#(been working on story for like a year or two...)

[katiascraft]

"Him" | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x bestie!reader.

Summary: Oblivious idiots to lovers. That's what Max said.

Word count: +2,7k.

Warnings: nooone just pure fluff and some language hehe. Not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author's note: AAAAAAA i loved writting this one 🥹 Dont forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

“You only say that because you fancy him, y/n. You can't play with me”Max said out of nowhere while talking about the whole Lando drama and his fourth championship at Danny Ric’s house. Your three have been best friends for quite some time now. Actually, you have been friends with most of the grid for a couple of years now. They were like family to you and recently, you moved countries to live and study in Monaco and be able to spend more time with your friends.

“What have you just said motherfucker?” you acted offended. Nethertheless it took you by surprise that he said such a thing when you have never talked about Lando and your feelings for him with him nor danny. But Max knew you too well to already know the whole story. Of course Danny laughen and you could feel the heat going up your face. You feel exposed so you try to cover up by drinking another sip from your glass of white wine. You thank god it was in the privacy of Danny's house and not some random bar for everyone to hear.

“Oh c’mon y/n, i think it’s pretty too obvious by now” max continued noticing the panic and surprise on your face.

“Yeah, it is obvious and cute to see how you drool, staring at him everytime he talks. And not to mention you eat him alive at races when he is all sweaty -” danny continued the torture but you stopped them both making them laugh.

“Just stop!” you said “you guys are impossible!” your face was red and anxiety took over you for a moment.you sighed defeated. “To be honest with you, yeah, I do like him. But lets be real, im nt even his type at all” you said remembering how he was kissing magui, that model he fucks now and the, kind of a situationship, in front of your fucking face the whole night a few weeks ago. “And even as impossible as it sounds, if there was an actual chance for me with him, we wouldn't work either. I'm complicated. And he doesn't see me like that. He never did. And i'm sure that won't change like ever” you added just convince yourself of everything you said. It was impossible, right? There was no chance in this universe for him to see you like that. You are so far from what he used to date. It's just an innocent crush. You’ll meet someone,right? You saw Max denying with his head.

“y/n, i know you are not the most confident human being i know but be fucking for real, you are not complicated. And everything you said it's nonsense. You are fun to be around, you make him laugh until he pisses himself, you give him his favorite things, you bake him cookies and pies, you listen to him when he is sad, you are like the bestest person next to him. And let me tell you, I have no doubts he is into you as much as you are. It's in your eyes guys. You love each other more fondly than you want to admit” he said leaving you speechless for a moment and with a mess of confusion around your head. You wanted to believe him but at the same time you can’t.

“Mic drop, sir” Danny said and they both laughed. You smiled but rolled your eyes in disbelief.

“I wish” you finally said, making Max roll his eyes.

“Two oblivious idiots, can you believe it danny?” Max said ironically and Danny followed him.

“I see it mate. It's sad. I wanna cry” he said.

“You guys are impossible." You declared to go back to your trivial talk about cats and australia barbecue.

(...)

It was a beautiful saturday. You were thankful Ria said yes to accompany you to buy a new outfit for tonight's party. Martin Garrix was in town and lando invited you all to his friend's show. Coffees in hand, you were chatting about everything and anything.

“So the plan is a sexy outfit just to impress your boy?” she teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with the idea that I like lando? As if he would care what I wear or not” you said, a little irritated. You just wanted to conquer someone else tonight to forget about all of this and move one. You knew it was impossible that Lando liked you back so why be stuck in it? You were gonna dress up and doll up and conquer whoever you may please. That was your masterplan.

“Girl, you need to relax. I say it first hand: he cares a lot fucking much. He likes you. I just know.but you two are too dumb to accept it” she said raising her shoulders.

You felt so confused once again. These were Lnados friends who knew him just like you did. First it was Max and Danny and now it is ria. You didn't want to fool yourself. And at the same time you wanted him to know for the longest time. You wanted him to notice you. And you also knew him and you knew how he is with girls and if he liked you then he would've told you by now.

“Ria, dont play with me” you begged. Concern showed in your voice. She gave you a gentle hug by your side.

“I won't ever do that to you y/n. I would never in a million years forgive myself if I did. You're my friend and I just want you to be happy. Believe me” her voice was soft and sweet. You just smile and change the subject. You didn't want to discuss this anymore. Nor did you think you could handle it.

(...)

Saturday night finally came and so did the margaritas you so dearly adore when you needed to forget reality. You were pretty tipsy by now. You met Franco Colapinto and you didn't even know he was invited but oh god he was so fun to be around. You've Been talking to him the whole night about whatever to be honest.and yeah, he looked really hot tonight by the way. You felt lucky he even looked at you and so you followed around.

You bumped into Max at the bar table after ordering yet another margarita. He looked at you a little tipsy as well.

“So you replaced lando for an argentine prince, huh?” He teased you.

“Oh shut the fuck up verstappen. Were in public” you said going back to the barman who was handing you your precious margarita drink. He rolled his eyes.

