an expert.”

“Well, it’s just that John rarely complains about beautiful women,” he countered easily, the flirtation slipping so seamlessly from his mouth that she might have missed it. “They’re his greatest vice. Yet, he complains incessantly about you.” He paused. “I’m Joseph, his brother.”

That did sound like John. Isolde wrangled a smile, leaned comfortably back against the wall as Joseph sidled over to her. With him in front of her, he almost completely eclipsed out the rest of the party, like he’d suddenly bubbled her and it was just the two of them in the entire room. He was so very good at that—with his eyes on her, it felt as though nobody else in the entire world existed.

“I’m flattered,” she murmured, “that I’ve managed to break John of his greatest vice.”

“I did come to thank you for that.” Joseph’s mouth ticked up into a smile, almost playful, if the rich timbre of his voice wasn’t so soothing. “And for taking good care of John. He’s a...”

Isolde watched Joseph through her lashes. He had no alcohol in his hands, but kept them tucked easily into the pockets of his slacks; he held himself without the easy arrogance that John carried himself. It was more like Joseph knew, exactly, his place in the world, and so didn’t feel the need to assert it. It simply was.

“Handful,” Isolde supplied.

“That’s a good way to put that,” he agreed. A quiet moment stretched between them—an easy silence, and she got the impression that it was going to be like this with him; no pressure to fill the silences—before she shifted on her feet.

“So, how are you going to do it?” she asked him, taking a sip of her drink. Joseph’s gaze, which had drifted to where John was chatting with Jacob and another guest, flickered back to her. The inquisitive tilt of his head followed after, and when she didn’t supply further questioning, he didn’t bother smothering the amused little smile on his face.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Thank me.”

The smile didn’t quite leave his face yet. “Didn’t John give you the same speech about how off-limits we are to each other?”

“Well,” Isolde relented, “whatever is he going to complain about if his brother doesn’t take me out for dinner? I’d be failing him as his vice breaker if I didn’t keep my game fresh.”

“Is that what I’m doing to thank you, then?”

Joseph’s voice was a low, rich sound, rumbling straight through her, vibrating in the cavity of her chest. She thought, instantly, that she’d like to know what it felt like to have him say her name into her skin. Isolde’s lashes fluttered; she hummed thoughtfully and polished off the last of her wine.

Dinner isn’t sex, she reasoned. So technically, I’m not really breaking John’s little agreement.

“It’s an option,” she offered after a moment. And then, in an act of what John would surely describe later as pure spite for his well-being and mental health: “Though you’re welcome to do more, if you feel inclined.”

This finally (finally, a part of her said) elicited a laugh out of Joseph. His eyes slipped from hers, lingering on her mouth before pulling away to the rest of the party, almost reluctantly.

“Tomorrow,” he said after a moment. “Are you free?”

“Technically I’m working,” Isolde drawled, “but lucky for you, I’m the boss and I can make my own hours.”

“Lucky, indeed,” Joseph replied amusedly. “Six, then.”

“And don’t tell John,” Isolde said, as though making a pact. The man inclined his head a little, reaching up and sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made a low noise of agreement.

“And don’t tell John,” he reiterated. “Yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I asked you for one thing, Isolde!”

John was, as to be expected, upset.

“That’s not true,” Isolde defended, busying her hands with gathering up a few files and tucking them into her bag. “You ask me for a million things, every day. Namely, tolerating your ego. Not to mention keeping your head from exploding every time someone pays you a compliment, and—”

“You know what I mean.” John exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temples as though Isolde had inspired in him the greatest of headaches. She hoped that she had. It would be the least he could suffer, after all of the brainpower she had to expend on the daily to keep him in check.

Leaning back in her chair, Isolde said, “It was just dinner, John.”

“Do not pretend to be stupid all of a sudden,” John snapped. “Joseph does not date around. He doesn’t ever do something that’s just dinner."

"Funny," she mused, "it feels like that's exactly what it was. Eating food together, at a restaurant, during the evening."

John’s head cocked to the side. He leveled her with a singular pointed look and said, “Oh, yeah?”

She squinted at him. “Yeah.”

“Is that so? Then what did you do after dinner, Isolde?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the wall as he waited for her answer. She kept her face wiped clear of emotions even though John’s question instantly inspired in her a flurry of memories; Joseph, snagging her hand on their way out of the restaurant, leaning in and kissing her; and kissing her, and kissing her, keeping her pulled close against him until she thought she was going to go dizzy from it all.

And then, well—

“We’re two consenting adults, John,” she said at last, and he threw up his hands.

“I explicitly said not to!”

“Yeah, well!” There was no good excuse; she knew that. The excuse was that Joseph was incredibly attractive, and Isolde had wanted him, and so that had been the beginning and the end of it. Still, she kept her eyes on the paper in front of her. “I made that agreement before I got a good look at him. John, I’m actually trying to get some work done, so if you could—”

John scoffed. “One, Joseph is related to me, so of course he’s hot, and two—you’ve got the impulse control of a toddler. I hope you know that.”

He pushed off from the wall and started collecting his things to leave her office; a blissful departure, to be sure, but there was something sitting and stinging in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t let her leave it to rest.

“Rich,” Isolde said demurely, “coming from the man who can’t stop an endless chain of making-up-breaking-up.”

His movements paused. He stared at her for a long moment, before he said. “Hey, Isolde?”

“Yes, John?”

“Fuck you.” John’s movements resumed to the door. “Fuck you, and see you in the conference room in twenty.” Another pause, and then thrown over his shoulder: “If you’re not too busy letting my brother—”

“Alright, point made!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “It’s really not anything serious. Okay? It was just dinner and a date, that’s all.”

This had him stopping again, paused in the doorway with a bit of frustration welling up in his voice when he said, “You don’t know my brother, Isolde.”

“But I know me. Alright?”

