#❛ such is not your strong suit yet you call to those who answer. // asks.

[diamonddaze01]

nice try, love

pairing: boo seungkwan x reader | wc: 5.6K genre: college au, fluff, humor, suggestive warnings: language a/n: did i write this at work? the world may never know. happy birthday, boo seungkwan, light of my life, king of all good things // big thanks to @gotta-winwin for beta-ing for me serena i adore u

summary: Okay FINE, maybe planning a surprise birthday party isn’t your strong suit, but at least it’s the thought that counts… right?

You're pretty sure Vernon has never planned a surprise party in his entire life.

He's sprawled out on the couch in your shared college apartment, one leg dangling off the side as if gravity has just given up on him. The faint glow of his phone illuminates his face, his thumb lazily scrolling while the soft hum of the fridge fills the otherwise quiet room. You're seated on the floor by the coffee table, absently flipping through your notes for a class you’re definitely not studying for.

“What are you doing for Seungkwan’s birthday?” Vernon asks suddenly, his voice breaking the calm monotony. He doesn’t even look up, just tosses the question out like it’s a passing thought.

You freeze, the corner of your textbook pinched between your fingers. “Uh…” Your mind blanks. “I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it yet.”

Vernon finally turns his head, his sleepy eyes peering at you like he’s just stumbled upon the most obvious solution to life’s greatest mystery. “You should throw him a surprise party.”

“A surprise party?” you repeat, tilting your head.

He nods. “Yeah. Cake, decorations, people yelling, ‘Surprise!’ The whole thing. He’d like that, wouldn’t he?”

You mull it over, and almost immediately, the idea sparks something warm in your chest. It’s so him. Seungkwan thrives on celebration—on being surrounded by people he loves, laughing and basking in the moment. But he’s always the one making those moments happen for everyone else.

“He really would,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Vernon. Then, louder, with growing determination: “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it!”

“Cool,” Vernon says, his tone still maddeningly indifferent.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re helping.”

He blinks, finally looking up from his phone. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

You groan, already regretting enlisting him. “Okay, first question: What kind of cake should we get?”

“Vanilla,” Vernon answers immediately, like he’s just solved world hunger.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Vanilla. For Seungkwan.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Cake’s cake.”

“Cake is not just cake!” you snap, tossing a pillow at him. He barely flinches, letting it bounce off his chest. “He deserves something amazing, not... vanilla.”

“Alright, chocolate, then,” Vernon offers, leaning his head back against the couch.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “You’re stressing too much. Just... keep it simple.”

“Simple isn’t Seungkwan,” you mutter, already typing notes into your phone. “Streamers, balloons, cake, music... what else?”

Vernon hums noncommittally, but you can’t focus on his lack of enthusiasm because the sound of a key turning in the front door sends your heart into overdrive.

“Hey, I’m home!” Seungkwan calls, his cheerful voice cutting through the relative quiet of the apartment like a bell.

Your head snaps up so fast that your phone nearly catapults out of your hand. Panic flares in your chest as you lock eyes with Vernon, who has the nerve to just sit there, unbothered, like you’re not seconds away from blowing the entire operation.

“Nothing!” Vernon blurts out, his voice loud enough to startle a bird into flight—if there were birds in your apartment, which you almost wish there were, just to distract Seungkwan.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss, your whisper sharp enough to cut glass.

Vernon shrugs, his expression as neutral as ever. “What? It’s fine.”

“It is not fine!” you snap, frantically shoving your phone under a pillow as footsteps draw closer.

Seungkwan rounds the corner, a reusable grocery bag in one hand, his keys jangling in the other. His brows knit together the moment he sees the two of you sitting there like deer caught in headlights.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his tone laced with suspicion.

There’s a beat of silence, long enough for your heart to climb into your throat, before Vernon, bless his completely oblivious soul, decides to take the reins.

“Uh, politics,” he says, delivering the word with all the confidence of a first-grader who just learned it in social studies.

“Politics?” Seungkwan repeats, his face immediately twisting into incredulity. His gaze flicks between you and Vernon like he’s waiting for someone to explain why that makes absolutely no sense. “You two don’t talk about politics.”

“Well,” Vernon says, stretching the word out as if buying himself time, “we do now.”

You slap a hand over your face, half-expecting Seungkwan to see right through the lie. And judging by the way his eyes narrow, he’s definitely suspicious.

“...You okay?” Seungkwan asks, his question directed at you now, his voice softer but no less probing.

“Fine!” you chirp, your voice rising an octave too high. “Totally fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Seungkwan stares at you, unblinking, like he’s watching an amateur magician botch their first trick. His head tilts slightly, his gaze sharp and calculating. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he starts to piece something together.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you scramble for a distraction, but Seungkwan only clicks his tongue and turns toward the kitchen. “Alright…” he says slowly, his tone dripping with doubt. “I’m gonna start dinner.”

You exhale sharply as he disappears around the corner, but your relief is short-lived.

“I should probably head out,” Vernon mutters, already rising from the couch and grabbing his jacket.

“Don’t you dare leave me!” you whisper-yell, clutching at his arm.

He gives you a pitying look, gently prying your fingers off him. “Good luck with your, uh, thing,” he says vaguely, before booking it toward the door like the apartment’s on fire.

You groan, slumping against the couch as the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone with Seungkwan’s lingering suspicion and an overwhelming sense of impending doom.

By the time you’ve retreated to the bathroom to brush your teeth, hoping to quietly end the night, you can already hear Seungkwan’s footsteps padding down the hall. They’re not hurried—he knows exactly where you’re going and, more importantly, that he’s going to follow you.

You grip your toothbrush a little tighter, squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles with the precision of someone who definitely isn’t harboring a secret. The mirror reflects your determined expression, and you silently pep-talk yourself: Act casual. Act normal.

The door creaks open behind you.

“I know you’re hiding something,” he says, his voice low and sing-songy, like he’s just stumbled upon buried treasure.

“Nope,” you reply, your voice muffled by the toothbrush already working overtime in your mouth. “Noffing.”

He steps closer, and suddenly his arms are around your waist, his chin settling on your shoulder. His lips brush against the nape of your neck, soft and warm, and you almost drop your toothbrush.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into that dangerously teasing tone that makes your knees feel like jelly.

You laugh, the toothpaste threatening to foam out of your mouth. “Ish a shpurrise!”

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. He’s pouting—full lips pushed out and eyebrows furrowed in a way that’s completely unfair. “I don’t like surprises,” he whines, dragging out the words like a child denied candy before dinner.

“You’ll like this one,” you manage after spitting out the toothpaste, flashing him a grin.

“I don’t trust that.” He narrows his eyes but doesn’t let go, his chin dropping back onto your shoulder as he watches you rinse your mouth. “You’ve been acting weird all night.”

“Me? Weird?” You feign offense, spinning in his hold to face him. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” His voice is skeptical, his hands tightening their hold as if he’s daring you to deny it again.

“Yes,” you say firmly, ducking under his arms and making a break for the bedroom.

“Yah!” He’s right behind you, groaning dramatically as he follows you down the hall. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” you tease, tossing him a mischievous smile over your shoulder.

“Annoying!” He flings the word at you, though his tone is far too affectionate to take seriously.

By the time you reach the bed, he’s already poking and prodding at you like a nosy kid trying to open a Christmas present early. His fingers find your sides, digging in just enough to make you squirm, and before you can stop him, he tackles you onto the mattress.

“Seungkwan!” you yelp, laughter spilling out as his hands mercilessly tickle your sides.

“Tell me what you’re hiding!” he demands, his voice dramatically over the top. “I won’t stop until you do!”

“Never!” you manage between gasps, kicking your legs in a futile attempt to escape his grip.

“Fine,” he huffs at last, sitting back on his knees as you lie sprawled out, desperately catching your breath. His chest heaves slightly, his hair adorably mussed from the effort. “Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out myself.”

“You can try,” you retort, your grin returning as you reach up and pinch his side.

He yelps, the sound high-pitched and far more dramatic than necessary, before flopping down beside you with a groan.

“Please,” he scoffs, his voice muffled by the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. “You’re about as hard to read as a picture book.”

You roll your eyes, your fondness for him making your heart ache in the best way. “Good night, Boo Seungkwan,” you say good-naturedly, leaning over to flip off the light before pressing your body against his warmth.

A second ticks by. Then another.

“I’m gonna find out,” he whispers, his voice filled with playful determination.

“SLEEP, Seungkwan,” you reply, burying your face against his chest with an exasperated groan.

If thoughts could kill, Vernon would be buried 10 times over by now.

You glare at him from across the tiny coffee shop table, the faint scent of espresso and baked goods doing little to calm your nerves. Your phone screen lights up with a notification that makes your stomach drop.

bonon: what time are we settin up for seungkwan [Message unsent.]

Your eyes snap up to meet Vernon’s wide-eyed stare. His phone is still in his hand, held like he’s trying to will it into a time machine.

“Did you just—?” you hiss, leaning forward, heart pounding.

“I fixed it!” Vernon whispers, his tone frantic but somehow still too casual for the current crisis.

“You didn’t fix anything!” you whisper-yell, glancing nervously around the café. Though Seungkwan isn’t here yet, his arrival is imminent, and your panic is building by the second.

“I unsent it,” Vernon insists, his expression somehow both sheepish and proud.

“You think that makes it better?” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “He gets notifications, Vernon. He saw it.”

“Maybe he didn’t?” Vernon suggests weakly, though his tone betrays his lack of faith in that hope.

Your phone buzzes again.

kwannie baby: what are we setting up for

“Oh my god,” you mutter, shoving your phone face-down on the table. “You just ruined everything.”

“Did I, though?” Vernon asks, tilting his head as he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Yes!” you snap. “You absolutely did!”

Vernon leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Okay, so... Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you echo incredulously, gesturing wildly. “We don’t have a Plan B!”

“We should probably make one, then,” Vernon replies, utterly unbothered as he picks up his cup of iced coffee and takes a sip.

Before you can throttle him, the bell above the door jingles. Your head swivels toward the sound, and there he is: Seungkwan, freshly showered from his post-class gym session and looking devastatingly good in his hoodie and jeans.

Your heart skips when he spots you, his face lighting up in a way that always makes you weak in the knees. He strides over with purpose, and before you can even say hello, he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, love,” he murmurs, his voice warm and familiar, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Then his eyes flick to Vernon, narrowing slightly. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out. Vernon, to your absolute horror, looks at Seungkwan and says, “Oh, just planning your—”

You kick him hard under the table before he can finish. He chokes on his words, doubling over as he clutches his shin.

“Planning your... downfall,” you finish smoothly, shooting Vernon a pointed look. “It’s, uh, a surprise. For later. Just trust me.”

Seungkwan raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but to your relief, he doesn’t push.

Seungkwan’s eyes narrow further, darting between the two of you with the precision of someone who’s used to sniffing out secrets. “Uh-huh.”

“Why do you look so suspicious?” you ask, forcing a laugh. “We’re literally just hanging out.”

“Because Vernon looks like he just committed a crime,” Seungkwan points out, sliding into the seat beside you. “And you sound like you’re covering for him.”

You elbow Vernon under the table, and he jolts, his iced coffee nearly tipping over. “Ow!”

“See?” you say, gesturing to Vernon. “He’s clumsy, not criminal.”

“Right,” Seungkwan drawls, though his skepticism is written all over his face.

Your phone buzzes again, and you flinch.

“You’re acting weird,” Seungkwan says, watching you closely. His gaze is soft but knowing, like he’s already halfway to figuring it all out.

Vernon coughs, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Uh, I should head out. Got... uh, stuff. Important stuff.”

“Yeah, okay,” Seungkwan says, not even sparing him a glance as Vernon escapes, leaving you to fend for yourself.

As the door jingles shut, Seungkwan turns his full attention to you, his expression a perfect mix of curiosity and mild exasperation. “So,” he says, leaning closer, “what time are you setting up for whatever you’re not telling me about?”

“It’s nothing!” you protest, though you’re certain your nervous laugh is giving you away.

He hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t push. Instead, he leans back in his chair, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Good luck,” you mutter, grabbing your coffee and taking a long sip.

Seungkwan grins, his eyes glinting with determination. “Oh, I don’t need luck. I’ve got you.”

“I have class,” you grumble, pushing your chair back with a little more force than necessary as you stand up. You reach for your bag, not wanting to be around for his inevitable victory lap when he figures it out.

You’ve made it almost all the way to the exit when Seungkwan calls out behind you, loud enough for the whole coffee shop to hear:

“Baby, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met!”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t look back. You step out into the crisp air with a huff, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that knows Seungkwan’s right.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. What is he doing here?

You freeze in the middle of the party supply aisle, your hand instinctively reaching for the closest balloon like it’s some kind of lifeline. It’s way too late to duck down behind the shelves now. You’re too obvious, too exposed. The very last thing you needed was for Seungkwan to walk in and find you face-to-face in the party aisle, surrounded by garish streamers and enough confetti to make a hundred surprise parties.

Seungkwan appears at the end of the aisle, holding a basket with a couple of random items in it. His eyes catch yours almost immediately, and you see the shift in his expression from casual curiosity to that all-knowing smirk.

“You’re... here?” he asks, slowly taking in the sight of you standing next to a pile of “Happy Birthday” balloons, clutching one like your life depends on it.

You swallow hard, trying to think of any excuse that could remotely make sense, but your brain is a desert. A blank, empty desert where words go to die.

“Oh, uh…” You clear your throat, your voice coming out higher than usual. “I—well, I’m just... uh…” You gesture vaguely to the colorful chaos around you. “I’m... I’m really into, uh... party supplies? You know, just... really into birthday decorations? For me. My own... birthday.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “Your birthday’s not until, like, three months from now.”

“I... I’m planning ahead!” you blurt out. The words are out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl under a rock. “Yeah, I just... I like being prepared. You know, for... my birthday. So I came to buy—uh, extra decorations. For the future.”

He stares at you, silent for a long, drawn-out second. Then he starts walking toward you, his grin widening with every step.

“You’re buying this much stuff for your birthday... three months ahead of time?”

“Yep,” you say brightly, nodding like a lunatic. “It’s, uh, a big deal. I like to be organized. Very organized.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Seungkwan says, leaning on the shelf next to you, his expression equal parts amused and skeptical.

“No, I—uh...” You falter, feeling your face heat up. “I—look, I just like... I really like this section, okay? Do you not... do you not see how many different kinds of candles there are? And look, there’s a whole section just for cupcake toppers!”

“Cupcake toppers,” Seungkwan repeats slowly, narrowing his eyes at the pile of rainbow-colored decorations.

“Yeah, you know!” You start picking up random things off the shelf to emphasize your desperation. “Like these! These would be great for a... you know... a hypothetical cupcake situation, if I were to ever... bake cupcakes, for my birthday.”

Seungkwan looks like he’s about to say something, then stops, shaking his head. He sighs dramatically, clearly both amused and slightly exasperated. “I’m not buying it, you know.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, his tone suddenly much softer. There’s a quiet amusement in his eyes, but it’s laced with that knowing glint—the same one you’ve been trying to avoid all afternoon.

“I’m not doing anything,” you mutter, trying to look innocent.

Seungkwan’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he steps closer, his body practically crowding you against the shelves, trapping you in a bubble of warm, teasing energy. You have nowhere to go. Your pulse quickens, and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

“So, tell me, love,” Seungkwan murmurs, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “What exactly are you hiding in this aisle of confetti and latex?”

He’s so close now that his breath ghosts over your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His smirk is pure trouble.

You can feel your heart thudding in your chest, and you try to steady your breathing. “I’m not hiding anything,” you manage to force out, voice tight and slightly strangled.

Seungkwan tilts his head, his smirk widening. “You’re making it awfully hard to believe that.” His eyes flick to the basket you’ve been clutching as a shield. “What’s in there? More... party supplies for your upcoming birthday?”

“I—” You open your mouth, but no words come out. The lie is falling apart, and you can feel it. You’re seconds away from completely cracking.

Seungkwan watches you, amusement dancing in his gaze. “I’ll give you a chance,” he says, drawing out the words with purpose. “Tell me the truth.”

“I—” You open your mouth, but no words come out. The lie is falling apart, and you can feel it. You’re seconds away from completely cracking.

Instead of pressing further, Seungkwan just shrugs, his smile softening with a quiet, knowing satisfaction. He grabs the basket from your hands with ease, his eyes never leaving yours as he tucks it under his arm.

“Wanna go home and watch the newest episode of Queer Eye?” he asks casually, as if he didn’t just catch you red-handed.

You blink, completely thrown off by his sudden shift in demeanor. “Wait, that’s it? You’re just going to let it go?”

He shrugs again, already walking away with your basket in hand, that smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Eh. I’ll get you in a bit. But now I want to watch Jonathan Van Ness’s hair tutorials. So, we’re going home.”

You stand there for a moment, still trying to process the fact that he just let you off the hook so easily.

“Fine,” you huff, following him, but a grin sneaks onto your face. “But I swear to God, if you make me watch that episode again...”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Seungkwan says over his shoulder, winking at you. “Let’s get this over with so we can eat snacks and judge everyone’s outfits.”

As Seungkwan checks out with your basket, you pull out your phone and quickly text Vernon:

y/n: fucked up. u need to get the balloons and the decoration

Seconds later, Vernon responds: 

bonon: slay now we’re even

You roll your eyes, quickly putting your phone away before Seungkwan can lean over and see.

The soft hum of the TV fades into the background as Seungkwan casually stretches out on the couch, pulling your feet into his lap and beginning to massage them with a practiced ease. You sigh in contentment, throwing your legs across his lap, grateful for the warmth and relaxation.

For a few moments, there’s nothing but the gentle kneading of his hands and the soothing chatter of the Queer Eye episode playing in front of you. It's easy, comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that you almost forget that you’re trying to keep a pretty huge secret from Seungkwan.

You glance over at him, watching his concentrated expression as he works his thumbs into your arches.

“Mm,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet yours, “You’re really so busy these days.”

You stiffen for a second before relaxing again, pretending not to hear him. You shift slightly, trying to play it off.

“Busy? No, I’m not busy. Just… work stuff, you know.” You wave a hand dismissively, keeping your voice light and unbothered.

Seungkwan doesn't buy it. His fingers tighten around your ankle for a brief second before he continues massaging, the gesture far too casual for how sharp his eyes are.

“I don’t know,” he says, voice low and casual, almost like he's just making an observation. "You’ve been awfully ‘busy’ lately. You’re hardly ever around anymore. No late-night study sessions. No random make-outs. Kinda weird, huh?"

Your stomach drops a little. Seungkwan’s always been perceptive, and it's impossible to hide anything from him when he starts paying attention.

You clear your throat and try your best to stay nonchalant. “Nothing weird about it. Just… start of the semester, I guess. You know how it is.” You try to shrug, but it only makes it worse—like you’re overcompensating.

Seungkwan doesn’t stop massaging your feet, but his gaze never leaves your face. He tilts his head slightly, as if deep in thought, then slowly, his hands shift. Instead of being gentle, he yanks you by the ankle, pulling your entire body forward with a playful yank that has you flopping onto your back on the couch, flat against the cushions.

Before you can protest, he hovers over you, his grin only widening as he watches you squirm.

"I hope you know you're not fooling me," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an underlying note of seriousness in it. The kind of seriousness that comes when he knows something’s up but is enjoying the game.

