#| stayed up last night to write a little scene after the aftermath of all the sh*t i have planned for them

[hallasimss]

making myself cry by writing one-shots for my newly minted OCs while working to get that sim dump done in time for a somewhere-in-June launch if EA cooperates. i call that a win

[purplevortexx]

act two, scene three: take a bow

MASTERLIST

summary: in the aftermath of recent events, clarity comes to those closest to you- but is it too late?

warnings: swearing, confrontation, suggestive themes, mama bear penny, Jake Seresin being a disruptive little shit but in the best way.

words: 5.5k! This one’s a roller coaster guys!!!

a/n: well… this is it! The finale. Hope you’ve all enjoyed the series as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it (even if it did take so long to get this last part out). As always feedback is very much appreciated 🫶

Fastening the clasp of the necklace Bradley bought you some months ago, you let out a shaky sigh. The butterfly pendant that hangs off the chain glints mockingly in the late morning sun, only serving to make you more panicked than you already are about today.

You’d changed your mind four times already on whether or not you should turn up to the party. The fight that you and Rooster had is still fresh and you’re still not 100% sure where you stand with him.

You haven’t seen him for nearly 48 hours, the only communication you’ve had in that time being the few texts you’ve exchanged. After he’d texted you last night, you’d texted him back this morning to wish him a happy birthday. Going back to the message you sent him, you can see he read it nearly an hour ago, making you feel even worse.

Placing the phone down, you move to your closet, staring blankly at the jackets in front of you, doubting if you should go even more. One one hand, you planned the entire thing and the control freak in you wants to make sure everything goes to plan. However, another part of you, the insecure part, makes you think that maybe he won’t want you there. There has to be a reason he hasn’t really talked to you in 2 days right?

A faint buzzing sound interrupts your thoughts as your phone rings on the table next to you. Looking down, you notice Phoenix’s picture flashing up on the screen and you smile softly before answering. “Hey Nat, what’s up?”

“Are you coming to the party?”

“I-uh,”

“Look I know about the fight and I love him but Bradshaw is an idiot.”

“How did you-“

“Hangman told me but that’s not important. Y/N this isn’t even about him, it’s about you! You’ll regret not being there later.”

You shake your head in disbelief, Nat does always have a way of getting to the bottom of your problems “Are you a mind reader or something?”

“No, I just know you.” she says gently and quickly adds “plus from what Hangman said, the fight sounded pretty nasty.”

Images of Jake’s bruised face fall across your mind. “Yeah I still feel bad about his eye,”

“His eye?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and a soft thud followed by an “ow Phoenix that fucking hurts!”

“Jake’s with you?“ you ask and receive a hum in reply from Phoenix.

“Uh-huh and he failed to mention he was Bradshaw’s punching bag”

“ Not exactly something I want to admit.” Jake huffs, you can practically hear him pouting through the phone.

You frown, “isn’t his eye still bruised?” You ask, “how did you not notice that?” The mark over his face was pretty obvious when you left yesterday, there’s no way the bruise faded that fast.

Hearing a scoff from the other end of the phone, you hear hangman say “I have 2 sisters. As if I don’t know how to cover up a bruise with concealer.”

There’s a beat of silence, filled with a chuckle from you before Phoenix cuts in once again. “So anyway, I know you’re overthinking everything at the moment so I decided I’m driving you to the party.”

“No, Phoenix it’s fine. I’m not even sure he wants me there.” You protest, but you’re interrupted.

“Y/N, honey. That boy loves you so much, I know he will want you there and we’ll be there to help you get through it.”

You mull over Phoenix’s words in your head and the stubborn part of you wants to stay home out of spite but the rational part knows you’ll regret it if you don’t go. “Alright fine,” you sigh. “I’ll go.”

A triumphant noise sounds through the phone followed by what you can only assume is the sound of Phoenix and Hangman hi-fiving. “Good because I’m outside your house right now and if your ass isn’t in my car in 2 minutes, I will keep my hand on the horn until you come out. Ok?”

You eyes widen slightly at her threat and you don’t even have chance to reply before she hangs up the call and you catch sight of her car pulling up over your driveway. Not wanting to test if she was being serious -you’re pretty sure she is - you grab your purse and make your way out of the door.

⇰

The journey to the party serves to make you feel more at ease than you were whilst getting ready. Joking around with both Nat and Jake takes your mind off your impending encounter with your boyfriend slightly and makes you realise that things might not be as bad as they seem.

When Phoenix stops the car on arrival, she gives a pointed look to the blond pilot in her passenger seat who is busy typing away on his phone. As if feeling her stare boring holes into his skull, Jake looks up and shrinks back a little as he meets Nat’s gaze. The female pilot motions her head to you then looks back to him. Jake’s eyes flicker between the two of you before his brain catches up. “Girl talk, got it.” He says, pointing finger guns at the two of you and stepping out of the vehicle. He gives a mock salute as the door closes before he turns and jogs to catch up with Coyote, who is walking towards the entrance of the Hard Deck.

Moving her body to comfortably face you, Phoenix’s face changes, sympathy crossing her features. “So, how are you?” She asks, unsure where to start.

You shrug, “I’ve been better.” You tell her, “but I’m dealing.”

“Y/n,” she tries gently, “it’s just me here. You don’t have to pretend.”

Rubbing a hand over your face, you sigh. “I just, I’m trying to make sense of it all.” You admit. “This past week or so has just been insane and I kinda get why Brad would think I’m cheating on him but it still hurts.” You’re fiddling with the necklace now, attempting to distsract yourself as you pour your feelings out in the back of Phoenix’s car. “I’m not even really mad at him honestly because I know it’s all her”.

At the insinuation of Lila, Phoenix’s eyes widen. “What is it?” You ask her and when you get no response you probe further. “Nat, seriously. Is this about what you wanted to tell me yesterday?”

“Look, before I tell you, you have to promise you won’t get mad that I didn’t tell you before now.”

“I promise,”

“I recorded you and Lila talking yesterday.” Ok that was definitely not what you expected her to say.

“What? Why?” You ask, looking for more clarification.

In all your time of knowing Phoenix, she’s never been one to mumble through her words which is why it surprises you so much when she starts rambling. “Well I overheard her talking shit to you and I know you were having issues getting people to believe what she was saying so I recorded the whole thing.”

Your eyes widen. “The whole thing?”

“I think it starts somewhere around when she asks about you and Hangman?” She says, almost posed as a question. “I recorded until you stopped talking though.” She promises and your eyes start to water.

Catching sight of Bob walking towards Phoenix’s car, you decide to stop the conversation there. “Look, we don’t have time for this right now. Just send me the recording and I’ll figure the rest out later.”

“You’re not mad?” Phoenix bites her lip in anticipation.

“Mad?” You nearly laugh at the incredulity of Nat’s assumption. “Of course I’m not mad. This fucking nightmare might finally be over because of you!” Exiting the vehicle, you make your way to Natasha’s door and before she can open it you’ve already flung yourself over her to squeeze her into a hug.

Laughing awkwardly, Natasha pats you on the back as you cling to her, whispering thank you’s and praises to her. Your hug ends as Bob approaches the car, clearly confused as to why you’re draped over Phoenix in the drivers seat of her car.

Clearing your throat awkwardly at the situation, you mumble something about checking over the decorations and scurry off, face heating up as you do so.

Thankfully the decorations seem to have stayed mostly in tact and you think they look great. A beam of pride swells in your chest as you admire your handiwork, thanking Halo when she compliments you on the setup.

“Awesome work with the decorations! They look great Y/N!”

Others arrive in a steady stream over the next quarter hour or so, all chatting and catching up until Bob interrupts, “uh, guys. Fanboy just texted. They’re pulling up right now,”

“Everybody hide!” Phoenix yells, and everyone scrambles to conceal themselves from view

The familiar creaking of the door to the Hard Deck sounds and you hold your breath, hoping Bradley can’t see you. There’s faint muttering between Rooster and Payback that gets louder as they cross the bar towards the doors that lead to the beach, the doors that his party is behind. As they near the party, your boyfriend comes into your view for the first time in over two days.

To put it nicely, he looks like crap. Well, as ‘like crap’ as someone as good looking as Bradley can be. His eyes have dark circles underneath and his usual easy smile is replaced with a small frown. His only saving grace is that his clothing is pretty nice, probably thanks to Payback and Fanboy. He still looks so good but it’s not your Bradley. This man only metres away from you now, is a shell of your boyfriend and it makes your heart clench and hope sear through your chest. If he looks so empty, maybe he feels the same as you. Has he been reliving every word of your argument like you have? Has he doubted himself and his feelings like you’ve been doing? Does he still love you? A flash of nausea washes over you as these thoughts swim around your head, making you feel dizzy.

You barely register the doors to the beach opening. It’s only when you hear Bradley’s voice above your deafening thoughts that you calm slightly. “Look guys can’t you just help Penny? I really need to go to Y/N’s.”

“Don’t worry man, it’ll just take a second.” You watch Payback pat Rooster on the chest and motion for him to step onto the decking outside the bar. As he does, Rooster frowns at the sight of balloons and banners adoring the benches and his eyes widen in shock even before everyone jumps out of their hiding places.

“SURPRISE!”

A shocked laugh sounds from Rooster, who looks around instinctively, his eyes automatically landing on you, even through the streams of confetti being thrown his way by Coyote. Everyone at the party starts to hug him, wishing him a happy birthday. You just stand back and watch, letting yourself get blocked from view.

He surveys the room with a smile, noting the way they’ve managed to decorate the beach and the side of the Hard Deck. “how the hell did you guys pull this off?”

Jake is the one who steps forward, the makeup around his black eye having smudged due to the heat, making it slightly more obvious. “Uh y/n planned it all. Well, I helped with the decorations but it was all her.” The decorations, he realises. You wouldn’t tell him why you met up with Jake. You said you were doing it for him, it was for his birthday. His face starts to feel warm as he realises what an asshole he’s been to you.

He looks around again, hoping to see your face among the small gathering of people but you are no where to be found. “Hey Phoenix,”

“Hm?” She turns to face him, a blank look on her face.

“Where is y/n?” The pilot in question glances towards where you were stood moments ago and as she is met with an empty space, turns back and shrugs. “Not sure, maybe she left?”

“Left?” He whispers, pain shooting through his chest at the thought. “Why would she leave?”

Phoenix scoffs, “Oh I don’t know Bradshaw, maybe it’s because you accused her of cheating on you?”

“I-“

“Or maybe it’s the fact you believe some psycho who’s been making her life hell for the last however long over her?” She steps closer to him now, causing Tooster to back up a few steps as she continues her rampage. “Or maybe-”

Rooster sighs and cuts Phoenix off, “Alright I get it. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend”

“Understatement of the century. That girl has been miserable”

“Look I know,” he admits, shame crossing his features. “But I need to talk to her so I can apologise. Do you know where she is?”

Rolling her eyes, Phoenix shakes her head. “No but Bradshaw, this had better be the best apology anyones ever heard or I will personally see to it that your life is miserable.” She looks him up and down slowly, her cold demeaned never wavering. “I don’t care if it’s your damn birthday.”

Unable to say anything, Rooster gulps and nods quickly, which would be comical in any other circumstance. He doesn’t really care what it looks like at that exact moment though, he’s too focused on finding you.

Looking around, he can’t seem to find you anywhere but a figure stood not too far away on the beach dulls the panic rising in Rooster’s chest. You didn’t leave thank god. Shifting past Natasha, he mumbles a quick apology before making a beeline for you.

A shout of your name causes you to turn around, tearing your gaze from the calming sight of the early afternoon waves crashing against the shore. Bradley makes his way towards you and you hold your breath, almost wishing you didn’t have to listen to him right now. Your anxiety is at an all time high, those little voices in your head telling you he’s coming over here to break up with you. You take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself and prepare for him to end it right here on the beach but a small part of you can’t help but hope.

Breathing heavily himself, your boyfriend comes to a stop in front of you. “Y/N I am so sorry.”

Relief is all you feel when you hear those words. You’re pretty sure your whole body relaxes as soon as you hear his apology. The ringing of blood pumping in your ears nearly drones out the rest of his speech, as you process the fact he isn’t here to break up with you.

“I just love you so much and I didn’t want to believe any of it and I guess I just thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

Tears spring to your eyes and he immediately moves his thumbs to wipe at them before they fall. “Baby please don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears Brad.” You tell him, before stepping forward and wrapping him up in a hug.

Taken aback by your movements, it takes Rooster a few seconds to actually hug you back but he does. He holds you tight in his arms, relishing in the feeling of your arms around him, stroking his back in a calming manner. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, he really missed your hugs.

A noise of surprise from you breaks the moment up as you realise an important thing. “Oh my god I didn’t say happy birthday!” You exclaim, pressing your hands into his chest and his stay locked behind your back. “And your damn gift is back at my place. Gosh I’ve been so all over the place I just completely forgot.”

He smirks, “gift huh?” You nod. “I don’t need a gift honey, you’re the only birthday present I need today.” He pulls you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

You giggle, heat rising to your cheeks, “I dunno, I was tempted to buy a gnome friend for Norman but I found something better.” He laughs. God how you’ve missed that laugh.

“But you couldn’t find anything to beat him huh?” Slapping his chest playfully, you push him away and in doing so you manage to catch Phoenix’s eye who is stood enjoying the party. She raises her glass to you and winks and you just smile in return.

Placing your hands on your hips, you shake your head in mock annoyance. “What’s so special about Norman anyway? Other than the fact you picked the creepiest fucking gnome on the planet.”

“Well he’s special because…” Rooster cuts himself off with a gasp. “Oh my god!”

“What?”

“Norman!” The repetition of the gnome’s name just gets you more confused.

“What about Norman?”

A smile makes its way onto Rooster’s face and his hands gesture wildly as he says. “He’s special because he’s a security gnome!”

“A security gome? As in…” you trail off and Rooster finishes your sentence.

“As in he has a camera right inside him that records everything.” Everything. Norman is on your driveway. The same driveway that your car stays on. The same driveway where your tyres got slashed.

“You’re shitting me.”

He shakes his head, a grin creeping on his face. “Hold on, all the video gets stored on the app.” There’s a few moments where he fumbles around to grab his phone out of his pocket.

As Bradley brings up the app on his phone you wait, watching silently over his shoulder. The proximity of your face to his phone is evident in the clouding of his screen from you exhaling.

“C’mon, fucking load.” You mutter impatiently as the loading percentage stops suddenly at 48% . The stupid blue bar across the screen is seemingly laughing at you as both you and your boyfriend will it to load faster. Pressing your index finger to the screen a few times, you groan as the number jumps to 52% as if you’d expected it to load completely as a result of your incessant tapping.

You make a strangled sound of annoyance as the bar stays at the same point on the screen. It’s only been just under a minute of waiting but it feels like years. Knowing what could be on there makes your heart beat faster and you don’t know what to do. You catch Bradley’s eye and he gives you a comforting smile, eyes flickering down to the screen every few seconds to check if what you need has appeared on the screen.

When the blue bar crosses the screen entirely, your heart jumps. Different files with dates from the last week appear on the screen and you’re quick to click on the date when your tyres got slashed. The file opens and there, right at the top of the screen is a file from just before 3am on that morning. Your finger hovers over the play button as you realise that this is it. A quick thought of Lila having avoided the camera crosses your mind but you push the negative thoughts down and swallow your fear. With one last look at Rooster, who nods in encouragement, you press the button to play the video.

It’s out of focus at the start, only showing that someone is on your driveway not who they are or any indications as to who it is but then the pictures changes. The sensor light from your neighbours house lights up the driveway, and after a few moments to adjust to the change in brightness, the focus changes. There, clear as day, with a pocket knife in hand and a vicious grin on her face is Lila. You watch as she pierces the tyres, noting the look of panic that adorns her features when the dog starts barking. You stop the footage as Lila runs off, having heard you shout from the window.

Bradley rubs a hand over his face in shock. “Jesus Y/N I know I keep saying it but I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Getting to his feet, Rooster turns to face you, pulling you in for a hug. “No it’s not ok. I should’ve looked out for you, believed in you.” He wraps his arms tighter around you, his voice breaking slightly as he speaks lowly in your ear. “God- I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

You tug his head gently from where it’s near enough buried in your hair and move him so you can look into his eyes. Placing a hand on either cheek, you lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. “I forgive you, Brad.”

He sighs in relief and presses a kiss to your hand, which he has grabbed from its place on his cheek.

You continue. “I can’t say this whole situation hasn’t hurt me because it has but, I can’t let her win.” He frowns at your words, not understanding. “She caused all these problems, not us. We can’t let Lila, or anyone else affect our relationship like this.”

Shakily, he nods. “I know and you’re right. And I do trust you, I never stopped trusting you for a second. I just got confused.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “I let Lila get in my head and I doubted myself and you. It was only for a second but it shouldn’t have happened and I am so mad at myself for that.”

“What’s wrong?

“Lila just walked in with Penny”

“Is she looking?” You ask and he nods, a confused look crossing his features.

You smile at him, watching his expression soften. “good.” Grabbing the back of his neck you tug him to meet your lips with his. Your boyfriend reacts quickly, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses you breathless, pulling you so close there’s not even a millimetre of space between you.

Smirking triumphantly into the kiss, you reach behind you, to pull Rooster’s hands down from where they’re resting politely on your lower back, to your backside. He squeezes the soft flesh in his hands, groaning into your mouth as he does so.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his head against yours and mutters “happy birthday to me.” He goes in for another kiss, both of you forgetting the world around you.

“If y’all are done trying to swallow each other, I believe we have a party to enjoy?” The mocking drawl coming from hangman interrupts your moment as you and Bradley are forced to pull away from each other.

Rooster mentions something about wanting to kill ‘that smug son-of-a-bitch’ to which you chastise him, giving him a reminder of the fight which resulted in the now partially covered up bruise adorning Hangman’s face. At your stern reminder of the previous nights events, it doesn’t take much convincing on your part for Bradley to agree to apologise to Jake, allbeit a small apology because he ‘didn’t even hit him that hard’ and ‘Hangman bruises like a peach anyway’

Rolling your eyes fondly at his antics, you grab Bradley by the hand and drag him over to where Jake stands. “I’m sorry for hitting you.” Rooster mutters begrudgingly.

“Wow Rooster, I’ m so touched.” Jake feigns, placing a hand over his chest in mock flattery. “Just give me a minute ok man? I might just need to cry a little bit,” he swipes an index finger under his uninjured eye, wiping away an imaginary tear. You bite your lip to keep from smiling as Rooster just grunts before squeezing your hand and moving through the crowd.

“I should fucking punch him again,” he mutters and you slap his shoulder in fond annoyance, smiling up at the frown on his face.

Your smile drops when you catch sight of Lila a few feet away from you. Rooster notices your expression change and follows your eyeline to the she devil in disguise. “D’you want me to talk to her? Ask her to leave?” He offers and you contemplate taking him up on it but you know you have to be the one to confront her, your own personal demon.

You grimace and shake your head in response. “Nah, I should.”

his hand squeezes yours firmly. “Backup couldn’t hurt though right?” He asks and you smile.

“No I guess not.”

Hand in hand, you and Bradley make your way towards Lila and you notice that she is still hanging with Penny and Mav.

“Lila can I talk to you?” The authorative tone that laces your words surprises you, considering how shit scared you are right now.

Looking you up and and down, she laughs, “what? So you can try to blame some more shit on me? Not gonna happen y/n”

“Lila c’mon,” Rooster steps in now,

“Anything you want to say, you can say right here in front of penny.” She counters, expecting you to drop it and walk away.

In fact, you know she’s definitely not expecting you to shrug and agree to that straight off. “In fact, I think Penny might like to see something.” You motion for Bradley to give his phone to Penny, the video already loaded up and ready to go.

“Hit play,” he instructs and with a confused look, Penny does just that, with Mav and Lila hovering over either shoulder to see.

The view you have of Lila’s face couldn’t be better. You watch as the realisation of what the video is dawns on her and her usually tan skin seems to go a shade or two whiter. It wouldn’t surprise you if she said she felt sick with the way her skin is becoming pasty with beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. As Lila slashes your tyres you watch Penny and Mav both gasp. Their eyes stay glued to the screen until the end of the clip.

Even as the clip has barely ended, Lila speaks up, “Are you kidding, they clearly edited this. It’s not even real.” The panicked tone of Lila’s voice makes it clear she’s backpedaling, trying to find a way out of this home she’s dug herself into. As a final attempt, she turns to her godmother. “Penny c’mon I’ve been telling you she’s out to get me or something. I haven’t even-“

“Well I’ll stop you right there.” Phoenix interrupts her rambling with a smug expression adorning her features “Is this fake too Lila?” She asks, holding her phone up as the recording from yesterday glows out of the speakers.

Just hearing the recording makes you want to cry. A small crowd has formed now, comprised mostly of the Dagger squad who’s faces turn to shock as they listen to the words recorded by Phoenix and pass around Rooster’s phone to watch the footage of Lila slashing your tyres.

As the recording finishes, Penny has her hands over her mouth in shock and Mav is stood by her side, stunned. The only person talking is Lila, who is still attempting to defend herself which you don’t really care to listen to.

“Look Lila, quite frankly I really want this to not be happening anymore so you pay me for the cost of my new tyres and never come near me again are we clear?”