He sighed. “Yes, alright. Twenty minutes, then.”

For a moment, it felt like things had been settled between them. John was still young, she thought; younger than her, and the baby of his brothers, which she knew meant he held on tighter to things that maybe he needed to all the time. Too tight, or too loose, to make it hurt less when something didn’t work out.

But the peace only lasted for a moment, because a few minutes after John had settled back in behind his desk across the hall from her, their secretary came around the corner, her arms filled with a fragrant bouquet of lilies.

“Ms. Khan, you have an admirer!” she exclaimed delightedly. Isolde met John’s eyes across the hall, staring at her with an expression that could only have been described with the phrase I told you so. “It looks like they’re from a gentleman named Joseph S—”

“Thank you, Laura,” Isolde interrupted, clearing her throat. “You can set them on the table there, I’ll find them a vase.”

Laura nodded and smiled, laying the bouquet delicately on the coffee table and then making her way out of the office. Isolde left the flowers untouched for about an hour, unable to stand the thought of John catching her keeping them alive (because she would never hear an end to it), but it was killing her a little bit. She had mentioned once, in an off-hand comment, that she didn’t like the typical flower bouquets like red roses or carnations; lilies were her favorite. One tiny comment, and this was the result?

There was only a note with the flowers. It said, Hoping John isn’t giving you too much trouble. Be by at six for you.

It felt a little treacherous; just enough to make it a bit harder to look at John with a serious face and not burst out laughing at the absurdity of their situation. Thankfully, close to the end of the day John made the dramatic announcement that he thought he was going to kill himself if he had to spend even another second sitting across from the elaborate bouquet.

“I’m going to go home,” he said, shrugging into his coat, “and try to retain at least half of my brain cells.”

Isolde hmm’d. “So just the one, then?

“Ha-ha. Goodnight, Sol.”

“Have a good night.”

It seemed like there were only a few moments of quiet between John’s departure and Joseph’s arrival, though in reality it had been a few hours; focusing felt like a chore, like it took a little extra work to get through the depositions she had to prepare and the emails she had to answer.

Just dinner, she thought. Just dinner and a date, and whatever happened after. And just one more date tonight. Not a big deal; adults go on dates all the time. I’m an adult. It’s fine.

But it wasn’t just that, because she was sure her heart rate had plateaued at a solid one hundred and ten since Joseph’s I’ll pick you up from work text. Because Isolde wasn’t the kind of woman who took a man back to her place on the first date, and yet.

By the time Joseph did swing by to pick her up, John had been gone for a few hours and she’d gotten almost no work done, instead completely consumed by the predicament she’d planted herself in. It did break the rules to date Joseph. No business and pleasure, first and foremost. Normally, Isolde would have considered herself a woman of incredible discipline, able to turn down temptations of varying degrees—but when Joseph rolled through her office door with those stupid, hot yellow aviators on his face, she thought maybe she had overestimated herself.

“You look tired,” Joseph said lightly, brushing some snow out of his hair. Isolde’s expression flattened.

“Thanks, Romeo. ‘Hi, Isolde, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, just fine, except for your brother throwing a baby temper tantrum every five minutes’. ‘You poor thing, Isolde, but you have to tell me how you manage to be so exceptionally beautiful still’.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t look beautiful still,” he replied. His eyes followed her as she walked around her desk, having slid her coat on and collected her purse; they stayed trained on her all the way up to when there was no space left between them, until he was gazing at her with amusement dragging his mouth into a smile.

She said, lightly, “You didn’t say I was beautiful at all, actually.”

Joseph reached up. Though the room was empty of everyone except the two of them, somehow it still felt special when he looked at her—it still felt like nothing else in the entire world mattered to Joseph in that moment except for her. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, his gaze drinking her in, admiring and hungry in equal amounts.

“You are,” he said, his voice low, the timbre of it rattling something animal inside of her. “Beautiful.”

Kiss me, she wanted to say, because he was so close and yet seemed to refuse to actually finish the job. She didn’t think she could have mustered the words even if she wanted to; Joseph was a wildfire, eating up all the oxygen around her, sucking it right out of the air until there was nothing left but for her to feel swallowed by it.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, the other night,” Joseph continued, dragging his thumb from her lip down to her jawline, “when I said that John’s greatest vice was beautiful women.” He paused, his head tilting. “They’re mine.”

Isolde’s lashes fluttered. She glanced up at him, and she said, “Well, that’s not the greatest sales pitch for yourself. How many red flags should I be looking for?”

He laughed and brushed his lips against her temple. “I get the feeling you won’t miss a single one.”

It shouldn’t have been quite so endearing, his casual reference to any red flags that he might have. Even his confidence that she’d pick them out (she would; if finding red flags was an Olympic sport, Isolde would have been a gold medalist) didn’t inspire the greatest feeling in her, though if she was playing devil’s advocate she knew that there were things about herself that didn’t make her so very well acquainted with healthy relationships.

“I’m glad I was able to come and pick you up today,” Joseph continued casually as they left her office and headed down the stairs. “It’s been snowing all afternoon. I’d hate for you to have to drive in this weather.”

And then he did things like that—uncharacteristically gentlemanly of him, to not want her to drive herself home in adverse weather. “I think I would have been fine,” Isolde replied. His fingers brushed hers at her side, snagging them and bringing them up to his mouth to kiss.

“Undoubtedly.”

It hadn’t been a lie, his remark about the snow. By the time they were pushing the doors to the lobby open, bidding the security officer goodnight, at least a solid foot of snow had collected and was pushed up against the lip of the sidewalk.

She grimaced. Winter was her least favorite season. Holiday cheer and Isolde Khan were not two concepts that melded well—not that she was a scrooge, per se, but with her only family halfway across the world and, on top, a tenuous relationship at best, it didn’t make Christmas very fun.