His lips are warm against your cheek as he presses lazy kisses all over your face, his breath soft and steady, almost like he’s savoring the little moments of closeness. Your heart stammers in your chest.

You squirm a little, trying to escape his grasp. "I thought you wanted to watch Jonathan Van Ness," you protest weakly, but the words come out a little too breathy.

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he smiles, pressing another kiss against your forehead, then your nose. The warmth of his lips lingers long enough that you almost forget where you were, and by the time he finally slots his mouth against yours, the protests die in your throat, replaced with a sigh of contentment.

"Mm," Seungkwan murmurs, pulling back for a breath before his lips find yours again. "But you're so much more interesting."

His words settle in your chest, and for a moment, you forget about the party, forget about everything else. It’s just Seungkwan, and you, and the quiet between the kisses.

Still, you know the game isn’t over. You can feel it in the way he looks at you—like he knows you're hiding something. But for now, you let him have his victory. Just a little longer.

"No, Vernon, it has to be CENTERED!"

You’re on your knees, positioning the large banner across the living room wall, your hands gripping the edges as you try to align it just right. But no matter how much you adjust, something always feels off—too far left, too far right, too high, too low. You’re hyper-aware of every detail.

Vernon stands next to you, arms crossed and watching you with an amused expression as you mutter to yourself under your breath, too caught up in the task to notice his casual shrug.

"You’re overthinking it," he says, voice unbothered. "It’s fine."

You shoot him a look that says everything. "It’s not fine! This is Seungkwan’s birthday, Vernon, it has to be perfect."

"Okay, okay," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Perfect. Whatever you say. But—" He glances over at the stack of balloons in the corner, then at the unlit candles on the table. "He’s definitely going to be surprised, alright?"

You’re still unconvinced. You pause, stepping back to assess the banner once more. Something about it feels off. Your anxiety crawls up your spine, and you chew at your lower lip, looking between the decorations and the front door.

"Sure," you say, but the doubt lingers in your voice. "But I still feel like he's going to know."

Vernon raises an eyebrow. "You think he knows? You’ve been dodging him all week. No way."

You huff, glancing toward the window where Seungkwan’s car will likely pull up soon. "You don’t know him like I do. He’s perceptive, and I think he’s catching on. He’s been way too quiet lately. And he's definitely noticed how much more ‘busy’ I’ve been."

Vernon smirks. "Ah. So that’s what this is about. You’re worried he’s figured it out and you don’t want to ruin the surprise."

"Exactly." You pause and shoot a quick glance at the door, just to make sure you're not imagining things. "What if he walks in and just... knows?"

Before Vernon can respond, a knock echoes from the door. You freeze for a second, panic seizing your chest. Vernon, unbothered, starts to whistle, completely unaware of your spiraling thoughts.

"He's here," you whisper, looking at the clock nervously. "He's early!"

"No problem," Vernon says, effortlessly grabbing a handful of balloons and making his way to the door. "We’ve got it covered."

You follow him, heart racing as you hold your breath, hoping the setup looks flawless before Seungkwan walks in. You quickly scramble to tie off the last balloon as Vernon opens the door, allowing Seungkwan to step inside.

Seungkwan looks completely caught off guard when he enters, his eyes immediately widening at the sight of the full party setup. Balloons are hanging from the ceiling, candles flicker, and a crowd of people stand in the kitchen.

Your heart skips a beat, but he doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, Seungkwan just blinks at the scene, his jaw slightly dropped. He slowly raises his hand to his chest in mock surprise.

"Wow," he gasps dramatically. "What... is all this?"

You roll your eyes, but he presses on, voice rising in exaggerated shock. "No way... This is for me?!" His face twists into an over-the-top expression of surprise. "I’m so touched!"

You laugh, feeling a little bit of relief wash over you. But as you glance at Vernon, he’s smiling smugly, clearly pleased that Seungkwan’s playing along.

"No, seriously," Seungkwan continues, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I had no idea. You really got me. I’m blown away."

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter, your hand covering your mouth as you try to suppress it. "Okay, stop," you say through giggles. "You’re so obvious."

But Seungkwan just grins, his expression too satisfied to hide. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was completely surprised." He winks at you before stepping further into the living room, his dramatic act now dissolving into a delighted smile.

"You’re impossible," you mutter, still laughing.

Vernon snickers from the corner. "Told you. He’s definitely surprised."

You shake your head, but your heart swells with fondness. Despite all your worries, it feels good to see Seungkwan so happy, so genuinely caught up in the moment. You finally give in, nodding at Vernon.

"Yeah, alright. I’ll give you that."

After the toast, when the last clink of glasses fades and the room is filled with chatter and laughter, Seungkwan leans toward you, his usual mischievous grin never quite leaving his face. He beckons you with a subtle tilt of his head, eyes glinting as he steps toward you, his fingers brushing against yours as he pulls you away from the crowd.

He doesn’t say a word as he guides you toward the hallway and into your shared bedroom. The door clicks softly behind you, and as soon as you’re inside, he closes the distance between you with a playful, teasing grin.

"So," he begins, his voice low but laced with humor, "how long are we going to pretend I didn't know?"

You blink at him, surprised. Your stomach drops slightly, the weight of the confession catching you off guard. You open your mouth, but the words get tangled in your throat. Before you can come up with an excuse, Seungkwan raises a hand, stopping you.

"I know," he says, the words laced with affection but also a certain smugness. "I knew pretty early on."

Your eyes widen. You can’t hide the guilt in your expression, but Seungkwan just chuckles, his voice rich with amusement.

"How did you figure it out?" you ask, feigning innocence as you lean back against the doorframe, trying to appear nonchalant.

Seungkwan crosses his arms, leaning back as he starts recounting the clues. "Well, let’s start with the unsent text, hmm?" He raises an eyebrow. "I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Vernon isn’t exactly great at keeping his phone locked down. It was right there on his screen, loud and clear—Seungkwan's birthday surprise."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "He really didn’t."

"Oh, he did," Seungkwan says, leaning in closer now, his grin widening as he watches you squirm. "And then there was that whole... party aisle incident? Really? You thought I wouldn’t figure it out when I walked in and saw you clutching a balloon like it was the holy grail?"

You wince, looking away. "Okay, so maybe I wasn't subtle. But you didn't have to call me out like that."

Seungkwan laughs softly, a fondness in his gaze that takes you by surprise. "Look, I wasn’t going to say anything. You and Vernon were having way too much fun with it, and honestly? It was sweet. It made me feel special." He steps closer to you, his expression softening. "You two planning this disaster was honestly the best part of my birthday."

You blink up at him, feeling warmth spread through your chest. "You’re not mad?"

He shakes his head, reaching out to take your hand, gently tugging you closer. "Mad? Nah. I mean, I’ve got to admit, it was a little obvious. But the fact that you both went through all this effort? It made me feel like I was worth it." His voice softens, sincerity threading through every word. "Thank you. For doing all of this for me."

The words settle between you, heavier than you expect, and you can’t help but smile. Seungkwan’s teasing grin has melted into something more genuine, and as you step forward, he pulls you into a hug. His arms wrap around you tightly, and for a brief moment, you just stand there, feeling his warmth surround you.

But then, true to form, Seungkwan tilts his head back and gives you a playful push. "Alright, enough with the mushy stuff. I’m still waiting for my gift." His grin is back in full force, but this time, there’s something more than mischief in his eyes.

You laugh, trying to backpedal, but before you can say anything else, Seungkwan’s hands are at the back of your neck, pulling you into a slow, languid kiss. His lips press against yours with a warmth that contrasts with the teasing nature of his words. The kiss is deep and slow, each movement a silent reminder of how much he truly cares. You respond instinctively, leaning into him as his hands slide down to rest on your waist.

When the kiss finally breaks, Seungkwan pulls away just enough to look at you, his forehead resting gently against yours. "Seriously," he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate, "thank you for making today so special. I really appreciate it."

You smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Of course. You deserve it."

Seungkwan presses another kiss to your forehead, his grin never fading. "Okay, okay. But really, are we cutting the cake soon or what? I swear, if I don’t get cake soon, I might just die from suspense."

[cherryxbooo]

Left in the past and forgotten

Summary: Seeing your ex-lover after four years wasn’t something you ever expected. The memories of your time together, flooded back, making the moment even harder to face.

Note: Hey guys! I've finally decided to update my K-pop fics. I'm planning on adding more members soon, so keep an eye out for that! Also if you want me to add other groups/actors, let me know!

Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Snowflakes drifted lazily outside the café window, melting the moment they kissed the glass.

The world outside was a blurred canvas of white and gray, the winter storm painting Seoul in a soft, muted haze.

Inside, the café was warm, filled with the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries, the gentle hum of conversations blending seamlessly with the faint jazz music playing overhead.

I curled my fingers tighter around the steaming mug in front of me, letting the heat seep into my skin.

Even with the warmth surrounding me, a coldness had settled deep in my bones, one that no amount of hot coffee could chase away.

I shouldn’t have come back.

The thought had been circling my mind since the moment my plane touched down, but now, sitting here in the heart of the city I once called home, it weighed heavier than ever.

Seoul was no longer just a place, it was a graveyard of memories I had buried, ghosts I had spent years trying to outrun.

And yet, they clawed their way back the second I stepped onto its streets.

Especially the one tied to him.

Kim Taehyung.

A name that had once been synonymous with love, with warmth, with the kind of happiness that felt boundless.

A name I had forced myself to forget.

But forgetting had never been my strong suit.

The bell above the café door chimed, signaling a new arrival, but I barely registered it.

My gaze remained fixed on the snowfall outside, my mind lost in the past, until I heard it.

A voice.

Deep, familiar, haunting.

“Y/n?”

My fingers stiffened around my mug.

My breath caught in my throat.

That voice.

Slowly, I turned my head, already knowing, feeling, who I would see.

And there he was.

Kim Taehyung stood a few feet away, frozen in place, his presence as effortless yet overwhelming as ever.

He wore a long beige coat over a black turtleneck, snowflakes clinging to the fabric like they were reluctant to melt.

His dark brown hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and his eyes, those deep, expressive eyes that had once held entire universes, were locked onto mine.

Shock? Regret? Relief?

I couldn’t tell.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

We just stood there, caught in the eerie stillness of an encounter that felt both impossible and inevitable.

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.

And I understood why.

Because what do you say when the person you once loved, the person who disappeared without a word, reappears like a ghost from your past?

What do you say when the wound you thought had scarred over rips open again with just a glance?

Finally, I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, forcing myself to breathe.

“Taehyung.”

It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make something flicker across his face.

Something unreadable, something raw.

He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching mine like they were looking for answers, answers I wasn’t sure I could give.

“Is it really you?” he murmured, almost like he didn’t believe it.

I let out a shaky exhale, offering a small, hollow smile.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His lips pressed together, his hands slipping into the pockets of his coat.

It was a nervous habit of his, one I hadn’t seen in years, but still recognized immediately.

I wanted to look away. I wanted to run.

But I couldn’t.

Not when the past was standing right in front of me.

Not when Taehyung was looking at me like I was still the person he used to know.

But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t sure if I ever could be again.

Loving Taehyung was like holding onto a fleeting dream, warm, intoxicating, beautiful, but never quite real enough to keep.

Six years ago...

I was standing in line at a small café, completely overwhelmed by the drink menu, and someone, chuckling behind me as I changed my order for the third time.

"You know, if you keep doing that, we’ll never get our coffee," the person teased, voice dripping with amusement.

Flustered, I turned around to see a man in a black hoodie and a face mask, only his sharp, smiling eyes visible.

"Maybe I just like weighing my options," I shot back, trying to sound confident.

His grin widened. "Or maybe you just don’t know what you want."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

He was easy to talk to, effortlessly charming, and when he finally pulled down his mask, revealing who he was, my breath caught in my throat.

"You're—"

"Taehyung," he interrupted before I could say his full name, tilting his head playfully.

And you are?"

That was how it started.

A conversation over coffee turned into exchanged numbers. Then came the late-night texts, the phone calls that lasted until dawn, the stolen moments in between his busy schedule.

Before I knew it, he had become my favorite part of every day.

Two years after we had first met flew by and being with Taehyung was like stepping into a world that wasn’t meant for me, but somehow, he made me feel like I belonged.

"Come here," he would say after a long day, opening his arms as I curled into his chest.

His fingers would gently trace patterns on my back, his voice a soft whisper against my hair.

"I missed you today."

I missed him too. Always.

But I never told him how much, because I was afraid he would hear the sadness in my voice.

Our love lived in moments stolen from time, laughter tangled between bed sheets, whispered promises in darkened hallways, the way he would pull me into his arms just before he left and say,

"Wait for me."

And I did. I waited.

I waited when his texts became less frequent, when our dates were pushed back, when his voice on the other end of the phone started to sound more exhausted than excited.

I waited, even when it felt like I was slowly fading into the background of his life.

Then it slowly started to crack.

I felt like I was holding him back.

Holding him back from doing the things he liked.

But I was a human after all I craved my boyfriend's attention too. I wasn't going to tell him that though.

"Hey, can I see you tonight?"

I stared at his message, my fingers hovering over my phone.

I wanted to say yes. God, I always wanted to say yes.

But something inside me hesitated.

It had been three weeks since I last saw him, and even then, our time together had been cut short.

A meeting ran late. A rehearsal went overtime.

I knew that his life as an idol wasn't easy and that his life was always packed and busy.

I knew that before I started dating him but still...

He had held me for five minutes, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Next time, I’ll make it up to you."

But next time never came.

So instead of answering immediately, I let my phone sit beside me as I stared at the half-eaten dinner on my table.

It was the third time this week I had eaten alone.

It wasn’t just the missed dates. It was the way he had started to feel like a guest in my life instead of a part of it.

When I finally picked up my phone, I typed out my response.

"I don’t know, Tae. It’s late."

He called me immediately.

"Are you okay?" His voice was laced with concern.

"I’m fine." The words felt like a lie.

"I can come over," he offered quickly. "Even if it’s just for a little while."

I squeezed my eyes shut. That was the problem. It was always just for a little while.

"It’s okay," I whispered. "Get some rest."

There was a pause. Then, quietly, "Are you upset with me?"

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "No, I just... I just miss you."

His sigh was soft, almost guilty. "I miss you too, love. Things will calm down soon, I promise."

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. "Yeah. Soon."

But I was starting to wonder if soon would ever come.

The night I decided to end things, Taehyung showed up at my apartment unannounced.

"Surprise," he said with a grin, holding up a bag of takeout from my favorite restaurant.

I wanted to be happy.

I wanted to throw my arms around him, pull him inside, and pretend that this was enough.

But something inside me cracked.

"You didn't text," I said quietly, arms crossing over my chest.

His smile faltered. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Tae... I waited for you last night."

His face fell completely. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry," I whispered, voice breaking.

"But nothing ever changes."

The room fell into silence. He set the food down on my counter, his hands trembling slightly.

"I’m trying," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I believed him. That was the worst part, I knew he was trying.

But love shouldn't have to feel like this.

It shouldn't feel like constantly reaching for someone who is always just out of grasp.

"Taehyung, I can’t do this anymore."

His entire body tensed. He looked at me like I had just taken the air from his lungs.

"You don’t mean that," he whispered,

stepping closer, eyes searching mine for something, anything, that would prove this wasn’t real.

But I did mean it.

"I do."

His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"You're giving up on us?"

"No," I said, shaking my head as my eyes burned with unshed tears.

"I held on for as long as I could. But I can't keep waiting for you to have time for me."

His breathing was uneven now. "You are my world, you know that."

I smiled sadly, my heart breaking with every word.

"I don’t doubt that, Tae. But love isn’t just about words. I need to feel like I belong in your life, not like I’m waiting on the sidelines, hoping for a moment that never comes."

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, to fight for us, but nothing came.

No promises, no reassurances. Just silence.

A silence that told me everything I needed to know.

Tears burned behind my eyes as I took a shaky breath and stepped back, putting space between us.

My fingers curled around the doorknob, the cool metal grounding me.

"You should go."

Taehyung didn’t move.

His jaw tensed, his hands twitching at his sides, but he didn’t fight me.

"Please," I whispered, voice barely holding together.

"Don't make this harder than it already is."

For a moment, I thought he’d refuse.

That he’d reach for me, pull me into his arms, tell me he would fix this, that he would stay.

But he didn’t.

Slowly, he reached for his coat, movements stiff, hesitant, as if every second that passed was another piece of his heart shattering.

He lingered for a moment, standing in the doorway, his dark eyes searching mine like he was trying to memorize every detail before he walked away.

"I love you," he murmured, voice breaking.

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back the sob threatening to escape.

"I love you too."

And then, before I lost the last bit of strength I had left, I turned away.

I didn’t watch him leave.

I didn’t listen for the sound of the door closing behind him.

But when the silence settled around me, final and unforgiving, I knew.

He was gone.

And what we had was simply left in the past and forgotten.

"Y/n?"

I snapped back to reality, blinking as Taehyung slid into the chair across from me.

His scent, clean and familiar, hit me instantly, making my stomach twist.

I had spent years wondering what it would feel like to see him again. If my heart would still react the way it used to.

If I would still feel that same ache, that same pull toward him.

And now, as he slid into the chair across from me without waiting for an invitation, I had my answer.

My stomach twisted, and my fingers curled around my coffee cup in a desperate attempt to steady myself.

"Taehyung." His name tasted unfamiliar on my tongue, yet it felt like it belonged there.

He studied me for a long moment, his gaze slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to convince himself that I was real.

"You look... different, still beautiful though," he finally said, his voice softer than I remembered.

A small, tight smile formed on my lips. "So do you."

And he did.

There was something more refined about him now, his jawline sharper, his presence more composed, his energy quieter.

His hair was styled in a way I hadn't seen before, and his outfit, though simple, carried an effortless elegance.

But beneath it all, the Taehyung I knew was still there.

It was in the way his fingers tapped absently against the table, something he always did when he was deep in thought.

In the way his eyes, though slightly guarded, still held that quiet intensity that had once been my undoing.

"Four years," he mused, shaking his head slightly.

"I thought maybe I'd run into you sooner."

"I wasn’t exactly trying to be found," I admitted, stirring my coffee even though I had no intention of drinking it.

"So I figured." He exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly in his chair.

"You just… vanished."

I looked away, focusing on the steam rising from my cup. "I had to."

Taehyung nodded slowly, as if he understood. Maybe he did. Or maybe he was just pretending to.

"Where have you been?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Here and there," I replied vaguely.

"I moved for a while. Focused on work. Traveled."

"You always said you wanted to travel more," he murmured, a small ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah," I said softly.

"And you? How’s life treating you?"

His lips twitched, but there was something almost tired in his expression.

"Busy, as always."

That didn’t surprise me.

He had always been busy. His world had never stopped spinning, and I had long accepted that I would never be able to keep up.

"I saw your latest projects," I continued, keeping my tone light.

"You’ve been doing well. Congratulations."

He let out a small hum. "Thanks. It’s been… a lot."

"I bet."

Another pause stretched between us, but this time, it wasn’t as heavy.

It was just… there. Lingering. Holding all the things we weren’t saying.

"And now you're back," he finally said, breaking the silence.

I gave a small nod. "Just for a while."

He seemed to process that, his fingers stilling against the table.

"Are you staying long?"

"Not sure yet," I admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I guess it depends."

"On what?"

I hesitated. "A lot of things."