“C’mon you can’t really expect me to pay for 4 new tyres” she implores. “As if I have that kind of money”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Well I’m not paying.”

“Alright fine, I’ll just go to the police, criminal damage is still a thing right?” You look to your left where Phoenix is nodding in confirmation.

Lila narrows her eyes at you “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me bitch.” You spit, stepping forward slightly.

“Enough,” a sharp yell cuts through your arguing as Penny speaks up.

Lila, thinking her godmother is going to defend her, smirks at you before turning to Penny and waiting to hear what she has to say.

“Y/n” she starts and you hold your breath, unable to work out where she will go with this. “I am so sorry,” the soft, motherly gaze that you’ve grown to love about Penny is back and fixed on you. “You tried to tell me but I didn’t believe you. I promise I will make it up to you.” As apologies go, it’s a pretty good one and you know Penny will keep her word of making things up to you.

“Lila you will pay y/n back for those tyres, I will make damn sure of it” it’s obvious Lila wasn’t expecting her godmother to turn on her by the way she blinks in surprise at Penny’s words.

“But-“

Penny continues, “And you can stay with me until you make alternative arrangements but when you’ve figured it out, you need to leave.”

Lila scoffs, “That’s not fair.”

“No Lila, what’s not fair is the way you’ve treated poor y/n!” Penny reprimands sharply before digging some keys out of her purse. “Go now and start making arrangements. I don’t want you here for longer than necessary if you’re going to continue to hurt my family.“

For once, Lila has no comeback. She just stands there, her mouth agape as Penny dangles the house keys in front of her. Slowly, she takes the keys into her own hand and turns. The people stood in her way move quickly, parting to make her exit from the scene as swift as possible. She shoves past a few people who don’t move quick enough for her liking, huffing as she fights to flee from the confrontation as soon as she can.

As her figure disappears into the distance, you turn to Penny. “Thanks for that,”

“Y/n, honey” she places a gentle hand on you shoulder before bringing you in for a hug. “You have nothing to thank me for, it shouldn’t have come to this.”

You nod sadly, pulling away. “Well, it’s over now and that’s the main thing,” positivity is pretty much the only thing stopping you from falling apart right at that moment. Well, positivity and Bradley’s hand glued to yours. It’s like all the emotions of the past week or so have come to the surface, threatening to spill over.

As if sensing that you’re trying to hold yourself together, Penny smiles at you once more before bidding you farewell. “We’ll talk tomorrow ok?” She promises. “Oh and y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry about the cleaning up, I’ll take care of that.” Satisfied, Penny makes her way into the bar to set up for the evening, Mav in tow.

It’s a strange sort of atmosphere after Penny leaves, no one quite knowing what to do after the whole blowup. Luckily for you, Jake Seresin doesn’t fall into that group of people.

“Alright,” he shouts, his voice cutting through the awkward silence. “Now that shitshow’s over with, who’s ready to party?” He yells and is met with a chorus of cheers from the remaining partygoers.

Jake winks at you and you just smile as he grabs the speaker to put some music on and sends Fanboy in to grab more drinks from Penny. Time to get this party started.

⇰

It’s late when the party ends. The last few stragglers are dotted around the beach, leaving just you and Rooster dancing on the decking to some soft jazz music that had been put on by Hangman as a parting ‘gift’ a while since.

It’s been a good night. After everyone got over the early excitement, the party really got going and thanks to multiple free drinks from penny, you feel pleasantly buzzed as you rock to the music in Bradley’s embrace.

You catch sight of Phoenix exiting the party with Bob and Fanboy and give her a wave to which she raises her eyebrows suggestively at you and Bradley. Winking in reply, you watch her throw her head back in laughter, much to the confusion of her back seater who is leading her out of the party.

You close your eyes, feeling light and happy for the first time in days. The solace of your embrace with Bradley is only broken when he taps you on the arm and kisses your shoulder to get your attention. “What d’you say we go back to my place? I feel like I’ve got a lot of making up to do.” He suggests, peppering soft kisses up and down your neck.

You hum in content, pulling yourself away from the needy presses of his lips to your skin. “‘Making up’ huh? I like the sound of that.“ you tell him, pressing a hot kiss to his mouth. “Lead the way Leiutenant,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, watching as the tip of it turns red.

He grabs you by the waist suddenly, spinning you around as you squeal. “Alright then honey, you asked for it.” And with that, he winds his arm right around you and presses a kiss to your head. “Let’s go home.”

Fin

⤆ act two; scene two |

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[comfort-questing]

yes I SAID I'd be writing my own aftermath fic for those scenes if the show didn't give it...

-

When he was a kid Stark had tried not to cry. But by this time everyone already knew he was weak; crying wouldn't make any difference now. And - as Linie's form crumbled to dust along with the mana-spun axe in her hands - there was no one left to see, or to know, here in the moonlight magic-ruined glade below the city walls.

His eyes were hazy and half-blinded by his lightning slash and the wound above one of them, his mouth full of dirt and blood, right arm numb to the fingertips and useless at his side. High above him on the walltops, the two magics that met against the moon's bright disc - one black as old blood, one shining as pure as the stars - exploded into light as Stark blinked upwards, ever-expanding coronas of brilliance.

He coughed, the acid taste in the back of his mouth redoubling as the pain in his stomach made him gag desperately. Not as heavy as his master's blows had been - but enough to coat the dirt in crimson beneath him, draining the last of his strength away with it. The night and the woods and the walltops and the moon were all spinning and tilting around him, unsteady as his cold and trembling body.

Fern had to be all right. Fern, and Frieren, and Graff who they'd left in the churchman's care. If all of them were all right, that was enough... enough to save this town, one way or another. Enough so that they would have done well, despite everything...

Master... would you be proud of me now?

This time, when his knees hit the ground, he told himself he could rest, because he had won.

(This time, he knew there was no way he was standing up again.)

-

There was hair tickling his face, and skin brushing against his, a whiff of soap and sweat and lightning-flash of mana, for a fleeting moment before it moved away. Trembling fingers found the hollow beneath his jaw, ignited sensation and with it pain, tracing out his pulse.

"Mr. Stark. Stark!"

He managed to open one eyelid, the other clotted shut with dried blood; just enough to see Fern, corpse-pale in the moonlight, white blouse stained darkly all along one shoulder and arm.

"Fern. Are you - "

He could barely hear his own voice, though shaping the words tugged painfully at his face. He tried to smile at her, though, because surely things would be all right now, whether he got to see them or not. She had won her own battle, Lugner's blood magic had marked her but she'd won. And Frieren... Frieren would be there, too, soon...

Everything was going dark again, his eye slipping closed. Dimly Fern's shouts echoed in his ringing ears, and the sound of approaching voices behind her, footsteps in the darkness.

"He's over here! We need to get him to the priest now, he's lost too much blood - "

Arms gathering him up, guards' metal armor chilly and hard beneath him, voices bouncing back and forth above his head. Pressure on his stomach, and his shoulder, and pain pain pain filling him as he gagged again, struggling by reflex.

"Hush, lad." The guard's voice was gentle, firm as the arms around him. "Stay with us a few moments more, now. You've done well tonight."

-

Stark woke slowly, to the tremble of firelight through his eyelids, and to breaths that went all the way down through his lungs with only a little pain, the comforting tightness of bandages steadying his aching shoulder. He could feel both of his arms again, and as stupidly tired as he was, the thrum and after-warmth of healing magic had lent him enough strength that he could think properly again as well.

...Yes. This was better. He could sleep for a week, easily, but he didn't feel like he was on the brink of death anymore.

"...need to rest for a while yourself, miss." That was the priest's quiet voice, somewhere across the room, closer to the firelight. "The Goddess kept you safe for certain tonight - half an inch higher on your shoulder, and you'd have bled out in a few heartbeats. Not that having a nicked lung is much better in the long term, but - "

"But Stark and I got here, anyway." Fern's voice was stronger now, and without the ragged desperation of earlier. "Thank you."

"Of course. Of course. This - has been one of the more exciting nights of my term here."

Stark opened his eyes in time to see Fern's rare smile dart across her face, where she sat across from the priest, the fire burning bright behind them on the hearth. There was the thin gray light of early dawn through the window beyond, and Graff's sleeping form under blankets in the cot beneath.

"Miss Frieren would say that when you invite demons into your town you shouldn't be surprised when things get exciting," said Fern.

"Ah. Yes. The elf. Where..."

Fern did not answer for a moment, her eyes going to the window instead.

"Fighting Aura," she said. "I think so, anyway. We should... look for her, soon."

"And I'll pray for her," said the priest. "And keep an infirmary bed open if she needs it, too, the way things are going so far."

Stark coughed as he tried to speak, but managed it the second time. "Frieren - isn't - back yet?"

"Stark! Stay still, you were hurt badly." Fern's hand hovered over his chest, a clear threat as he tried to get his elbows under him; how she'd gotten across the room that quickly, he wasn't quite sure. "No, she's not back yet, but she's all right, I know. Miss Frieren always is."

Truly Stark couldn't imagine anything in the land getting the jump on their eccentric little leader. After all, hadn't she been part of the group that destroyed the Demon King himself? But he'd feel better once he had his eyes on her, and their party was complete again.

"Fine," he said, falling back on the pillows. "Give me - a couple - minutes and we'll go."

-

It was more than a couple of minutes, but they did go.

That morning was a strange hazy time in Stark's memory, full of golden light and chilly mist, the jolting of the carriage wheels stirring the pain in his healing wounds into fresh jagged agony. Graff's set face across from them had something of the same look to it, his hand pressed to his own bandages under his coat. Fern sat bolt-upright with her face to the small window, the dawn riming her hair in brilliance.

Then the clearing, and the battlefield, with steel spellbound soldiers limp and scattered beneath the early sky; and a figure in white kneeling before them, with the birds kiting upwards on the rising wind above her.

And suddenly, his eyes were full of tears again, but of a different kind altogether, and oddly unashamed as he stumbled out of the carriage towards his new master, Fern at his side.

Now - now - everything was truly all right.

[winderlylandchime]

Hello!! I love how we are all hoping that Jordan brings back the podcast, i need those two besties back so badly. I feel like they have so much stuff they could talk about especially now with the strikes, it’d be fun to hear their take on it. I am honestly not ready for him to find out how the filming and the aftermath of the show was on Gale and Randy. I know he’s gonna lose his shit to find out how some people were towards them (especially since his idea of Gale in his head is obviously different and in his mind Gale and Randy are bffs like how he is with his friends.) but also i think he will be shocked to find out they both kind of stepped back from the show and had certain issues with it. He did storm in my room randomly today and went ‘IS THAT WHY THERE WAS LESS SEX STUFF?!’ Which btw it was 10 am when he did that, I barely knew i was awake. Basically he was up almost all night thinking about the finale and the podcast (he is once again that conspiracy meme) and he realized in later seasons there’s less sex scenes and now he is distraught that maybe it’s because Randy was uncomfortable. He was having an entire crisis over it. While I don’t know what all i will show him/what he’ll see on his own (i wanna show him bts content and like obviously anything else i can find) but i will be keeping con videos/posts FAR away from him because some of those are the worst things ive ever seen in my life, no offense to anyone. I will say, If you or anyone has any ideas what else I should show him, let me know because he has been losing his mind begging me to let him listen to more of the podcast.

As for our mom, i swear that woman is actually pretty chaotic herself but unlike my brother she hides it better. Both of our parents are insane but for some reason only he doesn’t even make an effort to hide it. She did get a long email sent to her by my brother because she was ignoring his calls and he wanted to talk about s4 finale. It was titled ‘IMPORTANT! NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SHOW’ and then it was almost a short novel about the show.. He wanted to hear her thoughts since he is still undecided about Justin not saying yes to moving in. And he wrote a little bit about the podcast and he also asked her if she thinks Randy would like him if they met (clearly he is feeling a certain way about this) which caused a different crisis, a much bigger one: would Gale like him if they met. That crisis lasted almost 2 hours btw. Anyway as a reply to the email she just forwarded it to our dad who forwarded it back to me to tell me to ‘change the wifi password.’ And then I immediately got a call from my mom about the podcast asking me if it’s about the show and how he already has enough weird hobbies and why can’t I get him into something normal like a pottery group or painting group or something with normal people around. And then I heard in the background our uncle who went ‘after all the stories about him talking to DOCTORS, you want to unleash him on a person who is not medically trained?’ So he is now being encouraged to stay home and watch tv. Also: he is currently talking to his best friend about the finale, while writing down mind maps and lists of what he thinks season 5 will be. He’s having a bit of issues with it because the LA offer apparently fucked quite a lot of things up for him so his original list no longer makes sense. He is also talking to him at the same time (he’s jumping from topic to topic) about Gale and how shocked he was that Randy didn’t enjoy the qaf fame. I don’t know how this became my life. More importantly I would just like to say: i cannot wait for your new fic! I mean your last fic got us here so I can’t wait to see what happens next. But also bearded Brian>>

The podcast talking about the strikes would be amazing! I was hoping we would get a Barbie movie episode but alas. I really want to hear the besties talk about Greta Gerwig.

I have never seen the con clips and I’m grateful. I have too much secondhand embarrassment to sit through that boundary-crossing behavior and invasive questions.

I LOVE that your parents were like “change the wifi password” and uncle was like “unleash him into the world?” and they responded “jk never mind.”

I personally think Gale and Randy are still friends but we would never know with the one proof of life per year Gale gives us and Randy being tightlipped about his time on the show.

Wait until your brother realizes that one of Randy’s partner’s is named Justin (or is that the kid? either way there’s a Justin!)

I am dreading his reaction to S5 but we all watched it so he must as well…

And, yes, bearded Brian >>>

BUT I saw your request at the top - folks let’s start to pull together a post-S5 education for all necessary BTS for Brother Anon to fully understand QAF! In box me or comment on this post.

[spinster-sisters]

Pushover. psh jwy

TW: exhibitionism, fingering, oral female receiving, dirty talk, praise, degradation, grinding, slight bondage, good ole fashion fucking, cock stepping apparently, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, probably other stuff that have escaped my mind cuz writing this felt like a fever dream. So wooyoung is involved pretty heavily involved in this, like many of the kinks listed are done on him and by him so there you have it. Also yeosang is directly involved for like 4 seconds, also please just assume any tags mentioned in the first part that are not listed here may also pop up.

Part 1 (this is a direct continuation of this timestamp)

WC: 5k words of pure smut.

-

You were hardly aware of your surroundings. Nestled into Seonghwa’s lap, your head fell back onto his shoulder and your eyes screwed shut. You could hear the garbled sound of your boyfriend’s voice rumbling next to your ear, but the slim fingers working in and out of your wet hole stopped any thoughts from entering your brain. Your panties had been pushed aside only enough for him to slip two fingers inside you but you were already keening.

Seonghwa knew how to work you, knew how to make you fall apart and he would usually take his time doing it. Normally you had to put in the work for this kind of treatment, you would have to be especially good and listen to him well during the day, a single misstep or disobeyed words would leave you hopeless, but you had gotten very good at behaving. Why would you when he treated you so well? Not to mention that Seonghwa had something to prove today, without an exchange of words you already knew to be on your best behavior today.

“So what do you say, Woo? It’s your call.” Seonghwa spoke with a cool calm tone. His free hand tapped your side and you knew he wanted your attention for the next part, so your head lifted up and you pulled your eyes open to face the room.

Seven pairs of eyes were glued to you and your boyfriend, all in various stages of embarrassment to downright turned on, but the ones that caught your attention were none other than Wooyoung’s. Because it seemed for the first time the man was at a complete loss for words. His mouth was flapping open and closed like a fish out of water but his complexion was suddenly very pink. He was watching with careful eyes the way Seonghwa’s fingers slipped in and out of you, each time pulling more wetness from you, where it pooled on Seonghwa’s pant leg and made his fingers glisten.

“Are you going to answer me? I don’t appreciate being ignored Wooyoung.” Seonghwa’s voice sounded again, this time with a much steelier tone. Snapped out of his reverie Wooyoung’s eyes flung up to your boyfriend's hard gaze and he made a confused noise. Wooyoung’s body twitched at Seonghwa’s disappointed sigh and somewhere in the room, you heard Mingi muttering to Jongho.

“I asked you a question Woo, do you have an answer?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flitted around the room, desperately looking for aid in the faces of his friends, but none came. They seemed perfectly content to watch the loud boy struggle for words. Eventually, he looked to you for help with pleading eyes, you weren’t quite sure what he wanted you to do but before you could even ponder Seonghwa slipped another finger inside you, stretching you open, even more, making your lips fall open with a pleased sigh and your brain clouded over again.

“Don’t look to her for help, she listened well and is getting her reward. You can’t possibly expect her to risk that to help you. Now, I don’t like repeating myself Woo, so I’m only going to do it once. Do you still think I’m too much of a pushover?” Seonghwa spoke with icy venom.

Wooyoung frantically shook his head ‘no.’ You almost felt sorry for the man when your boyfriend's face turned to stone. Wooyoung noticed it too, and in a moment of frantic panic he realized his mistake and pushed out the word “No!” With perhaps a little too much force. Your head turned to look at Seonghwa’s sharp side profile. He looked very pleased with himself. Rightfully so, taking charge was his forte in times like these.

Seonghwa returned your gaze with a smirk. Using his free hand he gently took your chin between his fingers and pulled you in for a deep kiss. The hand working inside you slowed it is ministrations, but you knew better than to voice your disapproval. Seonghwa’s lips effortlessly urged yours to open and his long tongue slipped between them. Seonghwa’s kisses were always so, strong? He put so much force into every press of the lips and every swipe of the tongue head spun with excitement. Your eyes feel shut almost immediately, moving your mouth gently along with your boyfriend.

It seems you got a little too lost in the feeling of the kiss and the gentle push of the hand working inside you because you were slowly becoming more and more vocal with each passing second. What started as soft groans were now developing into full moans that were only slightly muffled by Seonghwa’s lips. But a sudden squeal from across the room drew both of your attention. Seonghwa broke the kiss to peer across the room at none other than Wooyoung, whose pink complexion had turned bright red since you last looked at him. Also notable, was the way he kept clenching his thighs together and making small grinding motions.

He wasn’t completely alone in this, one quick glass around the room showed you that all of your friends seemed to be enjoying the scene before them, many of them sporting hard dicks of their own (San and Hongjoong especially had taken to slowly palming themselves over their jeans) but none seemed to be quite as affected as the boy directly across for you.

“Getting impatient?” Seonghwa asked with disinterest.

“No,” Wooyoung replied, trying to match your boyfriend's tone but failing miserably.

“We’ve barely started and you're already rutting against the floor like a dog, are you sure this isn’t too much for you?” Seonghwa asked in a tone of mock concern. Seonghwa pulled his fingers from you to instead gently circle your clit with care. You. Squirmed again. The truth was you were remarkably close to the cumming. A fact Seonghwa probably knew. You tried to reassure yourself, knowing that in the current circumstances a high reward was coming your way soon, but the sudden emptiness was disappointing none the less and while it showed on your face you dared not make a sound.

“Get on with it then,”

You winced. Knowing the kind of reaction Wooyoung���s words would bring. Seonghwa’s face hardened. Much darker than you had seen in a long time. One quick glance to the side told you that the younger boy's word had left Seonghwa seething. He stayed silent for a moment, but not inactive. His fingers dancing across your folds seemed to gain a sense of purpose, and with sudden and unexpected vigor, Seonghwa worked them in a way that made your legs twitch and your hole clench around nothing.

“Can I, please?” You asked aloud, though it was clear who you were talking to.

“Go ahead little one,” Seonghwa encouraged with a surprisingly gentle tone.

A loud whine came from your open mouth and the room watched with rapt attention as your body came undone. Even Seonghwa pulled eyes dangerous gaze away from Wooyoung who had been gulping with fear, to watch with soft eyes at the way his pretty girl fell apart for him.

It must have been a truly lewd sight. Your body spasming freely as your glistening core twitched, not to mention your chest covered with marks given to you by the very man who caused your pleasure. The helpless cries were only the cherry on top to the room of onlookers, Yunho had even let out a low groan of his own. But the man of the hour, as it seemed, Wooyoung had returned to his stunned silence, watching the way Seonghwa continued to toy with your clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible for the room to enjoy.

Seonghwa turned back to Wooyoung and stopped his work on you only after the majority of your orgasm had passed, leaving you breathless and panting. You felt Seonghwa’s hard cock digging into your ass, but Seonghwa had other matters to attend to first. He fixed Wooyoung with a hard gaze and gave a simple command.

“Come here,”

Wooyoung froze at his words, unable to look away. Yeosang, who had been enjoying Wooyoung’s torment far more than the others urged his forward with a small push on the shoulder, which snapped him out of his trance, and after a moment he slowly crawled across the floor to sit on the floor before you.

Everyone in the room seemed shocked by this turn of events, yourself included, but one quick look from Seonghwa’s encouraging smile settled your nerves. Besides, your brain way still basking in the aftermath of your orgasm so this all seemed much more exciting than you would admit out loud.

With a pinch on your outer thigh from Seonghwa your legs instinctively opened wider, giving Wooyoung an eye full of your now slightly swollen core. Seonghwa reached between your legs and spread your pussy open, exposing your still pulsing hole to the man on the floor, and with one simple sentence, changed the tone of the night for good.