As they walked down the sidewalk, passing Joseph’s car in favor of pursuing a nearby restaurant, the blonde kept their fingers tangled together. The gesture was light, and didn’t demand anything, but it was enough to say something: I want you close to me.

“Does your family come here for the holidays?” Joseph asked lightly, disentangling their hands in favor of giving her hip a squeeze, keeping his hand there as they drifted into a warmly-lit wine bar. “I remember you saying they live in Turkey.”

So Joseph did just have that good of a memory. She’d have to be more careful about the things she said to him. “No,” Isolde replied, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. “It’s too far. And I don’t go there.”

“Then what do you do on Christmas?” he prompted. He tugged a seat out for her at a spot farthest away from the door and then planted himself across from her, absently reading over the list of wines.

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely. And then, in an effort to redirect, again: “You, if you’re around.”

Joseph’s gaze flickered up to hers from across the table. She could tell he was trying to stifle a smile. “You’d have to come all the way to Hope County if you had that penciled into your planner, Miss Khan.”

“Oh, Miss Khan, am I? We’re suddenly very formal with each other.” Isolde grinned. “And what does Joseph Seed, in Hope County, do on Christmas?”

“We haven’t spent many holidays together, but this year I’d like have a big family dinner on Christmas Eve, the handful of us.” He settled back in his chair a little, like he was getting ready to be there for a while. “Since John’s moved out here for work, Jacob’s been out of the country, and we only recently found each other again, we don’t get a lot of time together.” He shrugged. “And you, of course. If you’re around.”

Before she had an opportunity to respond, caught off guard by how easily he wielded her own flirtation against her, she felt a few bodies brush past their table and then pause, only to be followed by a dreadfully familiar voice: “Isolde?”

Something sharp and hot brought her pulse to a grinding stop—or it felt like it, anyway, like all of the breath had been sucked right out of her and she had ceased to be alive anymore, a cadaver sat up to play pretend like in those old photos. No, she thought when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, nausea welling up inside of her. No, I don’t want this, not right now.

“It is you,” Alec said, his voice blooming with warmth. “I thought I recognized you. I know you like this spot.” His hand slid from her shoulder and she felt, without even looking at him, the way he turned his eyes to Joseph. “Who’s your friend?”

“Date,” Isolde bit out. “He’s my date.”

Her ex-husband let out what she could only describe as a comical exhale of breath. Joseph was watching her, inquisitive but ever-so-composed, before he turned his gaze politely to Alec and offered his hand.

“Joseph,” the blonde said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The sight of the two men shaking hands made her want to puke. Everything Alec touched in her life was rotten, putrid—brimming with bile and spoiled, forever. She didn’t want it to be like that with Joseph, too.

Alec began, “I’m—”

“Alec is my ex-husband,” Isolde interrupted, her voice hard, punctuating each consonant of the words that came out of her mouth with violent intent.

Joseph settled back in his seat. Suddenly, Isolde was reminded that he had a penchant for remembering even the smallest throwaway details, and that she’d probably let him in on more than she would have liked about how her relationship had been with Alec without even saying anything. Yes, Isolde thought absently, her brain careening like a plane on fire as she watched Joseph fix his eyes on Alec, yes, he can tell.

“Fresh on the dating scene, and only six months divorced,” Alec remarked lightly, his infuriatingly handsome face the only thing filling up her peripheral. “I’m happy for you, Isolde.”

“So leave,” Isolde snapped. She finally looked at him, really looked at him, and naturally he looked perfect; dark curls, stubble neatly trimmed, eyes bright and amused. There were a few thin, gossamer scars on his face from the last time they were together— but he must have paid quite a bit of money to smooth those out.

He lifted his hands in a show of surrender, his gaze sweeping over her. Just that one gesture felt like a violation—she wanted to smash his face into the table and tell him he didn’t get to even look at her anymore.

“Good luck with this one, Joe,” Alec said, his overly-familiar use of a nickname that Isolde had never heard anyone use with Joseph sticking to her ribs like a heavy dinner. “She’s a wicked little thing.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Joseph replied serenely.

Alec paused; his gaze lingered on her neck and suddenly he was grinning. Isolde knew what it was he was looking at—a bruise, a remnant of the night before, left by Joseph.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed, “it looks like you’ve already figured out how to handle her.”

Who’s going to pity you? If you were me, you would have seen that you were begging for it. You fucking asked for it.

Isolde stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the wooden paneling of the floor. Sick, she thought, her stomach rolling. I’m going to be sick. “Leaving,” she managed out, only vaguely aware of Joseph also coming to a stand across from her, albeit more composed. “We’re leaving.”

I’m your husband, Isolde. It means it’s my job to keep you in line.

“Not on my account, I hope,” Alec sighed. “You’ve always been so dramatic. Anyway, Joseph—a pleasure to meet you, and—you know, call me if you need help with her. I’m always happy to lend my expertise.”

Everyone knows what it takes to get you under control, and I’ll tell anyone who asks.

She pushed past him, stepping around the table and clutching her coat and purse in her hands. There wasn’t time to put them on; there would never be enough time to get as much space between herself and Alec as she wanted.

I should have killed him, she thought viciously, taking in lungfuls of frigid air, snow dappling her face and sticking to her eyelashes. Right then, I should have bashed his fucking skull in.

Fingers brushed her arm. On instinct she startled, whirling to face the impending threat, half-expecting Alec to have chased her out into the street in an attempt to corner her—a thing that he had taken great joy in before, sweeping things off of the counter to grab and pull and rip—but it was Joseph. He waited two heartbeats before he reached again, his fingertips cradling the crook of her elbow.

It was a question: can I? Will you let me?

“I wish he would die,” she said, without thinking, the words spilling out of her like a poison she just couldn’t hold in anymore. Whatever information Joseph had gleaned about her tumultuous marriage with Alec made him unbothered by this statement; he tugged her closer to him, the hand not holding her arm reaching up to brush the pads of his fingers across her pulse point.