Taehyung's gaze softened for a brief second, but just as quickly, he masked it with a neutral expression.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his voice careful.

My breath caught for just a moment.

I hadn’t expected that question.

I thought he’d ask about my work, about my travels, something simple, something safe.

But instead, he asked that.

I glanced down at my coffee cup, at the tiny ripples forming from my slightly unsteady hands.

"…Are you?" I countered, finally looking up.

His lips parted slightly, as if I had caught him off guard.

He hesitated, just for a moment, before exhaling deeply.

"I don’t know."

Neither did I.

Before I could say anything else, the café door swung open, and a gust of cold air rushed in, followed by a chorus of loud voices.

"YAH! Taehyung, you were supposed to get us coffee, not disappear!"

The familiar voice sent a jolt through me.

My breath hitched as I turned toward the commotion, my fingers tightening around my cup.

Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon strode into the café, brushing off the winter chill.

Their laughter and complaints filled the space, but the moment their eyes landed on me, everything stopped.

Jungkook froze mid-step, his mouth parting in shock.

His wide eyes scanned my face like he was seeing a ghost. "No freaking way..."

Jimin, who had been in the middle of playfully nudging Namjoon, nearly tripped over his own feet.

He grabbed onto Namjoon's arm, his jaw dropping. "Is that—"

"Y/n?" Namjoon's deep voice carried pure disbelief.

I couldn’t move.

For a split second, I considered bolting.

The weight of their stares, the flood of memories crashing over me, it was overwhelming.

But I stayed, frozen in place as the reality of the moment settled in.

Jungkook was the first to break from his trance.

In a blink, he was sliding into the seat next to me, eyes scanning my features like he needed to confirm I was real.

"Where the hell have you been?" His voice was low, raw.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"It’s... a long story."

Jimin crossed his arms, tilting his head, his eyes narrowed in a mix of confusion and hurt.

"Good thing we have time, then."

Back when Taehyung and me used to date I had this amazing bond with the other members.

It was almost as if they were my actual brothers.

I knew that my disappearance didn't only hurt Taehyung but also the guys.

Taehyung, who had been watching the interaction in silence, shot them a sharp look, but Namjoon placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"We’re not attacking her, Tae," Namjoon said quietly, though his voice carried an edge of emotion.

"We just... thought we lost her for good."

A pang of guilt hit me square in the chest.

My throat tightened as I lowered my gaze.

"I'm sorry."

Jungkook let out a scoff, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair.

"You're sorry?" His voice cracked slightly.

"Y/n, we thought something happened to you. We thought—" He cut himself off, clenching his jaw, frustration evident in his dark eyes.

Jimin's posture softened, and he leaned forward, his voice quieter now.

"Why did you leave?"

I could feel Taehyung's eyes burning into me, waiting, searching, but I couldn’t look at him.

Not yet.

My fingers trembled slightly as I exhaled. "Because I was scared."

The words felt heavy as they left my lips.

A thick silence settled over the table, stretching uncomfortably long.

Jungkook let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair.

"You should’ve at least told us. We were your family, too."

My chest ached. I had always known that leaving them would hurt, but I had convinced myself it was necessary.

That disappearing was the only way to protect my heart from breaking beyond repair.

But seeing the hurt in their eyes made me realize just how much damage I had left in my wake.

I forced a small, sad smile. "I know. And I regret it every day."

Namjoon studied me carefully, his sharp eyes searching for something beneath the surface.

After what felt like an eternity, he gave a slow nod.

"You’re back now. That’s what matters."

I wanted to believe that.

I really did.

But as I finally lifted my gaze to meet Taehyung’s, I knew the past wasn’t done with me yet.

And neither was he.

My mind was still reeling from the overwhelming reunion, the weight of guilt and nostalgia pressing against my chest.

Jungkook hadn’t stopped looking at me, like he was afraid I’d disappear again if he blinked.

Jimin kept stealing glances, his expression a mix of happiness and unresolved emotions, while Namjoon sat in quiet contemplation, observing everything.

And Taehyung, he hadn’t said much, but his presence was suffocating in the best and worst ways.

"Come with us," Jungkook blurted out suddenly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I blinked. "What?"

"Come with us," he repeated, standing up and stretching as if the conversation was already decided.

"We're heading back to the dorm, and you’re coming too."

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my coffee cup.

"I don’t know if that’s a good idea—"

"Too bad," Jimin cut in, grabbing my wrist playfully.

"You don’t get a say in this. We need to properly yell at you for ghosting us."

Namjoon smirked, shaking his head.

"Ignore him. We just… we missed you, Y/n. And the others should know you’re back."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Taehyung finally spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"Come with us."

I met his gaze, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

There was something unreadable in his expression, something careful, like he wasn’t sure if he could handle me being here, but he wasn’t ready to let me go either.

And just like that, I caved.

The second we stepped inside, the warmth of the dorm wrapped around me like a familiar embrace.

The scent of home-cooked food lingered in the air, and the faint sound of a television echoed from the living room.

Before I could even take in my surroundings, Hoseok’s voice rang through the space.

"Tae, did you even get the coffee or—"

His words cut off as he stepped into view, his eyes widening as they landed on me.

"Holy shit," Yoongi muttered from his spot on the couch, his entire body tensing.

Jin, who had been in the kitchen, peeked his head out, a wooden spoon still in his hand.

"Is this a fever dream? Or did Y/n just resurrect after four years?"

Jungkook let out a dramatic sigh.

"Yep, she’s alive and breathing. Can you believe it?"

I shifted awkwardly under their stares. "Hi."

My voice came out softer than I intended, uncertain.

There was a beat of silence before chaos erupted.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

Jin practically shouted, walking over and inspecting me like I was an illusion.

"You really just disappeared on us!" Hoseok added, still in shock.

"I thought Jungkook was lying when he said you were here," Yoongi admitted, rubbing his temple.

I winced at the wave of questions thrown my way.

"Okay, okay, one at a time!" Jimin laughed, waving his hands to calm the room down.

Namjoon, ever the leader, stepped in.

"Guys, let’s not overwhelm her. She’s here now. That’s what matters."

Slowly, the tension eased.

One by one, the members softened, replacing their initial shock with quiet relief.

Jin pulled me into a tight hug, his usual playful demeanor laced with something more serious.

"Don’t ever do that again, okay?"

I nodded, my throat tightening. "I won’t."

As the night went on, the questions died down, replaced by laughter and inside jokes.

It was like I had never left.

But there was still an unspoken weight in the air, a conversation left unfinished.

And Taehyung felt it too.

Eventually, the members started heading to their rooms, leaving only me and Taehyung in the dimly lit living room.

The TV played quietly in the background, casting a soft glow across his face.

I sat on the couch, pulling my knees up as he settled beside me, his presence close but not overwhelming.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, he broke the silence.

"Why did you really leave? I mean I knew I wasn't the best boyfriend and didn't give you all my time but still. I know you and I know that there is more to it."

I exhaled, my gaze dropping to my hands. "I told you. I was scared."

"Scared of what?" His voice was gentle, but there was something else laced within it, something raw.

I swallowed, gathering my thoughts.

"Scared of losing myself in your world. Scared of becoming someone who was always waiting for you, always watching from the sidelines. You had so much ahead of you, Tae. And I felt like I was just… holding you back."

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling slightly against his knee. "You never held me back, Y/n."

"It felt like I did." I finally turned to face him, my heart hammering.

"I loved you so much, and it hurt. It hurt to watch you get further and further away from me. And I knew, eventually, I’d become someone you’d have to choose between. And I didn’t want that for you."

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable.

"That wasn’t your choice to make."

I blinked at the quiet frustration in his voice.

"I know," I admitted softly.

"But it was the only way I knew how to protect myself."

He looked away for a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"Do you regret it?"

I hesitated. "Yes. And no. I think�� I needed to leave to understand what I wanted. But I hate that I hurt you."

Taehyung exhaled sharply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"You did hurt me, Y/n. A lot. I spent years wondering what I did wrong. Wondering why you couldn’t at least tell me."

His voice cracked slightly, and my chest ached at the vulnerability in his words.

"I’m sorry," I whispered. "If I could take it back—"

"You can’t," he interrupted, but there was no malice in his tone. Just quiet acceptance.

I nodded, my fingers gripping the fabric of my sleeves.

"I know. But… I’m here now. And if you’ll let me, I want to make it right."

Taehyung turned to face me fully then, his dark eyes searching mine.

"Do you still love me?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

I sucked in a breath, my pulse thundering.

"I never stopped."

His shoulders slumped slightly, like he had been bracing for a different answer.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

Then, finally, he nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.

"I’m not ready to just jump back in, Y/n." His voice was careful, measured.

"But… I don’t want to lose you again."

I nodded, understanding completely. "Me neither."

He reached for my hand then, hesitating for just a second before intertwining his fingers with mine.

"Let’s take it slow," he murmured.

"Okay," I whispered back.

It wasn’t a perfect ending.

But it was a new beginning.

The days that followed felt like stepping into the past, only this time, it wasn’t clouded with uncertainty.

Taehyung and I weren’t rushing into anything, but we were gravitating toward each other again, rediscovering what we had lost.

We took it step by step.

One night, Taehyung showed up outside my apartment, leaning casually against his car, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

"Come on," he said with that familiar glint in his eyes.

"Let’s go for a drive."

It was something we used to do all the time, no destination, no plans, just music and the city lights.

I didn’t hesitate.

With the windows rolled down and the cool night air brushing against our faces, we drove through the empty streets of Seoul.

The radio played softly in the background, and Taehyung hummed along, his deep voice making my heart ache in the best way.

"You still sing along to every song," I teased, smiling at him.

He smirked, flicking his gaze toward me.

"And you still stare at me when I do."

I rolled my eyes, looking away, but the warmth in my chest only grew.

Another afternoon, Taehyung showed up with a picnic basket. "We need fresh air."

We spent hours at the park, lying on a blanket under the shade of a tree.

I watched as he tossed crumbs to the birds, his eyes crinkling when a small flock gathered around him.

"They trust me," he said proudly.

"That’s because you’re bribing them with food," I laughed.

But I couldn't deny it, watching him interact with the simplest things, the way he found joy in moments like this, made my heart feel lighter.

At one point, he turned to me, resting his head against his arm.

"It feels like old times, doesn’t it?"

I nodded, my fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

"Yeah… it does."

One evening, it started pouring just as we were leaving a café.

"Shit," I muttered, looking up at the sky.

"We’re gonna get soaked."

But instead of running for cover, Taehyung stepped into the rain, tilting his head back as water dripped down his face.

"Come on, scaredy-cat," he grinned, reaching for my hand.

I hesitated, but then, just like before, I let him pull me into the downpour.

We laughed as we splashed through puddles, our clothes drenched, hair sticking to our faces.

He spun me around like we were in some cheesy movie, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You’re ridiculous," I giggled, breathless.

"And you love it," he shot back.

I didn't deny it.

That night, we ended up back at the dorm.

The other members were out, leaving the place unusually quiet.

Taehyung handed me a towel, both of us still damp from the rain. "Here. Dry off before you get sick."

I took it, rubbing my hair, watching as he did the same.

He looked so soft in that moment, his usual sharp features relaxed, his warm eyes full of something I couldn’t quite name.

"Tae," I started, my voice quieter now.

He looked up, waiting.

I hesitated, but then let the words spill.

"I’m really happy we’re doing this again. I was scared that too much time had passed, that we wouldn’t fit the way we used to."

He walked over, sitting beside me on the couch.

"You’re not the only one who was scared, Y/n."

I turned to him, my heart hammering. "You were?"

He nodded. "I thought I lost you forever. And even now, I keep wondering if this is real. If you’ll leave again."

I reached for his hand, squeezing gently. "I won’t."

His gaze flickered down to our intertwined fingers, then back to me. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

"Then prove it."

I swallowed, nerves buzzing under my skin.

"How?" I whispered.

His eyes searched mine, and before I could think too much, his fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear.

"Stay."

And just like that, the space between us disappeared.

His lips met mine in a slow, lingering kiss, one that spoke of lost time, of years of longing, of a love that had never really left.

When we finally pulled away, my forehead rested against his, both of us catching our breath.

"We’re really doing this, huh?" I murmured, smiling.

"Yeah," he whispered back.

"But this time, we take it slow. We prove it to each other."

"Deal."

A moment of peace settled between us until the sound of a loud thump broke it.

We both turned toward the hallway, where muffled whispers and scrambling footsteps could be heard.

Jungkook’s voice came first. "I TOLD YOU THE FLOOR WOULD CREAK!"

Jimin hissed back. "Shut up, you were the one leaning too close!"

Namjoon sighed. "I swear, you’re all children—"

Taehyung groaned, rubbing his temples. "Are you seriously spying on us?"

The door swung open slightly, revealing Jin with a smug grin. "Not spying. Just… confirming suspicions."

Yoongi peered over his shoulder. "Took you two long enough."

Hoseok beamed. "So, are you guys official now, or do we need to suffer through more slow burns?"

Taehyung threw a pillow at them. "GET OUT!"

Laughter erupted as they scattered like kids caught doing something bad.

I shook my head, laughing as I leaned into Taehyung’s side.

He sighed dramatically. "This is our life now."

"Yeah," I grinned, squeezing his hand. "And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

The end

[mediumsizedwildcat]

Sylus x Reader (gender-neutral), Zayne x Reader (gender-neutral)

warnings: established past (Sylus) and current (Zayne) relationship(s), cheating, implied sex, self-sabotage (reader), biting, hickeys, mentions of “marking”, happy(?) ending

based on: edits i saw of Zayne & Sylus to Moth To A Flame by Swedish House Mafia & The Weeknd

Moth To A Flame

(yes, like the song this is based on, names are not my strong suit) (now on ao3!)

•••

You should've known better. Sylus had been a great host but he'd also annoyed you, had pushed all your buttons, had tried to force you to resonate with him. Had been so attractive above you and the many times underneath you, until your relationship imploded.

It was different with Zayne. He didn't push your buttons to see your reactions. He was similarly hot over and underneath you and very, very attentive. When he wasn't caught up in work, at least.

The first message you'd sent, though it hadn't been the first you'd typed, you had deleted before Sylus had been able to read it. The second one, he'd read and replied to. You hadn't replied to his answer, though.

It started to feel almost like a game at some point. You'd feel surprisingly lonely in your boyfriend's home, surrounded by everything Zayne, wearing his clothes, and yet it wasn't enough. Zayne sat at his desk, in the office you weren't supposed to go into, and worked. On the patients' files instead of you.

You'd text Sylus, he'd try to call, and then you'd look up from your phone and Zayne stared at you, eyes hungry, jaw clenched. Something about the whole suit and tie thing, the way he tried to keep his professionalism, how he lost control as soon as you spread your legs for him. Heaven on earth.

Sylus' calls went to voicemail more than once. He didn't really leave a message, though. Usually it was a sigh, if anything at all.

And then Zayne had his projects with Doctor Noah and he'd told you to stay in his house if that was what you wanted. That he'd call as often as he could. Not to get you wrong, Zayne did call, as often as he could. The busier he was, the less often he called.

Sylus replied to your messages but didn't call you anymore. It was fine, really. You had Zayne, who made as much time for you as he could, especially if you texted him something dirty. A quick photo of you in his unbottoned shirts would also do the trick.

But Sylus came to Linkon while Zayne was on one of his trips and he waited for you. Outside your workplace, Sylus had your favorite non-alcoholic drink along with his own black coffee and he didn't even touch you.

His eyes narrowed when they flittered to the hickey Zayne had marked you with the night before he'd left last. But Sylus didn't make a move. Didn't ask to stay with you, didn't ask about the messages, only went out with you as a friend.

He looked delicious in that leather jacket, though. Beautiful form on his sports bike, too. Your coworkers, Tara specifically, called him “yum” and asked if he was your friend, if you could set him up with her.

Was Sylus your friend? Was that all you wanted him to be?

Your lips were pressed against his before you could ask him those questions, before you could remember Zayne and back out. Sylus made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, muffled by your mouth, and he pressed back against you.

It was a push and pull, a fight over dominance, until he bit your lip and you opened your mouth, a startled gasp escaping you. He dove in, devoured you with a tongue heavy kiss, as if he wanted to taste everything you had to offer him.

You'd nearly forgotten how much Sylus liked to bite. Your lip, your jaw, your neck, shoulders, anywhere you'd let him, anywhere that allowed him to hear those pretty sound you'd been reserving for Zayne only.

It was over too soon and not soon enough, bitemarks on your inner thigh stinging like the guilt in your chest as Zayne gave you a bone crushing hug. He didn't ask about the marks, hopefully too caught up from finally feeling you again, skin to skin, tangled in the sheets you'd washed after your night with Sylus.

Each time Zayne was gone, Sylus was there. Even if Zayne worked overnight, you'd find Sylus' soft but lusting eyes in the dark. Too many times Sylus took you to a hotel because Zayne had the code to your apartment.

By the time Zayne pushed your phone aside because you no longer looked up to find him standing in the doorway, you noticed he kissed the bitemarks he didn't ask about with an almost painful expression on his face, and the guilt ate you up inside.

Zayne was a good man, was the man your Gran wanted you to end up with. There you were, white hair between your legs instead of Zayne's black hair. It made you sick, and you knew Zayne knew because he didn't ask about what you'd eaten that you were sick. It was too much. Too bittersweet.

When Sylus came around again, you ignored him. Even blocked his number, and it seemed to work. Zayne welcomed you back into your relationship with open arms, even asked if you wanted to visit Doctor Noah with him.

Everything was good.

Until it wasn't, again. An endless cycle, and it wasn't just you who got hurt. Zayne hurt, too. Each time it happened, though he never stopped in his enthusiasm. Sylus didn't fare much better, hope in his eyes turned cold and bitter and then to hope again.

One night, out of nowhere, Zayne told you to do whatever made you happy. That he wouldn't leave you, as long as you wanted to be his. Did you want to be his? Yes, most definitely. Zayne was lovely, a wonderful boyfriend. You loved him.

You couldn't drag him down with you and you still had a part of yourself that self-sabotaged your relationships. It was no surprise to you when you and Zayne fought. When you took what few of your things you needed and went back to stay at your apartment.

In the middle of the night, you called Sylus. Because of course you did. You could've gone to Xavier's place above your own. Could've called Tara. Sylus rarely slept at night. He came all the way from the N109 Zone, hugged you tightly against his chest.

You cried into his shirt and didn't kiss him. Zayne sent you a good morning text and you had a free day scheduled. Sylus was still in your apartment, unwilling to leave you alone, absolutely willing to spend the day with you.

In the evening he came into your apartment and kissed you as if the world was about to end. Sylus always kissed you like that. He spent the hours of the night between your legs, doing everything you couldn't even dream about.

Zayne and you got over the fight and you stayed over at his place again and again you laid in Zayne's bed, staring at the ceiling as Zayne slept next to you. You shot a text to Sylus. Sylus called you.

You left the bedroom and answered the call because Zayne wanted you to be happy. No, because you were selfish and you wanted them both. Or maybe it was the security Zayne offered that you didn't want to lose.

“You're with your doctor again, aren't you?” Sylus asked over the phone, somehow sounding smug.

“His name is Zayne,” you answered defensively. Sylus chuckled and you huffed. “I love him.”

“Then why are you talking to me, sweetheart?”

You sucked in a sharp breath and glanced at Zayne's sleeping form in the very bed Sylus had had you in more times than you cared to admit.