“Get on with it then,”

“What?” Wooyoung sputtered helplessly, looking up to your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Your attitude has done nothing but remind me how wonderfully obedient my pretty girl is,” as Seonghwa spoke you subconsciously cuddled further into his chest, his eyes flicked to you and he gave you a reassuring squeeze on your neck with his free hand, “and I think she should be rewarded before I deal with that mouth of yours.”

Wooyoung’s eyes shown with realization as it finally dawned on him exactly what his teasing had gotten him into. His eyes flicked around to the faces of his friends only to see them waiting expectantly for Wooyoung to do as he was told. He looked back to Seonghwa and opened his mouth, to apologize, to beg, to l say anything at all, but no words came out. Seonghwa frowned at him.

“Don’t you think she’s been good?” Your boyfriend asked accusatorily.

“Yes, she has-“ Wooyoung started.

Seonghwa’s finger slipped down to drag through your folds and collect the wetness gathering there. You were still incredibly sensitive from your orgasm and the movement made you shudder a gasp. Wooyoung’s eyes followed the action with a downright hungry gaze but something was still restraining him from acting. Seonghwa held out his wet finger in front of the boy's face, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

“I’m not going to say it again. Get. On. With. It.”

It seemed whatever defiant streak had been holding the boy back had finally broken. Wooyoung’s head snapped forward and took the Seonghwa’s long shining finger into his mouth and sucked it clean. A loud whinny groan came from the boy instantaneously and after a moment his lips pulled away with a loud pop. With his new resolve Wooyoung’s eyes zeroed in on your face blushing face and with an incredibly what look his eyes snapped back down and he dove in.

An unapologetic scream ripped from your open mouth. The first sensation you felt was pain, you have only fully come down from your high a minute or so prior and your clit was still incredibly sensitive as Wooyoung attached his lips to your cunt and rolled his tongue over the bud repeatedly. But the longer he kept at it, sliding his tongue over the length of your core in a wide lick, the more the full pain turned into biting pleasure.

“You look so pretty like this baby,” Seonghwa muttered encouragingly in your ear, but still loud enough for the room to hear over the obscene slurping noises Wooyoung was now making as he sucked at your entrance. “Doesn't that feel nice?”

Depends on how you define nice really, it felt like all too much all at once, it hurt yes, but every swipe of the younger boy's tongue brought more wetness out of you and made your body twitch and writhe with the slightest movement. Honestly, you should have been used to this by now. Seonghwa loved to do this to you, overstimulate you for hours till there were tears in your eyes and you had lost control of your limbs, he thought you looked best when completely at his mercy. But this was only your first orgasm, you had been trained well enough to keep some of your composure despite the abuse your aching core was suffering at Wooyoung’s hand. You turned to Seonghwa’s satisfied face, and gave him a weak smile,

“Feels good, Daddy.”

Somewhere in the room someone let out an “oh fuck,” and Wooyoung groaned particularly loud directly into your pussy and the vibrations traveled up your spine like lightning. Your mouth fell open as you looked into Seonghwa’s eyes with a dazed look. Your hips arched off your boyfriend's lap. It was Wooyoung who made the first move to push your hips back, eager to have his mouth back on you, but he had no sooner touched you than Seonghwa slapped his hand away from your body.

Wooyoung pulled away from your core, his chin dripping with your juices and his eyes shining with confusion. Seonghwa took your hips into both of his hands and pulled you back, flush against his lap and still hard cock, he then fixed Wooyoung with a glare.

“Your not here to touch. Make my baby girl cum in the next five minutes and I might just go easier on you.” Seonghwa spat.

Wooyoung blinked at him, before giving him the sweetest smile he could muster.

“Yes, Daddy”

This took you and the rest of the room by surprise. But you didn’t have time to ponder before Seonghwa took the boy by the roots of his hair and pulled his face forward into your swollen cunt.

“Times ticking, little boy, better get a move on.”

And so he did. Wooyoung ate you out with a burning passion you had never quite experienced. Seonghwa preferred to take hours going down on you, purposely going a slow and steady as possible to build up extremely powerful orgasms that would last for minutes. This was entirely different. Wooyoung was being incredibly messy. Wet sounds echoed around the room and into your ears, he seemed to be trying to eat you alive with the way his mouth moved desperately around your folds. His tongue had made its return to your clit. He sucked the bud between his lips and rolled it around with his tongue in such quick tight little circles your brain spun and if it weren’t for the iron grip one of your boyfriend's hand still had on your hip your sure you would flailing around like a madwoman. You certainly sounded like one with the way endless cries, whines, and groan spilled from your lips in increasing volume. Wooyoung had a clear goal, Seonghwa had given him five minutes? He would do it in three.

You were nearing the end of your rope, your entire lower half seemed to be vibrating with numb pain and pleasure it was almost unbearable but somehow nowhere near enough.

“Daddy? Can I cum please?” You spoke in a shattered voice. Seonghwa, who still had his hand twisted in Wooyoung’s hair looked down expectantly at the boy, who was already peering up at your face with wide eyes. Both you and your boyfriend watched as Wooyoung slid his tongue into your hole and began fucking it in and out of you in time with your breathy gasps. Your head flipped frantically to search your boyfriend's eyes, begging for permission.

“Please, please, Daddy, I can’t hold-“

“You can cum baby,”

And that was all it took. You practically screamed. Your eyes went white as your head fell back again. Having lost all control of the movement of your limbs Seonghwa took his hand from Wooyoung’s head and used both to hold your spasming body close against his. Your brain had gone fuzzy and the only two things registering in your brain were the gentle praise being whispered into your ear and the beat of Seonghwa’s heart against your back from how closely he held you.

Your recovery to much longer this time. To be perfectly honest, in your whacked-out brain it could have been hours.

Slowly you came back to reality. When you opened your eyes the first thing you saw was Yunho from across the room, he gave you a reassuring smile but it was offset slightly by the way his hand was down his pants, nevertheless you smiled back. You laid limp and spent across Seonghwa’s lap. His arm had come around your waist to hold you up and his other hand was rubbing soft circles on your inner thigh. He gave a gentle kiss to your temple as you stirred, leaving butterflies in your stomach. Shifting slightly so you sat sideways on his lap you curled yourself into him with an affectionate purr.

And then there way Wooyoung. He sat on his knees with his hands on his thighs looking up at you like he won a prize.

“You taste good,” he said with an almost happy hour lucky smile.

“Did you like it, Woo?” San asked from behind him, San was sporting his own wide eyes and looking overly jealous about the whole thing.

Wooyoung spun around to look at his best friend and spoke enthusiastically,

“She tastes so good Sannie, really, it was so much fun!”

“Don’t get too excited Woo, we’re not done yet.” Seonghwa chided. Wooyoung whirled around to face him.

“Didn’t I do good?” He asked with a confused look.

You nodded absently as Seonghwa spoke.

“Yea you did good, but that doesn’t excuse your attitude earlier. You still need to learn some respect. I’m sure our friends would agree all this attention you’ve been getting has gone to your head.”

Yeosang and Jongho snickered in agreement. Wooyoung turned to shoot them a glare but it was cut short by a strangled moan. Seonghwa had pressed the heel of his shoe onto the swollen tip of Wooyoung’s cock through his jeans. And to your surprise, Wooyoung’s hips bucked up into the sole of his shoe. Your brain short-circuited.

Wooyoung started to move away but Seonghwa took hold of his hair again and kept him in place.

“What’s the matter woo? Embarrassed? Embarrassed you almost got yourself off on Daddy’s shoe?”

Wooyoung shook his head no, but Seonghwa only dug his heel in harder and Wooyoung couldn’t help but buck against his shoe again with a pained moan. Your legs were clenching together as another pool of arousal pooled between them. Here’s the deal, you had always admired Seonghwa’s incredible level-headedness. In fact, it was one of the best qualities you could ask for in a lover. But for months now, you had been hoping for the chance that Seonghwa would show his true colors to the rest of the group. The idea had been a fantasy of yours for such a long time, but seeing it, here and now, and like this? Not to mention you had always wondered just how far Seonghwa would go if someone disobeyed him, perhaps you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself, especially since being good reaped such high reward, but this was far more than you ever imagined. You doubt whether you had ever been this turned on in your life.

Seonghwa noticed your reaction, of course, he could always read you like a book. He glanced around the room to the hungry faces of your friends till he found who he was looking for and locked eyes with them with a smirk.

“Yeosang, think you could help me for a moment?”

Yeosang returned the smirk and the room watched with bated breath as he made his way over to the scene, eyes zeroed in on Wooyoung’s mortified face.

“Who knew Wooyoung was such a pain slut.”

Yeosang’s voice was as cool as a cucumber, and if it wasn’t for the bulge in his pants you would think he was talking about the weather. Seonghwa dug his heel into Woo one last time before spinning the boy around to face Yeosang by yanking the hair in his grip. Wooyoung was whining pathetically at it all. Your hand was placed on Seonghwa’s hard chest. He glanced at you with a promising smile at your desperate face.

“Not had your fill yet, little one?” He asked you with a smirk. You shook your head ‘no.’

“No Daddy, you make me so needy.” You reply with wide eyes and a slight whine, grasping the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist. He grinned at you before turning to Yeosang again.

“I think it’s finally time to fuck my baby girl, but I don’t think Wooyoung has learned his lesson yet,” as he spoke Seonghwa began fiddling with his belt, pulling through the loops of his jeans. Handing the belt to Yeosang he continued, “Do me a favor, tie him up, make him desperate, don’t stop till he begs.”

Yeosang accepted the challenge with a smile. Seonghwa’s attention was finally on you and you alone. With his help as your body was still weak, he adjusted you to straddle his hips facing him. You looked a mess surely, there was no way you looked anything but obscene and sweaty, But Seonghwa took in your face with a smile.

“You look so pretty like this baby girl” As he spoke, Seonghwa’s hand came to your ass and kneaded it in his palms. The room could no longer see your face, but they could most definitely see this, and likely your still leaking cunt.

Directly behind you, you could hear rummaging noises and the distinct clink of a belt being done up. A quick glance over your shoulder showed you that Wooyoung was now facing the room, with his hands bound behind his back and a pillow between his legs, Yeosang sat to his side clearly satisfied with his work. After taking it in you turned back to Seonghwa who looked pleased himself.

“You’ve been so good baby, want Daddy to fuck you? Nice and deep how you like it?” You practically purred at his words. It’s true so far you had enjoyed yourself, but there was nothing quite like when Seonghwa filled you up with his cock.

“Please fuck me Daddy” you whispered, leaning in close to him with your biggest doll eyes, and your hands gripping his shoulder. Seonghwa smiled at you, content with your answer.

A moment later he had freed his duck from his jeans and was stroking it leisurely. Your mouth watered. Oh, the way he could make you feel, how many times he had made you cum. As Seonghwa sunk into the couch, taking a moment to watch you squirm on his lap he truly looked too powerful. The calm in the sea of chaos that had unfolded that night, it was unfair how he made your heart skip a beat. With one quick glance over your shoulder, he called out to Wooyoung one last time.

“I’d start doing as you were told Wooyoung, wouldn’t want the others to get impatient with you,”

At that, you heard the first grunt of Wooyoung grinding helplessly on the pillow, then whimpering at how the surface was too soft to gain any friction over his pants. The poor boy was at his wit's end.

But your attention was drawn back to the man in front of you before you had time to feel sorry for Wooyoung. One of his fingers had slipped inside you once again to test the waters. You flinched at the intrusion, your body was utterly spent, and the overstimulation would be hell, but as God, as your witness, you were going to take your boyfriend's cock tonight.

“Are you sure your ok baby? Wouldn’t want to push you too far after the night you’ve had.” He spoke with mild concern, but he already knew the answer.

“No! I want to! I can take it!” You spoke with urgency.

“Absolutely sure sweetpea?” He asked one last time. Your hand gripping his shirt twisted and shook. You looked at him with the most pleading look you could muster.

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

“Ok then,” he replied with a smile. Not once today had you forgotten your manners or rules, after dealing with the whimpering boy behind you for an evening he was glad to have his perfect baby girl still being as good as ever.

Seonghwa hoisted your hips to be level with his. Seonghwa had a thing about eye contact while he fucked you, so you did your best to not break it as the tip of his cock teased your entrance.

To be completely honest, but the focus of the rest of the room seemed to now be on Wooyoung, who was still rutting against the pillow like a dog, and they all seemed to be enjoying the show far too much to notice the tender way Seonghwa pulled your body down flush against his hips and down onto his cock. Although the broken whipper that came from you at the feeling overwhelming sensation did turn a few heads.

Your knees were shaking and your hands trembling. You had been right, the overstimulation was making it too hard to move on your own. But Seonghwa was attentive as always. He wrapped an arm around your waist and used it to slowly work you up and down on his cock. Each thrust he made felt like pins and needles in the best way possible. After Seonghwa had worked up a steady rhythm a numbing pleasure had already begun to build. Looking deep into your boyfriend's eyes you placed and hand on your tummy and after moving it around for a bit you could feel him moving inside you. You groaned out, this position had always been the best for deep penetration anyways.

“Daddy I can feel you inside me,” you whipper as he picks up speed. The room was beginning to sound like a symphony of lewd cries and squelching noises coming from both you and Wooyoung. Not to mention the panting and groaning coming from the others in the room, who had lost any semblance of shame and were jerking off freely to the unexpected yet beautiful sight. The other boy's eyes kept flicking back and forth, unable to decide which one was more arousing to watch. Many of them had already gotten themselves off before now and were now sporting half-hard cocks as they were faced with the delightful scene.

“I know baby girl, I know how much you love to be stuffed full of cock. And now everyone else knows too.” Seonghwa replied clearly satisfied with himself. His hand came up to your jaw and he delivered a particularly hard thrust and pulled your hips down to match it. You were already losing focus of the world around you and the pleasure was mounting rapidly. At the force of the thrust, your eyes almost dropped closed but Seonghwa pulled your head forward and they opened a bit wider.

“Now everyone knows how good you are for me, baby. My good little girl, who loves taking my cock.” Seonghwa was speaking in such a low grumbling voice it was almost like he was talking to himself rather than you like he was reminding himself of what he had accomplished today. You could tell that after waiting all night for stimulation he was also getting close to his own edge, and if you listen to the whiny panting of the boy behind you you could tell he was getting desperate for the release that would never come from the pillow.

You almost lost eye contact again when Seonghwa’s thrusts became sloppy. Increased pace but with less consistency was the tell-tale sign that Seonghwa was going to cum, but luckily for him, it was this exact treatment that made your head spin. Your lower half was numb with biting pleasure and it was all you could do to keep your eyes open to watch the sweat dripping down Seonghwa’s forehead as he carried on with determination. The others had caught on to what was about to happen and many were now speeding up their ministrations to themselves to climax at the same time as you and your boyfriend.

Seonghwa’s hand wound its way into your hair and used it to crash your lips onto his is a heated, wet, and messy kiss. Any second now and you would lose yourself to the pleasure. You detached your lips just enough to pant into Seonghwa’s lips,

“Daddy, in cumming”

“Damn right you are,” he moaned in response.

It was wise of him to reattach your lips before you came undone. Even with him muffling your noises there was no way the sounds you made didn’t echo around the room and ring In everyone’s ears. Seonghwa kept his pace, pushing more and more whinnies out of you till you almost jumped away from him in overstimulation, butter grip on your waist didn’t let you get far. There were tears in your eyes by the time Seonghwa finally came. Your orgasm had turned silent almost immediately after and your mouth hung wide open in an empty moan. Your brain had all but shut off when the feeling of your boyfriend's cum spilling into you registered into your brain.

Saying you blacked out would be a strong word. But when your eyes fell closed they didn’t seem to want to open. You and Seonghwa stayed connected for what seemed like an eternity before he pulled out of you with a groan and laid you gently down onto the couch to his side.

You were dead weight at this point. But when you felt Seonghwa stand up you pried your eyes open the slightest bit once you realized that the unmistakable noises of a begging Wooyoung had filled your ears.

Seonghwa walked around to stand in front of him. Most of the others in the room were now basking in the afterglow of their own orgasms but had perked up to watch.

“Please, please, please, Daddy. Please let me cum. I promise I’ll be good, I promise I won’t bother you as much, I promise, please-“

Wooyoung ramblings we’re cut short by Seonghwa taking hold of Wooyoung’s head and turning it up to look him in the eyes.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Seonghwa replied. Wooyoung gasped a sigh of relief. Seonghwa motioned for Yeosang to come over and untie the poor boy and hopefully get him some relief. But Seonghwa didn’t care about that part, his eyes were now back on you. His sweet perfect, obedient little girl.

-

Tag List: @deja-vux @txtbbys @darlingmulti @emotionally-intellectual @mingishoe @eonghwa @galaxteez

@a-soft-hornytiny @yunhospuppy @barnesbabee @woowommy @hyetiny @multidreams-and-desires @spacepiratehongjoong @pikacuuuuuuu

if your wondering why your tagged, its either because you expressed interest in a part two or are otherwise a homie or I would like you to be a homie and this is my olive branch

[mcyt-imagines-library]

i'm having the big sad rn so can i get some fluffy angst with c!dream if not that's okay have a good day/night

I hope you feel better, dear, take care of yourself, hopefully you don't mind the format

Side note: the spirit of a Dream apologist possessed me to write this, i'm not taking credit for it

Long Awaited | c!Dream • Prison Arc

It had been a while since you spoke to Dream. The aftermath of his final stand with Tommy and Tubbo had been some ago and while the rest of the server had managed to calm down, you hadn't. You were constantly fighting with yourself, staying on the fence over whether you should visit him or not, weighing the pros and cons of it all.

You had finally made your decision when Sapnap had tracked you down. Since you two along with Dream and George went way back, you assumed it was just an old friend coming to talk to you after what felt like years, that was, until you saw the look plastered on his face. His eyes were anywhere but yours as he told you that he visited the Pandora's Vault and Dream wanted you to visit him

As he left, your blood ran cold and you knew that it wasn't something you could put off anymore. You prepared some food, grabbed some things, and got ready to make the journey to the prison.

As you stood in front of the intimidating dark bricked prison, your boots sinking into the sand and light tidal waves, a thousand things raced through your head. Questions and bad scenarios became tangled in your mind, pulling at anxieties that you didn't remember you had.

Once you were inside the building, you went through the entire process, answering Sam's questions to the best of your abilities.

"When if ever was the last time you visited the prison?"

Never.

"Where is your place of residence currently located?"

Off to the east, sitting on a coast.

"Do you believe that the prisoner is deserving of being locked up?"

You took a breath and stared at the lectern in front of you, avoiding the warden's hard gaze.

Yes.

"What are your prior relations with the prisoner?"

Yes, what was your relationship with the prisoner?

You both had been friends since you were children. Back then, the two of you focused on wooden training swords and minor scratches, not netherite weaponry and psychological warfare. As you two grew up, people came and went out of your lives, you two were the only constants. That was, until you two built your first Nether portal and met a strange ash covered boy who crawled out of a pit of lava, and a few years later when you were in your early teens, another boy your age from a village carved from giant mushrooms joined your trio. You had all spent years with each other and became inseparable. It wasn't just you and Dream, the two abandoned kids, anymore. It was you, Dream, Sapnap, and George, the Dream Team.

When you were all around each other, you and Dream still came off as close friends, but when it was just the two of you, it became clear that the feelings you shared became just a touch more than platonic.

You remembered the scene of a summer night, sitting at a campfire with your three friends. You had to have been at least fifteen or sixteen at this point. Sapnap had been shouting and cheering about a valiant fight he had won over a terrifying hoard of what had to have been at least forty zombies. George had been getting on Sap's nerves, contradicting his story and arguing with him any chance he could get. While the two were distracted with each other, you felt Dream's pinkie finger lightly brush against yours and interlock. You felt your face heat up and, in the orange light, maybe it was just the reflection of the campfire, but you could have sworn you saw a blush settle on Dream's face too.

Little moments like that, while not too common of an occurrence, weren't exactly rare.

As you two aged into your late teens, those chase glances from across a room and intertwined fingers hidden in the dark or under tables turned into stolen kisses in the lamplight and more riskier activities, ones you both knew you probably shouldn't have been doing, but didn't care anyway.

It was like that for years, neither of you telling anyone else.

And then he started pulling away from you, becoming entangled in fantasies of riches and ruling kingdoms. He didn't seem interested in campfires or those silly little forts you'd make in the woods anymore, and you weren't the only one to notice.

Sam's voice snipped into your thoughts as he asked the question again, this time with a more stern tone. A silent warning.

"What are your prior relations with the prisoner?"

Friends. We were friends.

The rest of his questions went by with relative ease and he had you sign waivers before he had you put all of your things in a locker. He lead you through the cold halls, stopping for routine checks, before stopping at a large door.

After a curt "face forward" from Sam, you kept your eyes glued to the lowering lava and you stepped on the moving platform by yourself. You felt yourself getting dizzy from the platform and you got a quick heat flash from the lava surrounding you. For a quick second, you thought that it would be better if you slipped off and fell into the yellow-orange waves. The platform came to a stop and you froze for a moment before stepping into your childhood friend's prison cell.

Once the sound of the netherite gate sliding down sounded, Dream, who was sitting on the floor across the room, quickly looked up. His emerald green eyes met yours and and it felt like all of the breath was knocked out of your lungs.