He said, “I know.”

“Joseph—”

“Isolde.” His voice was low, the words murmured against her forehead. “Don’t explain.” Because I already know, is what he meant. Because I already understand what’s going on here.

He tugged her coat out of her hands and pulled it around her shoulders. Bent like he was, leaned into her with something that she thought might be adoration, Joseph brushed their noses together. She felt tension flood her body; she was afraid that he might try to kiss her right then, of what she might do if he did while her body was brutalized by adrenaline, but he didn’t.

He just held her.

“Here,” Joseph said, taking her hand and bringing it to his neck until she could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his pulse under her fingers. “I’ve got you.”

It should have frightened her. Joseph’s intensity was an intimidating kind, but in these moments, the intensity was required to cut through the panic. It overwhelmed her fried senses, the neurons firing rapidly stifled and swallowed up by the looming responsibility to recognize his closeness. The smell of his cologne, the bump of their noses, the feeling of his stubble under her fingertips, his hands closing the jacket around her shoulders. All of it meant that her brain could no longer panic, and had, instead, something to occupy itself with.

“Can you take me home?” Her voice felt small coming out of her, like it belonged to someone else. A different Isolde, at a different place and time. The girl she might have been or perhaps was before Alec.

Low, Joseph murmured, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

A sick, macabre part of her wanted to look back behind Joseph at the wine bar. It wanted to see Alec again—the way that you couldn’t stop yourself from peeking through your hands at the monster in a horror movie, the way that you couldn’t look away from a brutal car crash on the highway. Sick, she thought dizzily. He made me sick.

“Take me home,” she said, more firmly this time.

“I’m trying,” Joseph replied. His voice was so soft that she almost had to strain to hear it over the pounding of her heart. His hands came to her face, cradling. “You have to let me.”

Isolde nodded, swallowing back what adrenaline insisted on leaking into her brain. She hadn’t realized that she was bolting her feet to the floor, gritting her teeth against the gentle pressure of Joseph’s hands, until he said, you have to let me.

“Okay,” she murmured. He nodded and brushed the hair from her face. This time, his guiding pressure actually registered in her brain; when he nudged her away from the bar and down the street to his car, she moved, instead of digging her heels in.

When they reached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for her and waited for her to climb in before he leaned down.

“I’m—” Isolde started, the words shredding in her mouth before they got out of her. I’m sorry, she wanted to say. “About—the bar, I—”

“I told you, don’t explain yourself,” Joseph insisted, tucking her hair behind her ear. There was something almost earnest about his gaze now as he watched her, her heart thrumming violently in her chest with a different mantra now. Same, it said, when Joseph’s fingers grazed her cheek, tilted her chin up. Same as us. Ours, too. He’s our kind.

“There’s plenty of people I wish were dead, too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shoes, clothes, charger, phone. No phone?

“Where did he put my phone?” Isolde muttered, searching through the suitcase on the bed. An array of clothing was laid out, but not yet folded; in fact, the only things that were packed yet were all work things that she’d have to take with her. Joseph would probably be furious—he had, in fact, specifically insisted that no work come on the vacation—but better than anyone he knew what it was like to rely on John for things. Which was that, if you liked things done to the standard that Joseph and Isolde wanted them done to, you didn’t rely on anyone else. Least of all John.

“Soli…” It was Joseph’s voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, not questioning but asking. Beckoning. You’re taking too long. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Where’s my phone?” she called back, pacing around the other side of the bedroom. “I’m trying to pack it up for tomorrow so that I don’t have to worry about it.”

A beat, where Joseph was likely collecting his patience, passed. “It’s down here. You left it on the counter.” And then: “Come eat, won’t you?”

He was doing that thing where he phrased it as a question and meant it as a statement. Joseph had learned, in a very short period of time, that she didn’t like when someone told her what to do; as petulant as it was, she’d buck against something like that desperately until it felt like her idea all along.

Isolde sighed. “Yes, I’m coming, Joseph.” One more up-and-down the stairs, ten more minutes of packing, and then she’d be content enough to sit down and eat.

“Full first name?” came the leisurely reply from downstairs. “My, you are in a mood tonight.”

Isolde busied herself with folding clothes, a smile fighting its way onto her face in spite of Joseph’s insistence that she was “in a mood”. She wasn’t; if he wanted to believe that, he was certainly welcome to, but she wasn’t in a mood. She was thinking.

So she put folded clothes over the work files and said, “Joseph, light of my life; the sun which my planet orbits; the fabric by which the stars are made…”

“This sounds more like the Isolde I’m used to.” His voice was closer now, coming from the doorway, and when she looked over her shoulder at him he said, “And definitely not coming to eat.”

“Do you go by Joe?” she asked lightly, dropping the last of her clothes in the suitcase.

Joseph wandered across the master bedroom until there wasn’t any space left between them; his hand came up to her face, trailing the slope of her cheekbone. “I certainly do not.”

“So, definitely call you that, then.”

“You are testing my greatest virtue,” Joseph replied, leaning down and kissing her. Just the once, though; long enough for her to want to lean into it, and not long enough to be satisfying. He pulled back just so far as to let their lips brush when he said, “Come sit down.”

Skimming her fingers along his chest, she asked playfully, “What are you going to do if I say no?”

The blonde eyed her amusedly. “John was right. You really don’t like being bossed around, do you?”

“How dare you say those words, in that order, in my presence,” Isolde murmured without heat. “You know I can’t stand to have someone stroking his ego by admitting he’s right about something.” A low laugh slipped out of Joseph and he carded his fingers through her hair, letting the pads of his fingers skim the back of her scalp as he kissed her temple.

She loved it. She loved when he did this; Joseph was so tactile, taking every opportunity to connect them through touch, like she grounded him. Like she was something precious that he wanted to enjoy every chance he got.