“I love him,” you repeated, quieter than before.

On the other end of the call, Sylus hummed. “He seems like he's good for you.”

You swallowed, “He is.”

“I hope he makes you feel like you should,” Sylus added.

You could hear his stupid grin through the phone, knew the wanting you'd see in his eyes if he were in front of you right now.

“He's the one,” you reaffirmed what you'd been trying to tell yourself for the better part of two years now.

“Bet that's what all your friends say,” Sylus retorted, almost scoffing but he bit it back.

You felt the muscles of your jaw clench. All this time and Sylus still had to press your buttons. You didn't know who exactly you were angry at, but it seeped into your words. “Zayne's love for me is true.”

You hung up the call before Sylus could make you doubt, or worse- want. Zayne welcomed you back into the bed even as he was fast asleep, pulling you close and pressing his face against your shoulder.

This was right. Being in Zayne's arms, loved and safe. Your phone dinged and like an idiot, you opened the message.

«Does he know you call me when he sleeps?»

You checked the name and yes, it was from Sylus. He sent another message, attaching a picture of the two of you that you had been very enthusiastic about. It had been made with your phone, you'd sent it to him, and he'd attached said message. You'd been wearing Zayne's shirt and Sylus was biting your shoulder, your lower halves clearly intertwined, though not explicitly shown.

«Does he know the pictures that you keep?»

Your breath caught in your throat, heat rose to your face. The memory alone was enough for your hips to buck and it was only Zayne's groan and the way his arm tightened around you that you were made aware of how the light of your phone had woken up your boyfriend.

Horrified, you moved your finger to lock your phone, but Zayne took it from you before you could. He stared at the picture and then at the message when you'd sent it to Sylus for a terrifyingly long time.

It only felt long, of course. Zayne sighed and turned his head to look at you. “Is that my shirt?”

You swallowed, more heat rising to your face. “Yes?”

He raised his eyebrows, but his eyes darkened. “You wore my shirt while sleeping with another man?”

This was it. Your relationship was over. You'd messed up too much. No sense in lying. “Yes... Zayne, I-”

“Well, does he know the reasons why you cry?” Zayne asked in his most casual tone.

Your heart throbbed violently in your throat. “He knows where my heart lies,” you replied, placing one hand over your heart and the other on the side of Zayne's face.

Something defensive fell into place and Zayne frowned. “Where does it truly lie?”

Having reached what you thought to be your breaking point, you choked, hot tears blurring your vision and making your eyes sting. “I call him when you sleep,” you finally confessed. “Not all the time, but sometimes. It doesn't mean-”

“Don't say it doesn't mean anything,” Zayne interrupted you. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from your cheeks. “You're mine,” he spoke your name like the name of a god. “I know you, in and out. He can bite and mark you all he wants,” Zayne pulled you against his chest, “as long as I get to do the same.”

[vay99]

Nami x f!reader

Ferris wheel by the sea

Anime/Manga: One Piece

Something for my fellow 🏳️‍🌈 who are into woman

"Where the heck is that dumbass of a captain again?!" Nami yells once you've arrived at the new island. Which happened 30 seconds ago.

"This island is famous for its festivals and food, he's probably somewhere eating." Robin chuckles right before Sanji jumps off the ship.

"Festivals mean that there'll be beautiful ladies!!!" following his captain into the city Sanji keeps calling out for ladies.

"Food and Ladies, shouldn't you run towards that city like a maniac as well (y/n)?" Franky questions as you watch the guys disappear.

"Weren't you the one swooning over this island due to their world famous cola?"

"Look after the Sunny for me I'm off!! Suuuuperrr!"

"And there he goes. Do the men on this ship only have the brain capacity for one focus? Look at Mr always lost over there is fast asleep." Nami comments causing Robin to chuckle.

"They all share one brain cell and Chopper is currently in charge of it." you point towards the reindeer dochter who's mixing some medicine.

"Agreed." Robin and Nami answer in choir.

"I'll just read a bit until the party starts tonight." Robin leaves you two behind.

"I should work on my maps as well. What will you be up to?" Nami asks, playing with a strand of her dazzling hair.

"I don't know yet, but haven't you asked me to cut your hair a few days ago?" you step closer, touching the ends of a few strains.

"Oh, right, yes, if you want to, maybe you could." she scratches her neck, pulling her head back in the process which let's her hair run threw your fingers.

"Your ends are getting frizzy again, let's go."

She sits down on the chair as you lay the coat around her, preparing everything.

"How short do you want them to be? Or just the ends?"

"Just the ends please."

You begin cutting her hair as you both share the room in comfortable silence, which is a rare opportunity since the chaos mostly dominates the ship. You run your fingers through her hair as you take another layer down to cut.

"I know I say it every time but you've got beautiful hair, strong and healthy, a real eye catcher." you compliment her as you move to her bangs.

"Thank you." she whispers, not wanting to move an inch so you could easily cut her hair.

The boys returned after a while and everyone got ready for the huge party this evening. Franky got some nee tools and decided to stay on the sunny and watch the fireworks from there later on. You styled everyone's hair, Sanji is begging you to do that on a daily basis, besides Nami, she's been avoiding you since you've cut her hair.

"We'll head to the party already!" shouted Ussop as he, Nami and Chopper disappeared into the city. You heard them leave, as you run out on deck they were already out of your sight, frustrated you walked back into your shared room.

"So what are you going to do now? Have you missed your chance to ask her out again?" you didn't like the how Robin pronounced 'again', it's not like you don't know that you blew another chance.

"Why don't you help me choose an outfit so I can go after her and ask her? I can't decide whether I should wear a dress or a suit." you hold up your preferred outfits.

"Nami wore a short red dress." Robin didn't have to say anything else because you immediately knew which dress she meant and which outfit would be the best choice.

"Thanks Robin, you definitely got your eyes everywhere." you look at the eyes above the door, before you leave to the bathroom to get yourself ready as well.

"(y/n)-chan in a suit looks absolutely perfect!" the lovesick cook expresses his feelings before he and Zoro go back to bickering once more.

"He's not wrong." compliments Robin, who knew that you'd pick a black suit, with an oversized blazer and a red lace lingerie top. Nami was always a blushing mess when you wore those tops and it fits the suit perfectly. Let's also not forget the rings on your fingers.

*Nami, Ussop and Chopper*

"Why did you not let (y/n) style you'd hair Nami?" Ussop asks, nudging her with his elbow.

"The way she touches my hair, the hair ruffling, how close she was to check the details... I just wanted to melt right there. I know that I couldn't keep it together if we were to be alone right now. I just wanna feel her touch." Nami sighs, face buried in her hands.

Ussop, Chopper and Robin are the ones she told about her feelings towards you.

"We're rooting for you!!" the boys start chanting Namis name causing the navigator to laugh and act as if she didn't knew them, by now everyone is staring at them.

Once you've reached the town you're blown away, the whole city is part of an amusement park, roller-coasters move in between houses, a ferris-wheel that moves you from the city to the shore and cotton candy growing on trees.

"Well that's something." you mumble, eyes searching for a certain navigator.

"Searching for someone special~" Robin chuckles while you just roll your eyes in return.

"She's with Chopper and Ussop so they're probably at some candy booth, I'll just keep an eye out for those." you head off, searching everywhere.

"Wow." Nami stops, eyes widening as she sees a big teddy on a shelf. It reminds her of the one Bellmere once sewed for her, same color with a rainbow heard on the tummy. Ussop and Chopper went further without noticing how Nami was falling in love with the bear.

"You want that teddy don't you?" you ask, glad you finally found her

"Oh no, I'm too old for that." she laughs, slightly startled by your sudden appearance. "But since you're here let's just go onto that roller-coaster!" she grabs your elbow, trying to pull you away.

"I just need one throw, you know that right?"

"For 78 cans?" Nami asks in disbelieve.

"Watch me." placing the money on the table you ask for a single ball, the guy handing it over already laughing.

"Young lady, don't overdo yourself, nobod-" the now speechless men watches the cans fall down... as well as the top shelf.

"Yeah I take this, thanks." you grab the teddy, Namis hand and run off as the men shouts at you for destroying his booth that has a huge hole at the back now as well. After all, you're a straw hat, so what else could he expect?

"(y/n)!" Nami tries to scold you but it comes out with a laugh.

"What? You wanted the Teddy." you laugh back, stopping to flee from a guy who's not even following you.

"I did... Thank you." she hides her face within the Teddy's fur, hugging it closely. Said plushy is the size as her upper body and has the perfect size to hug it.

/I love seeing her happy with the Teddy but I'd love to swap places/ you think to yourself, hoping this night could go on forever.

"What shall we do next?"

"There should be a ferris wheel that takes you to the beach, I'd like to go there." she says, chin resting on top of her new fluffy friend.

"Let's go then." you

"So the carts are open? That should give us a nice view." you comment as you two enter your cart. It is a classic ferris wheel, besides the fact that it's not spinning on one place but rolling over the island towards the beach, in a slow Tempo.

"It's moving!" Nami yelps, startled by the sudden movement, holding onto your arm. You're slowly on the way to the top as the last few people enter before the ride begins.

Once it does you two get an amazing view over the city, the lights dance and there are happy faces everywhere. Nami doesn't notice that she's still holding onto your arm so you slowly intertwine your fingers, feeling how cold they are.

"You're shivering." you state as you remove your blazer, wrapping it around her shoulders. "You didn't have to freeze Nami."

She stays silent but whispers a quite thank you before hugging the blazer and Teddy close to keep her warm. As you keep watching the city she rests her head on your shoulder while your hands find their way back to the other.

"Isn't this a cliché?" Nami breaks the silence after some time, pointing at your blazer over her shoulders.

"I can take i-"

"No!" she hugs the blazer even closer to her body as she sits straight up again. "Forget what I just said."

"I could do that, but you'd have to erase that from my memory." you suggest, daring to go for it.

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Why don't you replace it with another instead." one glance at her lips was enough to let Namis heart race and eyes to widen.

"Are you sure?" she asks in disbelieve, fumbling with her fingers.

"I've never been so sure of something in my life." you cup her cheek with one hand as the other wraps around her back. Brushing your thumb over her lips you let your eyes drown in hers. Her brown eyes have never looked more comforting than right now. "May I?"

"Please do." she pleads, answering your kiss by instant. Her lips are as soft as the cotton candy you can taste on her, she wraps her free arm around your neck, not wanting this to end either. Once you parten your lips from another you've both got a love sick expression in your eyes.

"This is more addictive than I thought it would." Nami breaths, forehead resting against yours.

"Then let's be each other's drug." you tug her chin upwards, about to kiss her again. "Want another dose?"

She answered by sealing your lips with hers.

Spending the rest of the ride with kisses and a tiny make out session you've reached the beach way to fast for your liking.

"How did you know??" Namis face bursts into red shades.

"I'm the only one you never ask for money. That spoke for itself."

"I'll charge you for this kiss then." she states with confidence, the red color on her cheeks say otherwise.

"Which one?" you smirk, enjoying her flustered state.

"Y/n!!!" she hit you with the Teddy before holding him close again.

"You're so adorable when you blush, we both know that you'd pay me to kiss you." guiding her lips back towards you with one finger under her chin you keep your eyes locked.

"When I'm with you I don't care about money, so you can have it all if that means I can kiss you again."

Closing the gap between you once more you can hear the fireworks going off at the sky.

"Nami, I love you." you hug her from behind, watching the last fireworks explode, feeling full of life.

"I love you too, y/n."

*Small extra*

"Nami are your legs alright?!" the reindeer worries about her as you two enter the kitchen the next morning.

"I'm fine, just really, really exhausted." she smiles, sinking into her seat.

Robin and you exchange knowing glances, you can't thank her enough for staying at the library the entire night... without having any eyes in the room as well.

[a1307s]

I Hate You #1

(Wally West)

[Art is not mine! Credit to croaky]

Request By: Fandom_Princess_21

Keys:

Y/N - Your Name

H/C - Hair Color

Word Count: 2,839

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Lying

Mentions of cheating

Fighting/Yelling/Cursing

Name Calling

Belittling

Mild abuse tendencies/Rough man handling

Mentions of injury/bleeding

Mentions of abandonment

———————————————————————

The Central City air is cold and sharp through my suit as I carefully slide open the living room window to the apartment I share with Wally. Through my silent hopes and prayers that Wally isn't home yet, I think about how our seven year anniversary is coming up in a few days. Back in our sidekick years we were in and out of each other's lives a lot, partly because of Black Canary's and Flash's friendship and partly because of our mutual friendship with Robin.

When our superhero mentors decided we were old enough to start fighting as vigilantes on our own, Wally and I - along with Robin, Kaldur, and Superman's surprise son - got thrown into a stitched together team. From there our relationship bloomed. We spent everyday, every waking moment, and every weekend together. Of course our time got spent with the other boys - and M'gann and Artemis later on - which ended with all of our bonds being pretty strong.

By the time Wally was twenty-one and had served as a hero for eight years he was done with the superhero gig. Me on the other hand didn't want to give it up. I loved being a superhero and unlike Wally, I had only started the gig at fifteen so I was at a good five years instead of the eight Wally had under his belt. He always swore it was because I was younger than him - only by a year mind you - but I'd manage to grow out of it.

My retirement was always a fire starter between us. He was scared of losing me without having himself out on the field to cover my back. I was scared of losing myself if I gave up the superhero thing. Before Oliver and Dinah adopted me I was nothing more than a Star City street rat. All I had ever known was the filthy underworld of Star City and the world of being a crime fighter. Who would I be without either one of those? At the end of things I decided to retire with Wally, which was not taken very well by Richard or Conner.

In a turn of things, Richard came to see me one night after my college classes. He begged me to help him just one more time for a mission he couldn't possibly do without me. Well then one more time turned into two, and then three, and before I knew it I was sneaking around when I could to help the team with the hope of Wally not finding out. I know it's not good to lie to my boyfriend, but he never could understand when we were younger so how could he understand now?

The window creaks against its old frame as I slide it open. I let out soft curses as it lifts up. I'm careful not to knock over the lamp as I climb through the window. "Where the hell have you been?" Says a voice from the living room, causing me to lose my balance and knock over the cheap lamp. It crashes down on the floor, shattering into the pieces.

"What... What are you doing home Walles? I thought you were working late," I say towards the direction of the voice as I carefully pick myself up and avoid the glass pieces.

Wally flicks on the lamp next to him, filling the room with warm lighting that stretches to the tips of my toes. "I called to tell you we finished working on the engine earlier than I thought but you were too busy to answer your phone, so I went to the flower shop down the street to get you flowers. I thought it would be a nice surprise for you when I got home but you weren't here. So, where were you?" Wally says, pulling at my heart strings.

"With Richard," I answer, slinging out Nightwings name as I walk towards Wally, letting the light engulf me.

"And what were you doing with Richard?" Walles asks, looking over my latex thrown together suit.

I play with my finger tips, pulling at the black gloves. "Would you believe me if I said I was fucking your best friend?" I ask, laughing nervously and taking a quick glance at my boyfriend. His eyes are dark and his frown is deeper than Batman's.

"Really Y/N? You're going to joke about adultery right now?" Wally asks, anger dripping off his words. My teeth sink into my lip as I focus on the ground, slowly shaking my head. "For starters you absolutely hate Dick. You can't stand his body count, not to mention how he talks about women. And for two you can't handle unstability. It would take me leaving your ass for this relationship to be over," Wally yells at me, standing up from his chair and walking towards me.

When he gets to me, Wally grabs my waist. His fingers dig into my sides, stabbing into the open wound from today's mission. "Wally-" I start, tugging at his arms.

"What the hell is wrong with you Y/N? Sneaking around at night while I'm at work? Doing stupidly dangrous hero actvity? Sneaking around my back?" Wally keeps yelling, pushing me backwards towards our bedroom.

Wally's fingers keep digging deeper into my sides as I walk backwards, trying to stop myself from tripping over anything around our apartment floor. "Wally, please let-" I try again, digging my nails into his arms and trying to pull them off me.

"Please what? Please let you keep risking your life for people that'll never recognize you?" Wally asks, slamming me against the bedroom door. His hips dig into mine, pinning me against the door as his fingers dig into my bones. They're so deep now that I can feel the blood starting to trickle down my side.

"Please Wally, let go of my side! You're hurting me. Please! Please let go of me!" I beg, tears starting to roll down my cheeks.

"Ba... babe?" Wally whispers out, letting go of me and stepping back. "Did I hurt you?" Wally mumbles, reaching out to cup my face. "I didn't mean to slam you so hard."

"It's... it's not that. I... I got hurt today... on the... mission..." I mumble, adding pressure onto my side.

Wally moves his hands to my side to help me add pressure. "Stupid... you're udderly stupid..." Wally mumbles, moving one hand from my side to the door knob and fiddling it open. After the door clicks open Wally roughly moves his arms around me and carries me into the room bridle style. "Completely reckless and I'm going to beat the shit out of Dick for letting that happen," Wally mumbles, as he drops me down on the bed, causing me to bounce up once before I settle on the bedding.

He continues to talk to himself about how incredibly "recklass" and "stupid" I am as he walks out of the room and heads to the kitchen for the first aid kit. I take the few minutes of peace to lean back on the bed and enjoy the silence. By the time Wally walks back in, my anxiety is chewing at my heart. Different scenes play out in my head about how Wally is going to react after I'm patched back up.

"Sit up," Wally snaps, setting the first aid kit down and snapping the lid open. I obey his angry request and sit up. I peel my suit shirt off as Wally lays out the bandages and disinfectant wipes. "You're giving this up, Y/N. For real this time." He barks, roughly pulling off the bloody bandages.

"Who gives you the right to decide that?" I hiss back, taking the bandage wraps from his hands to finish unwrapping them myself. "You're not my goddamn father".

"You're right, I'm not because if I was I would have left your ass to rot away in that goddamn mount with Dick just like your father did to you on the streets of Star City."

"What the fuck Wally? That's too far." I say, glaring at him before picking up the disinfectant wipes.

I start dabbing at the wound with the wipes before Wally rips them from my hands. "At least I'm honest, unlike you," The words come out laced with venom. I look at Wally completely dumbfounded. His eyes are burning with anger and his jaw is clenched as he looks at me. "I absolutely hate you, do you know that? That I hate you? You're unbelievable Y/N," Wally mumbles, causing tears to prickle my eyes.

"Get the fuck out," I whisper, the image of Wally getting blurry.

"What?" He asks, lifting his head to look at me.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment, Wallace." I yell at him, getting up from the bed and pushing Wally towards the door. "Get out! Out of my house!"

"Last time I checked my name was on the lease. This is my apartment. You get the fuck out," Wally barks at me, his eyes going slitted as he looks down at me.

"Fine," I say hushly, grabbing my shirt off the bed and throwing it on before I walk out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Wallace asks, following after me.

"Why the fuck does it matter?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend," Wally yells at me as I walk out the front door.

"Are you sure? Cause you're acting a lot like my father right now," I snap at him, glaring into his dark eyes. He looks back just as angry as I am.

"I hate you!" Wally yells as I slam the door closed behind me.

"Good," I mumble to myself.