His appearance was messy and disheveled. His dirty blond hair curtained his scratch covered face and the left side of his bottom lip was bloodied lightly, something you figured was from him stress chewing on it. He had a bright purple uniform on that matched the cracks of the crying obsidian that dropped onto the floor.

Somehow with all of the injuries he had received when you were younger, you had never seen him in a worse state than now.

Even though you could barely hear him over your own thoughts, you saw him mouth your name.

"You're here."

You nodded back in disbelief. "I'm here."

He stumbled up to his feet, grabbing onto the wall for support before he started walking towards you. You noticed a small limp in every other step, one that you certainly didn't remember him having.

He stuck out a shaky hand, his fingers uncurling to reach out towards you. You slid your fingers over the back of his hand, gently linking your pinkie with his. It all felt wrong, just completely off.

You looked up to survey his expression. His eyes were glued to your entwined fingers and his lips were parted ever so slightly as if he were about to speak.

Once he felt your gaze on him, he looked up to meet your eyes and you flinched away, looking to the side at an empty picture frame haphazardly placed on the obsidian wall.

He followed your eyes. "I used to have a clock."

"Oh?"

He hummed in the affirmative before he started speaking again, his voice lightly raspy. "I use to throw it away so someone would have to come in and replace it," his voice sounded fond, "I'd get yelled at or hit but it was better than being in here alone."

Your head snapped to look at him. It killed you. You couldn't imagine how it made him feel.

"So Sapnap told you?" he asked

"What?"

"To visit."

"Oh, yeah."

There was more silence and you could hear the lava flowing beyond his cell.

"I'm glad I decided to visit you though."

"Me too."

You had so many questions for Dream. Maybe it was the bruises dotting his arms, the dark rings under his eyes, or the expression on his face, but you couldn't bear to ask them. Instead, you opted to question him about his cell, something you quickly regretted.

There was nothing but basic amenities, uncomfortably cold obsidian, and the overbearing sound of distant lava.

You noticed that he hadn't let go of your hand though, so you decided to push it a bit, telling yourself that it was just because he needed it, not at all because you missed his touch.

You wrapped your arms around his beck and he paused for a moment, his hands freezing in the air as if he thought that if he touched you, your embrace would flee.

After a moment, he lightly wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you close to his body. His breathing was messy and you felt him shake lightly.

You tried to pull away to check on him but his hold only became tighter and he hid his face.

"Don't."

You let out an uneven sigh and you felt frazzled. "You know you we should probably talk. You did a lot of bad things."

"Please."

"You hurt people, Dream."

"Please."

His voice sounded cracked and desperate.

You thought back to when you were both around 19 and he had been ambushed in the nether. He had a large slash across his face and one of his arms and was laying on his back in bed. he held onto your arm tightly before pulling you towards him, making you climb into the bed so he could be closer to you. He was in such bad shape and just needed something stable. Like now.

You felt another deep ache in your chest and you decided that you couldn't do anything but hold him.

One of your hands kept him firmly pressed against you while the other slowly ran through his hair as to not catch on any tangles.

The questions could wait.

[cas-kingdom]

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

1)

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

2)

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

3)

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

4)

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[utilitycaster]

Hello I would love to hear you thoughts on Caduceus and his arc. Clay is the only character who’s story has made me cry genuine tears (when he got his fam back) and I feel like his nuances and the changes he goes through tend to be overlooked a lot, exactly because of how quietly they happen.

Of course!

So as Taliesin said a few times and as I've pointed out, Caduceus (and Molly for that matter) was intended to be a static character. Obviously this is an impossibility in D&D because things happen and you cannot control it and moreover I am sure Taliesin is aware of this, so it's more that the intent was to have a character who did not feel they needed to change, possibly in contrast with Percy, who absolutely felt he needed to change. A self-proclaimed static character still needs a reason to be static: Molly's philosophy was, as notably stated on talks, "Life's short...do something to a bagel" and more generally the lack of need for change came from this sort of aimless and benevolent-when-convenient hedonism. Caduceus, on the other hand, is secure in his purpose. He has known who he was supposed to be for his whole life, and he embraces it, and sees no reason to change, until he absolutely has to, and even then he is deeply reluctant.

Caduceus is about what happens when your comfort zone and guiding principles themselves fold in on each other and are like "hey. expand us or else."

I think a lot of people have rightfully noted that from his appearance through the Xhorhas arc, Caduceus sees the rest of the Nein as mourners, and that's within his comfort zone. Sure, there are some moral quandaries at the docks of Nicodranas, but he's able to get through that (in part because he's in the Mighty Nein but isn't personally stealing the ship, in part because of Jester's talk with him). I think it's also worth noting that while Caduceus is extremely insightful he is not superhuman (super firbolgian?) in that regard; it is the insight borne of being someone who is there for mourners and so he has a good eye for emotions, less so for motivations, and a lot of the Nein's motivations early on escape him.

The first wave of big changes happen in Bazzoxan and the immediate aftermath. First, Fjord confides in him and asks for advice - and Caduceus is used to giving advice but I'm not sure he's ever had to offer religious practice advice, as the people he would have interacted with would have either been the sketchy people of Shady Creek Run, or else people already faithful enough to seek the Blooming Grove. And second, the party finds itself directionless for a time; there is no pressing business or better ideas and he cannot hide his own mission behind someone else's, so he voices his recommendation that they come clean to the Bright Queen, and then they go to the kiln.

Caduceus's relationship with Fjord I think is useful to bring up in a sense of contrast, in that Caduceus is incredibly good at helping Fjord through a crisis, because Caduceus is trained for crisis - but it gets much hazier once Fjord is out of said crisis and as it turns out has a very different relationship with the Wildmother, and I think this comes up to an extent when they talk in Rexxentrum. I think Caduceus, for all his talk of nature's violence, struggles with the concept of nature being malevolent or having goals - it just is. Whereas Fjord is much more comfortable with the idea of nature perhaps being a force that is itself a threat, or deceptive, and more generally with the idea of nature as somewhat unknowable and full of mysteries. I don't think Caduceus's personal view of nature ever changes, but I think his ability to process that he doesn't have the answers even in the areas within his comfort zone improves, and this is something of an inflection point with regards to him acknowledging new perspectives on his own comfort zone.

It's also a little before this that we see Caduceus reveal vulnerability for the first real time since his panic attack on the boat right after they stole it, when he confides in The Gentleman. Some of this is a calculated social move, to be fair, but it's a notable step forward.

That said it takes a while to change and he spends a few days post-Rexxentrum doing anything to avoid facing his own mission. It's worth noting that Caduceus is a cleric of the same level as Jester, and could have cast sending before the party ever met up with him, and he never did. So they go to Beau's father and Isharnai first, putting it off as long as he can.

Caduceus's scenes with his family sort of snap all of the above into place, in that his parents are glad he's spent some time in the world and are completely accepting of his desire to keep going for a time. I'm honestly not sure, myself, why he does this because I don't think it's metagaming (ie, it's not Taliesin going 'I can't make a third character') but I think there are multiple valid interpretations. Caduceus's role, as the one who stays at home, is ultimately a self-imposed one.

He sort of mulls on that for the next while, sort of uncomfortably internalizing differing perspectives on deities with the Artagan reveal/Rumblecusp and additionally processing his own deeper relationship with the Wildmother, with multiple visions, and maybe even the fact that nature constantly wants to murder him.

Then we get to Eiselcross and that's when it all hits. I think as soon as he sees the corrupted trees he gets a sense of the scale, that this corruption is not just unnatural but it is ancient and has been a threat for a long time and that staving it off at the Blooming Grove is not getting at the unknown, underlying source (which he probably knew deep down, but as discussed above he does not really love to admit those things to himself). And he realizes that he might need to be the one not just to commit but to initiate violence, as the person with no emotional ties to Lucien via Molly; he finds himself bending his own moral rules for the greater good more; and I think this is when he realizes either that he needs to change, or perhaps that he's been changing quietly and slowly the whole time and has just been terrified to admit it.

The last night at the Blooming Grove before the final push into Aeor is another good look at Caduceus, who, like a number of characters in this campaign, is so very much defined by his ongoing and important familial relationships. We get a brief but heartbreaking glimpse at the state he was in prior to the Nein showing up in the garden, and how he was trying to induce something, anything, to give him direction because he didn't trust himself to leave without that assurance; and his admission, finally, to someone else of that change, that he never wanted to be the person to go on an adventure, that he still has very mixed feelings about it, but that this is his responsibility. And it's that which allows him to confidently say, on Cognouza, that it's time to end this shit.

In short (Clue the Movie voice: too late) Caduceus's arc is someone who has always believed in his sacred, literally god-given responsibility into which he was born, and struggles against the fact that said sacred responsibility ends up being quite different than what he expected but ultimately is able to accept it, and his reward is that he can return to the responsibility he initially embraced, having grown in ways he could not have otherwise.

Now, I think part of why Caduceus's arc gets overlooked is twofold. The first reason is that background arcs are, well, background, and it's quiet and subtle and highly internal and hard to turn into big dramatic moments, which, as a person whose favorite C1 character is Vex, I understand, but also those arcs are the best.

The second, and this is going to sound even more "I appreciate the muppets on a much deeper level than you" than the first, is that I feel a lot of people who considered Caduceus their favorite character did lean into the myth of "superfirbolgian" insight when the fact always was that Caduceus had no interest in the political; did not make Trent quake in his wizard robes in the slightest as was confirmed in the finale; and ultimately wanted most of all to return to his home.

It's a very true and very unique choice and if I may [note: I am writing this so I do what I want] I think a lot of people did not understand Caduceus in that they felt his ending was unhappy for him, and some of this is that people had really stupid takes on the party splitting at the end. I have mixed feelings on the true universality of the Campbellian Monomyth and even more mixed feelings on everyone giving Dan Harmon tons of credit for merely rephrasing it but despite that, Caduceus's arc fits it perfectly (and very literally): comfort zone -> need arises -> unfamiliar situation -> adaptation -> gets what he wants -> at a price -> returns to comfort -> having changed.

[masterjedilenawrites]

What about a reader that is drunk, going to do some nonsense, so both Tech and Crosshair stop her, and in the next day there’s a climate btween them? Pretty please 🥺

I wasn't sure what you meant by the last part of your request so I just let the scene play out in what felt like a natural direction, I hope that's okay! I'm happy to write something else if you'd like!

Tech & Crosshair & Reader | 1.8k words

You tried to hold back your giggles as you gathered up as many helmets as you possibly could. This was going to be great. You couldn't believe you hadn't thought of this before, it was probably one of the best ideas you'd ever had in your life. Your whole body seemed to shake with excitement. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. Nah... you hadn't had that much to drink. This was a genuinely good, smart idea.

You stumbled out of the closet and down the hallway, dropping a few helmets along the way but not even noticing. It was like the edges of your vision were out of focus but surely that was just the dim lighting of 79's. It'd always been hard to see in here.

"What are doing?"

The voice came out of no where, even thought its owner was practically standing right in front of you. Arms crossed, scowl on his face, eyes studying you as you juggled a half dozen clone trooper helmets in your arms for seemingly no reason.

"Back off, Crosshair," you slurred, trying to push past him quickly. Why was he always in your business?

The sniper was too quick for you even on your good days. He took hold of your arm and pulled you back before you entered the main bar area, keeping you in the relative privacy of the hallway.

"Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he rephrased his question.

"It's not stealing, it's a prank," you protested, trying and failing to get your arm out of his grasp. Another helmet tumbled to the floor in the effort.

"Oh there you are," came a new voice. It was almost as if you were moving in slow motion as you tore your gaze from Crosshair and over at the newcomer.

"Tech, tell this jerk to get out of my way," you thought you said. But whatever actually came out was apparently not as understandable. Tech looked between you and Crosshair, confused.

"Um, okay. Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he asked the same question as his brother.

As if on queue, another helmet slipped out of your grasp, though you hadn't moved. At least, you didn't think you did. You huffed and ignored Tech's question, turning back to Crosshair with pleading eyes. Both men were standing between you and your chance to pull one over on the 501st, a battalion infamous for their clever pranks. And you were not going to be stopped.

"Come on Cross," you drawled. "I'm pranking the regs, you should be proud."

Even through your crazed senses, you were still able to pick up the amused twitch of his lips. But he quickly suppressed it and turned back to his usual grouchy grimace.

"Normally I would," he said, "but not like this. Not tonight."

He took a pair of helmets from you and handed them over to Tech, ignoring your whiny sounds of protest.

"He's right," said Tech, placing the helmets on the floor in the corner. "Wrecker already upset some of them tonight, I don't think they'd find this very humorous. Besides, in your drunken state..."

"I'm not drunk!" you exclaimed, probably louder than you intended judging by the flinch both men gave in response.

"Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bloodshot," said Tech matter-of-factly.

"And I saw exactly how many drinks you had," added Crosshair.

Tech nodded at him. "Yes, we could go on, but that should be indication enough that..."

You cut him off again, this time with tears. You couldn't help it. The whine that had almost been perpetually eking out of you during this whole conversation grew into actual cries and whimpers. Before you knew it, your cheeks were wet and your lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're both so mean, you never let me have fun, the one time I come up with a great idea and you shoot it down like I'm an idiot, it's not fair, all I wanted was to show you that I belong here with you guys, but none of you let me, you don't care about me at all, you're such fun-busters..."

You babbled on and on, only barely making any sense to the two men who'd now freed you from your armful of stolen helmets and were gently guiding you out of the bar. You clunked along between them like a baby learning to walk for the first time, unaware of where you were going or what was happening. You could only focus on your emotional speech, and then after a few minutes, your focus was redirected to the queasy feeling in your stomach.

Thankfully the boys got you back onto the Havoc and into the refresher before you spilled your guts. Crosshair held your hair back and rubbed a hand soothingly along your spine until the worst of it passed. You fell limp next to the toilet, unable to form any coherent thoughts in the aftermath.

"Come on," Crosshair said softly by your ear. He tried pulling you up, but when it was clear you weren't going to stand on your own, he picked you up altogether and carried you over the to bunks.

Tech had pulled out one of the cots, the one everyone on the ship agreed was more comfortable than the others and thus fought over the right for almost every night. He had it set up with blankets and pillows, and he stood nearby holding a bottle of water as Crosshair laid you down.

"Just small sips for now," Tech said, holding the bottle up to your lips and helping you get down a few quick swallows, enough to calm the burning in the back of your throat. You were vaguely aware of his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your earlier tantrum from your eyes.

"Fun-busters," you muttered before curling up on your side.

Tech looked over at his brother, who only rolled his eyes at your stubbornness.

"Good-night to you, too," he said just before you lost consciousness.

* * *

The next morning was... rough, to say the least. You'd been tipsy a few times in your life, but never full-on drunk, which meant you'd also never had to deal with a full-on hangover.

Your head was splitting open, you were sure of it. Every turn of your neck made you feel sick. There was a pressure behind your eyes and a lightness to your stomach. You wanted to stay in bed forever. But even more painful than your hangover symptoms were the memories of your behavior the night before, and the urge to make amends eventually propelled you to get up.

You found Tech first, fiddling with his holopad in the cockpit. He eyed you as you carefully lowered yourself in the chair next to his, keeping a hand up to shield your eyes from the rays of morning sunlight that crept through the windows.

"I'm sorry," you said in a low, raspy voice, getting right to the point. You knew Tech appreciated when people did that. He wasn't a fan of small talk and segues, not when there was clearly something important to discuss. "I was kind of a dumbass last night, wasn't I?"

Tech set down his holopad with a shrug. "You had too much to drink. You weren't in control of your mental faculties."

You smiled at his uncomplicated way of viewing things. But then came a cough from behind, from a particularly unamused sniper leaning against the doorway.

"You were a dumbass," he said just as plainly as his brother. Well, at least they were both honest, even if it was in contrast to each other.

"I'm surprised you remember," said Tech, quickly trying to move past his brother's more negative comment. "From what I've read, memory loss is common after heavy intoxication...."

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as it made your head ring. "I don't remember a lot, just enough to be embarrassed. If I said anything nasty to either of you, I really didn't mean it, I swear. I was just...."

You trailed off, not sure what it was you were really trying to do. You'd wanted to pull a prank, but there'd been something else driving you forward, some other motive to want to do something so stupid.

"You called us fun-busters and cried because you didn't think we cared about you," said Crosshair through the customary toothpick in his mouth.

You looked at Tech, who gave you an apologetic look that confirmed his brother's words were true. You let out a little groan and slumped into the chair. A part of you was glad you didn't fully remember.

"Do you really think that?" Tech asked. "That you don't belong here?"

You shrugged. You still weren't sure about your feelings.

"I dunno... I guess, maybe sometimes... it does feel like you treat me the way you do the regs." You spoke slowly, discovering your own thoughts as you said the words. "Like I'm just along for the ride. Just a normal person who doesn't matter. I thought if I did something to them, you'd see I wasn't part of them. At least, that's what my drunk alter ego thought, anyway."

You gave another shrug and tried for a laugh but it didn't feel quite right.

Tech looked thoughtful for a moment. "You do realize most of the regs in that club were inebriated, too. But we didn't carry any of them to bed for the night."

"Or watch as they puked their guts out," added Crosshair with a slight wrinkling of his nose.

"Yes," Tech nodded at you. "We knew you've been feeling down lately, that's why Hunter suggested we all go to that bar in the first place, to give you a chance to have some fun. Crosshair and I kept an eye on you, and Hunter and Wrecker made sure those regs didn't get upset over your, ah, attempt at a prank."

Tech let his words linger for a moment as you finally raised your throbbing eyes up to meet his.

"You belong here. And we do care. We care because, well..."

He looked over at his brother and you followed his gaze. Crosshair took out his toothpick and pointed it at you.

"Because we're your family."

He put the toothpick back in his mouth with a wink and then turned to leave, showing that that was the final word on the subject. Tech looked at you with a soft smile, one that made you finally feel at peace. You hummed as you laid back against the chair and let the feeling really take hold within you.

You belonged with the Bad Batch. They were your family.

It was a very nice feeling.

[lunarflux]

"i felt your arms reach for help, and not a muscle in my body could keep me from holding onto you so tightly"

lee felix x reader

genre — fluff!au

tw: suggested abusive relationship

suggested background music: x

note: i like to put a bit of my life into my writing - i had a dream the other night that i saw my abusive ex and hid behind a member of skz lol

You never usually went out on the weekends. It's always been that way. Maybe once a month, you'd entertain the occasional invite out for dinner and drinks, but it had been a while since you'd gone out so casually with your small group of friends.

Clubs were always dark, and you were never the type to run into the crowd. So there you stood by the bar, watching your friends as you nursed your beverage, the sweat from the glass dripping down to the floor. You wanted so badly to have fun, but this just wasn't your scene anymore.

After the departure of your ex-boyfriend, you realized just how much you missed out on. Your friends no longer waited for you because they'd just expected you to say no. It took over a year to realize your relationship had grown toxic, and no partner should ever keep you from experiencing life. Being in a relationship meant sharing a life - not becoming someone else's.

The need to be alone washed over you, remembering the last argument with your ex over reprioritizing your life. To him, friends came second. You just couldn't live like that anymore.

You're free now - and you still haven't adjusted to that feeling.

Club patrons would stand next to you and try to strike up a conversation, but as cold as ever, you avoided their gaze and sipped from the now watered down beverage, still dripping down your hand.

One in particular didn't try to talk to you. In fact, he stood at the bar much like you did, checking his watch, his phone, whatever he could to seem occupied. He glanced at you every now and then. Through the chaotic lights, he'd catch your eye, and he'd smile.

All you could see were the faint hints of the freckles scattered across his cheeks.

After about the fifth time noticing him check his phone, you leaned over. "Did your date bail on you or something?"

He chuckled. "No. I'm just killing time, so my friends stop bugging me about hanging around their apartment so much."

The conversation died as soon as it started, but you two stayed in place. You'd toast with him to every new glass, and then you'd go back to how you were - standing by the bar, killing time.

"y/n - "

Steadying yourself, you looked past your freckled partner only to find a familiar - unwelcome - face.

Staring your ex in the face for the first time in three months, the only thing you could do was stare. Your legs locked in place, and it felt like this club was just another nightmare.

"What are you doing here -" The familiar stranger took a step towards you.

It was a reflex.

All at once, you dropped your glass and found yourself gripping onto the denim sleeve of your drinking partner.

The blonde looked down at you, noticing the vice grip on his arm. He swore he could feel the tension built up within you as you just stood there, holding onto him like a scared child even though he was nothing but a stranger for the night.

Your view changed, and now you were looking at his back. Your drinking partner stood in front of you, his hand holding yours protectively.

"Can I help you?" He said to your ex who merely examined the sight before him like it couldn't possibly be happening.

"You her boyfriend?" Your ex spat with a matching sneer.

"I said, can I help you."

Trying to maneuver around your shield, he laughed, and it was a cruel sound. "So two years just in the fucking trash, and now you've moved onto this guy?"

You whispered into your protector's sleeve. "Please leave."

"Go - " The still nameless blonde nodded his head towards the crowd. "Before I call security for harassment."

"No need." Your ex took a swig of his drink. "You can have her."