“You are the only one I’ll say something to more than once,” he said, his voice pleasantly low. “But luckily for you, I find your obstinance endearing.”

“If it helps,” she countered, “I don’t mind if you boss me around. Mostly. Why don’t you give it another try?” That wasn’t true. She did. But she liked the way it made Joseph’s ego inflate the second he did, even if it was for something stupid.

“Sweet girl.” His voice was a pleasant purr against her skin. “Always threatening me with a good time.”

This made her laugh. Joseph kissed the slope of her cheekbone, and then the corner of her mouth, his fingers sliding through her hair affectionately. She finally relented and allowed him to nudge her out through the bedroom door, making her way down the stairs. It wasn’t her first time going on a vacation with a… Friend of the romantic persuasion, but it was her first time going on vacation with a friend of the romantic persuasion back home. She’d never introduced her parents to any man that she’d dated—not only because they were eleven hours away by flight, but because there just hadn’t ever been anyone.

Joseph was—different. But she had always known that; she had always known that he was an exception to a lot of people’s rules, not just her own, and she was violating cardinal rule number one of her own personal regiment, which was “don’t mix business and pleasure”. Pursuing a romantic relationship with your business partner’s older brother didn’t exactly adhere to that, did it?

“It’s going to be hot,” Isolde said, “and the flight is long, and the traffic is going to be… Well, insane. But my parents will definitely insist on feeding us the second we get there—”

“That’s fine.”

“—so what I’m saying is, if I blink at you five times in rapid succession, we need to make up an emergency to leave. What’s the emergency? We have to have one ready and on hand, otherwise my dad will see straight…”

Her voice trailed off. The kitchen was not as she’d left it, a little over an hour ago, to pack. In fact, it was dimly lit by candles, the dining table sporting a bouquet—not roses, like someone might have expected out of a scene like this, but calla lilies. Her favorite.

“What—” She stopped in the doorway, but Joseph sidled up behind her, hands on her hips and nudging her forward. “Joseph, what…?”

“I told you.” He kissed just below her ear, reaching for her left hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles there, too. “You’re the only person that I’ll say something to more than once—”

Isolde felt something—something both hot and cold, sharp and too soft—whip through her immediately at the leading tone. “You’re not making any sense,” she managed out, trying to dig her heels in, but Joseph wasn’t trying to push her in any further so it didn’t matter.

“I want you to marry me.” Joseph said against her skin, and he slid something cool and metal along her finger. “I want you to be my wife, Soli.”

A ring, her brain said, the alarm bells ringing immediately. That’s a ring. Holy shit, that’s a really big fucking ring. On your finger. Holy shit.

“Isolde.” Joseph turned her around to look at him fully now, brows furrowing at what was surely a look of panic on her face. What she thought had to be the assumption that they were only nerves, he continued, “I know that—”

“No.” The word came out of her mouth before she could stop it, the single-word-statement fleeing her mouth in her panic. She thought she’d feel regret about it, but she didn’t; only about the way Joseph looked at her when she said it.

He seemed to be gathering himself for a moment, like maybe he didn’t think that she meant it, that she was playing some kind of joke on him.

Joseph began, “If this is your idea of—”

“I mean it,” Isolde interjected. “I won’t marry you, Joseph. So—no. Take this—” She fumbled the engagement ring off of her finger and put it into his hand like it was a cursed item, like she couldn’t get it off of her finger any fucking quicker. “Take this back. And—that’s it, I just don’t want it.”

His eyes were fixed on her, no longer soft in their romanticism, but hard, steely. “And why not?”

She swallowed up a sound that probably would have been close to agony. It was agony, having to explain to him; her mind vibrating at an entirely different frequency than his, the panic settling into her bones. She needed to say, I’ve been married before you and I know what it’s like to give yourself over to someone, she needed to say, I won’t fucking let someone own me, Joseph Seed, she needed to say, I told you two months ago I never wanted to get married again, and you just apparently didn’t listen, which is reason enough.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” is what she said instead, going to step around him. But his hand caught her wrist, the carefully manicured and polished exterior fading into something that hit an edge of tension, pulling pulling pulling until she thought she was going to watch him finally snap.

But he said, “You do.”

“Fuck. You,” Sol bit out. The anger flared hot in her chest. It was, at last, a familiar emotion; anger and not panic, filling her up. Drowning out the sadness that tried to rip through her like a wildfire. “I told you. I told you I wasn’t doing it again.”

“I’m different.” Now it was his turn to sound almost petulant, his grip on her wrist like iron. “You said that yourself. That we’re—”

“Not different enough,” she snapped. “Apparently, anyway, since you couldn’t wait longer than two months to try and put your name on me, could you?” Trying to pull her wrist out of his grip proved futile, and she managed out with the timbre of her voice vibrating with poison, “And get your fucking hand off of me, Joseph.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he finally loosened his hold on her wrist. Enough to let her pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. Isolde stayed firmly put, willing her legs to carry her somewhere else—back home would probably be the best thing, driving the hours it takes between Hope County and the nearest lick of civilization.

You said that yourself. I’m different.

He was. She wanted to say, you are, Joseph, but she didn’t, because she knew that it would only start them in another circle again, a snake swallowing its own tail in an endless cycle.

So they stood there for a moment: neither of them saying anything, her last threat hanging, jolts of anger fizzing and popping in the air between them. Isolde’s hand slid just enough to catch at the wrist in Joseph’s grip, and he took her hand instead, then, tugging lightly to draw her close to him.

Testing her out. Feeling her boundaries. She’d basically said I’ll tear your hand off if you don’t listen to me, but he didn’t think she would. And now he was going to slam those buttons—slide his fingers under her edges until he found the exact farthest he could push her.

“I won’t,” Joseph said, very low and quiet, “let you do this to me, Isolde.”