“Be careful. Lando's not happy” he said and disappeared into the people holding his vodka with red bull. Weird mix but he was loyal to his employers i guess.

You came back to where Franco was waiting for you to be back. He looked so cute under the lights in that white shirt he was wearing. And speaking of white shirt you saw Lando talking to him. You cursed yourself right there. You may or may not have ignored him the whole night. But you just couldn't face him after what all your friends said. You just didn't want to be tempted by his pretty shiny green eyes and his mouth. Oh what you'd give up just to taste his lips.

“Oh there is the missing girl,” Lando said, looking at you when you arrived and smiling nervously. The tension established between you two even Franco noticed it.

“Guess it is my turn to go to the bar. Be right back, guys” he said and left the two of you alone. You took a sip from your glass avoiding his sight.

“What's wrong with you?” he said kind of offended? Anger could be clearly heard in his voice. You sighed not knowing what to answer.

“What do you mean lando?” you decided to play the fool. You wanted to run away. His eyes were intimidating you.

“One day we watch movies together and bake cookies and the other you ignore me for several days and even flirt with another dude straight to my face?” what he just told you took you by surprise. You frowned, confused at his statement. The tension was burning your throat. He got closer and so you finally faced him. You looked at him. His face straight and his eyes dark with a little sparkle. You couldn't read what was going on inside him. Maybe he was just as confused as you were. “You look too pretty in that dress to be talking to him and not me” you could breathe his warm breath tasting tequila mixed with lemon. You swallowed hard. Your insides exploded. what was happening? He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. His touch burns your skin sending shivers down your spine. This was actually happening? Your hands were shaking. You really thought about what to tell him. A devilish smile appeared in his face when he thought he left you speechless. But you weren't ready to let him win.

“Well, for your information, I'm single and I can talk to wherever my vagina pleases so that shouldn't be none of your business. Also, why would I talk to you if you have been talking with more than one girl tonight? I'm a selective lady. What can I say” you smiled innocently.

He bit his lip. He tightened his grip around you. More possessive. More irresistible. Your innocent smile turns into a triumph smile. ”so if you dont mind i’ll keep talking to Franco and luckly fuck him. Have a good night Landito” you said provocatively leaving lando hanging into his words as you pulled away and walked away from him. His brain is malfunctioning.

And as you promised you kissed and fucked Franco Colpinto that night.

(...)

It was already the next sunday and Lando had disappeared. There was nowhere to be found. He didn't reply to your texts nor your calls. He became just dead silent. That made you feel even more confused than you already were. What did it mean what happened at the party? What were his intentions? Why didn't you kiss him? You were torn into feeling guilty and stupid at the same time. Like you had an actual chance with him but you didn't take it. And you didn't even know why. You hated yourself so much for that. How stupid.

Max, Lando's best friend, invited you over along with Pietra and Lando. You were cooking some vanilla flavored cookies with chocolate chips. The famous crumble cookies. Lando has been pretty much ignoring you. And you have been really quiet. Very unusual both ways. The tension was irritating. Max and Pietra tried to play it cool but it was very uncomfortable. When Lando came back from the bathroom, Max took him into the terrace and you stayed with pietra inside in the kitchen doing your stuff.

“Babe, what happened between you two?” she sounded genuinely worried. You sighed stressed.

“To be honest with you, I don't know. After a weird moment at the party last Saturday, he has been ust ignoring me. I didn't know if he was even alive if Max didn't invite us here. Very childish in my opinion but what can I say? I Didn't face him either.” you explained and pietra frowned her eyebrows.

“You need to talk honey. You need to tell him” she said, sobbing in your arms. You pressed your lips together looking outside through the glass door straight to lando seriously talking to max.

(...)

After the worst and most traumatic hang around with Max and Pietra - the cookies were great by the way - Lando offered to give you a ride and you said yes. Probably the worst decision of your life because the tensi could be cut by a knife and it was hard to breathe of how dense the air was inside the car. His radio was playing Jmaes Blunt ‘you’re beautiful". It was one of your favorite songs. How pretty was to you to enamour someone just by existing in the subway going to work or going back from university. You just romanticized that idea. You started mumbling the lyrics in a whisper just to not disrupt his comfort. But after a few seconds he turned off the radio and you looked at him weirded out.

“I can't do this anymore,” he said, parking his car on the side of the road. Anxiety kicked you. You licked your lips looking at your hands and he was just starting to nowhere outside his car window.

“I really like you y/n. I am in love with you in fact. And dim so stupid i realized about it when i saw you with Franco kissing. His hands touching you grossed me out. It felt wrong because that should've been me - not him” he finally looked at you. What he just said took you by surprise and you wanted to cry but holded inside. You looked back at him. The knot in your throat was unbearable.

“We are idiots,” you said, remembering what Max said to you a couple of months ago.”Because I'm in love with you. I was too afraid to tell you and ruin what he had. Losing you terrifies me. And to be honest I just thought you wouldn't even look at me that way. I never felt pretty enough for you, I don't know why” when he heard you say that last sentence his heart sank.