The interaction only lasted a minute, but you swore you couldn't breathe. They never tell you about this kind of aftermath from a bad breakup. You were supposed to feel elated that this villain was out of your life after years of over-controlling behavior and manipulation tactics. This was supposed to be your new life.

Still stuck in place, you followed robotically as your protector pulled you up the stairs and out into the street. It was only then that he let go of your hand to cradle your face, wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"Are you okay?"

"I -" You let out an uneasy breath. The fresh air almost hurt to inhale. "Yes, I'm fine. I just didn't.... expect to see him so soon."

"What's your name?"

"y/n"

"y/n, my name is Felix. Have you eaten yet?" He took off his hat and placed it on your head, securing it tightly like it was a new shield to keep you safe.

Shaking your head, you let him lead you down the street to the closest night market. It was a little past midnight, but it was still crowded. Bumping into patrons, Felix grabbed your hand again and led you through the crowd.

Stopping in front of a dessert cart, he guided you to stand next to him. "Well?"

"It's fine, I should go."

Felix squeezed your hand. "Come on. It's late. You're clearly shaken up. I don't think anyone should be alone like that."

He was right though it pained you to admit it. Your fun Friday night went from decent to shit in less than five minutes, and now this handsome freckled stranger was the one to try to comfort you.

"I have a thing about sweets." Felix looked up at the selection of ice cream. "Brownies and ice cream - it's like my comfort food."

"Mine, too." You finally noticed how warm his hand was.

He held up two fingers to the part-time worker before letting go of you to grab both of the treats.

"I can pay you back." You took a spoonful of vanilla. "I'm sorry. I think I ruined your night out."

Felix shook his head, clearly enjoying the frozen treat. "You didn't ruin anything. I'm just sorry your night got cut short because of... your ex, right?"

You nodded quietly. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Well, I - "

"I've only known your name for ten minutes, and you've apologized to me twice already." Felix's freckles were much more visible now, and it suited him. He looked kind, and his smile was bright before softening to concern. "Did he make you feel like you had to apologize for everything?"

Poking your spoon around your ice cream, you couldn't find the words. Felix took your silence as a 'yes.'

"That doesn't seem like any way to treat your girlfriend."

"I mean, some of it might have been my fault - "

Felix interrupted your excuses with a spoonful of chocolate. "Stop."

"But I -"

"- am single now. And I am not him." He grinned again. "So just erase everything he made you feel like you needed to do, and just be in the moment with me. Okay?"

"It was just," you tried to find the words. "I don't know. I haven't done this in a really long time, and I know not everyone is like that. But I don't even really know you."

Felix placed his hand on your head, his smile still comforting and genuine. He pulled you close to him. "Well, I guess we're going to have to change that."

**

It was another Friday night, but now these nights were taken up by Felix dropping by your apartment with freshly baked brownies and a new movie.

He never passed the boundaries of holding hands and hugs. It almost made you wonder how you ended up here with this person who was nothing more than a fellow bar patron at some point.

"Can I ask you something?"

Felix was scooping ice cream onto the brownies. He offered you a spoonful, "What's up?"

The words got caught in your throat again. It's only been two months. You hadn't returned to the club since, and you were finally sleeping well again. It was almost like having Felix kept the nightmares away. Simply knowing he was there did more healing than anything else ever did.

You didn't want to ruin it.

"Never mind." You grabbed your bowl and settled in front of the TV.

Felix looked back at you. Lately, it was like you always started out tense in front of him, and he was dying to know why.

An hour into the movie, Felix finally noticed that you weren't paying attention. Your dessert was left half unfinished which was unusual. You just sat there beside him, staring at the floor.

He poked your cheek before reaching over to pause the movie. "What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing."

"y/n, come on." Felix sighed. "What is it? Are you having nightmares again? Did you see him again?"

It shouldn't feel odd, but you didn't expect him to find you so predictable. "No, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Okay, so tell me."

The silence filled the room again.

"Is this something you can't tell me?"

"That's not it, I just don't know how to tell you -"

"Try!" Felix laughed. "I haven't seen you this speechless since the night we met."

Thinking about that night brought so many mixed feelings. It was like seeing the evil witch and meeting your prince charming all at once. After your ex said those things, it was like something just held you back. It just always seemed too soon to say anything - no matter how much you liked Felix, no matter what he did you help you heal and just be happy. If this is what a relationship is supposed to be like, you didn't know how to operate. This was a book on love you'd never dared to read before.

"It's nothing." You said quietly.

Felix almost looked disappointed. He looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet together. "Should I leave?"

"What? No -"

"I just feel like I'm bothering you."

"You're not bothering me!" You grabbed his hand. There it was again, one of the two romantic gestures that wouldn't be pushed any further.

Felix held your hand gently, stroking your thumb with his. "So do you want to tell me what's on your mind?"

You leaned forward, resting your head against his arm so he couldn't see how flustered you were.

"I just don't know when the right time is."

"Meaning?" Felix had every right to be confused.

"How long is long enough to be over someone and move on?" You kept your head down. You didn't want him to see you crumble like this. You felt so weak and tired at the thought of exposing yourself like this.

You and Felix sat in silence for a moment. His grip on your hand was tighter than usual, but his demeanor was difficult to read.

"Is that what's been bothering you? You don't want me to think you've moved on too quickly?"

You nodded against his arm, still hiding your face.

He pulled you up and into his arms again, holding you securely. He smelled like vanilla and musk today. He hid his face in your neck, and you stayed like that. This was the safest you've ever felt, and being here with him finally stopped that awful feeling of not knowing what it was to want to share your mornings with someone. Felix wasn't a burden. He was the sunshine, and his warmth was your safety.

Taking a deep breath, Felix finally sat upright nodding to himself. "Okay, so let's talk."

"Talk away." You almost giggled at the flush on his cheeks.

He brushed the hair away from your face, keeping hands cupped on the sides of your neck.

"There is no time limit for being ready, okay?"

Felix's eyes stayed on yours.

"If you're over him, then you're over him. Fuck that guy, he was awful. And I know you think that with the timing - meeting me that night - it was a burden, wasn't it? Because there was no way you could ever tell if you were ready or if you'd just found a distraction." Felix smiled softly. "Do you trust me?"

You nodded quietly, eyes feeling awfully heavy.

"Well, I trust you. And I trust you know that this burden of never knowing will go away on its own, okay?"

"I just don't want to hurt you." You tried to pull away with no avail.

Felix released another heavy sigh.

He searched for something in your eyes before making his decision.

His kisses were like his hugs - warm and comforting. He was gentle, rubbing the edge of your face with his fingers. The small pitter-patters of his breath against your cheeks tickled.

Felix kissed you sweetly in silence. The moonlight had already set on the apartment, but he just stayed with you in the moment, feeling like if there was ever a time, it was now.

Leaving a final kiss on the tip of your nose, he sat back.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

[pink-flame]

Promises Kept - A WFW Missing Scene

Soooo...I let it slip earlier to @mamirugbee that in my original plot outline for We Found Wonderland the scene where Luke finally wins the ring was there. I ended up not writing it because I thought that would be too much angst on top of everything else and you all would riot. But she wanted it and I love her so I wrote it. But then I got distracted with other angst on the way to that angst...so you also get the immediate aftermath of Julie leaving. Oops. It's 2 for 1 night for WFW angst! Just remember I WAS ASKED FOR THIS. Love you, Jenni. 💜

Luke held it together pretty well for approximately three days.

After watching Julie disappear right in front of his eyes, while he smiled...smiled to show her he would be ok...he had sunk to the ground, very much not ok. He had stayed there, just outside the garage doors, dizzy and sick to his stomach while the reality of the situation washed over him until finally the change in light alerted him to the fact hours had passed. He realized somewhere vaguely in the back of his mind through the haze of mental static that the rest of the guys would be home from school soon. He didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be the one who had to tell them what had happened, didn't want to see the hurt in their eyes or even worse the sympathy. His instincts were screaming at him to run away from the situation, to escape like he had escaped his parents’ house when their smothering attention and rules became too much. The urge to grab his acoustic and walk out and never come back was strong, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his side as he turned the idea over in his mind.

In the end it was never really an option.

He couldn’t leave his friends.

He couldn’t leave his band.

He couldn’t leave his parents, not again.

And most of all he couldn’t leave the life Julie had almost sacrificed everything to make sure he got to live.

He had promised her a lot of things. That they would make things work somehow. That he would win her that dumb ring. That he would help her reconnect with her dad. That it would always be him and her, Luke and Julie, in it together against nosy bandmates, and questionable record labels, and the looming possibility of being separated by thousands of miles (back when that had seemed like as far apart as they could get).

And he had promised her that he would take care of their friends, and follow his dreams and do his best to be happy.

It turned out that the one promise he had made her that every inch of him was screaming out in protest against might be the only one he could actually keep.

So he would.

Luke unclenched his palms and placed his hands flat against the pavement outside the garage doors. He took a deep if shaky breath then pressed them into the firm surface until he managed to haul himself to his feet, his legs protesting as he forced them to move through their stiffness. He just had time to drag himself into the bathroom and splash cold water on his face before he heard the telltale sounds of his friends approaching, their boisterous voices carrying from all the way down the driveway. He emerged back into the studio, purposefully turning away from the doors in a desperate bid to buy himself a few extra seconds to compose himself before he had to explain Julie’s absence.

“And then I said if a platypus is a mammal where’s their nipples cause that’s how mammals feed their kids, right?”

“Reggie, I don’t know what made you think we want to hear this conversation…”

“Oh come on, Bobby, where’s your intellectual curiosity. Go on, Reggie.”

“Right, so then Mr. Gleeson said they don’t have nipples. They feed their babies by basically sweating milk through milk gutters.”

“Ok...I take it back, Bobby was right. I now know way more than I ever wanted to.”

“Luke, will get it. Hey, Luke! Guess what I…”

Luke turned slowly to face his friends and watched their faces fall as they took in his tight expression. Apparently his efforts to school his face into a neutral mask had failed epically. Luke realized his hands were shaking and shoved the offending appendages into his pockets hoping that would hide the effects of his runaway emotions.

That also seemed to be wishful thinking.

“What’s wrong?” Bobby asked bluntly, taking half a step towards Luke before stopping short when he saw the way he flinched. “Oh.”

“Luke, I’m…” Alex swallowed hard and glanced away for a moment seemingly fighting with his own emotions. “I’m so sorry.”

Reggie was the last to speak, the panic stealing over his face like a punch directly to Luke’s chest.

“Where’s Julie?”

When Luke didn’t answer right away he asked again, shaking off Alex’s attempts to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Luke, where’s Julie?”

“Home,” He answered simply, his voice steady despite the emotions still raging inside of him.

He knew what he had to do now.

He had to honor Julie the only way he could, by helping his friends be ok.

“What? No,” Reggie protested, looking back and forth between his friends as though expecting someone to tell him it was a joke. “She wouldn’t. Not without saying goodbye.”

“She didn’t have a choice,” Luke told him gently. “The portal just appeared and she...she ran out of time.”

“Ok, ok,” Reggie ran his fingers through his hair roughly, leaving pieces standing up in all directions. “We can go to the ghost club, right? We can get Willie to help us get into Caleb’s dressing room and we can go find her.”

“That’s a good way to get killed by an evil ghost,” Bobby pointed out.

“We’ll figure it out,” Reggie insisted.

“Reg...we don’t even know...we don’t know if Caleb still trusts WIllie or not. We haven’t seen him since that night.”

Luke could hear the pain in his friend’s voice and he hated it. Alex might not have had the time to develop the same deep connection with Willie that Luke had with Julie, but he knew his friend had seen flashes of that potential in their stolen moments. The fact that Willie had been missing in action since he tried to help them save Julie weighed heavily on Alex. Luke could see it. He just couldn’t do anything about it except be there for him as much as he could.

He was going to need Alex too.

He was going to need all of them.

“Reggie, even if we could do that she didn’t want us to. She didn’t want us to leave our families or our dreams or our lives here. She fought so hard for us to have them. We have to live like it’s now or never, for her.”

He managed a small, sad smile hoping it would calm Reggie’s rising agitation but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Don’t quote your lyrics at me, dude,” Reggie snapped, once again brushing off Alex’s attempts to put a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re supposed to be in love with her. How can you just let her go without a fight?”

Luke felt like his throat was closing up as Reggie’s words hit him like a slap in the face. He knew his friend didn’t mean it, not really. He was just hurt and scared and mourning the loss of the little sister he loved.

It didn’t make it hurt any less to have his own doubts and guilt thrown back into his face though.

Before Luke could come up with anything else to say to comfort him, Reggie reached up to wipe at his eyes and spun on his heels, stomping out of the garage and down the driveway.

Alex shot Luke a worried look before nodding after their friend.

“I’ll check on him. I’ll be right back, ok?”

Then he was gone and Luke and Bobby were alone in the garage.

Bobby was looking at Luke like he was some kind of wounded animal and Luke wished he would stop because the longer his best friend looked at him like that the more tempting it was to totally break down. And he couldn’t do that and keep his promise to Julie. So he would hold it together. He would.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re ok because that would be a stupid question,” Bobby said, crossing the garage to sink onto the couch before patting the seat next to him expectantly.

Luke hesitated for a second or two before sighing and sinking down next to Bobby, the urge to tap his foot or drum on his knee overwhelming though he fought it down. He didn’t need to give Bobby more ammunition about his mental state. Not that he needed it.

“Look, I’m going to miss her too,” Bobby cleared his throat before reaching out to pat semi-awkwardly at Luke’s knee. “And I know it’s going to be worse for you. But I’m here for you. We all are. So just...don’t run, ok?”

Luke could have laughed at that if his mouth had seemed to remember how. His friends really did know him too well. Still. He had already ruled out that course of action.

“I won’t,” He promised.

And he didn’t.

What he did do was dive headfirst into trying to make sure their lives would go on like Julie wanted. He was there waiting when Reggie processed his feelings enough to feel bad about his outburst and showed up at the garage in the middle of the night and pulled Luke into a tight hug that lasted a long time. He was there when Alex wanted to talk about feeling anxious not knowing for sure if Julie had made it back to her time and what she had found there. He was even there when Bobby admitted that he missed Julie but he missed Queenie too and he wasn’t sure that the band was ever going to be as close as they once were. Luke did his best to reassure them all, checked in on his mom, and started calling around trying to book them a gig even though they had hardly any songs they could use and none of the bookers he spoke to seemed particularly interested.

He forced himself to tell bad jokes, and offered to go get pizza and suggest busking so they could refill their food fund.

He did all of that for three days until it was like the adrenaline he had been running off of ever since Julie disappeared into a hole in the ground finally wore off. On the fourth day he knew his friends noticed that he was quieter than normal though none of them said anything, just exchanged mildly worried looks. On the fifth day he lost his appetite, picking at the leftover pizza that Bobby had warmed up for him and refusing the variety of junk food his friend then hauled out to the garage. On the sixth day he slept most of the day, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. He had only emerged for a couple of bathroom breaks and was back curled under the blanket he usually left unused when his friends showed up after school, their worried looks no longer mild.

The 7th day was a Friday but they didn’t go to school. Instead they staged what amounted to an intervention, hovering around the couch (he didn’t bother folding it out now that the possibility of Julie crawling in next to him was gone) and refused to stop staring creepily at him until he sat up with an annoyed huff.

“Don’t you have school?” He muttered, pulling the blanket more firmly around his shoulders despite the smothering heat.

“We’re not going,” Reggie said, reaching out and yanking the blanket away from Luke in on quick movement.

“Hey!” Luke protested.

“We’re worried about you,” Alex said ignoring the way Luke was suddenly looking anywhere but at his friends. “You pretended nothing was wrong and then you crashed hard.”

“You’re depressed,” Bobby said bluntly, because of course he did.

He was annoyingly accurate and to the point at all times unless he was hiding his meaning in some obscure literary quote of course.

“I’m not,” Luke tried, feeling strangely exposed without the weight of the blanket. “I miss Julie...a lot, ok? But she wanted us to live and I’m living.”

“There’s living and there’s living,” Reggie countered, dropping down next to Luke to sling an arm around his shoulder. “And Julie would want you to be living, you know what I mean?”

“We don’t expect you to be ok,” Alex broke in quickly. “Just for you to be honest about what’s going on with you. You’ve been there for us the past few days now it’s your turn.”

“I’m fine,” Luke tried one last time, though his argument sounded half-hearted even to his own ears.

“You haven’t showered in a week,” Bobby pointed out, the softness behind his eyes easing the harshness of his words as Luke forced himself to look up and meet his friend’s eyes. “Come on, rinse the smell off and then we’re taking a field trip.”

Luke groaned but forced himself to stand and cross the distance to the bathroom, his bones aching like he had spent years in bed, not hours. He hardly remembered the shower but when he reemerged some indeterminate amount of time later his hair was dripping and he admittedly smelled a lot better. He still felt a bit like he was walking through a heavy fog though, like some slight, almost undetectable force was making each one of his steps just that little bit more difficult. He thought it might not be the weight of something slowing him down at all but the absence of something. It was like he had forgotten how to do everything right without Julie next to him. Walking and eating and breathing. He knew he had done them all before he ever knew her but that didn’t make them come any more naturally now that she was gone.

Still.

He had promised her he would try.

So he let his friends steer him out of the garage, let them lead him down the sidewalk, Alex and Bobby buffeting him on either side and Reggie walking in front, chattering away and peering back every few seconds as though afraid Luke would bolt if he didn’t keep him in his sight. Luke for his part just shuffled along, grunting out a response when asked a direct question and keeping silent the rest of the time. Apparently the plan was to head to Reggie’s house. His mom would be at work and she had bought him this brand new video game console called a Playstation that the boys were all dying to try out. That newly separated parent guilt was apparently good for a few things, like letting Reggie have ice cream every night and expensive gifts. Luke was pretty sure that none of them were particularly in the mood to play video games and were putting on the enthusiasm for his sake. He appreciated it. He just couldn’t match it.

But once they were actually in Reggie’s room, crowded around the little television he got for his last birthday, Luke had to admit he did feel a little more like a human being. He even caught himself laughing as he watched Alex and Reggie squabble over the second controller as Bobby clutched his above the fray. Reggie grinned when he saw Luke’s brief smile and shoved the controller they had been fighting over into his hands.

“Here, you try!”

And he couldn’t stand to see Reggie disappointed, not when he had seen him so hurt so recently. So Luke did try. And he let himself enjoy it. And he let himself tune out and pretend that there wasn’t someone missing.

He did such a good job at pretending that it wasn’t until they had left Reggie’s house several hours later in order to keep his mom from knowing they had skipped and headed for the ice cream shop that the gaping absence all came crashing back.

Because right around the corner from the ice cream shop was the arcade.

And right inside of the arcade entrance was a claw machine.

And inside of that claw machine he could only assume there was a purple plastic ring that would now never sit on his girl’s finger.

He couldn’t explain why his feet carried him towards the arcade but they did, seemingly without any specific direction from him.

“Luke....” Alex’s worried voice called after him but he didn’t pause until he was standing directly in front of the damn game that had been haunting him for months.

And there it was. The ring. Mocking him from the exact spot it had been in all along.

Apparently his friends had caught up to him by then because when Reggie spoke up it was from directly behind him.

“You’ve got to let that thing go, man,” His friend said carefully. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Luke found himself understanding Reggie’s initial reaction to the news about Julie’s departure because all of the sudden he was angry. He wasn’t just angry, he was furious.

He brought his fists down in tandem on either side of the joystick, feeling the reverberation up his recently healed arm and had just enough time to wonder if that was the smartest idea before words were bursting out of him unbidden.

“It matters,” He said fiercely, ignoring the way Reggie flinched slightly. “It matters. She matters. She matters to me and she’s gone and I said I would give her that ring and I didn’t and now I can’t and...and...it just matters, ok? It just does.”

Alex and Reggie both stared at him, eyes wide with worry seemingly unable to land on something helpful to say as they watched him finally implode. The silence stretched and Luke was just about to kick the machine just to have something to fill the gap and give him another chance to externalize the storm brewing inside of him when Bobby stepped forward calmly.

“Here,” He said, his voice calm and even. “Go ahead.”

He held out his hand and Luke instinctively stuck his out to catch whatever Bobby was trying to hand him. He folded his fingers over the mystery object to keep it from falling to the ground, before uncurling them carefully to examine it.

It was a quarter.

Luke looked up sharply expecting to see sympathy or something worse on Bobby’s face but all he saw was that look his best friend gave him when they were disagreeing on a song or when they couldn’t agree on what toppings to order for their pizza. Or maybe more like when Luke had wanted to use those fireworks for pyrotechnics or when he had suggested a book club as a viable gig. Like he didn’t approve of what Luke was doing but also like he was going to be right there behind him, letting him know he was an idiot and then helping him anyway.

Somehow it was exactly what Luke needed.

So he didn’t say anything else, just swung to face the machine and deposited his quarter in the slot before he could think better of it.

The game came to life as he swung the joystick jerkily to the right, not letting himself think too hard about the exact aim as the claw hovered over the ring in it’s plastic container. He slammed his hand down on the button to drop it probably harder than was strictly necessary but it felt good to have an excuse to hit something. The claw dropped and clutched it’s mechanical arms around the plastic container. Luke tried not to react, afterall he had gotten this far many times before, but the weak arms always released the ring long before it could actually make it to the prize shoot. But even as that hopeless thought crossed his mind the claw was rising, taking the ring with it and this time it didn’t drop back to its former spot. This time the ring remained locked in the claw’s embrace until it tumbled down into the prize shoot leaving all four boys to stare at the machine in surprise.