She had been expecting something else. Something sweet, maybe—Joseph liked to do that. Sweet girl, he’d say to her, and if anyone else had tried to call her girl they would’ve gotten dumped, but with this viper it was different. It didn’t feel condescending when Joseph said it to her. It just felt covetous.

And that’s what he was best at: bite, and then soothe. It made his sharp edges more tolerable. It made them nice. But now he was all sharp edges, only hard lines, catching on her and tearing every time the two of them made contact. It had always been this way; John had said that he thought they were poorly matched, and at the time, she’d written it off as John not liking to share even his business partner with his older brother.

Now more than ever, she thought that he was right. They were both too unwieldy, too wretched, to let someone else sway them from their opinions.

“You are so fucking dramatic,” Isolde said, pulling her hand out of his grip at last and turning on her heel. “We don’t need to be married to be together. And your antiquated notion—”

“There are things I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—”

“I’m sorry, did you hear a period punctuating the end of my sentence? Don’t fucking talk over me, Joseph,” she snapped. For one split second, she saw something vicious flicker over Joseph’s face—just for that one, tiny second—and then he cleared his face.

After a second of silence, of waiting for Joseph to try and get the last word in, she finished, “You don’t know me well enough to want to marry me. And—marriage is a scam, anyway. I would know, I handle nasty divorces every day at work.” I’ve handled my own nasty divorce. “If you’re looking for a pretty housewife to sit around statuesque and have dinner ready for you when you come home, then—well, then you really don’t fucking know me.”

Joseph was silent. His jaw worked, his eyes sweeping over her, tension radiating off of her until he said, “I guess I don’t.”

“I guess so,” Isolde agreed. Another moment of silence, where it felt like they were circling each other like wounded dogs, and she said, “I’m going to go—”

“Fine,” he interrupted, the thing that he knew she hated. “When you’ve calmed down, we can discuss this like adults.”

“There isn’t anything to discuss,” she said, gathering up her coat and keys and walking up the stairs. “I’m not going to change my mind, Joseph.”

From the kitchen, she heard him agree, “Not yet.”

“Shut up,” Isolde snapped. “You make me so fucking mad.”

He didn’t respond to that; she heard him moving around in the kitchen, gathering things and putting them away as she hauled her suitcase down to the front door. He met her at the door, opening it for her—which pissed her off half as much as him putting an engagement ring on her finger.

It shouldn’t have, but it did. It was like he was saying, I know you’ll be back, so go on. Feel free to leave whenever you’d like.

Like the gentleman he was, he carried her suitcase out and loaded it into the car, lingering around the driver’s side as she threw her coat inside. And then she was the one waiting, unsure of what to do; the muscle memory of her body said, kiss him goodbye, the fury in her brain screaming to get in the car and leave.

“When you change your mind,” he reiterated calmly, reaching up and brushing the hair from her face, “you know how to get in touch with me.”

Isolde’s gaze flickered at the touch, Joseph’s warm, heady cologne washing over her as the space between them vanished. She said, the amber and vetiver of him welling up inside of her and filling her like a wineskin, “I won’t.”

His lips grazed her temple, fingers brushing her jaw. “I love you, Isolde.”

Fucking narcissist, she thought, venomously, pulling away from him. Her gaze drifted over his face, trying to find something familiar, something that reminded her of the man she had thought she had loved—but who had clearly proven he was incapable of thinking of anyone but himself.

So finally, she bit out, “This is what you think love is?”

She wanted the words to sting. She wanted them to wipe the tranquility off of his face. He had always been so composed; the wretchedness in her wanted to shake it out of him, making him squirm like he was so good at doing to her.

But he didn’t; his mouth ticked upward in a serene smile, eyes fixed on her as he stepped back from the car. He seemed confident in himself—that it was love, that she would see it was. One day.

I won’t let you do this to me, he’d said.

“Have a safe drive,” he called, when she slammed the door. It was an hour to the airport; an hour, and then however long of a flight, however long she’d have to wait for the next flight heading out to Georgia.

Joseph turned and walked back inside as she pulled out of the driveway, as carefully as she could through the snow; in her rearview mirror, she saw him stop at the door and turn to look, eyes fixed on her.

There are plenty of people I wish were dead, too.

#fic: witching hour #otp: i could sleep inside the cold of you #witching hour interlude #joseph seed x ofc #joseph seed/ofc #ch: isolde khan #ch: joseph seed #this felt important to include #a lot of it is polished from my pre-cult canon but it feels!!!!!#necessary to give them a bit more context esp for folks who only see my content on ao3 #thank u everyone for being patient w me <3 #my writing #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic

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what-do-1000-swords-look-like · 4 years

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So I read this very interesting post that was pro-Jonerys written around the time after season 7 aired, I think. It was very well-written and explored examples of Jon’s growing feelings for Dany all throughout season 7. But when I saw the examples used, I thought “oh man, this is the trap the show set and this awesome person unfortunately fell right into it.” Jonerys was meant to get our attention, to hide what was really happening with Dany behind the scenes so to speak but then shove it into the forefront in 8x05 so we would supposedly feel a jarring impact from Dany’s dark turn that we weren’t supposed to see coming. And while this person didn’t have season 8 to work with at the time (and I totes understand, season 7 was one big ball of confusing and guesswork not just for Jonerys but also other characters/story lines as well), I wanted to take another look at their examples (while also including some of my own) of Jon’s feelings for Dany in that 7th season.

Example 1):

This is meant to call to the audience a growing attraction between Jon and Dany, and tension. But notice it’s the physical Davos is mentioning here. Not that Dany is a great queen or her good heart that Jon is supposedly taking interest in. It’s a physical attraction. This is also important as it will come into play later in 8x01.

And notice how it’s Davos to bring the subject up, not Jon. This cements this is the show trying to sell the GA something, an idea, that will then later come to fruition once its “product” is sold and the GA start embracing the idea.