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

Wally's POV

The noise of the lock turning fills the empty hallway of my apartment complex. When the door swings open I'm met with darkness. A part of me wants to turn on a light and see the face of my girlfriend but the reasonable part of me knows Y/N isn't inside our home. The reasonable part of me knows she's been staying with Dick in his apartment. The reasonable part of me knows Y/N has been sleeping in Dick's bed as he's been toughing it out on the couch for the past two weeks because my dumbass had to explode on her.

Reluctantly I flip on the light and even though I know Y/N isn't there I'm still disappointed to not see her asleep on the couch after her Friday night English lecture. The apartment is a mess from my lack of cleaning and the lack of Y/N picking up after me. Dishes are piled up in the sink, the laundry basket is overflowing, and the dust from my shoes still litters the floor.

My heart aches at the lack of presence of my long-term girlfriend. She's wanted absolutely nothing to do with me since our fight. She took it so hard that she made Conner come over to pack her bag. I've never seen him want to knock my teeth out as bad as he did when he stopped by on Y/N's behalf.

I step into the hallway, untying my shoes and leaving them at the door because Y/N 'hates the dust and oil that gets tracked in' when I get home. I drop my work clothes down the hallways as I head to the bathroom. By the time I get there I'm only in my boxers. I strip those off as well before climbing into the shower. I turn the water up high, as high as Y/N usually has it when she showers with me. The water burns my skin as it streaks down my back.

I don't know when it started but at some point my eyes started watering and mixing with the steaming shower water. Just as I'm about to break down and call Y/N to beg her to come back to me, my phone rings from the bathroom sink. Dick Grayson is calling! Dick Grayson is calling! Siri tells me. Reluctantly, I poke my head out and push the answer button.

"Wally?" Comes Dick's wearry voice.

"What do you want, Boy Wonder?" I ask, a bit sharper than I intended.

"You really need to come to the Mountain. Like, now." He says before letting out a hiccup.

My heart drops at the sound of Dick's voice. Without a single word of confirmation, I can already imagine what happened. "I'll be right there," I say, ending the call and hopping out of the shower, I race around the apartment, throwing on some decent clothes and pulling out my sneakers from under the bed. "I swear to God... to God Y/N," I mumble, hopping on one foot out of the door as I struggle to put on my shoe.

A million different scenarios and thoughts run through my head the whole six hundred and seventy miles from Central City to Happy Harbor. All the scenarios end with Y/N dead in a box somewhere in the world.

When I get to the mountain I don't slow down, speeding all the way through the mountain until I find Dick. He's sitting in a fluffy chair in the Medbay with his back turned away from the door. Machines beep and buzz next to him as he looks down at the person in the bed in front of him. "Please tell me you're joking," I mumble, slowly walking up behind him.

"I'm not joking Walles," He says back without lifting his head to look at me.

Y/N lays in the bed in front of us. Her H/C hair stands out against the bright white pillow. I can smell her shampoo wafting off of her hair, wrapping me in the familiar smell of her. Her color is washed out of her, leaving her looking lifeless and if I didn't know any better I would believe she was already gone. There's a dark bruise on her check and a bandage wrapped around her forehead.

"What... what happened?" My jaw feels heavy and my mouth feels full of cotton when I finally manage to get the words out.

Dick takes a deep breath in and wraps his hand around hers before he answers. "Y/N, Barbra, Conner and I all went on a mission to scout out Joker's and his goon's newest activity. Conner's dumbass couldn't obey orders so he tried to sneak up on Joker. It failed, like always, and we all jumped in to help. Then..." Dick cuts himself off, bringing Y/N's hand up and gently pushing it against his forehead. He mumbles something to himself in some language - probably Romanian - that I don't understand.

"Then what?" I ask, tears pricking the sides of eyes yet again.

"Then in the middle of the fighting I turned around to check on Y/N and... and she looked back at me, getting distracted by whatever I decided was important enough to yell towards her in the middle of a fight. While she was trying to listen for my command one of Joker's goons bashed her head with a baseball bat." Dick doesn't look up at me once during his explanation, keeping his eyes on my girlfriend.

"What... what's going to happen to her?" I ask, my words shaking as I spit them out.

Dick takes in a deep breath and kisses Y/N's knuckles before he speaks up. "Batman said that there's bleeding internally, which is what caused the coma. We rushed her into surgery but..." Dick snaps off his mask and lays it on the bed. His eyes are red and puffy, just like I'm sure mine are.

Through the years I've forgotten how much he sees Y/N as his little sister and the guilt of that forgetfulness hits me hard right now. "But Bruce said she might not ever wake up. The chances of that happening is slim to none. He wants to know what you want to do. He offered to keep her on life support for a month or so and if she doesn't wake up he... he'll write it off as brain dead."

The words send bullets into my heart. My head hurts and feels heavy with the heart breaking news. "The last thing I said to her.. The last thing she heard from me was... was that I hate her," The last three words come out as a whisper as the tears finally streak down my face. "She's going to die thinking I hate her."

Dick stands up from his chair and reluctantly lets go of Y/N. "It'll be okay. She'll wake up," He says, wrapping his arms around me. I bury my head into his shoulder and wrap my arms around him as well. "She'll wake up and you'll be right by her side," Dick says as my tears start spilling out like a rainstorm. "She knows you love her. She'll wake up," He repeats as I fall apart in his arms, hating myself for the words I'll never be able to take back.

———————————————————————

[marshmallowprotection]

I've been meaning to ask: there's a call on day 3 (?) i think, of Saeran's AE and the option is "i remember how i used to starve", what does he answer if you pick that option? I've never wanted to say that to him but i also want to know ;;

Okay. This is specifically an outgoing call you can get on the second day right after Jumin wakes up from the Elixir Gas. I'm going to give you the answer to every option the game gives you because I don't think I've seen anybody share the answers before in any threads online. You can tell him... four different answers to his question. This is what it will look like in your call history once you have it.

I'm putting everything under a cut because there's a lot of images.

Saeran is speaking to you for the first time since you were dropped off at V's house in the mountains, and he wants to ease your fears. Granted, I do think he's trying to ease his own fears, too. Reminiscing seems to be the best way to do that in his mind at that point. "This is the first time that... we've been separated since Magenta, isn't it?"

So, you can respond to him in four ways. Here are the options that you can choose from at that very moment. Most people... do not click the one that talks about starvation. Personally, the first one I clicked on my first walkthrough, of course, to take my breadcrumbs for Ray. But! I have the answers to all four!

Do y'all want me to say as much as I'm thinking about Ray when we've already heard it a billion times since he first appeared in the game from me? Probably, why else would you be here? It is appealing to me GE Saeran is capable of pointing out that Ray and Suit Saeran both are trapped in cages, though. Now that's what I call growth and reflection.

The two of them and their experiences cultivated who he is as a person and understanding them both at a core level shows a lot of perspective into how he feels about those two. He carries their love, mistakes, fears, hopes, dreams, nightmares, and everything in between.

So these little comments as few as they are in this DLC, are the breadcrumbs you want to see.

In this statement, it is the reflection that stands out to me. It is a fact that he is able to understand what went wrong back then. How Suit Saeran thought he was doing what he needed to do to be strong and have the things he wanted, and how those things were not the same as what he intended.

He understands strength does not come from anger and animosity. True strength comes from devoting yourself to the right thing not because you know it gives you a reward, but because it was the right thing to do.

In contrast to the starvation comment, you can tell him you warmly remember all of the food Ray made during that time. Ray put a lot of thought and care into making sure that you were able to have something delicious.

In fact, if you've ever read his diary, you would very well know how long he spent trying to learn different recipes since they are outlined in the diary itself. I don't know, I prefer this more if only because it shows his devotion and care toward you.

Yeah. I don't know what I expected from the "I remember how I used to starve." option, but it crushed me emotionally. Not only does it do the worst in reminding him how he used to have food withheld from him as a child, but it also brings the guilt of knowing that even if you did forgive him for what happened with Suit Saeran, he still isn't able to forgive himself yet. It's proof that GE Saeran wants to be better at every chance if you wish to have him in your life.

He'll fight to be a better man every day.

[tc-doherty]

Book One | Chapter Two

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The name spread as quickly as dragon's fire on dry grass. As she traveled through the gardens or slunk through the halls she was greeted with the name Lady Patrice. Now that she had a name she was less strange, less other. Before people had gossiped and stared but mostly left her alone. Now they tried to engage her. Even the three maids had forced their way back into her suite.

By the time two days had passed, not a single person in court had missed hearing her name.

"How dare you do this to me?" She snarled at the red-headed knight the next time the woman dared to follow her into the gardens. "They could not hold me before, and now you have given them chains! What gave you the right?"

The knight didn't seem surprised to be greeted with anger. She brought another offering of meat, pork this time, which she set down on the ground in front of the dragon. "I told you, someone would've named you sooner or later. At least I had good intentions."

The dragon did not touch the platter of meat. "I should rather be called anything else than to hear my true name butchered by humans." Her fingers dug into the manicured lawn beneath her, ripping out chunks of sod and soil. "And now they tell me their names, as if I care. How do you find yourselves in such meaningless syllables?"

The knight watched her destroy the grass with a small smile. Her smile, her easy-going attitude, and the question that followed only served to enrage the dragon further. "How do dragons find each other under the weight of such heavy names?"

The dragon couldn't answer that, could never describe in human words the weight that dragons accorded names. She shook her head. "I cannot be Patrice. I do not belong here. Take it back! Free me from this cruelty you've inflicted." Her anger swallowed her distress, and the grass and soil beneath her hands began to smoke.

The knight laughed. "Two things you can't take back: love freely given and words once spoken. If you hate us so much, why not flee this place and return to the dragons, hm?"

"I cannot."

"Then you do belong here." The knight nudged the platter forward a little more. "Eat and grow strong again. Try to find yourself in the name Patrice. Live. There are good people here too, who would be your friends."

She wanted to be angry. She truly wanted to be angry. She was a dragon after all! She was something dangerous and wild, and here this…this measly human, thisknight dared to approach her so casually without any fear at all. This knight had dared to chain her down with a human name, had the audacity to suggest that she should forgive the people responsible for her mother's murder. More than that, to befriend them! And yet, she could not work up the energy to be truly angry.

She continued to ignore the platter. Food was not the least bit appetizing. Her fire had died as if it had been doused with water and the grass had ceased to smolder under her touch. "I should change my name to 'the despair only felt by those who have lost everything'. How do your people say that?"

The knight stood, crossed the distance between them in two steps, and struck her hard across the face. "Now you're acting like a human. Have a little self-respect, Lady Dragon."

The dragon snarled and rubbed her cheek. The knight was strong, as all knights are, and the slap had enough force that it made her rock backwards and almost caused her to fall. "How dare you?"

"How dare you?" The knight asked from where she stood. "I thought dragons were strong. Adaptable. Your carrying on like this shames the names of your family."

She glowered at the knight. Anger, embarrassment, and grief warred within her. She already knew that her mother wouldn't have approved of this, she had thought the same herself. Dragons did not live wrapped in despair and hatred, the knight was right about that. They examined their surroundings, accepted them, and adapted. But she could not let go so easily.

She wanted to be left to mourn in peace.

She wanted to lash out; to hurt these humans as they had hurt her.

Either option would be easy, although she already knew neither option was entirely possible. And certainly, to a dragon, neither option was acceptable. She closed her eyes.

"I will try to find myself in Patrice."

"It's not a death sentence," the knight, no…Felisjyta, said, sitting down again. "You can still be your mother's daughter and Lady Patrice. If you don't like being Lady Patrice, you don't have to stay here. There are other human lands, who will call you differently. Treat you differently."

The idea of leaving this place only to go to a place with even more humans was exhausting. She didn't want to contemplate such a thing. This was already hard enough. "I suppose we will have to see," said Patrice. She reached at last for the meal Felicity had brought her.

"I'll listen, you know, if you want to talk about her. That might help."

"It would mean nothing to you, you never met her."

They sat in silence for a time, as Patrice forced herself to eat at least a little of what had been provided. Whether she wanted to or not, whether it was appetizing or not, even dragons had to eat. And although it did not match her mood at all, it was indeed a lovely day to sit in the open air and enjoy a meal. Even her taking her frustration out on the grass had not ruined the fact that the cypress grove was a beautiful and peaceful place.

When Felisjyta spoke again, it was seemingly at random.

"If you ask someone what they think the best part of humanity is," she said, "you'll probably get a lot of different answers. People might say invention or building, or bravery, medicine, or art. Some might claim it's mastery over the elements and other species."

Patrice said nothing, but it seemed Felisjyta did not expect her to reply.

"Personally, I think the best part of humanity is our compassion. It's true that I never met your mother, and I can't grieve for her personally. But that does not mean that I cannot sit with you and your grief, and offer what support I may."

Patrice studied the knight, with her bright red hair and clear green eyes. They were like dragon's eyes, without the layers of trickery and plans that most humans showed. Or so it appeared. She did not yet know how to read human faces well, but Felisjyta wasn't smiling anymore, just meeting Patrice's gaze straight on.

Felisjyta seemed sincere, and Patrice found that she did want to talk about her mother. Or at least, she no longer wanted to be the only person who knew about her. If there was one thing her mother had always craved, it was attention. An audience. Surely she would want her stories told, and her name remembered.

"Her name, you would say, was 'the tap of claw against scale in mock battle'." Patrice paused, caught again by how thoroughly these human tongues stripped dragon names of all their beauty. "She was beautiful and elegant, and she was a proud and ferocious warrior. Mostly, however, she loved to laugh."

The maids clearly didn't expect her to arrive back in her chambers during the day. When she opened the door from the gardens, they froze like rabbits under the shadow of a hawk, torn between the desire to bolt and the need to remain where they were. It's true she had wanted a little bit more reverence or fear from Felicity, but this level was just ridiculous.

"L-lady Patrice!" One of them managed to say. "Your clothing!"

Patrice glanced down. She wore only the single white gown they had put her in before, and several days outside had not been kind to it. She was stained by the grass and the dirt, and by the meat she had eaten. Realizing it, she suddenly felt filthy. She had never taken such poor care of herself as she had recently, and it embarrassed her almost as much as Felisjyta’s chastisement. She tilted her head as she thought about the problem the maids presented.

So far she has spoken only to Felisjyta. These maids were nothing like the redheaded knight, but typical people of this land – pale of skin, with rounded faces and three shades of hair somewhere between blonde and light brown. They reminded her of the knight who had brought her here and she wished to snap at them and order them to leave.

But she knew that they were not the knight who had brought her here, and she knew that was not how people behaved – among humans or dragons. If she was to attempt to live here as Patrice, then she had to be civil.

The longer she waited to speak, the more nervous the maids became. The one who had spoken first twisted her apron in her hands, creasing the white fabric. Another began nibbling on her fingertips. The third stood still a stone next to the window with a rag in one hand. She broke the silence.

"You'd like us to leave, milady?" She asked. Her voice trembled only a little as she spoke. It was a pretty voice, melodious like bird song and far gentler than either Patrice's own or Felisjyta's. It was the first time Patrice had heard anything resembling beauty in the language of this land.

"What is your name?" Asked Patrice.

The girl gaped at her for a moment before recovering her poise. "Maria, milady."

"What does it mean?"

Maria shook her head. "I don't know. I was named after my great-grandmother."

"And you two?" Patrice looked at the other two maids, the two who had fidgeted.

The blondest of them, the one who had spoken first, continued to play with her apron as she replied. "Anna, milady. I don't know what it means."

"Elaine, my lady. I don't know either," said the third.

Patrice sighed. "I do not understand humans. But you," she pointed at Maria, "may stay. I will not need you other two for the moment."

"Yes, milady," all three said at once. Elaine and Anna did not hesitate to leave the room, abandoning their companion to the dragon's whims. Maria remained by the window, and only the whiteness of her knuckles betrayed her nerves.

"What may I do for you, milady?" She asked. Even the tremor had gone from her voice. She was a brave one.

Patrice shut the door behind her and studied the room, which she had not previously paid much attention to. It was furnished with plush chairs, a carved wooden table, a small bookcase, and a thick rug to cover the stone floors. The wall behind her was taken up with a brick fireplace, a large window, and the door which led into the gardens. The other three walls each had a door. One of them presumably let out to the corridor through which she had first entered, of the other two she had no idea. The spaces between them were hung with tapestries of nature scenes. It was small, certainly, but not as suffocating as it had seemed at first.

At last her gaze landed back on the maid, who was still waiting patiently.

"First, stop saying 'milady'," Patrice said. "I have committed to the name Patrice and no others. And then, I think I will need your help to get changed."

Maria laughed. If it was slightly strained, Patrice could not judge her for that. But it was a surprisingly rich sound, considering the maid's small frame. The laughter of humans could not compare to the laughter of her mother, but even so the sound made her feel more at home.

The tension drained out of the room like water from a broken cup and Maria dropped out of her rigid pose. "Yes, mi-er...Lady Patrice. I think you will need help. Are you joining the court at last?"

Patrice moved forward and dropped into the nearest chair, heedless of the mess she made. "I did not say that." She ran a finger over the scales of her mother's cloak, but the smooth scales brought no comfort without her mother's warmth beneath them. The alien coldness was a stark reminder that she must adapt to her new surroundings, and quickly. "I did not look at the clothing they provided me, but pick something simple. I need not strut around decked like a songbird in search of a wife."

"I'll do my best," Maria said, "but that is the style right now." She looked Patrice up and down, tapping her foot while she did so. There was no trace of her former formality now that the dragon had been replaced by nothing more unusual than a young, out of place girl, new to the court. Surely she had seen such things hundreds of times. "There's no helping it, you'll need a bath first. Even your hair will need to be washed. Wait here while I draw water for you." She turned and went through the mysterious door to the right.

Patrice sat in her chair and listened to the sound of water pouring. She stroked the scaled cloak over and over again, and wondered if she was doing the right thing. Her mother might be pleased – the black dragon had loved humans. It was that fact that had gotten her killed – the human stories of dragons amused her and her dramatic nature longed to live up to them. Before that, it was what had gotten her and her bastard daughter exiled in the first place. It was the reason that she had to become Patrice instead of flying away to join other dragons. She could not fly at all, because her mixed blood prevented it – a fact she intended to keep securely locked behind her fangs.

This had not necessarily bothered her when it was just her and her mother. She had needed no place other than that. But without her mother's protection, what else could she do but this? Where else could she go, who else could she possibly become? Perhaps something like this was always fated to happen and it was her own fault for not being prepared for it. But she had never wanted to be anyone else other than her mother's daughter.

Silence descended, interrupting Patrice's thoughts. Maria interrupted them more when she poked her head around the doorway. "If you don't mind me suggesting it, Lady Patrice," the maid said, "you could go to the tournament on Friday."

"Tournament?" asked Patrice, seizing the distraction from her previous line of thought.

"Oh, I guess a dragon wouldn't know." Maria ducked back into the side room. From there her voice came with a curious echo. "It's almost the end of the court season. There's lots of contests and festivals that lead up to the tournament on Friday and Saturday, and the feast on Saturday night."

"What day is it today?"

"Today is Wednesday," Maria said. "This evening is the carousel, where knights try out for the tournament. Overmorrow the top forty-eight who pass will face each other in combat."

Patrice rose and followed the conversation to the doorway. The room she saw astonished her. The walls and floor were covered in a mosaic of tiles, mostly white but with splashes of color to form geometric patterns. The center of the room was dominated by a large painted basin, which Maria was filling with water. The water came out of a metal spout, attached to a wooden handle the maid pumped up and down. In all her life, Patrice had only ever cleaned off in ponds and rivers, nothing at all like this. She could not have imagined such a thing.