“Did that just…” Alex started.

“You did it,” Reggie practically whispered, disbelief clear in his voice.

Luke for his part just stared at the claw machine that had once again gone silent and still as he tried to process what had just happened. He had been so angry a minute ago and he could never win the ring and it didn’t matter because Julie was gone...Julie was gone...but it did matter and now he had won the ring and...did he really just win the ring?

Once again it was Bobby who broke them all out of their stupor, stepping forward and reaching through the metal flap to retrieve the ring, pressing the plastic container insistently into Luke’s shaking hands.

“You did it,” He said simply but firmly.

“I did it,” Luke echoed, his voice slightly choked.

“You said you would and you did,” Bobby continued. “It’s ok, Luke. You did it.”

Luke was very aware that Bobby was talking to him like a small child and he wanted to be offended, he really did, only he felt like a small child. Like nothing made sense and all of his emotions were too big for him. He had tried for so long and so hard to win that stupid ring, had seen it as a metaphor for how he felt about Julie, how he would do anything for her, how he wanted her to know that as intrinsically as she knew her own name. He had tried so hard and it had never worked and now she was gone and the very first time he tried, the first time, and he had done it.

Luke felt tears pricking at his eyes and did his best to fight them down.

“Luke…” Reggie started, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet.

Luke couldn’t bear to hear what Reggie was going to say or to make eye contact with any of his friends when he felt on the brink of breaking into sobs. He spun to face the machine again only that didn’t seem to help. His vision went blurry and his throat went tight and the next thing he knew he was breaking down into sobs. He tried to stifle them in a fit of embarrassment but there wasn’t much point. The tsunami had started and all he could do was ride the wave and pray he was in one piece on the other side.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the claw machine, the soothing temperature doing little to slow the tears rolling down his face or the hiccuping, painful sounds that were emerging from his mouth. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable but it was matched by the sharp pain in his hand as he clutched so hard at the ring’s plastic container he was sure it would leave an angry red outline when he finally uncurled his fingers.

He loved her.

He loved her so much.

He loved her and he was never going to see her again and he won her the ring and she was never going to know it.

He was so alone.

Only he wasn’t.

Because suddenly there were warm arms wrapping around him from every direction, cheeks pressed against his shoulders and the top of his head, soft words of comfort being spoken in three different voices.

“It’s ok, Luke.”

“Let it out.”

“We’re here.”

And he did.

He had promised Julie they would do their best to be happy. He intended to keep that promise. But today all he felt was pain. And that would have to be ok too.

And it was.

And they were.

Not all at once.

Not for a long time if he was being honest.

But slowly and steadily genuine smiles, and laughter began to work their way back into their lives. They didn’t talk much about Julie at first. It hurt too much. But eventually Reggie brought up a story about her over pizza and soon they were all chiming in, recounting their favorite moments with the girl who would always live in their hearts even if she could no longer live in their world. After that they brought her up often and it hurts but it also heals.

Luke took to wearing the ring around even though it was too small for all of his fingers except his pinkie and often got stuck even then. Bobby didn't comment on the way his finger was starting to turn as purple as the ring itself, simply handed him a black cord one day for him to string it on and brushed off Luke’s rush of thankful words. After that Luke wore the ring on a cord around his neck, dangling down to thump gently against his heart as he walked, the cool plastic a constant reminder of what he lost but what he gained too.

He wasn’t living the life he would have chosen for himself but he was living the life Julie had chosen for him. He hoped the two would come together eventually. He had to have faith that they would.

Eventually he sat down to write a song for her and ended up with a poem instead.

Eventually he had the idea of sending her a message through time, a box filled with all of the things she had loved and left behind, all the ones that would fit in a small box anyway. Eventually he pried the teddy bear version of himself out of Reggie’s reluctant fingers to go inside. Eventually placed all of their carefully selected polaroids inside too.

And eventually he slid  a purple ring off of the cord he wore it on, placed it carefully back into its original container and left it for her to find with a lingering kiss pressed to its surface.

Eventually.

But first.

He lived.

Tag list: @futurearchaeologyprof @moreflowersthanweeds @chickwiththepurpleguitar

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

hey besties!! here is part 8! Part 8 see's Amelia in a change of colours, her friendship with Jorgi explored more, an awkward Chelsea player and a cheeky Villa boy. Please enjoy & send me your thoughts! Love always, Steph xx

Part 8. | parte otto

word count;  1569 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Wednesday 11/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Landing in the rarely-sunny but always wonderful London town, Amelia was swiftly picked up from the airport by a man in a blacked out Mercedes van and driven away to her new club-appointed accommodation in the royal borough of Kensington and Chelsea. The 24 year old couldn’t help but feel a sense of home resonating through her body. Yes, Italy was also her home for the last 3 years, but there was something in the air in London that really made her believe that this is where she was meant to be.

Whilst happy that her quintessentially-British townhouse was a mere stones throw from Stamford Bridge and her family home just on the other side of the park in Holland Park she was still a 30+ minute commute, without traffic & one way, from Cobham. Beggars can’t be choosers, at least this way she was close to the hustle and bustle of London City, as well as her family and old friends.

A few days had passed since her talk with Fede, her swift departure from bella Italia saw only a small gathering occur at her apartment with some of the juventus boys on the eve before her flight. Constant check-ins from La Cosa Nostra whatsapp group chat, of course the word had spread to the rest of the Italian national team before she had even returned home from Fede’s place, meant that she was never left alone to her thoughts for too long.

Keeping the promise he had made when she phoned to tell him the news, Jorgi was knocking on her front door at 7:30am the following Monday morning, ready to drive the both of them to Cobham for Amelia’s first full day of work. He was the only person who knew she was taking this offer, other than the professional staff at Chelsea FC who had to organise her contract, so it was very much a nerve-wracking drive to the suburban training ground.

“Sapevo che stavi bene con il blu Azzurri, ma il blu Chelsea è un'altra benedizione che mi è stata conferita” (i knew you looked good in Azzurri blue, but Chelsea blue is another blessing bestowed upon me) Jorgi exclaimed as she opened the door to his car and slid in, having stopped right in front of her house in a no-park zone.

“Morning Jorgi, Thanks so much for picking me up - i’ll sort out a car this weekend i suppose”

“It's not a problem, I'm only a couple of streets away anyway so it's not out of my way.”

The pair caught up on the past couple of weeks without each other, speaking on the Fede situation and Amelia’s feelings. The best thing about Jorgi was how he was able to see both sides of the story. He valued Amelia's opinion and feelings as much as his long-time friend, Fede. He knew how hard it was for both parties to come to an amicable separation & he was making a mental note to call his italian pal to thank him for letting the girl go.

Amelia’s first day at Cobham was heavily administrative, spending a lot of time sorting out paperwork, meeting the team of staff she would be joining, getting her uniform, sorting out her office. After a quick bite to eat with the head analyst, Paolo (she just couldn’t seem to escape the Italians altogether), she collected her leather bound notebook and followed her colleague to the first team wing of Cobham. Whilst she was strictly working with the first team, she had expressed interest early on & stipulated it in her formal acceptance, that she wanted the opportunity to work with the academy players and the freedom to dip into the talent pool of Chelsea youth, to assist in perfecting her tactical plays.

She couldn’t deny that the blue of her uniform was the perfect shade to bring out the blue in her more-often-than-not grey eyes, she felt comfortable in it, she felt part of the team. Pushing open the door ahead of them, Paolo stood to the side like a true gentleman and gestured to Amelia through the door first.

______________________________________________________________

Walking in, I noticed that the scene in front of me was similar to the first time I met with some of these players. With their backs to me, facing the front, listening to every word that Tuchel was saying to them. I snuck in, stood to the side and waited for my introduction which came very shortly after.

“I want you all to meet the new tactical analyst that the club has appointed following a very successful european campaign this past summer, Amelia White” Thomas directed towards me, and just like that, a slight bit of deja-vu settled in as i watched 30+ sets of eyes turn to look at me. Some were happy to see me, some were polite and offered a small smile, and just one set looked a little shocked and very guilty.

“I trust you all will treat her with the respect that you show me, Paolo and all other members of this professional staff. We had to fight tooth and nail for this girl to join us and I can’t express how lucky we all are to be learning from her.” Tuchel dismissed his team, Jorgi pushing through the chairs to get to me.

“Amelia! What a surprise! Why didn’t you tell me about this!” Jorgi rushed over to me and wrapped me in a hug that I didn't return. Less than impressed with the boy's antics and sarcasm.

“Oh be quiet, you drove us both here today.” I spoke with a smile and rolled my eyes.

“Always the trouble maker Jorgi!” Mason Mount spoke from behind him.

“Amelia, nice to see you again! Can’t believe you didn’t tell us in the group chat!” Mason continued as he greeted me hello.

“Haha yeah, it all happened very quickly & to be honest, my decision wasn’t final until a couple of days ago. I had a few opportunities and I had to weigh up my options, Chelsea were willing to go a bit above the other clubs so it became obvious. Besides, someone once told me I would look good in the Chelsea blue” That someone also being the person who avoided my messages, and who is currently avoiding my eyes.

Later that evening.

“As if I deserved to know you picked the blues on sky sport?” Jack questioned the girl over facetime that evening, keeping their friendship tradition alive and cooking together.

“It all happened so quickly Jack, I was in talks with a few clubs and there was a bit of a tussle and negotiation stage and then I just had to pick one. Chelsea offered me the opportunity to foster the youth team talent and no one else was willing to cross-contaminate their professional staff” Amelia hurried down the phone, afraid that she hurt the brummie lad’s feelings.

“Calm down Mils, it's fine! I’m only playin wiv’ya. I’m happy for you - and me too, now I can come visit ya and have a place to stay in the city” He joked back to her. Jack had a certain way of calming the girl down, he reminded her a lot of Fede. He could read her before she came to terms with her own thoughts and feelings.

“Are you trying to tell me that you, with all of your friends and all of your money, need to rely on little old me for a place to stay in the city?” The joking tone went back to normal with the two flirtatious friends.

“No, I'm just saying that I'm happy you’re in the city. Ya know, it’s only a 2 hour drive. I could easily come down on a Friday after training and be back before a Sunday game…”

“2 hours is far too long to be in the car just to spend the day with me”

“That's where you’re wrong, it would be two nights and one whole day. Besides, 2 hours in the car is better than having to fly to get to you. I was prepared to do the latter anyway before your big move back to London” Oh did her heart swoon inside her chest, a quick blush spread across her cheeks and a little chuckle left her lips - unable to find the right words to say back to him.

Amelia knew the dangers of the situationship, this was exactly how it happened with Fede. She couldn’t help that she was naturally playful and flirtatious, she often didn't know she was doing it. Normal conversations to her often appeared like a hardcore flirt-fest to anyone who happened to be around the girl. She didn’t want to cross that line with Jack, she knew better than to do that, especially with how she hurt Fede in the end. She didn’t know where she was going to be in a few years, nor where he was going to be.

What she also recognised in the older lad that Fede also possessed, and she would be surprised if he didnt considering he is a professional football player, is that he was determined. Too determined that sometimes it was more about the chase and the challenge, rather than the aftermath or the reward. She knew Jack wouldn’t give up on her and would always be there for her. Was it bad that she enjoyed it?

Part 9. | nona parte

[kimwxler]

ted lasso 2.11

I don’t usually do this, but I have a lot of thoughts on tonight’s episode, so I’m gonna write (most of) them out. 

I think this episode did a really great job showing some of the problems inherent in Sam and Rebecca’s relationship without a clear and decisive breaking off. We get to see Sam’s POV when he gets her text. He’s still hoping Rebecca will change her mind (the last text from him saying he misses her) and his face drops when all she says is “Have a great night”. That alone is not great for Sam but also something that can happen after any sort of break-up. 

But then we get Rebecca admitting that she’s fully lost objectivity with Sam, and somehow she thinks it’s a good idea to go to his house and say she wants him to stay even though she can’t promise they’ll get back together. I hate that scene, but I think it’s a promising sign that the issues that pop up when you date your employee/boss will be addressed in the next episode. It was a selfish and irresponsible thing for Rebecca to ask, and I don’t think she was trying to manipulate him--she was genuinely trying to follow her heart/gut and seemed to realize after speaking that this was a bad idea. But it was manipulative. I hope the show makes it clear that an issue along these lines is almost inevitable with this kind of dynamic, even if she hadn’t made that exact move. 

However, I really, really don’t want Sam to actually go, because I would miss him so much on the show. I’m hoping there is somehow a really good reason for him to stay while still putting a permanent end to the Sam/Rebecca relationship. I don’t know what to make of the billionaire but he’s a very fun character. 

Obviously, I’m not happy about Nate’s actions. I think they were awful, but at the same time it’s a really fascinating story to me. This show gets uncomfortable, taking us through his ugly emotions and actions but still forcing you to try to understand his POV. Along with Ted, he’s my favorite character to analyze this season.

Nate and Keeley had such a cute dynamic, and the moment where he tries to kiss her shocked me, but didn’t at the same time. It makes sense that he is so insecure and awkward around women that he would crush on her, as one of the only women that he can interact semi-comfortably with who is always nice to him. He even mentioned how wonderful it would be to be loved by Keeley last season! I felt awful for both of them in that scene, but especially Keeley, because she was really opening up to him and I think happy to have a nice friend. Sometimes it feels like she does a lot of emotional support for people the way Ted does, and it kind of felt like from her POV, she could support Nate in dress shopping but was just having fun commiserating as an equal with a friend. 

I also loved seeing Keeley talk about her mom and get an episode semi-focused on her as an individual as well as Roy/Keeley. I am... very worried for Roy/Keeley, and I honestly think them taking a break or still being in a rough patch is more likely than a proposal (as much as I hate to be typing that). But regardless, I know they’ll be okay in the end. The scene where they opened up to each other during the little break in the photoshoot was phenomenal. 

I’m running out of steam so I’ll be briefer from now on. But I really adored the Ted and Sharon plotline and friendship. I love that he gave her an army man and left without saying goodbye as payback, and that he can be kinda rude but in a way that feels more real and uncensored. I really, really love Sharon and just like with Sam, I can’t lose her so this show better work some magic. 

The ending broke my heart but it makes me laugh that reactions towards Trent Crimm the Independent range from fury to love/relief to concern that even telling Ted that much was wrong. I have no emotional attachment to that man so I’m just scared for Ted and nervous about the fallout. I can picture some of the eventual aftermath (Nate either quitting and going to Rupert or getting fired by a furious Rebecca) but not what Ted will do, exactly. 

Speaking of, clearly Rupert is involved/will get involved/etc. I think there’s a great opportunity to set up conflict for Season 3 while giving Nate, Rebecca, and Ted a lot of great material for the finale and having their storylines all intertwined.

Finally, the Ted and Rebecca scene... yeah, it was in-character to me that Ted wouldn’t get upset about Sam and would just lead Rebecca to make her own decision. Part of me wonders if a romantic confession in Ted’s office in Season 3 is too obvious. But they’re giving us the romance in general, I can tell you that much. I also think "see you next year” is semi-foreshadowing that he might try to quit again next episode, or his coming back will in some way be in question. 

[lloydskywalkers]

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city. 

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

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

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

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

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

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

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

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

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

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

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?  

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

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

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

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

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

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

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.  

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

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

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

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

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

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.  

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.  

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.  

[jishyucks]

And They Were Roommates ‣ ldh

‣ genre: fluff, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn (?)

‣ wc: 10.7k

‣ summary: “It was unbearable living beneath you and now living with you? No thanks.” ; alternatively where Donghyuck needs a place to stay and you’re the only option left

‣ tw: mentions of a fire happening and its aftermath (nothing drastic and super detailed)

requested by anonymous

a/n: I’m not the best at writing slow burn type of fics so pls forgive me if it seems rushed! Enjoy!

i.

You would have never thought you’d be wishing for some expensive sound proof headphones at four in the morning.  Not when you remembered the building owner saying that the place was peaceful and perfect for a university student like you. But because of your upstairs neighbour, Lee Donghyuck, it was bluntly known to those who lived around him that this detail no longer exists with him around.

You suddenly remembered the first night after he had moved in. You were ecstatic to have someone your age in the building. It was a good change from the small families and aging elderly. The idea of making a new friend that lived so close to you brought a deep sense of excitement. But all those thoughts were cleared from your head once you had realized that Donghyuck was going to be that type of neighbour.

He seemed to save graveyard hours for his gaming, not being shy to shout out strings of profanities and shouts of victory with his entire chest. The floors were nearly as thin as paper and everything that spewed from his mouth had gone dead straight into your ears. It was if he was sitting in your living room.

Groaning deeply, you push yourself off of your bed and run your fingers roughly through your hair, preparing yourself to face the devil himself. You slammed a fist into one of your many pillows and stood up, sliding your feet into your slippers in the process. All this energy wasted and sleep lost for one irritating boy that didn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

“No,” Donghyuck smirked, “I’m not going to kindly shut the fuck up.” He leaned against the doorframe and scoffed, “Especially since you asked me.” You could barely see his eyes as his bangs covered them like drapes. In his hand he held his headphones, one of those fancy ones that lit up.

“Don’t make me tape your mouth shut,” you threatened and rolled your eyes, “When are you going to learn?”

The smirk on his face deepened as he leaned closer to you, “Oh I did. But I choose not to apply that knowledge.” He returned to his previous pose, tapping his foot impatiently.

Breathing fire, you scowled and let an angry sound erupt from your chest. You knew it wasn’t going to do anything yet you let it out out of pure frustration.

“Are you done now? I need to get back to gaming,”  he stuck a lip out as if he were begging you to leave, but it made you cringe so hard that that alone would have had you willingly fleeing from his floor and back to yours without question.

“No, I’m not done,” you retorted through gritted teeth, “Can you do your fucking–”

“Can you two please keep it down?” Donghyuck’s neighbour had poked her head out her own door, eyes unable to keep open. She was wrapped tightly in a robe and was probably half asleep. You felt bad. You knew how she felt. It was unfortunate that she lived next to a human air horn.

“Yeah, keep it down,” Donghyuck sniggered, directing all fault to you, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo but Y/N here is being quite an irritating little rat. Goodnight, Mrs. Seo.” Without a second thought nor glance, Donghyuck closed the door in your face, making sure to laugh out loud in the process.

You shot him one last glare at him through the door, hoping he’d somehow unconsciously feel the heat from your eyes and flipped him off all before turning sharply towards the stairs.

ii.

Donghyuck wasn’t one to have his moods change quickly. Often he’d spend an entire day in a good mood and if not, a terrible mood. And today, after meeting up with his friends across town, he could sense that this day could not go wrong.

It was about mid-afternoon when he arrived back at the building. From the bus’ view, he had spotted a fire truck parked along the fire lane in front of the apartment building. Off to the side, he could see familiar faces anxiously waiting to get back into their building.

“Mrs. Seo?” Donghyuck was puzzled at the scene. It was as if he’d walked into a movie theatre in the middle of its showing. There was no context provided and he was desperately curious.

“Donghyuck, it’s your room,” she hadn’t held back any information, “I heard Lisa and the twins arriving home from school and they knocked on my door and pointed at smoke leaking from underneath your door… we called the fire department and–“

“Who is the owner of apartment six-jay?” A firefighter slipped through the crowd, voice with great clarity in order for everyone to hear. Donghyuck has raised his hand. Everyone was soon led back into the building, being directed towards the stairs instead of the elevator as they had been shut off.

The firefighters led Donghyuck to his room once everyone had finally gotten to their own apartments. Donghyuck hadn’t completely processed the fact that his home was almost probably all ash. He needed to see it to believe it.

The door had been kicked to the ground, basically demolished. What used to be his kitchen was nothing but darkened wood and his living room was almost unrecognizable. Donghyuck’s mind runs back to all the previous belongings he had that were probably lost in the fire. He felt his shoulders grow heavy and his posture worsened by the second.

“The fire started from your room and it quickly spread throughout the apartment. It’s a wonder how the fire didn’t spread throughout the entire building, but everyone’s lucky that your neighbour had noticed smoke,” the firefighter explained, “The source of the fire was from all of the wires in your room…”

“Is there anything that wasn’t burned?” Donghyuck had finally processed everything. He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Everything was gone.

“You can see so for yourself,” the man had handed Donghyuck some safety gear and a box, “In these conditions, please be aware that there might not be anything left but it is still good to make sure.”

After rummaging through what looked like dirt, Donghyuck soon had come to the realization that the fireman was right. Not even his bed was in good condition. The fire had consumed nearly every single thing that belonged to him, aside from some clothes encased in his closet.

Before the firemen needed to leave, the last one out turned to Donghyuck, “Do you have any place to stay in for the meantime?”

He shrugged, “I’m not entirely sure, but I’ll figure it out… thank you.”

Nearly losing his entire ability to think straight, he found himself sitting on the rusting bench right outside the building. He only had his wallet, his phone, his charger, and the box of clothes that was safe from the flames.

He dialed Renjun first. He lived the closest and the hustle wouldn’t be as bad as going to Jeno’s or Jaemin’s.

“Hyuck? What’s up?” By the sound of it, Renjun was chewing on something crunchy, words muffled by the food.