Example 2):

This isn’t someone who is deep in love. Dany isn’t in love here either. This is him hoping that she’ll understand how important her joining the fight is, that these cave drawings are what will cement that joining as allies against the Night King. And it almost seems as if yes, she now understands and they can work together and you can see Jon is hopeful, which she immediately dashes when saying “I will fight for you. I will fight for the North...when you bend the knee.” You can even see Jon’s disappointment after this statement.

This scene is not Jon being jealous. This is Jon studying the interaction between Jorah and Dany. Remember, this scene is on the heels of a semi-disagreement that Dany and Jon are having after she’s returned from the battle with the Lannister army. Dany is trying to convince him that she did the right thing and when she sees he’s not immediately agreeing, she gets annoyed and tries to convince him further. Then Jorah shows up. This is a side to Dany that Jon still has yet to see. Dany immediately becomes soft, is affected by it that we even see her eyes become slightly teary and she smiles, and even hugs Jorah by the end of it. This is still the Khaleesi, the Breaker Of Chains, the Mother Of Dragons even, but this is also Dany, young Dany who Jorah met back at her wedding to Drogo. This is the side of her Jon has never seen before, that he and (from what he sees) Tyrion and Varys have not been able to access. But suddenly Jorah shows up and she’s practically purring (that’s not a dig or a slight, it’s truth, her soft side came out in this scene, Emilia showcased the difference brilliantly). Because Jon still doesn’t have Dany’s promise of support yet and he can’t leave yet, it’s no wonder that he’s studying the one person that seems to bring out that side of her. And it’s also no coincidence that Jon ends up stepping into a role similar to Jorah’s in the last season. Jon is who Jorah would have become for Dany had she been able to return his feelings.

Example 3):

Yes, in the 7x06 script, it is confirmed that in this moment, after seeing Dany grieving Viserion, Jon realizes he does have feelings for her. We already know there was a growing physical attraction between them as stated by Davos above but now after seeing how Dany came to save them, he realizes okay this is who Missandei was talking about, this is who Jorah is in love with. And sure enough, we see Dany pledge to fight the Night King with him, without needing him to bend the knee. This is the same Dany the audience is charmed by, the same Dany that is fiercely stanned, the Mother Of Dragons, the Khaleesi and Breaker Of Chains, the queen many have chosen. Do I think here that Jon is head over heels? No. I think he does have feelings though that are growing, that he is starting to feel love, but it’s not an all-consuming passion and love.

Example 4) Boatsex:

Okay, before we delve into this, I want to show you something:

It is a common trope or theme that in a romance, the first kiss is shown. Whether it happens passionately or is just a small peck on the lips or an accidental smooshing, it’s always shown. Hence here are other examples of romances written on the show:

(I couldn’t find a gif of the cave scene above)

Regardless of how these pairings above ended up, regardless of these first kisses leading right into sex or not, they had build-up before that first kiss and more importantly, that first kiss is shown. These are romantic-coded relationships meant to be read romantically by the viewers as, you guessed it, romances.

This is not a romance:

Gif credit

The door is closed and the next scene we get is Dany and Jon mid-makeout, naked on the bed. The first kiss is not shown. Considering how they built up other romances on the show, if Jonerys was the “it” couple and the true romance of the show, if both loved each other so passionately, this was a very important element that they “missed”. Something that has nothing to do with the chemistry between the actors or bad writing or bad editing. It was purposely “missed”.

This scene below comes after that rolling around and a lot of people think it’s Jon gazing down on his beloved before that special moment:

I hate to burst anyone’s bubble but that’s not what this moment is. What you’re seeing is Dany is deep in this relationship happening (it’s clear as day on her face, again Emilia is just brilliant), Jon sees this and hesitates for a moment (most likely feeling somewhat guilty because his feelings are not as deep as hers but he can see how deep this is for her, notice how he keeps studying her face in the second gif), and then makes the decision to go through with it. And all during this, we have Bran’s voiceover revealing who Jon really is. Not to mention the obvious sexual positioning, it starts out with Dany on Jon’s side but over him and then he rolls them over and that’s how the sexual encounter progresses.

Dany who Doreah taught that “love comes in at the eyes”. Notice how Jon chooses to kiss Dany as they start doing the deed so their eyes are closed due to the kissing. Then compare it to the sex scene Dany has with Drogo in the tent (after Doreah’s lesson) back in season 1, where Dany is on top and in control, where she stares into Drogo’s eyes. Now rewatch the boatsex scene again. Jon was in control here.

This moment is not meant to be read a true romantic moment. You know how I know that?

This:

There was absolutely no reason to show us (the audience) Tyrion’s reaction during the love scene. Yes, I’m sure there is some jealousy and concern over how this will go but in order for the one true romance of the show to have their moment, why are we shown an outside character’s reaction not once but twice? It’s not as if there is a love triangle happening between Jon, Dany, and Tyrion. So why show us? Their love scene already has an “interrupting” factor with Bran’s voiceover that they try to mix in with the love theme of “Truth”, so why add this, too?

Because it’s not going to end well. Because it’s not a pure two-sided, mutually deep romance.

And on top of that, this interview with Peter is very telling. “He loves her -- or thinks he does.” “She’s awe inspiring.” “He knows the two of them getting together could be very dangerous.” -> this relationship or getting together will not end well

“He loves her -- or thinks he does.” “She’s awe inspiring.” -> this is the way it’s been going the whole show is the arc of Dany in the show that most people feel enamored with from characters in the show to every last GA member, the Khaleesi, the Breaker Of Chains, the Mother Of Dragons - this is who Tyrion fancies himself in love with, who he supports and has faith in; this is who Jorah is head over heels in love with; this is Missandei’s queen who she & the others have chosen; this is who Jon has started to have feelings for (as per the 7x06 script confirmation) and loves by the time they get to Winterfell. In the end, though, Dany is no longer the Khaleesi or Breaker Of Chains and has even surpassed the Mother Of Dragons arc in that she uses Drogon purely as a weapon after 8x04.