"May I try?" She asked.

Maria shook her head. "It wouldn't be appropriate for a lady to do such things."

How quickly humans forgot things! Patrice crossed her arms and stared at Maria. "I'm not exactly a lady."

"Ah, right. But you are a lady in the eyes of the court."

This would get her nowhere. She walked forward, forcing Maria to take a few steps back, and stood beside the handle. Copying what she'd seen Maria do, she lifted it up. The handle stuck a little, and became harder to push the higher it went. Pulling it was not as easy as she had thought either, and Patrice had to use a lot of her considerable strength to force it back down into place. "You're quite strong," she told Maria. "I was unaware that being human was so difficult."

The whole exchange seemed to have bemused Maria, but she covered it up with a small laugh. "Not half so bad for the rich, they get to pay us to do this." She took over at the handle again.

Patrice left her to it and bent down to look under the basin, where a small fire was burning. She wanted to ask about that as well, but instead returned to the previous topic of conversation. The one which had brought her in here in the first place. "Will Lady Felisjyta compete in the tournament as well?"

"You mean Felicity? That foreigner?"

Patrice sighed, but nodded. It seemed Felisjyta had not been exaggerating. Humans here were willing to butcher even each other's names.

"It's 'dame' for knights, not 'lady'," Maria said. "Dame Felicity has signed up to compete today but her odds aren't good. She's smaller than most of the knights and so is her horse. She's got what we call a 'rouncey" – barely larger than a pony! A knight really ought to have a proper destrier, I think."

Patrice knew destriers. She had seen them in many colors over the years, ridden by many different knights. But she hadn't known that there were other kinds or sizes of horses. For every answer Maria gave her, she only ended up with more questions. She put that issue aside for later. "And the knights will fight each other, for what?"

"For entertainment, and for prestige." Maria gave one final pump and then locked the handle in place.

So humans had their own mock battles. Her mother would certainly have approved of that, she would've wanted to see such a thing. "What is it like, this tournament?"

"Loud, messy, and very, very hot. A lot of people get drunk and rowdy." Maria moved to one corner and pulled some small sticks off a pile that Patrice had not noticed, then ducked down to put them in the fire. "There's a lot of food, games, and parties. There's all kinds of entertainment, from music and dancing to games to mages doing tricks. It's all outside so it's not as fussy as the court. Lots of us commoners get to go too."

Patrice dipped her fingers in the water. It was hot, though not as hot as her own internal flame. So that, she realized, was the purpose of the fire under the basin. Completely different than lakes or rivers only warmed by the sun, if at all. "Is the carousel the same?"

"Not nearly so many people go to that," Maria said. "You want to?"

"I must think about it."

"Well, in any case you still need to get cleaned up and learn how to dress."

Faster than Patrice would've thought possible, the maid was by her side. Deft hands pulled off the scaled cloak and soiled gown. She hesitated upon finding the ridge of purple scales that ran down Patrice's spine, and the smaller scales that spread out across her shoulders and hips like stars.

There were tiny scales running along her cheekbones too, but they were easily covered by Patrice's loose hanging hair. This was probably the first evidence Maria had that Patrice was what everyone said she was. But whatever her thoughts on the matter were, Maria paused only for a moment before shoving Patrice in the direction of the basin. "Go on, get in. There's soaps in that wooden box off the far side. I'll pick out a dress and come back to help you."

Patrice did not mention that she didn't know what soap was. "I wish to wear that cloak too," she said instead.

"Of course, but not until you're clean." With that, Maria whisked out of the room, taking the cloak and gown with her.

Patrice shrugged and stepped into the water.

Index | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 34

I had been hiding in the kitchen since my unpleasant encounter with Loki, trying to make sense of things. He was probably just trying to get under my skin, and to my chagrin, I had to admit that it had worked. I was sitting over a cup of coffee I had made myself. The whole airship was full of high-tech gadgets, but they still had an old filter machine, which I found kind of funny.

"There you are," Natasha said, sitting down opposite me. "Steve has been looking for you." There was something about her that made me want to like her; she was strong yet demure.

"I just needed a break. All that science talk is not my thing," I laughed, looking down into my mug. "It is an honor to meet you, by the way. I've read so much about you—the first female superhero," she said in admiration.

I looked up in surprise. It was always Steve who got the praise; he was the face of American patriotism. I was just the sidekick. "People wrote about me?" I asked shyly.

"Of course. You showed the world that women can be strong too and fight for what is right and not just be housewives," she said, laying her hand on mine. "You are an inspiration."

It was still hard to believe that anybody looked up to me, but I did miss the last 70 years, so what did I know? "I never thought of myself as strong. I assumed that someday I would be one of those housewives. This whole superhero thing feels more like a costume," I confessed.

"You are strong, or you wouldn't be here today," she said, looking me in the eyes. "And forget what Loki said. He's a manipulator and a trickster. That's why you're hiding here, right?"

I gulped, having assumed that nobody had paid attention to the fact that he addressed me. "So you noticed, huh?" I asked cautiously. I wondered how much she knew exactly. We had only met today, but she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., and who knows what they had on me. Maybe they even sent her here to confirm their suspicions.

"It's kind of my job to notice things," she answered. "Speaking of which, there's something I need to do. And welcome to the team, by the way," she added with a smile before she got up and left. The last team I was part of was the commandos, and they had felt more like a family to me. I could not imagine having that with anybody else. Sadness overcame me at the thought of them, so I decided to look for Steve since he was looking for me anyway.

I found him and the others in the lab, arguing about S.H.I.E.L.D. and how they had been planning to use the tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction. I knew they couldn't be trusted—they had been lying the whole time. Steve and Tony were standing face to face. "You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle," Tony taunted Steve.

I wasn't planning to get involved, but something in me snapped. I stepped between them, pushing Tony back. "Leave him alone, or I will carve you up like a fish." If he didn't stop speaking like that, I would show him his place. He looked down at me condescendingly. "What are you, his little guard dog? What did Loki call you? A bloodthirsty demon? You know what, I kinda see it."

Steve held me back. "Stop taunting her, Stark," he warned, but Tony was unimpressed. There was only one way to handle this. I grabbed my knife, slicing the air. "You know what I can see? Why your father never loved you." I grinned, seeing the hurt on his face masked by a fake smile.

He took a step back, finally taking me seriously, but before I could do anything, Steve dragged me back. He was no fun. "Go hide in your suit, metal man," I laughed as the others looked at me, shocked.

Except for Thor, who started to laugh for some reason. "You people are so petty and tiny." That was enough mockery. I would finally get a taste of godly blood. "Who are you calling tiny? You will bleed for this!" Fury had his hand on his gun, ready to shoot me. Just when I was about to stab him, all the computers started beeping, breaking the tension.

"You located the tesseract," Thor pointed out as Dr. Banner went to check on the screens. I put my knife back, feeling like a fog had lifted, making me think clearer again. These issues were getting out of hand. Being reckless in battle was one thing, but these people and I were on the same side. I walked out to catch my breath, still hearing Tony and Steve arguing—the last thing I wanted was to get involved in their bickering again.

Just as I was about to take the stairs, a huge explosion went off, blowing up the whole lab. I flew backward against a wall and crashed to the ground. My ears rang, and smoke was everywhere. Alarms were going off while people around me panicked, not knowing what had caused the explosion.

I called out Steve's name, worried that he had been injured since he was closer to the blast radius. "I'm here, I'm here. Are you okay?" Steve crouched down next to me, checking me for injuries. I swatted his hands away. "I'm fine. What happened? Do you know what caused the explosion?" I wanted to know.

"This must be Loki's doing. Stark went ahead, but he needs help. You stay here, I'll be right back, alright?" He took my face into his hands. "Don't do anything reckless while I'm gone," he continued. He quickly kissed me, got up, and sprinted away. I was about to follow him when I heard an earsplitting roar coming from where the lab used to be.

I dusted myself off, pulled my pistol, and jumped into the opening the explosion had caused. It was dark, and heavy footsteps thudded ahead of me as the pipes creaked, putting me on alert. Something was in here—something big. I wasn't sure if I wanted to find it. I peeked around the corner, hearing movement to my left, so I tiptoed forward, pressing myself to the wall, gun at the ready.

There was someone or something on the other side of the wall, but before I could check, someone jumped at me, almost hitting my face if I hadn't pulled up my arms. "Oh my god, it's you. I'm so sorry," Natasha whispered, holding her hands up.

"You scared me to death, you know that, right?" I whispered back, holstering my gun. "What is that roaring I've been hearing?" The heavy steps just in front of me answered my question as the Hulk screamed in my face. Natasha didn't hesitate; she shot into the pipes above his head and yelled, "Run, run, run!" grabbing my hand and pulling me after her.

That just seemed to make him even angrier. He followed us, breaking everything in his way. I ran as fast as I could without leaving Natasha behind, but he almost had us—I could feel the ground shake under my feet. Soon, there would be no way to run.

I quickly looked back when I heard Natasha scream in pain. The Hulk had thrown her against the wall and was now advancing on her. I pulled my gun, unsure if bullets would do anything, but I had to try. Suddenly, someone crashed into him with such impact that both of them broke through the wall. The workers on the other side saw who had caused the massive hole in the wall and made a run for it.

Seeing that Thor had saved our lives, I walked over to Natasha to check on her. "Are you hurt?" I asked, looking her over and helping her to her feet.

"I'm good, thanks," she answered, smiling, while Thor and the Hulk continued fighting in the background.

"I think he's more suited for this job, don't you think?" Natasha pointed in Thor's direction.

"I couldn't agree more," I told her. She held up her hand, trying to hear what was said on the comms. "This is Agent Romanoff. I copy," she answered. She looked frightened. "It's Barton, my friend that Loki captured. I have to help him."

"Then go. I'll check on Steve and see if he needs my help," I told her, and we ran in opposite directions. I didn't know where Steve was; this whole aircraft was huge, so I made my way through all the halls and rooms.

When I had almost given up on finding him, a wall on my right burst open, and Loki landed face down at my feet. He was groaning as he pushed himself up on his knees, a grin adorning his face when he saw me. "This must be fate," he said smugly, pointing his scepter at my chest. Then there was only darkness.

Next Chapter

[jokeringcutio]

Harrowing Love - (Asylum Patient!) Arthur Harrow x (f) Reader - 18+

Summary: It started against your will, yet, you find yourself more and more falling in love with this man. Asylum Patient Harrow x Reader, Breeding Kink fic. There's a way for Ammit's powers to come out, but Harrow and his goddess will need you for that. [ Read it on AO3 Or continue below ]

Fandom: Moon Knight (TV) Pairing: Arthur Harrow x Reader Lots of warnings on AO3, but to name a few: 18+, explicit material, will contain smut, breeding kink, noncon/dubcon/eventuallycon, age difference, older manxyounger female, Strangers to Lovers, and much more! Dedicated to @nicktremblaywayfu & Lotsa notes below the chapter.

*~* Intro *~*

“Jot it down, a stronger dose is needed for patient forty-seven, Arthur Harrow,” the nurse said, eying her younger colleague.

“He can’t keep his hands off our nurses. During the day he is actually quite docile and pleasant, but at night, a whole different person emerges. He keeps grabbing our nurses and getting quite handsy. Plus, he is incredibly strong when he has one of these psychoses. I think we need to double his dose and prevent him from harassing our colleagues. I have two of them who are refusing to work the night shift because of him.”

The younger nurse quietly scribbled down the new instructions and bit her lip. Her heart thumped in her chest, loudly, for both her former leader and her Goddess Ammit.

~* ~

“And?” the young nurse asked her taller friend, also dressed in a nurse’s outfit. They stood in the faint amber glow of the night light, safely away from Arthur Harrow’s chamber. Faint roaring faded until the drugs had made the man fall into a dreamless sleep.

“You were right,” the taller nurse replied. She pressed a hand to her chest to calm her own beating heart. “It is a good thing you called for me. Ammit is alive in him. Whenever he roars at night it is because she tries to come out,” here she paused, and both listened if they heard footsteps, but no one approached. The hallway remained quiet. “She reached out for me, mad with a desire to be free. Said that in order to be free, she needs Arthur to – Oh, I can hardly say it, but there is no kinder way to translate it - she literally said breed. It must be due to her crocodile nature. Surely it wasn’t intended to sound this harsh but yes. She says Arthur needs to breed. Then she tried to reach out for me, but I sidestepped her.”

The smaller nurse frowned, lost in thought. “You mean, our leader has to procreate?”

“A child,” the taller one said again. “She asked for a child produced by Arthur to unleash part of her powers within.”

“Did she say how this is to be done?” The other nurse asked again, worried. “Can it be done with anyone?”

“I can understand ancient Egyptian, but I do not know how to answer in it,” the taller nurse said. She paused and then smiled down at her friend. “But I do think by her hiss that I was not suitable. I would have let them if they had wanted me,” the nurse blushed now. Her smaller friend did the same, being of a similar state of mind. Who did not want to be the lucky chosen one to bear the famous Arthur Harrow’s child?  Especially those of his followers who had seen his power and awaited Ammit’s paradise with bated breath – none would refuse.

“We shall have to see who is suited then,” the smaller one replied. “Will you stick around to help me, Monique?”

Monique nodded with a knowing smile. “I could use the extra hours,” she said, chuckling. “Besides, I have missed our friendship. I’ll gladly stick around.” She hesitated. “So, what do you say? You’ll be up next?”

~ * ~  ONE ~ * ~

Arthur Harrow had seen you arrive from his spot behind the patio windows. It was a spot the nurses had put his wheelchair so he could enjoy the greenery outside of the hospital. He was stuck in the psychiatric ward part of it, but from this point, he had a view over the entrance that lead to the hospital part. The normal hospital was attached to the psychiatric ward via two heavily guarded doors and a hallway. They had made it deliberately difficult for the psychiatric patients to get into the hospital area because some of the patients would try and escape via that route, acting as if they were normal. Arthur wasn’t one of them though. He was content with just sitting and enjoying the little things in life. Not that the state he was in allowed for much more, with the heavy dose of medicine given to him.

But his content didn’t mean he had given up on his purpose. Ammit was still alive through him and within him, and at the beginning of his stay here he had brokered a deal with her that he would let her do whatever was necessary to get out, so long as she would spare him until she was free again. He was her vessel, nothing more. Valuable to her, because she inhabited his body, but powerless compared to how he was before.

She seemed to have accepted his offer and treated him as her avatar and servant still. She would leave him to his peace during the days and only emerge during the nights.

It wasn’t until one of the new nurses came to inform him of Ammit’s words that he understood the goddess had found a way to unleash her powers once more. It was a tricky, risky little plan, as patients were not allowed to become intimate with guests or other patients. But he understood that if it had to be done, it had to be done.

The task of producing a child now rested upon his shoulders. But Ammit and Arthur both held reservations. Arthur hadn’t been intimate with others for a long time. Not since he had joined Ammit on her quest and not since he tried to do penance for mistakes made earlier in his life. It didn’t help that he had become sort of numb and insensitive when it came to feelings such as arousal. Having known pain for most of his life, and now growing older and not feeling sex to be a necessary thing, Arthur had started to take delight in the fact that he felt no need to be intimate with lovers any longer. Asexual, one might even say. If the need for release became too high, and it seldomly was, he could always use his hand. But he found no pleasure in the act itself.

So to hear he had to perform intercourse to please his goddess was greatly unsettling to him.

He shared his reluctance with Ammit, who was uncomfortable in the body of the man and found herself more attracted to the male humans. On top of that came the many requirements she held for the one to carry Arthur’s child. A list, Arthur faintly was aware, which was long and demanding. It held things about looks, purity, innocence, fertility, and even factors that would ensure the child would be exactly as Ammit had pictured it to be.

A list full of needs that would never be met.

Arthur Harrow took delight in that knowledge, for it meant that he would not be forced easily by his goddess to lay with a woman he had never met before.

The nurses were another point of bother. Arthur had become aware that slowly, one by one, the asylum staff was being replaced by Ammit’s followers. A good thing concerning his safety, but a troublesome development for his privacy. The nurses would often appear at night to offer themselves to him as a potential mate. But when he had refused them all, they would bring in potential mates. Both young and mature women had been paraded in front of him, while he had been paralyzed. They had placed their hands on him and had tried to seduce him. But none had achieved the desired effect. Ammit had cursed Arthur silently for remaining unaffected and limp, but she had praised him afterward for respecting her list. It seemed neither of them had been tempted by the partners offered to them.

Which brought everything back to you. Arthur caught sight of you only a few weeks ago. He watched how you followed your mother into the hospital area, and how you left about an hour or two later. Intrigued by your looks and the way you moved, he asked the nurses to put him in this same spot again the very next day. And it had been like this for a while until he had discerned the pattern.

You came here each week on a Friday afternoon, visiting along with your mother who drove the two of you. You would arrive around two, then visit your elderly grandmother to play games with her in the hospital cafeteria and chat. After about an hour or two, the two of you would leave with a wave and a smile. Grandma would be in the hallway, in a wheelchair of her own, waving back at you while you smiled brightly.

That smile. It did things to him.

For the first time in years, Arthur felt himself stir. Aroused to a point where he felt his hands would no longer do. It could never be enough.

He longed for you ever since the first time he clapped eyes on you. It was a feeling he had tried to subdue, but it was no use. Ammit had felt it – and how could she not when she came to the surface in his body to find him fisting his own stiff cock? Ammit had taken delight in it.

Even now she watched along with him through his eyes and growled gently inside his head, the sound of approval.

You ticked all the boxes on Ammit’s list. Ammit, who despite having been sealed in Arthur’s body, still held some of her powers and instincts. Unlike Arthur, she didn’t need to hold your hands to read your scales. She could sense things like this. As if being trapped in his body had made her more like a crocodile in the water, eyes and nostrils still above, observing everything while being unobserved herself. Only those who knew she was there would be able to spot her. And she had sensed you were fertile and ready to become a mom.

Young enough, she crooned inside of Arthur’s mind, for more than one hatchling. Pretty enough, she continued, for you to enjoy. Innocent enough, she concluded, for her scales to tip to the light.

Arthur’s eyes darkened when he saw you enter the hospital, towing after your mother. He signaled with his hand, alerting the tall and slender nurse that belonged to his community. She came to stand next to him, placed her hands on the edges of his wheelchair, near his shoulders, and leaned down. She squinted her eyes, observing you and your mother as you entered the hallway.

“That girl,” Arthur murmured, voice weak by the number of drugs pumped through his system. Inside of him, Ammit crooned again. Make her swell, she thought, pump her full of your cum and see her turn round with your child. Let me pass my powers onto your hatchling.

“That girl?” the nurse asked, she gestured with her head.

Arthur merely nodded. There were no others he could have meant. Your mother would have been that woman. The nurse in the hallway would have been that nurse. And it was clear he wasn’t indicating any of the three elder men who sat in the hall, waiting for a taxi to come to pick them up.

The nurse slowly stood up again and nodded thoughtfully. “Let me bring you to your room so you can prepare.”

No questions asked, no doubts spoken. Arthur was glad she was like that, a follower who did not doubt the ways of Ammit. He felt how the chair dipped back slightly, then started to glide over the floor. Contently, he tapped his fingers against the armrests of the chair, humming a soft tune while the nurse wheeled him back to his room.