“Hey, my… home burnt down…” Donghyuck wasn’t quite sure how he should break the news. He was still numb from the realization that he was basically homeless right now.

Renjun choked on his snack, “Your apartment? Like it’s all gone?” He was as shocked as he was when he got the news, “Is everything fine?”

“Yeah it is… except for the fact that I have nowhere to go while they fix it,” he sighed through the line, “T-that’s why I called you… I was wondering if I could possibly stay with you?” Donghyuck kicked his foot against the deteriorating pavement, feeling a slight bit embarrassed. Renjun was silent at the other end, probably thinking up ways this could happen. As the silence grew longer, Donghyuck started to wonder whether or not it was a good or bad thing. Maybe he was already getting stuff ready, or maybe he was trying to think of an easy way to let him down.

“Hyuck?” The tone was bad.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure I can let you stay here… you know I live with Yangyang and Chenle so it’s a bit crowded?” Renjun explained, “You already know I’d let you if there was free space…I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jun. I still have one option left so it’s not like you’re my last chance,” trying to brighten the mood, he forced out a small chuckle before he decided that ending the call was the best for him and Renjun, “I’ll see you, tomorrow?”

“I will! Good luck. I hope you find a place to stay.”

“Thanks, Junnie.” And the call ended.

Donghyuck scrolled through his contacts and straight to the J’s. He pressed on ‘Jeno/Jaemin’ as it was the landline and listened to it ring once before Jaemin picked up, “Donghyuckie! What’s up?”

He went through the same process as Renjun, only wishing that their answer was at the opposite of Renjun’s.

“It’s not that we don’t want you to stay with us… but it’s just that we don’t have space and it’ll be embarrassing if we let you stay with us… we’d feel bad for you.”

“You guys are my last chance,” he huffed out, “Where else can I go?”

“Maybe they have extra room on campus?” Jeno rang in, “I heard they have extra rooms in case a random student comes in.”

“I’ll try that… thanks guys.”

“We’re sorry!”

“It’s fine… bye.”

Donghyuck slumped in his seat, straightening his legs underneath him. He would rather not want to pay for an over expensive room at the university… but if that was his only choice, then so be it.

You hopped out of the bus, thanking the driver as you did. It caught Donghyuck’s attention almost immediately, head shooting at your direction. You were completely aware of Donghyuck’s glare and presence, firing back your own well planned glare. The hell was his problem? Quickening your pace, you yanked the door open and practically teleported inside and onto the elevator.

A small grin was soon plastered on Donghyuck’s face. An idea had popped into his head. But he wasn’t quite sure if it was a good one.

-

A heavy knock at your door had startled you. You were halfway to sleep, a nap calling you helplessly as you stared blankly at the Netflix screen. Whoever stood on the other side of that door didn’t know how to wait. It sounded like this person had a countless number of hands as the knocking didn’t dare stop until you unlocked your door.

You swung the door open to find Donghyuck standing in front of you. The way he held his body didn’t radiate the energy he usually held. It was actually quite depressing to see. It was like for once, Donghyuck wasn’t the vain and rambunctious boy that lived above you. He had his hands deep in his hoodie pockets and he wore a natural pout on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” It was surprisingly natural how the tone in your voice had sounded irritated. You were just used to speaking to him in such a way.

“I’m not here to piss you off,” he mumbled seriously.

You were thrown off at his reply, “Huh?”

“Can I come in?” If you weren’t looking at him as he spoke, you could probably hear his frown, “Please?” The sincerity in his eyes really proved that he was desperate about something and you weren’t quite sure what.

You wearily shuffled behind your door and let him through. Closing the door behind him, you turn around and see him rocking back and forth in place. It was weird seeing him in your home, “Okay… speak.”

“My entire apartment was burned. There’s basically nothing left,” he explained, “They said it was some type of electrical mishap because of my gaming stuff.”

If it was the right moment, you’d make fun of him for it. But you held yourself back as you sensed that the Donghyuck in front of you was not in the mood for pestering. How did you not know that the apartment directly above you had basically vanished from flames? “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that… and why are you telling me this?”

It took awhile for him to reply. He stared down at your feet, unable to string the right words together. It was a weird type of silence.

“I’m telling you this because I have a proposition.”

You sit down on your couch, “A proposition?”

“You know, like a proposal…”

“I know what a fucking proposition is, dumbass. What is it?” Donghyuck has never failed to provoke you.

“You let me stay here until they fix my place… and once I move back, I won’t make a single peep after one o’clock,” a sheepish expression surfaced on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Don’t you have friends?” you held back a laugh.

“I do, but none of them can take me in… you’re literally my only hope right now.”

“No. It was unbearable living beneath you and now living with you? No thanks,” you stood up and approached your door. Sure you felt kind of bad for him, but there was no way you were going to let this clown live with you.

He stopped your hand from turning the knob before he fell to his knees. He begged, “Please~ Please, Y/N! I’ll try not to keep you awake, I just need a place to sleep and eat and…” His bottom lip jutted out like a little toddler who was dying to play games on your phone.

You push him lightly out your door and sighed, “Look I’m really not looking for a roommate right now.” And it was true. There was a reason that you were still living alone after months of starting university.

“Please?” He sounded desperate now.

“No, Donghyuck,” you answered, “How about beg one of your friends?”

“I’m going to sit out here until you let me in,” he threatened.

“Do I look like I care? Because I don’t,” you say bluntly. You closed the door and went back to the nap you were ever so craving. If Donghyuck really was going to sit outside of your apartment, then let him. He was going to give up anyway.

The echoing sound of your empty stomach woke you up from your nap. The sunset being framed by your window indicated that it was inching closer to dinner time. A reminder had popped into your head that your kitchen held no groceries for dinner, meaning that you had to eat out and buy groceries. Which was perfectly fine with you.

Opening your apartment door, you feel a somewhat heavy object fall abruptly onto your feet. You shut your eyes tight, afraid that if you looked down you’d see something straight out of a horror film. It took a prolonged moment for you to actually build up the courage to open your eyes and look down.

Once you had reached the minimum amount of courage, you looked to your feet and found Donghyuck holding his head. He continued to curse under his breath, looking up at you, obviously irritated about what had just happened.

“Donghyuck, what the fuck?” You hit him with your purse, mostly because of how frightened you had been, “What the hell are you doing there?”

“I told you. I’m sitting out here until you let me stay with you,” he stood up and dusted off his pants, “I fell asleep.”

You gave him a dead look, not having it with him. This was the most you had conversed with him in one day and you really had to admit that talking to someone like Donghyuck was rather tiresome. Your door locked behind you as you pushed past him, ignoring the way he stood up with the built up energy he had in his body.

“Where are you going?” he followed you willingly. “Dinner. Groceries,” you mumbled. You were praying for the elevator to come faster.

“I’m coming with you,” he stated, standing at your side.

“No you’re not.”

As if the film had cut to the next scene, you found yourself sitting across from Donghyuck at a nearby McDonald’s. He was munching on his nth chicken nugget, cold drink in the other, as he blinked at whatever car drove past the building. The silence was awkward, but you’d rather it be awkward than hear his voice for at least the entirety of your stay at the restaurant. With his backpack sitting next to him, he looked like one of those kids you’d baby sit right after school.

Once you finished, you threw your garbage on the way out and started to walk to the grocery store right across the street. It wasn’t a surprise to you when you hear the nearing footsteps of Donghyuck. He didn’t say anything, he sort of just floated next to you.

Upon entering the store, you were actually relieved to see that Donghyuck had gone his own way. At first you thought about packing your cart with all that you needed and leaving him. But then you realized that there was seriously no use because he knew where you lived. At this realization, you decided that taking time was better on your energy level.

About ten minutes into the shopping trip, you were bent down in the ramen aisle, eyeing down which spice level you should get. Often, you’d get mild, but you found yourself needing more than what the package provided. The only thing holding you back was what if the ultra spicy was too spicy? Then it’d be a waste of ramen.

“Oh there you are,” Donghyuck had slipped into the aisle with his own basket full of goods, “I thought you left me or something.”

You glare at him before giving up and throwing both flavours into your cart, “You better be paying for your own stuff.” You start to roll it down to the front of the store and to self checkout.

“Of course I am,” he dropped his own basket to the checkout next to yours and started doing his own thing.

There was still a bit of hope in you that maybe, hopefully, one of Donghyuck’s friends would offer him a nice place to stay in instead of yours. But when you still felt the boy’s presence behind you as you left your apartment building’s elevator, you knew damn well that he really wasn’t going anywhere.

You groaned and turned around to face him. You noticed that you had startled him by the way his eyes widened and how he jumped back a bit, “You’re really not going to leave me alone, are you?” At this point, your fingers were grazing your door’s handle.

You thought about it on the way up. If you did let Donghyuck stay with you, you could tell him what to do and what not to do. It would be amusing. If he ever refused, you could tell him that he would have to find another place to stay. You could use it to your advantage.

Shaking his head, Donghyuck straightened his back, “Nope. Not at all.” His determination said it all. It was weaved with hints of desperation and you knew how easy it would be to persuade the boy into doing anything.

“Okay then…” you unlocked your door and gently pushed it open, “I’ll let you stay with me.” Before he could rejoice, you stopped him, “But on a few conditions.”

He nodded, “Anything.”

“Keep up your end of the bargain, the one you said earlier,” you started, “You can’t make any noise when I say so. Boundaries are important. No long showers. Remember that you’re a guest under my roof.”

“As long as I have a place to stay, then I’ll follow your rules,” he stated seriously. You weren’t sure if you could trust him or not. After all, it was Donghyuck. Not even 24 hours ago, his noise had woken you up from your sleep.

You motioned for him to enter first since you still needed to take your home key out. As he approached the interior end of your apartment, he beamed brightly at you. Donghyuck, who has lost control of himself due to the wave of relief he was feeling, brought himself to give you a short hug of gratitude. His arms had wrapped tightly over your shoulders. You froze at the contact.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered. He took a few steps back and smiled sheepishly at you, “W-where should I put my stuff?”

Still in shock from contact with Donghyuck, you couldn’t answer or think straight. You waddled to your kitchen counter and dropped your bags after you had closed and locked the door, “There’s a room down the… hall and to the right. That’s the extra room.”

“Thanks.” He smiled again and you were genuinely taken aback by how this boy, who was usually obnoxious and annoying, was acting. You blinked back at him and watched as he disappeared the deeper he had gone down the hall.

His duality was scary. It was unpredictable. It was the reason why you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

iii.

When Donghyuck said he’d follow your rules, you didn’t have any hopes in him actually following them. You knew how Donghyuck was. He’d lie to someone in order to get something he’d want in return. And this is one of those occasions.

Donghyuck gladly followed your ‘boundaries’ rule which at first seemed a bit rude as he didn’t even greet you in the mornings or evenings. You were letting him stay with you and you figured that that was probably better than nothing. After a bit of thinking, avoiding convos with Donghyuck would probably be a lot better than bickering that would probably wear you out over the period of his stay.

The only time these said ‘avoided’ convos would happen would be when Donghyuck couldn’t find the appropriate time to make noise and he would not listen when you told him to shut up. It was like you were practically babysitting a toddler, maybe even six of them, and they all would not listen to you.

It wasn’t often that you would physically go to the guest bedroom to tell him to shut up. Usually, you’d be the bigger person and try to mind your own business, but when you remembered that this was your home and not his, you decided to actually put a stop to it before you lost it.

You knocked twice on the door, hearing Donghyuck’s reply not even a moment after, “Come in!” He goes back to yelling at whoever he was playing with on the phone. When you had actually entered, you found him slumped against the headboard, headphones sitting ungracefully on his head.

“Can you… quiet down?” You put on a customer service-esque voice, “Please.”

Donghyuck didn’t let his eyes leave his screen, fingers going crazy on it’s touchscreen, “Nope.” You scowled at him, brows furrowing at the audacity this boy had.

“It’s almost one in the morning,” you pointed out.

“Didn’t know you were some kind of human clock,” he mumbled. The majority of his attention was still pinned on the screen, eyes darting towards you to see if you had gone and left the room.

You feel the expression on your face intensify. Walking up to the side of the bed, you grabbed his phone.

“What the hell?” He sat up and grabbed his phone back from you, “I’m not even that loud, quit being sensitive.” He quickly finished his game and shut his phone off, focusing on this situation with you.

“How about I kick you out by tomorrow morning?” you say as if you were bargaining. You knew that this was one way to get Donghyuck to shut the fuck up. Judging by how desperate he was before, you knew he had no other choice but to listen to you.

At this mention, he shut his mouth and frowned, “The fuck? Just because this once?”

“Quit being sensitive,” you mocked, “If you wanna stay in this room until your apartment is finished, you really need to watch how loud you’re being.” Seeing how much Donghyuck’s mood changed, you smirked. It worked.

“Fine…” He retorted, “Whatever.”

You huffed and turned to leave, the smirk reappearing on your face.

Y/N: 1

Donghyuck: 0

-

Leaving the apartment to Donghyuck for a weekend wasn’t something that you were quite in favour of. You, along with Yeji and Lia, had planned an entire weekend trip for the long weekend, and of course you were excited for it, but that was when Donghyuck’s apartment was still intact. Now that you knew we were leaving your beloved haven with Donghyuck, you were hesitant to actually go on said trip. But (no) thanks to Lia, she convinced you to come after hours of persuasion.

Upon returning, your heart dropped at the idea that Donghyuck might’ve burnt down your own apartment as well. But seeing that the door was still standing, you feel a slight wave of relief wash over.

“Thank goodness,” you mumbled.

Slowly, you unlocked your door and nudged it open. That was when you knew you had spoken too soon. What once was your nice and cozy, neat home had turned into some kind of new rat’s hole. It wasn’t too messy, but it just wasn’t something you were used to nor expecting. The coffee was filled with used dishes, the carpet had bits of crumbs everywhere, wrappers scattered on your previous couch, and the kitchen was littered with groceries that weren’t put back in its place. What made everything else worse was that you could hear Donghyuck yelling in the back, playing games instead of cleaning up his mess.

“Son of a bitch.”

You dropped your bags and made a beeline to the guest room, opening it without knocking, “The fucking audacity you have, Lee Donghyuck.”

“There’s something called knocking,” he scoffed.

“Clean my apartment,” you ordered, “I left this place clean.” You were fuming. This was the main reason why you didn’t want to leave, “I’m letting you stay here, as a guest, and you choose to treat it like it’s your own house. At least clean up after yourself.”

“I was, I just thought you were coming back tomorrow, not today,” he shrugged. Donghyuck redirected his focus to his phone, corner of his mouth angling up.

“Lee Donghyuck I swear if you’re starting another game, I’m kicking you out,” you warned. It was the same reason as before, only this time you were dead serious. This time you weren’t treating it as some sort of way to control him.

“If that’s what you want,” he stands up and bows, “Madame.” Donghyuck walks around you, hands in his pockets as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He knows he’s pissing you off and he’s enjoying it. What the hell is wrong with him?

You leave his room and grab your bags before dragging yourself into your room. Two strikes… three and he’s out.

-

You believed that home cooked meals were a lot more healthier than most of the affordable food you could get when you eat out. Which is why you opted to cook your own meals for half or possibly more than half of the week. Though they were often just simple recipes either your mom had taught you or ones you’ve seen on tv or youtube, you still took a lot of pride in those meals.

Trekking into the kitchen, you scrolled through the many possible recipes you could complete on your phone, mentally noting the ingredients. You pulled open the fridge, rummaging through its contents trying to find the specific items, which you clearly remembered you bought not even a week ago. Muttering underneath your breath, your mind wanders over to the other living being in your home. There was no way that those groceries could have magically disappeared, not in this universe at least.

Closing the fridge, you make your way to the pantry, still puzzled on the missing groceries, “I swear I bought a whole pack just last weekend.” But after scavenging the pantry, none of the ingredients you needed were sitting there waiting to be used.

“Lee Donghyuck!” you called.

Said boy appeared in the kitchen moments later, posture reflecting the fact that he did not want to be there, “What do you want now?” It was like you were living with a teenager.

“Did you eat all the food I bought?” usually you wouldn’t just accuse one of something, but knowing you hadn’t touched those groceries, Donghyuck was the only possible culprit for the missing food.

“Yes, and?”

“You do know those groceries were for our meals, right?” You walked past him and crouched down to the snack cabinet, opening it, “This is literally empty! Those were all my snacks! Who said you could eat whatever was in there?”

“I was hungry? I’m a guest, I should be able to do so.”

You wonder why Donghyuck would even be acting like he was if he knew that a place to stay was at stake, “You’re a guest, but not like that…” Again you change locations, “Where the hell are your manners? You sure as hell know that I hesitated letting you live with me and you choose to test me almost every other day! A one year old toddler knows better than you! Dumb shit, why did I even agree to you staying here?”

“One year olds can’t even complete an entire sentence,” he jokingly argued, “Isn’t that a bit too far?”

“Me? Too far? You’re taking it too far! You have no idea when to stop being immature!” The volume in your voice was increasing, “You’re twenty fucking years old, Donghyuck. You should be able to know when it’s good and when it’s bad to mess around.”

Simultaneously, he stands up and gives you an expression of hurt and anger, all in one. You could tell that you’ve actually, for once, offended him just by the look in his eyes. He muttered something underneath his breath before he started walking towards your door. Swiftly, he unlocked it, slipping out and shutting it without another peep.

Stunned, you blinked at the door, confused as to what had just happened. The silence that replaced the prior argument seemed to be louder than the argument itself… and you didn’t like that.

You leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. Where would he go? He didn’t have another place to stay and he left basically all his stuff in his room. Where would he go?

You dismissed the feelings of worry and guilt, shaking it all off before you locked the door and made your way to your room. You lost your appetite. You’ll just eat later.

In between your songs, the banging at your door caused your heart rate to escalate. You rolled over in your bed, almost falling off and straight onto your face, and ran to the door, not even thinking of looking through the peephole. Right as you threw the door open, Donghyuck pushed past you and straight to the kitchen.

“Donghyuck?” It was then you noticed he was holding bags of groceries, both of his hands white from the weight. He put them down softly beside the kitchen counter, stretching his back from relief.

“Fuck the grocery store and not letting me take the cart home,” he rested his upper body on the counter and took a quick breather, as if he had ran a 12k marathon.

“What is all this?” It was obviously clear to you what it was; bags filled with groceries, most of which were the ones he used up. The question was more specifically directed towards him and his sudden act of kindness.

“Groceries,” he replied. Even when exhausted, Donghyuck’s wit outshone.

“Well no shit…” you say, “I mean why.”

“I… thought about what you said,” he exhaled deeply. Donghyuck was irritated at how he was letting you win, “And you’re right. I’ve been acting like a dumbass. Especially since you’re letting me stay here.” To avoid the awkward eye contact, he decided to start sorting out the groceries, “I’m… really sorry. It didn’t occur to me how I was acting. From now on, I’ll actually act my age to make it up to you. I’ll act like a proper guest.”

You feel a small smile creep up onto your lips, “Donghyuck?” He hummed. “I forgive you.” You paused for a moment, “And I’m sorry for earlier… my emotions took control of me. I couldn’t hold myself back.” He chuckles lightly, turning to you, “It’s okay, it’s understandable…” He hears his own stomach growl. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you make dinner now? I’m starving.”

iv.

You glared at Donghyuck at the corner of your eyes as it sounded like he was purposely turning up the volume of his game. The background music, character voices, weapons slashing, and shooting, they all started to drown out the show you decided to put on the tv. You decided not to point it out at first because of a goal you had made to not seem like such a buzzkill all the time.

“This is the best weapon in the game,” he grinned proudly, “It’s my baby. My pride and joy.” The tv screen in front of you was suddenly blocked by Donghyuck’s phone screen. At the same time, the couch had dipped down slightly as he shifted over to you. He held the device there for longer than you cared, hand shaking as seconds passed. It almost made you laugh.

“Mmhmm,” you hum monotony, trying your best to keep your eyes on the screen, “That’s really cool.”

Donghyuck sat back in his spot, “You know I’m not stupid enough to not hear the sarcasm in your voice.” He tapped a few buttons to join the queue of the game.

“I know… I just don’t care,” you finally turned to face him, “Why don’t you just play that in your room? I’m trying to watch and all I hear are shooting sounds.” And at that you turned the volume up by two.

“It’s… quiet in my room,” he says quietly, “I’ll just turn my volume down.” Staying with you had caused Donghyuck to realize how lonely it actually was just staying in a single room the entire night with his eyes not leaving the screen. He figured that maybe, when you were planted on the couch, he’d hang around you for a nice change.

Keeping your gaze forward. Though it was hopefully not obvious on the outside, you were thrown off by  Donghyuck’s compliance. Turning ever-so-slightly, you peered at the boy. His head was bowed in order to look at his phone screen but, even so, you could see the tip of his tongue peek out between his lips. He looked so focused that you almost laughed out loud. Never did you think that a boy as garish as Hyuck would ever reach a state like that. He looked… cute.

You forced your eyes back to the television and knocked the thought out of your head like with a mental baseball bat. There’s no way you just thought that Donghyuck was cute. No way.