Example 5):

Going back to what Davos said up above in Example 1, we get this scene in 8x01. We see Jon and Dany being viewed by Tyrion, Davos, and Varys, while making commentary. Notice again how Davos is the one to mention a possible union of the two, ruling the 7K together. Yet, while we see what appears to be a nice moment that these guys are viewing between the couple, we purposefully are not able to hear what is being said between them, and are viewing them from a distance like these guys are. Why? Because the show is selling/pitching you the idea once again through Davos while he is selling Tyrion and Varys on the idea of a union.

youtube

When we do eventually join Dany and Jon down there, what do we see? Dany telling Jon that Sansa doesn’t like her, Jon trying to reassure her, and then her subtly threatening if Sansa doesn’t respect her...

All of this was to show you that from the outside looking in, Jon and Dany seem to be the perfect power couple, the ultimate romance (despite the Targaryen secret). But when we actually do go inside, not all is as it appears to be.

You know what reinforces that idea? This:

Jon and Dany actually had a semi-romantic moment, after displaying that the actors did indeed have chemistry in their banter before Jon rides Rhaegal, and boom, Drogon “interrupts”. To the point where Jon positions Dany in between them and keeps an eye open as he kisses Dany, watching Drogon warily. Once again, not only will this romance not end well, but it’s not a true romance. Drogon is clearly watching and you almost get a sense of distrust or at the very least, wariness. If Drogon is sentient enough to not kill Jon after he kills Dany, then he is sentient enough in this scene and that begs the question, just what is he thinking?

Example 6):

This scene, Jon says “She shouldn’t be alone” when Varys tells him how Dany has stayed in her room, locked away in her grief. This isn’t Jon saying this because he’s love struck. This is Jon being compassionate and more importantly, because he’s thinking of a certain line said to him by this man:

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.” And this is after he says, “No one to guide her.”

Jon now knows that he is the only family she has left in the world and now Jorah and Missandei are gone, leaving her with only Grey Worm, Varys, Tyrion, and himself to guide her. This is why Jon stayed by Dany’s side despite any amount of fear he had, despite her turning into dark!Dany at the end and leaving the Khaleesi, the Breaker Of Chains, and the Mother Of Dragons behind. He cared about her, plain and simple, but he was not head over heels in love. The show did a terrible job portraying that, because it was more interested in hiding Dany’s dark turn (while also giving hints so it’s weird why they chose to try to hide it at all) and keeping something also hidden about Jon (maybe pol!Jon? or maybe that Jon wasn’t as in love with her as she was with him? or maybe that he ultimately is the one to end up killing her? I don’t know, again, weird they gave all these hints but still kept it hidden, again, terrible job).

This doesn’t take away from the attraction he felt to Dany or any feelings of love that he had for her up to the end. He just wasn’t in love. Sure, he was awed by her like Tyrion, like Jorah, like mostly everyone else had been up until season 7. Dany’s line in 7x07 confirms this, when telling Jon about the dragons in the dragonpit: “They inspired awe and wonder. They were extraordinary.” And then she came to Westeros, a place where they had seen dragons before (think Aegon, the dragonpit, the dragon skulls in the basement of the Red Keep, the Targaryen tombs in the Sept, Aerys, Rhaegar), where Jon tells Dany if she uses the dragons (in 7x04) then she’ll “just be more of the same.” Dany’s line to Jon in 8x04 cinches it: “People have looked at me that way before. But never here. Never on this side of the sea.” The North (and Westeros) were never going to see her as the Khaleesi or the Breaker Of Chains. “The North remembers.” And the first thing Dany does when going to King’s Landing for a ceasefire talk, she rides Drogon to the dragonpit meeting. (It was smart and safer for her to do so, but Drogon of course lets out an intimidating roar before leaving, this is a land that is happy for Targaryens to remain out of power despite Cersei or the Starks or any other family). So it’s no surprise that Dany never experienced “love” in Westeros. Her dragons “overshadowed” her other two personas and once her dark turn happened (and lbr, she was on the verge of all season 8), there was no chance for the people to love her and accept her for either of those two arcs. Same goes for her relationship with Jon. Jon wasn’t ready to kill her after she massacred King’s Landing, he was actually defending her (which was very out of character and then was later confirmed by Bryan Cogman and Kit Harington as Jon being used as the audience mouthpiece and Tyrion was the writers’), ready to stand at her side, even if she chose to kill him later on. Only when it comes to his sisters, only when Dany unknowingly confirms that they indeed won’t have a choice in her new world, does he choose to act.

The show’s mistake in that scene was keeping Dany a sympathetic character until the end, which negated the moral of her story. But their even bigger mistake was using dialogue to callback to season 1 Dany, the same Dany the GA and Jon cared about, in a bid to make it a more tragic moment. It made it more tragic alright, but not in the way they were hoping.

Ship and let ship is my philosophy. So if you enjoy the idea of Jonerys, by all means, you do you. But sadly, this show really almost baited the audience with this idea of this ultimate tragic romance when it was anything but. Personally, this is why I’m anti-Jonerys. More than any other reason, this is why. The relationship wasn’t a good one for either Jon or Dany. And in my opinion, it wouldn’t have worked out even if Dany had lived, even if Dany hadn’t gone dark and burned down King’s Landing. This romance in this particular showverse was never going to be a love story for the ages. It was never meant to be.

tldr; Jon did care about Dany, had feelings, but he wasn’t in love with her. The show pulled the old bait and switch with it. They showed you a power couple that was supposed to enamor you and then break your heart, but then revealed it was never going to be the ultimate romance and negated the true moral of Dany’s story alongside Jon’s character with it.

#anti jonerys #anti jonerys meta #got posts

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