Inside of him, Ammit chortled happily. ~ * ~ End of Chapter ~* ~

AN: Hello dear readers, here's another shameless self-indulgent Patient Harrow x Reader insert I promised to write for someone. It starts out quite dark with the non-con start, but rapidly transforms into a more romantic tale with the angst slowly bleeding out of it and the fluff coming into play. I enjoy writing the more daily and ordinary activities for this. But there'll be lots of smut as well. Expected length: *Story length, no dirty thoughts tusk * I have not finished it yet, and knowing me, I am very curious to find out if I ever will. When I do, I will update the expected chapters for this fic in the chapter count, so keep an eye on that. Note: Despite the series being set in America, the situations and locations in this fic are based on my experiences in the local hospitals and on traditions in my area. You will see a lot of European influence. Requests: Thank you for sending in requests for scenes in this fic. I have tried to add as many of the requested situations as possible. I'll make a banner for this tale once I have decided about the title. Also, if people have Arthur Harrow stock material they wish to share, send it to me :3

[phinena]

~ Introduction to 𝘗𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘌𝘕𝘈 ~

You’re probably here because I directed you to this post to learn more about me. Or this post popped up on your timeline or something else

You may call me Phinena (Seraphinena). Obviously not my real name. I am here to discuss my thoughts and opinions on shifting and other spiritual aspects of life.

At the time I am writing this, I have yet to shift to my DR. I know how discouraging that sounds; however, I’m not here to make you believe in me just because I have successfully shifted or not. I am here to make you learn things I wish I could’ve learned.

I’ve learned more about shifting in the past month than I have in the years I have been trying to shift. I want to prevent that from happening to others, if I can. LOA (Law of Assumption) and lucid dreaming is my strong suit. Stuff I have been working on for the past months that have grown stronger every day.

Now before I begin, I have 3 rules to my account that you need to understand before you follow me.

1. I do not want to hear your negativity.

This rule is for the people who can’t help but say “I can’t shift,” or “I don’t think I’ll ever shift.” Nah uh. Don’t bring that onto my account. Point blank period. I understand if you put “I’m having trouble grasping the concept of me being able to shift.” But nothing else more negative than that.

On top of that, I do not accept any negativity towards others or myself. Keep your racism, sexism, homophobia, etc to yourself, but you should actually talk to a therapist if you actually have a problem with others existence.

2. Do not think I will be like others

That means I will answer things differently. My opinions stem from my beliefs. I will not think the same thing as all other universal shifters. That does not mean my word is law. I will share things of my DRs or my opinions that I feel comfortable with sharing. If you do not agree with my opinion, you may kindly exit.

3. Do not bring your Shifttok drama, morals, rules, etc, to my page.

I do not want to know what person has lied about shifting, or thinks shifting isn’t real, or for some reason thinks only certain people can shift. I do not care about your moral codes. I do not care if you consider things wrong or right. This isn’t about you. Shifting is a universal law. Read that again. Because I promise you, you either 100% know what I mean, or you don’t know at all.

This is about life outside the 3D world. Seeing things you’d never see. Knowing stuff you never thought you could know. If you have questions, I may know those answers. But I promise I will not sugarcoat what I say. Live in the moment. Remember that these are your last moments in this life. Do not waste it telling yourself you can’t shift.

I will be creating a master list of all of my post once I get further into posting.

A red flag 🚩about me, I am not going to be a consistent poster. Do not expect me to be on here everyday or posting every day. I only post when and if I feel like it. I literally wrote this post 8 days ago and I’m just now posting it. Most of my posts are scheduled post because I just can’t.

Feel free to ask questions, I am going to answer them to best of my ability.

Take care of yourself

🪐Phinena

[doodles-with-noodles]

*There is a weird voice in your home that suspiciously seems to come from the fireplace*

I AM BACK! AS A... a... a... A GHOST!!! FEAR ME! (don't check your roof please)

Oh yeah and also I have more questions!

Any characters that are scared of each other?

What are the limits of magic?

Those that have magic, where did they get them from?

Stupidest and/or funniest thing that someone sincerely believes?

Most likely to accidentally join a cult?

How did you get the idea(s) to make these specific characters and stories?

What would any character(s) say if there was a doppelgänger of them and they had to prove they were the real deal?

Alternatively, how would they react to suddenly finding out that they were a doppelgänger and there was someone out there who was them? That they were the one who's not real (so to say)?

If they were animals, what would they be?

Does anyone have any pets?

To finish this totally real job interview, where do they see themselves in ten years?

*I lean forward so far that I fall down the chimney into the fireplace and get up, wiping the ashes off my very professional suit I bought at the dollar store.*

Thank you in advance and you will be hearing from us.

I DIDN‘T INVITE YOU IN *sprays you with holy water* 1. Hilariously enough, Norna and Cecil- at least before the team splits up and they are stuck with each other and become funniest best friends ever. They both think the other is quite intimidating, but working together brings them around.

2. Basically you can go on until your body is destroyed or you konk out. For example, if Mathildis wanted to die he could achieve the same effect as the bombs in the mistletoe project and destroy whole cities, and in theory he could make his light collapse into itself- probably ending a whole lot more than just a city. If we’re talking about stuff he can do without dying it’s making some pretty and very, very hot light. They often put restrictions on users that don’t pass psych exams (although they’re very amateurish).

3. Magic can often be inherited, but there are sometimes also people that just. get them. Religious people say the gods gave it to them. Scientist look at the people’s blood, which have a substance that is called signasteini in them. It also exists as larger magic stones. Research was largely stopped and even lost when the war came- during both, magic users were mostly used for science and warfare.

4. Morris, that he gets spared from marriage just because both of his brothers also aren’t married yet (he isn’t)

Rose, that she just can waltz into Mathildis‘ lecture and ask him about his whole fucking life after and just get a short answer

5. Treeve. He’s just one of these people that’s so fucking used to do whatever they are ordered to.

6. I take a whole looot inspiration and throw it in a blender. Mostly it starts out pretty recognizable, but the longer it mixes and the more ideas I have, the more it becomes my own. Sometimes I just see a cool looking person- sometimes I go „Hey, wouldn’t that be fucked up and cool?“ I also like to make men that don’t have tragically dead wives lol. And flip some stuff on its head in dynamics. AND STRONG WOMEN THAT ACTUALLY HAVE FLAWS. And I go: „Hey, what do I think is horrible and want to talk about (but not directly)?“ and make it into a concept.

7. Mathildis (his one‘s sounds so eerie): the Preusheim disaster.

Maura: Do you remember our first time working together? *launches into a story w information only she could know*

Jules: I know where you carry your amulet.

Lachlan: *describes a baby blanket one of his little brothers had in extreme detail and still almost gets shot (it’s one of his brothers)*

8. Mathildis: COLLAPSE INWARD

Maura: Mental breakdown

Jules: Would probably be terminated by a team

Lachlan: already shot and thrown into the river

9. huhhh hmm……

Mathildis: Raven maybe? Treeve: snake. U get it.

Lachlan: a ram, Morris: bunne, Cian: a dog.

Roscoe: BIGASS BEAR, Maura: BIGASS YAK, Ed: Honey badger, Anthony: BIGASS MOOSE, Cecil: Bleeding heart dove, Norna: Little eagle

Jules: Long eared owl? I think?, Malik: cat (gatito), Charlie: Tiger or smth

10. I was thinking about the museum owning a cat. He’s big and orange and his name is Mr. Whiskers.

11. Mathildis: trying to discover more and more and more and teaching, Treeve: exactly where he is now, Rose: Author

Lachlan: married and kids (and safe from the family crimes), Morris: just doing more on his own, Cian: floating face down in the river after being shot in the head

Roscoe: having a basis for other mind burglars, Maura: taking down corporate shitheads, Ed: doing the same shit with the bonus of being married to Anthony (he’s hearing the wedding bells), Anthony: chemistry teacher, Norna: ENGINEERING, Cecil: working as an astronomer in an observatory

Jules: working as a guide, Charlie: Historian and researcher, Malik: getting his team the credit they deserve

[candiid-caniine]

Hello lovely! I hope you're doing good!♡ (Sorry if you don't wanna be called that!!)

I was wondering how you vch piercing is healing and all that. I really want to get this piercing but I want to see how it's like for someone who already has it. Yknow? Here's some questions:

Did it hurt really really bad or was it not that bad? For context I have a medium pain tolerance. Have you had any significant problems with it? Would you recommend this piercing to a friend? How much did it cost for you to get? I know price depends place to place ofc. How long do you feel it took to heal? If it has yet! And any pros or cons?

If you're not comfortable with answering I understand! Thank you for your time. I hope you have a beautiful wonderful day♡

(Can I perhaps be " 🎀🍓 " anon??)

awaaa hi yourself, lovely!! (absolutely <3 being called that ty for checking tho!!)

i'm not at all uncomfy with answering!! and ofc that can be your anon signoff <3

talk of piercing + piercing aftermath under the cut!

so, here's the DL on your VCH questions:

pain level: extremely minimal! the thing that hurt the worst was being clamped (which was a bad sign - i've learned since then that people who know their shit piercing VCH will use a receiving tube, not clamps, so ask your piercer about their process during a consultation appointment and then make your decision!) i have my nostril, 2 cartilage, 6 lobe, and a vertical labret piercing on my lip. of those piercings, the vch and lip hurt the least. there's no cartilage to go thru, and even though we think of the clit as a very sensitive area, the hood of it, when it's isolated, isn't super sensitive for most. your anatomy and your pain tolerance will differ, but as a piercing veteran, the vch was the least painful!

problems with it: unfortunately, my vch rejected about two months after it'd healed (y'all can fact check me on this, i'm guesstimating). i *don't* think it was necessarily inherent to the VCH; rejection can happen to anyone for various reasons, but (afaik) is more of a risk when a piercing is more surface-based, like an eyebrow piercing. what i think happened: i think my piercer placed it too low on my clit hood; the top ball should have been higher up. this, combined with a poor jewelry fit and, uh, the fact that that area gets a lot of friction...probably contributed to the rejection. i took it out once i noticed because i didn't want to tear. as i mentioned above, my piercer used a technique that is *not* considered best practice by genital piercing professionals. (she's an excellent piercer otherwise, i love her, but now i know genitals are not her strong suit.)

another problem: due to the friction (not necessarily me rubbing it, more so clothing, my spouse's pelvic bone, etc), the ball was constantly coming loose, prompting a frantic hunt in the bedsheets/my laundry basket for the missing piece...pain in the fucking ass, but i think it also depends on your anatomy!

something that *wasn't* a problem that i expected to be: i don't think it ever once got caught on anything. once or twice, i had a pube get sort of wound around it, but since i was touching it...all the time...soooo much >.> i usually noticed pretty quick lmaoooo

i would recommend this piercing (done well, taken good care of) to a friend wanting a little bling downstairs and a little extra stimulation!

mine cost $100. but it's common to cost more than that from genital-specialty piercers, and for good reasons; i think my piercer priced it reasonably (small town economy + again, she didn't do a *great* job) but expect to pay more. that said, never equate cost with quality: ask your piercer...

where they learned to do a VCH

their process (receiving tube vs. clamps)

if they have any photographs of completed VCHs they've done. to assess all these best practices, check Elaine Angel's website. she basically invented the best practices, and she has plenty of good and bad example piercings for most types of genital piercings!

it took ~2 weeks before i'd say it was fully healed. most piercers caution you to wait 4-6 weeks for full healing; my body (and what i consider "healed"), as well as my new piercing aftercare routine, are specific to me. but for most people, it's <6 weeks. the rejection didn't happen until after healing. as far as healing the piercing *hole*, after taking it out, i don't notice any difference; there's maybe a pock mark sort of thing, or dimple? but it's not a "hole" anymore. just a mark, and there's not any scarring or tissue that irritates my clitoris, given i took it out so fast!

pros!

if you have my specific kinks, you are not gonna want to wait to start touching yourself >.> you can browse through my #kinky mods tag (tagged on this post for easy access) for a play-by-play of how fucked up it got me lmao.

as in, even tho it ached, i touched that shit the second day (gently) and had the craziest ruined orgasm of my life.

there is really something to be said for the tiny, itty bitty piece of stimulation achieved by the barbell under your hood.

also really something to be said about the balls themselves sliding over your clit when you rub with your fingers ;-;

vibrator against the barbell = weirdest overstim in the world.

heals fast; lots of cool jewelry options out there; doesn't hurt very much [compared to my other piercings, ymmv].

cons:

can be expensive to get one that's done properly.

you do eventually stop being as sensitive to the new stimulation. however, most people just switch jewelry to change things up after awhile, so nbd.

that said, jewelry change can be a bitch. it's hard to do that shit on your clitoris. you may find yourself needing to go to your piercer for jewelry changes, but many piercers offer this service at cost of jewelry/even free of charge, depending.

if you lose a piece of your jewelry, you might cry. lol. keep backups on hand. (my piercer, bless her fucking heart, has incredible aftercare services - she will literally drive to the shop at 1 am if your jewelry falls in the toilet. yes, she gives her clients her personal cell number. bless up, J, you can't pierce a clit worth a damn but you love what you do!)

how do i say this,, u know how. a new piercing might sort of get crusty. esp if you don't clean it often (follow ur aftercare instructions! always!!!!!) but uh. my regular aftercare did not prepare me for the crust being *under* the clit hood. it wasn't much, and it came off when i downsized jewelry, but eugh. it should be minimal, anyway, but still, don't be surprised.

the swelling was mainly the thing, in the hours after i got it pierced, but it didn't hurt worse than, say, biting the inside of your cheek really hard when you're chomping down on food - just that sort of ache you get. honestly i've had worse clit pain in the aftermath of being clamped, tho.

hope this helped ;-; i know it was a lot but y'all know me, i tend to go ham on these general/educational/experience questions. you're following an autistic puppy, what'd you expect? <3

[kuumara]

A turn of events

"Thank God you're here,"

"No problem."

"I don't- I don't know how to make him normal anymore, or what to do to make him eat- he doesn't even eat! He's just down there all the time, I'm telling you it's because-"

"It's alright, miss. I advise you to wait here, we never know what can happen while dealing with people like him,"

"Oh, alright- Do you need anything? Water?"

"No, no thank you, miss. We better get this over with quick."

"Alright. It's down the hallway, third door on the left and down the stairs,"

"Thank you, miss."

"No, thank you- and be careful, please,"

He smiles calmly. "I'm a professional,"

The miss smiles back, nervously, and he's already halfway down the stairs. His suitcase is heavy, a Holy Cross tied to it, clanging.

As he gets to the bottom of the stairs, to the basement, he holds the cross in order to stop it from making noise.

The basement is a stark contrast from the rest of the traditional, well-kept manor. It's filthy, grey, and the ceiling is full of metal pipes.

There's only one closed door at the end of the hallway he's standing in. The other rooms' doors appear to have been taken off.

He carefully and quietly makes his way to the door, highly alert in case the patient comes from one of the dark rooms with no doors. He halts right before the door and pulls out a spray bottle, filled with Holy Water.

He slowly starts opening the door, heart pounding loudly. He's done this numerous times, yet he's never gotten used to this feeling.

This feeling? He thinks about this feeling, and realizes: this feeling is now much more intense than any time before. He has felt very violent, negative energy from some other patients, yes, but this is different. The energy here is melancholy, sad, desperate, more than anything he's ever felt before. And it fills him with sadness as well.

He finally opens the door, and in the small room there's only one candle lit and a lot of books. A lot.

As his eyes get used to the darkness, he sees, in the corner, surrounded by walls of books, the patient.

He hasn't attacked him, or even lifted his head from his hands for that matter. He's just sitting there, long hair blocking his face in a filthy room with his rich, bourgeois clothing.

He steps closer to the patient, he can see that he's shaking. He crouches to meet his eyes, but the patient is scared more than anything.

"Hello," he whispers softly, not wanting to scare him more.

"Hi." The patient, much to his surprise, answers. His voice is hoarse and weak.

"I'm here to help you."

"Everyone says that." The patient replies, voice and the energy getting angrier.

"Who is everyone?" He asks, sitting down and facing him. He needs to let him know he isn't trying to hurt him.

"The doctors. The priests. The scientists." The patient shivers. "They wanted to electrocute me, drill holes in my head- I barely made it out alive,"

His breath catches, and the patients lifts his head, revealing his face. His eyes are curious now, but still wet and red.

"What's your name?" he asks the patient.

"You first."

"Will Byers."

"Michael Wheeler," the patient says, and Will thinks it suits him. Michael was an angel, and this one isn't far from that, he thinks. But- he's getting distracted, by Michael's dark eyes and strong nose, making his lips curl into a calm smile.

"Mister Wheeler, I'm not here to do anything those people did."

Michael's expression eased a little, humming.

"What are you going to do, then," he asked, never breaking eye contact.

"Well... your mother called me to perform an exorcism... But I doubt that will be necessary..." he said, careful not to scare Michael.

"You're troubled, and not because of a literal demon," Will tried to make him feel safe, and it was succeeding, since he was no longer trembling. Michael's eyes lit up.

"So. Tell me about this."

"About what..."

"How did you end up here?"

Michael shifted, carefully to not knock over the towers of books.

"They want to kill me, that's how," he whispered. "They don't want me to feel better- they just want me to..." he trailed off, and Will looked at him with understanding.

"To be like them," Will hummed. Michael looked at him again, surprised, and huffed a laugh.

"Yeah." He smiled.

They sat like that in silence for a while, all until the little bit of candle that was still there went out. They both felt like they finally found someone to trust. And it was true.

"You still have to eat." Will said, as the candle flickered out.

"I'm not eating their food." Michael groaned, and Will felt him getting mad again.

"What about someone else's food?" he suggested.

"Well- I- I can't just leave, if that's what you're implying..."

"I can tell them you're- dangerous, or not sane, whatever you want." Michael looked at him, disbelieving.

"I'm a professional. They will believe me." He smiled reassuringly.

"But... how do I know you're not going to hurt me after you take me away? Or actually put me in a facility?"

"I won't. I swear," Will eagerly explained. He will do anything to rid people of their demons, literal and metaphorical- especially Michael. They're alike, and he would regret not helping him for the rest of his life.

"Michael," Will said quietly, after a moment of silence and Michael thinking.

"Listen... They could kill you here," he lifted his gaze to Will's now, eyes wide.

"I know," he matched Will's tone. "I know, I-" and then his breath hitched. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, trying to catch his breath to finish his sentence. But he couldn't, all he could get out his throat was sobbing.

Will scooted closer, and leaned on his hand on the floor next to Michael's legs. With the other, he held his arm, dragging his hand up and down soothingly.

That only made Michael cry more, mostly because Will understood him.

He's been soothed by his mother before, after the electro-shock therapy, but she didn't understand that he was crying then because he didn't want to change, not because he wanted to. She cried with him because she desperately wanted him to be a heterosexual, whereas he cried because he was being held tightly by a person that only loved a version of him she had made up in her head.

Michael threw himself at Will, leaning forward and sinking his face into the fabric of his coat. And Will held him just as quickly as he came close, hugging him firmly.

Eventually, Michael stopped. Will didn't know how much time had passed; feeling Michael's whole being so close to him made him feel dazed.

"I'll go with you," Michael said, not pulling away.

"Okay." Will whispered into his ear.

However, neither of them wanted to pull away, so they stayed like that all until they heard mister Wheeler walking down the stairs, presumably wanting to check if something had happened.