-

It hadn’t occurred to Donghyuck that you weren’t awake to leave in time for the bus until he already turned the front door’s knob halfway and his eyes had fallen on the only pair of shoes you would wear. He let go of the doorknob and kicked his own sneakers off of his feet, letting out a low groan only for him to hear. He knows that you probably worked on school work until late, which he found stupid since you could not, for the life of you, wake up later on to go to school.

Donghyuck knocked twice and waited for a reply, letting himself in when he hadn’t heard one. He snuck his head through the gap he made and set his eyes on your bed. He snorted at the sight of your passed out figure, leg sticking out from underneath the blanket and hanging off of your bed. Your mouth was wide open, freely giving flies a good place to hang out. Your textbooks and notes were scattered at the foot of your bed, your other foot leaving creases in them.

“Y/N, wake up you’re late,” he shook your shoulder, bending down a tad bit closer, “Wake up!”

Groaning, you shifted and grabbed his hand from your shoulder to push it away, “Donghyuck, can you please shut the fuck up?” You were unable to open your eyelids and your throat was still dry. Donghyuck continued to force his hand to your shoulder to shake you again, but you countered it with your own elbow strength.

“Hey the bus comes in a few minutes and you’re barely awake,” Donghyuck noted, “Hey wake up.”

For some reason, you hadn’t processed what he was saying. You genuinely believed he was only in there to irritate you at such an early hour. Refusing to retract his elbow, he applied a bit more pressure down onto you.

“Stop it!” you blindly swung an arm at his inner elbow which caused it to bend at contact. Donghyuck fell forward and onto you, all of it happening so fast that he couldn’t save himself. His face was only inches from yours, though you hadn’t noticed until your eyes had shot open from the sudden realization of the collision. The both of you laid there for a brief moment, staring at each other with wide eyes. It was all purely out of shock, like deer in headlights.

When you had processed it all, you rolled over, “Get out of my room!” It was then that you were suddenly aware of the situation. Classes started in less than an hour, the bus leaves in two minutes, and you were still not dressed. Curse the psychology homework you left until last minute.

Donghyuck pushes himself up, “I’m only here to help you!” He argued, “You know what? Why did I even try? I should’ve just left you here and let you miss your classes.” And at that, Donghyuck turned and exited your room, leaving your door open.

He jogged out of the apartment, slipping his nikes on as if they were crocs, creasing them carelessly. If you were the reason why he could be late, he wouldn’t know how he’d react. He just knew that he wouldn’t want that.

Donghyuck was just in time for the bus, greeting the driver quickly before finding a place to sit on the bus. He placed himself near the back at a window seat, leaning his head against the glass after he finally took the time to tuck his heels properly into his shoes. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His heart was beating faster than normal, adrenaline running through his body, only he wasn’t sure if it was from the thought of being late to class or because of what just happened between him and you.

-

You always set aside Friday nights for self care and movie nights. You’d put on a cheap drugstore face mask, dump a whole bag of your favourite chips into a bowl, pour yourself a cold drink, and pick out whatever movie that looked appealing. It was rather an ordinary routine, but you liked to think of it as something special.

Resting against the couch, you decided to pull up To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, hoping to watch the first and second movie even though you already watched both when they were initially released.

“Hey Y/N, have you�� oh hey, it’s that Noah dude that’s in every Netflix movie,” Donghyuck has emerged from his room, the first time since you both arrived from school. He leaned over the back of the couch and took in whatever scene was playing on the screen, “What are you watching?”

You turn around, face covered in an unnatural shade of purple, making Donghyuck jump a bit, “To all the boys I’ve loved before.”

“That sounds really dumb,” he snorted, but nonetheless he sits down on the cushion next to you.

You questioned his actions, glaring at him, “If you think it’s stupid, why does it look like you’re here to watch it.”

“I have nothing better to do. None of my friends are online,” he shrugged. Reaching over, he grabs a can of pop from the coffee table, snapping it open before taking a purposefully loud sip, “So why not?”

“I’ll only let you watch if you shut up,” you turn the volume up by one, “Okay?” He nods understandingly as he mirrors your resting figure on the couch. After what seemed like five minutes, he stretches his arm out to grab a handful of chips before throwing them all into his mouth at once.

“So… he’s only pretending to date her to make the blonde girl jealous?” It was astonishing to you how you actually understood everything he said through his mouth full of chips. He didn’t even try speaking loudly either.

“Basically,” you hummed in response.

“Does it work though?” He questioned after swallowing.

“Shhh, Donghyuck, just watch,” you flick his knee, directing an unamused look at his direction, “You’ll see.”

For a good portion of the movie, Donghyuck chose to keep comments to himself. Every time he would want to say something, he’d hold himself back, silently reacting to the rather dramatic parts of the film. It was admittedly a cute movie. He hadn’t seen anything like it in a while.

“Wait! It’s just a misunderstanding!” Donghyuck gasped. His legs were crossed underneath him, eyes planted semi-permanently on the screen, “She took that scrunched from him! He didn’t give it to her! Just when everything seemed fine.” You snickered at how into the movie he was. You didn’t react like he was when you first watched the movie.

“It’s so obvious that Gen did it,” He muttered, “Who the hell else would do it? She’s jealous as hell. Can she stop please?” From the corner of your eye, you could see that Donghyuck was close to throwing one of your throw pillows.

“I mean, at least Peter’s plan worked,” you responded quietly, sinking back into the couch, “It’s just that now it doesn’t really matter if it worked or not.”

“She’s acting like they’re still a thing,” Donghyuck scoffed, “They’re not.” He was one hundred percent for Lara Jean and Peter and it was actually pretty amusing in a cute way. But you weren’t saying that out loud, you’ll gladly keep it to yourself.

The movie slowly came to the end, wrapping up like it did in the books. “Why does she walk like that though,” he laughed, “Who walks like that normally?” He lays back against the couch and grins, “That was actually a good film…”

He was so immersed in the film that he hadn’t noticed that you had fallen asleep by the end, head falling in a strange way against the armrest of the couch. The way your chest had risen and fallen in such a calm and constant rhythm indicated to Donghyuck that you were having a good slumber. He didn’t want to wake you up. Not when you seemed so peaceful.

His eyes shifted to the thin blanket you already brought with you, clutched in your hand, then back to your face. He couldn’t help but trace your features with his eyes. There was no other time that he would be able to do this. When you were awake, you were too aware about everything he did, or what went on around you, but in this state, you were the complete opposite. He smiled softly at your serene figure, quickly shaking his head at the sudden change in image you had created in his head for that brief moment. As if it was something he’d do often, he easily laid your blanket over you, making sure it covered you chest down. I just need sleep, he thought, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

v.

Mutualistic (symbiotic) relationships in nature worked as so: both organisms in the relationship would both completely benefit from the other. It was funny to think that such relationships were always so dynamic. Who would have thought that an animal as large as a crocodile would benefit from a bird as tiny as the plover. It was interesting how it worked like that.

As weeks had passed with Donghyuck still living in your guest room, the both of you had noticed that having each other as temporary roommates actually wasn’t that bad. A parasitic relationship had slowly evolved into a mutual one and you wondered if something like this could actually happen out in nature.

You noted this shift when Donghyuck had arrived home from a study group with bags filled with groceries. Sure it wasn’t the first time he’d taken the action to do so, knowing how much you struggled with carrying bags home, but this time was different.

It was nothing drastic or overly significant, but it was something that caught your eye immediately and you couldn’t help feel your chest warm up a bit. Donghyuck had bought all of your favourite snacks and candies. Even the ones you couldn’t usually find in the grocery store you’d usually shop at. They were all bunched into one separate bag, indicating that this was in no case a coincidence. And at that thought you smiled and looked up at him, only he didn’t catch you looking. He was far too busy sorting the rest of the groceries into their respective spots.

“Thanks Donghyuck,” you say, quietly. Though it sounded like you were thanking him for doing another round of grocery shopping, this time, it was directed more towards his little deed.

“It’s no problem,” he offered a tight lipped smile before scrunching the bags into messy balls, stuffing them into a small bin with others. He turned back to the counter, realizing that he hadn’t unpacked the bag filled with your favourites, “You can do those right?” It wasn’t like he couldn’t do them himself. It was just that those were all meant for you.

You nodded, “Did you do this on purpose?” You started to take the snacks out of the bag, “These are my favourites.”

Donghyuck’s eyes widened out of panic of being exposed but you weren’t aware of his mood change as he quickly fixed his composure, “No? I mean… they just looked good so I got them.”

He was lying and you knew, “Mmhmm… that grocery store I shop at doesn’t even sell these.” You held up a flavourful bag of gummy bears.

“I passed by a corner store and got them.” Lying again. But this time you just hummed.

“Whatever you say, Hyuck.” The nickname had slipped out of your mouth so naturally that you didn’t catch yourself saying it. Donghyuck was obviously thrown off by the name, feeling his heart skip a beat for the second time in five minutes, “Thank you.”

He scoffed, trying to tap back into his usual self, “For buying food for me? Ah, you’re welcome.” Before you could say anything else, he rushed to his room, making up some lame excuse just to get out of the conversation.

It was funny because that wasn’t the last time he bought your favourites.

Donghyuck noticed this shift himself when he came home one day with his clothes neatly folded on his bed. The last time he’s seen his clothes, they were all piled at the corner of the room, dirty with sweat or generally smelling like it’s been soaking up the sun.

He dropped his bag by the room’s door, curiosity taking hold of him as he walked up to the folded clothes. They were clean. He smiled, sorting them out so they were organized the way he wanted them to be.

He could recall how he had told you he had no time to do laundry. From school and extra shifts at work, he was growing frustrated with everything that’s been piling up, finding no time to take care of himself at home. He had been re-wearing the clothes that seemed clean enough just to get through his day.

Leaving his room with a bit of pep in his step, he enters the kitchen where you had been working on some assignment. You didn’t look up, even with the hint of his presence, too indulged in your work.

“Y/N,” He strayed towards the dishwasher, grabbing a cup as if he was only there to grab water. Glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, waiting for your reply.

“What, Donghyuck?” you muttered. You weren’t trying to come off as rude but you didn’t want to lose the focus you had built up in the last 30 minutes. You typed away, ears perked up in order to hear the nonsense that could be coming out his mouth any second now.

“Thanks for doing my laundry,” he says sincerely. He chugged down the water that he poured into his glass and quickly washed the cup, “It doesn’t seem like a lot but it truly is.”

You finally look up at him, fingers pausing abruptly. Your eyebrows were raised, shocked at the tone in Donghyuck’s voice, “It’s no problem. I know that you’ve been busy. And you still buy groceries even when you’re running low on time.” And it was true. In a way it was your only way of giving back aside from letting him stay at your place.

Donghyuck couldn’t do anything but smile. He bowed his head slightly to reply wordlessly to you before retreating back slowly to his room.

-

Your thumb switched between the right arrow button and the down arrow button, scrolling through the selection of movies shown on the screen. The past half an hour, you had been trying to settle with a film that suited your mood, but since the movies seem quite uninteresting, time was being wasted.

Mentally, you kept a list of movies that stood out more than others, only not finally deciding because you opted to choose more options. The third Harry Potter film was among those, and honestly, looking at the rest of the movies, you really were leaning towards rewatching it instead of taking a risk and watching a one star film.

Double checking if you had everything you needed, you pressed a button to start it, the warner bros logo appearing after a dark screen. There was a hint of background music playing and a house appears after the logo. Then, you hear a door open and close, followed by light footsteps. You sit unbothered, already knowing what was about to happen.

“Oh, a movie?” Donghyuck’s voice bounced around the room and over the movie’s soundtrack, “I didn’t know you were watching a movie.” His footsteps grew softer indicating that he was on his way to the kitchen just a few feet from the couch. You stifle a laugh and shake your head slightly. Of course. It wasn’t the first time Donghyuck had coincidentally walked in right when you started a movie. It happened last week and the night ended up with him sleeping with the lights on. You knew that he started to like these unspoken movie nights. And you did too.

You keep quiet as you preferred to listen to the film than reply to the curious boy, already knowing he was getting ready to take his usual seat next to you.

“Is this Harry Potter?” And as you predicted, the right side of the couch dips down slightly under Donghyuck’s weight. He sets down his own cup of pop and a movie snack in front of him.

“Yeah, the third one,” you blinked at the screen, “It’s probably my favourite one.”

“I’ve only seen the first one,” he states, “So you have to catch me up a bit.”

You sighed, “It’s okay, it’s easy to understand.”

Donghyuck takes a slight glance in your direction. You were slumped, cross legged, underneath your blanket, bag of chips sitting on your lap and a can of pop in your left hand. You looked cuddly. You didn’t know it. And Donghyuck didn’t know this until he had the sudden urge to scoot over to your side in order to feel completely comfortable.

Subtly, Donghyuck shifts his weight from one side to the other, crossing his legs. His knee sat rather closely to yours. A part of him did it on purpose, leaving the rest stunned at the close interaction. You didn’t move away, mostly because your knee was covered with your blanket. You couldn’t tell the difference between the blanket and Donghyuck’s knee.

Again he took a peek at you unconsciously, brain and muscle control seemingly working separately. He admitted it to himself he liked these movie nights. Even if you both unspokenly only had three. It was different from how he’d usually spend nights alone. It was a good different.

His phone buzzed, Jeno’s name popping up on the screen: Sick again? Feel better :)

Quickly unlocking his phone, he had texted back a ‘thanks Jeno’ before setting it back down in the crack of the couch. He had declined an invite from Jeno to go see a movie in the theatres in an hour, but the idea of spending the night just on the couch seemed much more appealing than having to go out and get ready to do the same thing.

One more time, in the corner of his eye he took in your figure. Whether he stayed home because he was too lazy to get ready or because he secretly wanted to spend time with you… we’ll never know.

vi.

“Thank you so much for the update.”

You had walked in after an energy draining shift to Donghyuck getting off the phone. The way he smiled caused him to embody happiness, radiating sunshine as he beamed at you.

“You look fucking stupid,” you say to break the silence creeping up on both of you. In reality he didn’t look stupid, he looked like a cute little kid being told news he was going on a fun family trip.

“My apartment’s done in a week!” He did a small dance to express what he was feeling, his smile not faltering one bit.

Your heart dropped a bit, the feeling of disappointment overtaking it. You brushed it aside, “That’s great to hear! Now I can kick you out for good.” You let out a small laugh to indicate it was a harmless joke before you make your way to your room, this conversation being something you want to avoid.

You had grown used to Donghyuck. His noise, his presence on the Friday movie nights, the never-empty fridge and pantry due to his constant visits to the grocery store. It was weird thinking that that’d be all gone by next week. You would have never thought you’d want him to stay…?

The hell? I want him to stay?

You flicked your own forehead before shaking it as if water had gone into your ear. You shake it to get rid of those thoughts you were ever so scared of confronting.

You sat down on your bed and sighed. Funny how over a month ago you strongly yearned for Donghyuck to leave. You wanted nothing to do with him, threatening to kick him out everytime he ever so slightly crossed the line. But now, you wouldn’t think twice seeing the boy passed out on the couch. You wouldn’t mind him taking up time in the washroom or yelling at ungodly hours at night. It was clear that he had grown on you. And instead of being thrilled that you’d get your apartment back to yourself, you were secretly hoping that time would move a bit slower just so Donghyuck wouldn’t move back any sooner.

Donghyuck made his way back to the guest room, a bittersweet feeling lingering in his chest. The news he had just gotten was great. It was information he had been waiting for for the past few weeks. But he had such a good time staying with you… he wondered if your guys’ relationship would be the same as it is now when he does move back. It’s not like he was leaving the city. He was literally only moving a floor up. If you both stood directly in the same spot in your apartments, you would be closer to each other than you would be staying in the same apartment and different rooms.

Would it be weird to ask you if you would still be friends? Maybe a little bit. But if Donghyuck had to do it, to ensure the growing worry in himself, then he’d do it.

-

Symbiotic relationships were easy to understand. It was grade seven level science after all. But something that wasn’t as simple to understand was the fact that you were actually going to miss Lee Donghyuck once he moved back to his apartment.

There was still that little voice inside of you that was telling you to quit it. That he was moving back tomorrow and after he does move, you probably won’t even have the same relationship as now. It was better to cut those arising feelings short before they actually endure.

Donghyuck has been spending a bit less time in your apartment and in his, making sure everything was good to go once he returned to his man hole. You could hear his voice through the ceiling. It honestly sucked because you wanted to spend the last week just spending time with him.

“How’s everything going?” You questioned as he appeared through the front door. You were on your way to your room, notebook and laptop sitting snugly in your arms. The time was drawing close to eleven and you could feel the residence of the apartment building all going to sleep. You figured it was time for you to go to bed too.

“Almost set,” he replied quietly, “I can finish them tomorrow.” A silence hung in the air as you tapped your fingertips against the edge of your laptop.

“That’s good.” Though it wasn’t obvious to Donghyuck, you had tried to force the content tone blanketing over the mixed emotions, “Well goodnight… will I still you tomorrow?”

You remembered Donghyuck saying he was moving back early morning, but knowing him and his habits, it would probably be postponed till midday.

“Maybe,” he laughed softly, “Maybe not.”

You let a laugh similar to his before backing into your room and shutting the door. Sighing heavily, you dragged yourself to your desk and set your things down. Maybe you should wake up early just to say goodbye.

Donghyuck smiles at your door, before calling it a night himself. Tomorrow he was moving back and tomorrow he wanted to tell you something. Maybe.

-

Surprisingly, Donghyuck had woken up before his alarm which was set to go off at nine in the morning. He sighs and blinks at his door a couple of times before getting up and making the bed, wanting it to look presentable for when you come in to clean it.

After he had followed his usual routine, changing into day clothes, brushing his teeth, washing his face, and fixing his hair, he set his backpack down beside the door beside his shoes. He stood there for a moment, resting his hands on his hips and huffed. Within his chest he could feel that same bittersweet feeling he felt about a week ago when he was told his apartment was finished.

Unconsciously, he turned back towards the hallway and stood in front of your room. Is Y/N sleeping? He questioned himself. Probably, he countered. Though his head was telling him to not bother you, his body had decided that it was a great idea to knock, not once but twice.

“Come in.” Unexpectedly, you had replied, voice sounding like you had been awake for a while. And the truth was, you had been awake since eight, unable to go out and face Donghyuck.

“Can I talk to you?” Donghyuck’s head was barely pushed through the crack he had made, door hiding anything below his eyes.

You were partly laying down in your bed, phone in hand. Sitting up, you nodded, “Yeah of course, what’s up?” You watched Donghyuck swing the door so that his entire body was visible. He had a sheepish smile on his face, eyes unable to sit on you as he glanced around your room.

“I just wanted to say thank you for letting me stay here,” he says seriously, finally bringing himself to look at you, “I really do owe you shit… I owe you so much. So if you need me, then I’ll do anything.”

You couldn’t help but feel the inside of your chest warm up to your temporary roommate. A smile crept up onto your face and you nodded, “I got to be honest, you already know this, but I really didn’t want you staying with me… but I guess it wasn’t that bad at the end. No problem.”

He bows his head gently and turns to leave, only stopping to turn around again, “Oh by the way, I don’t think you’ll hear me causing a ruckus for a bit because I still need to save up for new equipment.”

You laughed and joked, “Sounds good to me.”

“Bye Y/N.” Donghyuck licks his eyes with yours for a prolonged moment, sparkling in yours. Your stomach bursts with butterflies, feeling yourself squeal internally at this type of contact.

“Bye Hyuck.” And at that he leaves.

You were engulfed with a heavy feeling that you weren’t usually familiar with when it came to Donghyuck. Often you’d know if it were hate or annoyance or amusement. But this was different. The flame in your chest was growing stronger and this time you really couldn’t ignore it. You cringe at the butterflies in your stomach that were alive than never before.

Once you heard the door to your apartment close, that was when you finally gave in to that feeling that started to grow slowly and subtly without your knowledge.

You liked Donghyuck… you really liked Donghyuck and there obviously was no running from it now.

Donghyuck enters his apartment and is immediately greeted with silence. Though he’s only stayed at your apartment for about a month, he without a doubt had grown to get used to your presence greeting him at the door. It was just weird now. He should’ve asked you to help him sort his new furniture. Then he could be around you longer for a good reason and that could give him a chance to actually ask you if you guys could still be friends.

He loved your presence. He loved the movie nights you both had and the short yet amusing banters. You two actually complimented each other well despite the fact that at first you two seemed to be polar opposites… but that was it, you guys were opposites but that was why you both went well together. He loved the friendship that you guys had managed to muster up within a month.

Involuntarily, Donghyuck shakes his head at the thought of being just friends. A friendship was far different from what he wanted. And at that conclusion, he made up his mind. He liked you, maybe closer to love than like. He wanted more, and it took him this long to finally admit it.

At that second, someone knocked on his door twice, his head snapping towards that direction. He feels the beat of his heart quicken in pace as he approaches it slowly. Answering it, he remembers when you were there about aa month ago just to tell him off. Donghyuck laughs, “Y/N? Missed me already?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Shut up Hyuck… you know how you owe me?” He nods, unable to predict  what was coming up next.

“Well how about you take me out to dinner…” You cringed at how you worded that. It sounded like you were demanding it. This mistake caused you to back up a bit sheepishly.

Donghyuck smiles at your cute behaviour, stepping forward to keep the distance the same, “Like a date?”  It was your turn to nod.

“Then I would love to.”