Will explained to him that he'd talked to Michael about the demon, but unfortunately couldn't get it out and said he wanted to study Michael and his demon at his own residence.

Mister Wheeler of course agreed, he would try everything without hesitation in order to cure his son of homosexuality; his own words. And so, Michael had escaped his manor prison and begun a new story.

At least Argyle and Jonathan, the manor's gardeners say so.

And Max, whom Will and Michael met when they had first changed location in order for Michael's family to not find them

And El, the owner of a house they stayed at once when running from mister Wheeler's hired hunters.

And Dustin and Lucas, the owners of a pub they sought safety at.

And Jonathan and Joyce, who...

---

blahbla blha 20th or 19th or 18th century byler blahblah bla exorcist will but really he's just a therapist looking for people in need blahblablha mike being rejected by his rich family for his homo tendencies blablahbla them running away together lbablaalbabla i love it sm

annnyway in this fic i intended mike to actually be possessed and then he falls inlove wit will and fluff and menace mike but it turned out angsty but anywwway 😋

[transdorcasmeadows]

Just wanted to throw something together for Jegulus Week before it ends so here you all go (ignore that I chose the very last day of the week to do this):

A Quiet Night

🌟Word Count: 1,448🪴

Regulus Black was never one to get overwhelmed; he had been taught from a young age that boys looked ghastly when they cried, and that no one would love a boy who allows himself to feel overwhelmed.

He found very early on his first year that the astronomy tower was particularly empty on certain nights of the week, and it was on those nights that Regulus Black would do what he was always punished for doing growing up.

He would cry.

He would cry, and yell, and let out every nasty feeling he'd kept bottled up in the days between- kept bottled up his whole life.

It was there he kept with this routine for three years of his school life, three years of relief when he wasn't at the house he was forced to call a home.

On a cloudless night at the start of his fourth year, Regulus rounded the same stairs he always did, well after his fellow students were supposed to be far past well asleep, when he saw him.

Dark, unruly hair, tanned skin, glasses that never sat right on his nose: James Potter.

The Gryffindor turned to look at him, startled for a moment before relaxing once more, ever-present grin on his face. "Regulus." He breathed. "You gave me a damn fright. What are you doing here so late?"

The Slytherin boy shifted slightly on his feet, avoiding James' gaze as he gave a shrug in reply. "Wasn't tired, I came out to look at the stars. What are you doing here, Potter?"

James hummed, looking out the window as the moonlight hit his face just right, right enough to drive Regulus mad. "Same as you, couldn't sleep. The stars look wonderful tonight, you picked a good time to stargaze." He turned to look at the younger boy and grinned, nodding his head towards the open sky to motion him closer.

Regulus fisted his robe in his hands, keeping his gaze lowered to the floor as he approached cautiously.

He figured he should count himself lucky to be in a situation like this; of all his brother's friends, James was bound to be the least likely to poke fun at him if he happened to crack and shed some tears around him. Though he'd still firstly drop dead before willingly letting anyone see him in such a sorry, pitiful state.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" The boy asked beside him, bringing Regulus from his thoughts. "The stars."

The Slytherin lifted his gaze from the window ledge to peer up at the sky, wondering to himself why the astronomy club wasn't there on such a clear night.

"Sirius." Regulus said, pointing out his brother's star like it was second nature, instinctual. His brother was always the star guiding him along, whether they were on the best of terms or not.

"Sirius?" James glanced behind him as if expecting his friend to appear.

"Honestly, Potter." Regulus shook his head and pointed up, lining his finger with the star in question. "Canis Major, and in it, Sirius."

James leaned his head closer to see where Regulus had pointed, seemingly taking no notice of the way the other boy tensed beside him at the action.

"That one?" The boy whispered, despite the fact that they were completely alone in the tower.

"Yes." Regulus answered, humoring him by speaking quietly as well. "Do you not pay attention in Astronomy?"

James chuckled and leaned against the wall beside them with his shoulder, shrugging with a smile. "It's not one of my strong suits, Astronomy."

Regulus hummed, keeping his eyes on the sky above. "I gathered."

"Yes, well, if only there was a smart Slytherin with a star's name to teach me." James mused, tapping his chin as if pondering it.

Regulus rolled his eyes, scoffing and shaking his head as he resisted a smile. "Or, better yet, do your homework."

"Come on, don't be like that." James chuckled. "Show me some constellations. Which one's yours?" He wondered, peeking up at the stars again with an obnoxiously wide smile.

Regulus sighed and pointed further off to another star, not as bright or large as his brother's, but his all the same. "There's Regulus, in the Leo constellation."

James followed his finger to the star and grinned impossibly wider. "Brilliant." He said with a nod. "Leo is a lion, right? Just like Pads is in the wolf one."

"That's right." The Slytherin nodded.

"I suppose that makes us pretty similar, don't you think?" James tilted his head in thought.

"How do you figure?" Regulus raised a brow.

"Well, I'm a Gryffindor, y'see, and Leo is a lion. So when you think about it, we're nearly the same!" The tanned boy exclaimed as if he'd solved some grand puzzle.

Regulus couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping his lips, shaking his head at the logic James had concocted. "You and I are about as similar as quidditch and Potions."

James frowned dramatically deep, pushing off the wall to step just slightly closer to the younger boy. "Come on, we aren't entirely different. We have things in common, don't we?"

"What could we possibly have in common?" Regulus challenged.

"Sirius, for one." James said with a shrug, noticing too late the way the other boy tensed and folded his arms over his chest. "Oh, right..." He added after a beat.

"No, it's fine. I hardly care that my brother spends more time with your family than his own, even outside of school. I couldn't care less." He said, sarcasm bitter on his tongue as he rolled his eyes and turned to sit on the window ledge, legs dangling dangerously down though he hardly thought to care. He'd spent enough time here to learn how to be safe, even with a large drop waiting for him to slip from the edge.

"Regulus, it wasn't meant to seem that way." James tried, letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Sirius, he told me the kind of house you call a home. I'm sorry if my invitation to let him stay whenever he liked came off as me taking him from you. He and I both feel awfully wrong about the way things have gone since then, but you know you can always stay-"

"Stay with you?" Regulus cut in, letting out a sharp huff. "I'd sooner lean forward." He rolled his eyes and demonstrated by moving just the slightest bit closer to the edge before James leapt into action, arms wrapping around his frail body and pulling the boy's back to his chest.

Regulus took a moment to process the moment after it passed before his cheeks coated pink, struggling weakly to free himself while stupid Potter held him in a vice grip.

"Let me go, you arse!" He grunted, trying in vain to escape the jock's hold.

"I'm not letting you fall!" James shouted over the other boy, holding him tight enough to hurt until he tripped, falling onto the cold stone floor.

Regulus groaned, lifting up on shaky arms to see James Potter, the insufferable quidditch boy just one year his senior, the boy who stole away his only brother, lying flat on the ground beneath him.

And man, did he look good.

It had always been a thought in Regulus' head, that James Potter was a charming bloke he wouldn't mind kissing if the opportunity presented itself, but it had never felt so real before now, so possible.

"Sorry, are you alright?" The other boy asked quietly, eyes never leaving his. Regulus nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. He slowly sat up and stood, brushing off his robes despite no debris covering him.

James stood as well, practically springing to his feet and adjusting his glasses even when he should know they'd never be cured of crookedness.

"I should probably head back before Wormy or Pads wake up and start a search party for me." The Gryffindor chuckled, scratching the back of his head before smiling softly at Regulus, more sincere than he'd ever seen on the older boy. "I'll see you around, Regulus. I hope you can get some rest tonight. I know how you Blacks need your beauty rest, and it isn't wasted on you."

Regulus stood silently as he watched James descend the stairs, waiting until he couldn't hear footfalls any longer before making his way down himself.

It wasn't until he arrived back in his room, blanket up to his chin and sleep hanging on his eyelids, that Regulus realised:

He'd never felt less like crying in his entire life. And it was all thanks to that pretty bloke of a boy, James Potter.

[shunchitaro]

Chishiya x F!Y/N

Genre: Confusing Romance (literally) In which both parties have mixed feelings about each other (No bc this suits him so well esp since he's a character that's so hard to predict) Note: Slightly ooc, doesn't take place in the borderlands, college au I suggest listening to this song and knowing the lyrics before reading this to connect to the oneshot better

["Every time we talk, it just hurts so bad 'Cause I don't even know what we are"]

Y/N L/N was sitting at a table alone at lunch with her chin rested on her arms, zoning out. Why you might ask?

Her best friend was Chishiya Shuntaro. They both were close- like two peas in a pod. He was the only other girl that he got along with properly aside from Kuina. Like he was with Kuina, he was comfortable to be with Y/N hours on end. The pros of this was that Y/N easily got help for her thesis and such, and she also got to go to the arcade with Kuina whilst Chishiya paid for their arcade tickets.

But being best friends with Chishiya Shuntaro was also a con in itself.

Chishiya wasn't easy to predict. Not even Kuina, who new him longer than Y/N did, could predict him. Chishiya wasn't the type to be an open book- you'd have to read between the lines to know him better. He wasn't also very open about his emotions. Though he did laugh around with the two girls, he didn't show any emotion other than happiness around them. This also meant that Kuina and Y/N has never seen him in love.

Because of Chishiya's lack of showing if he ever had a love interest, it made Y/N overthink.

Naturally, Y/N had her opinion but she didn't want to seem like she was assuming. It annoyed her though that she couldn't read Chishiya. Normally something like this wouldn't bother her, unless she had a huge fat crush on him.

Which she did.

Oh how she hated how he messed with her. It wasn't like she really was down bad for him at first, but the way he acted with her made her so frustrated.

Frustrated because it made her think he was interested in her.

Y/N slightly jerked as she felt a hand on her head, patting it lovingly as the sound of a chair scraping against the floor was heard; and a soft plop indicating someone had taken the seat next to her. "Are you alright, Powder?" The voice asked with a strong hint of concern, and it only made Y/N's heart sink even more.

The reason the voice called her 'Powder' was because she once absentmindedly drank a cup of cocoa powder, forgetting she hadn't poured hot water into the cup yet.

The reason she hated the voice was because it belonged to none other than Chishiya Shuntaro.

She glanced up only for her eyes to clash with his dark orbs. Her eyes scanned his facial features: from his knitted eyebrows to his small smirk, drifting to the beauty mark right under his left eye.

"Do I look a mess, or is there handsome written all over my face?" He teased

'Yes, Chishiya, you're so handsomely attractive it's annoying'

"Handsome? Don't feel so mighty about yourself, you look like a monkey" She interjected instead.

She felt something tugging at her shoes and looked underneath the table to see his shoe stepping on her shoelace and pulling away, causing her lace to untie.

She scowled and smacked his arm making him groan as she reached down to also untie his lace. "Jeez, your shoelace was already loose." Chishiya winced, rubbing his arm.

Kuina suddenly appeared, wrapping her arms around their shoulders.

"Guys, let's hang out at my place. There's a new movie and a friend of mine downloaded it, so we can watch it at home."

Y/N looked at Kuina "Isn't that illegal?" "As if those series you watch aren't on illegal sites" Chishiya said as Y/N smacked him yet again.

"Stop fighting and answer me, are you going or not?" Kuina asked, making Chishiya look at Y/N.

"I'm going if Powder is"

His statement made Y/N's heart flutter but she ignored it, rolling her eyes. "I'm going, why would I back out of a hang out with dearest Kuina?"

__________________

They were at Kuina's place and it had been a few hours or so. They were munching on snacks and Kuina sighed, throwing her gaming console on her bed. "Snacks won't do, I'll go heat the pasta so we can have a proper meal." She said as she headed out of her room.

Y/N continued playing but could see Chishiya at the corner of her eye as he got up and shifted to Kuina's seat which was next to her.

"What are you doing? That's Kuina's seat." She mentioned, turning her head to face him.

He didn't speak but leaned towards her and she moved back on impulse, only for him to grab her chin gently.

Y/N's breath hitched as she looked at Chishiya, her eyes darting on either of his. She watched as his gaze moved from her right eye to her left then to her forehead, before dropping to her lips. Y/N's grip on the console weakened and she felt as if her heart stopped then and there.

'Is he actually about to kiss me-?'

"Silly girl, can't you eat properly? You have chip crumbs in your mouth." He muttered calmly, his thumb swiping on the corner of her lips before pulling away and moving back to his seat, continuing to play like nothing happened.

Y/N again felt that horrible pit at her stomach with a mix of butterflies, but chose to push it aside.

Kuina came back to the room with a big bowl of pasta and three forks, and they all sat on the floor to eat. Chishiya had clumsily dropped his fork, making Kuina snicker. Without hesitation he took Y/N's fork out of her hand- twirling it in the pasta before lifting it to his mouth, but Kuina stopped him. "Oi, that's Y/N's fork. Go get another one or use mine, you know Y/N's still eating right?"

He just looked at her, eyebrows raised with that signature cheeky smile of his. "Well you're also eating. I'm too lazy to get up and besides you eat like a goat, your fork as sauce all over it. Y/N's fork is neater." He said as he ate the pasta on the same fork Y/N was just using.

Y/N stared in disbelief, her eyes trying to read him for any sort of sign if he was just simply messing with her.

Yet again she was falling for him even harder, yet again Chishiya Shuntaro couldn't see the things he was doing to Y/N.

_________________

Soon enough it was getting late so the two had to head home, both saying goodbye to Kuina before walking to the bus stop.

It was a quiet comfortable stroll, yet Y/N's throat itched to spill out what she'd wanted to ask Chishiya.

"I can feel that something is bothering you." Chishiya spoke randomly as he walked ahead slowly, hands in his pockets.

"Are you my psychiatrist?" Y/N jokes as she walks, stopping a few steps behind Chishiya since he too had stopped walking.

"Yes, in a year's time once I've graduated college and put up my own studio. I'll be generous enough to offer you a 10% discount on your first session."

Y/N could tell he was joking to ease the mood.

But then if she could tell whenever he was joking, why couldn't she tell if he was just messing with her in a friendly way?

"Tell me what's on your mind, Powder." He spoke gently, taking a step closer to her.

Y/N could feel that the wall she was trying to build was falling apart. It was so easy for Chishiya to capture her emotions in such a way that he could make her weak in the knees with just a few words.

"I can't tell you-" "Because you think it will ruin our friendship? Nothing you say can do that Y/N, I assure you. Please tell me what's on your mind." He interrupted her as she stood, mouth slightly agape at his immediate comprehension of her emotions.

She hesitated, nibbling the inside of her cheek before giving in. "It's just, I feel like what's happening between us is confusing me. I admit that I admire you but I can't say it to your face. The way you look at me makes me weak and I find it so hard to stop myself from telling you how I truly feel.. but certainly there's no way I could end up with you."

He remained silent for a few moments before responding. "Why?"

"I know you just see me as a friend, so I'm sorry I'm overwhelming you with my emotions." He was going to interrupt but she continued. "Every time you look at me the way you do now I have to constantly remind myself that I'm just a friend to you, and you're a friend who's just looking out for me-"

"Friends don't look at friends that way." He finally interrupts, causing Y/N's eyebrows to knit together in confusion.

"What?"

Instead of replying, he chuckled and turned away, continuing to walk to the bus stop.

"After class tomorrow, wait for me outside the school gate. We can eat out at your favorite cafe and study together.

'Is this a da-'

"Before you ask, yes it's a date."

Her lips lifted into a smile as she walked after Chishiya, feeling a bubbly feeling inside.

Maybe Y/N no longer needed to worry about what Chishiya really thought about her.

A/N: heyy guys, another update. I wanted to write this because i'm in a similar situation (i think) with my crush. OR i'm probably being delusional, which seems more of a realistic answer. The reason I came up with the 'Powder' nickname is because that's what my crush calls me. I hope you have a lovely day! If you have requests, kindly put it on the Author's Note section of this oneshot compilation :))

[sleepydross]

If you would write a pulp fiction mystery, or something similar, what would the opener be? Who gets merced? How does the victim die? What would be the perfect opener in your specific eyes?

this if itll finally let me post it Normally, the streets would've been dark, too dark to see without the streetlights - but those were out, too. All kinds of things were going to Hell, and fast. There was one thing Walter knew, however…

It was the same thing everyone else knew, too.

So he took a sip of his scotch and stopped looking out the window, and listened to the dame on the stage - she was something else entirely, tall, gorgeous, muscles tight beneath skin shiny with sweat. The humidity was bad, but the streets were flooded, the tides too wild and unpredictable.

"Have there always been three moons? Have there always been three moons?" she sang, and these questions hung in the air like streams of leaden smoke, curling and twisting and resonating too hard.

It wasn't dark out there, on account of Luna's new sisters. Their official names were 'Scarlet' and 'Roanoke' for government-code-name reasons he'd never get to understand. He liked to think of them as 'Pam' and 'Mabel,' sounded more friendly.

She sang on, about those moons and those questions. People had lots of questions, those days, and were short on answers. Life had gone and gotten hard, and everyone was flagging.

And then he sat down, right across from Walter. A server followed, setting the table with a bounty - a bottle of dark whiskey and enough sushi to put him to sleep for a week.

"What do you want?" he asked the newcomer - but he poured some whiskey on his sad, boozeless rocks and took a sip. It was high end, good shit, probably pre-lunar fracture. The newcomer was handsome, skin dark and rich, cool in tone - near blue, in the dim light of the joint.

"What don't I want, Walter?" he asked, and Walter had to stop himself from swooning - no vapors on cases, he kept his head clear. Clear enough. Acceptably clear. Alcohol was a slight issue. "Got your attention, then? Marvelous. I'll keep this brief. Luna's hurting, we can all see the red smeared across her surface - but the question we all want the answer to? Who killed her, and let her sisters and their friends in?"

"Yeah, we all want that answer, buddy, but we ain't gonna get it - some spook from whatever's left of the CIA will peep that shit long before civvies like me hear about it. So, that in mind, tell me what you want, or let me drink in peace," Walter replied, coming on strong and keeping the heat up - most people balked when they started to sweat.

"Aren't you precious? There is no CIA, Walt, not anymore - there is, however, Grimbo Shanks… a man with not inconsiderable resources and a desire to find out who killed the moon," this tall, devilishly handsome stranger said, drawing a card from the breast pocket of his immaculately tailored suit. "There is a payphone, on East Third and Birmingham, on street level - it's not flooded, not yet. Get there… and call this number if you want answers too."

With that, the stranger rose and walked briskly away. Walt tried to follow him, and lost the man almost instantly in the moving ocean of servers and sad drunks that he numbered so humbly among. Grumpy, Walter sat down, and picked up the card.

'Grimbo Shanks - The Order of Eyes.'

"…fuckin' nutter," he muttered - but before he could toss the card away, he sniffed it, finding a familiar odor touching his nose. "Impossible."

But it wasn't. A sniff again brought that gut wrenching smell right back into his nostrils, and left him aching for more. It hadn't been made, hadn't been available, since before the Fracture… and he'd, once upon a time, known the man who wore that cologne and complained like Hell when they discontinued it, even if it was awful and a bit too woody.

"Can't be," he said. He hadn't gone by Grimbo Shanks, back then… but it wasn't a far cry to imagine that theatrical prick taking up a new name in a new world.

Grunting, he got up, slumping towards the door, intent on seeing if there were any Gossha around the lower levels who wanted to drink some blood - if he was going to get to a phone before high tide hit, he was going to need to sober up.