“I always felt you were out of my league to be honest. Please, y/n, you're gorgeous, and funny as fuck, and intelligent, and sweet and such a great person. You're almost perfect. Don't ever talk about you like that. I'm just an idiot. A normal stupid ass dude. Don't compare yourself like that ever again” he said feeling a little guilty for you to feel that way even though it was not his fault.

You gave him a soft smile nodding.”you know? I can't believe every single friend of yours told me for months that you liked me and I just couldn't believe it. How dumb I gotta be. So I'll fight the intelligent compliment of yours” you said, making him laugh.

“But let's be honest, who thinks straight when they are in love?” he said with the most precious smile and sparkly eyes looking at you so fondly. You knew you had heart eyes in your eyes.

“Fair point” you said, smiling widely. And you giggled out of nervousness. He did too.

Two kids in love. You dreamed about this day for so many years. You just hoped that it wasn't another dream because it felt like one. And without asking, Lando took you out of your self doubt and inner conversion pressing his lips into yours in the most felt kiss you have ever given. The man that you are Lando norris. You cupped his face on your hands making the kiss more intimate and passionate. A kiss you two wanted to give for so long. You said everything in that kiss. You just knew this was it. This was the start of the most exciting and magical love story. And it was yours.

It was him. It has always been him. Lando. Your best friend. Him and no one else by your side.

(...)

Your eyes filled with tears of joy. You were at the wedding of one of your best friends: max verstappen. Lando was holding your hand gently and so dearly. They were speaking their vows and everything was so emotional. You were such a sensitive soul. Lando loved that about you. So pure in emotions. So vulnerable yet so strong and brave. That was you and watching the isle,he knew it was you who was gonna be there with him when the moment came around. The bride kissed the man and you two cheered the new wife and husband of the group. You looked at Lando for a moment knowing he was the love of your life and it was gonna be you two there one day.

What you did not expect was to take in your own hands the wife’s bouquet announcing you were next in line to get married. Youcelebrated in happiness and laughter around your friends and Lando. You kissed him so fondly.

“I love you bestie” you said between his lips grabbing him by the neck, the bouquet in one of your hands.

“I love you bestie, forever” he said with heart eyes hugging you looking at you with love in every fiber of his body.

“Forever and always” you assured him.

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Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any idea my inbox is open so send your requests!

[livbedum]

older chapter one

younger actress!reader x drew starkey smau

summary in which you and drew run into some fans and it only fuels the rumors

next chapter

ynupdates posted photos!

liked by starkeyluvr , tsitpfan and others

ynupdates got to meet y/n and drew when i was out last night! they were with the rest of obx cast and chris but i didn’t get to meet the all of them! y/n was so nice and drew is so hot i love my life

tagged yourusername drewstarkey

view all comments

username omfg omfg omfg

username i knew the casts became friends after hellraiser came out with y/n and drew but seeing it changes things

↳ username they were friends before hellraiser because lilah introduced them!

username are they dating?

↳ username goodbyeeeee men and women can be friends

username y/n living our dream

username first chris and now drew? seems like y/n is just trying to date whoever she can from work

yourusername ope— not the bad angle!☹️

↳ ynupdates omF I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR TAKING PICS AND TALKING TO ME I LOVE YOU DREW TOO OMFG

↳ yourusername i love you more<3 i loved being able to meet you!!!!

↳ yourusername drewstarkey found her!

↳ ynupdates you were talking about me?!?? OMFG IM SCREMAING

↳ drewstarkey hey!!! we found her!😁

↳ ynupdates OMFGG AGWIKWUS

username no bc why do i ship y/n with chris and drew at the same time??

username they have to be dating! i saw them hanging out alone last week!! i didn’t want to bother them because they were having dinner , but it didn’t look friendly!

↳ username i need to know everything

username i need season three of tsitp right neowwww

↳ username bc why do we have to wait so long😭

yourusername posted to their story!

drewstarkey replied to your story!

no photo credit is crazy

also a premiere throwback when the next season doesn’t come out until next year is ridiculous. you’re edging us at this point

ilydrwstrky tweeted!

the fact that y’all are saying there’s so many signs pointing to drew dating y/n is ridiculous! y’all are delusional and reaching atp. they met thru lilah ( her dad is drew’s boss and her coworker is y/n ) and so the two casts of tsitp and obx hang out. that’s it! y’all are sad!

35 replies | 107 retweets | 439 likes | 10 favorites

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↳ username i fear you’re being more delusional than the shippers queen

↳ username we’ve been over this people! stop shipping real human beings!

↳ username personally , i’m going to stay in my yndrew bubble while you stay jealous that drew’s never going to pick you

↳ username there’s so many threads on x alone that support and feed into the rumor of them being together , but i seriously hope not. they met when she was 19 and he was 27. did somebody say leo dicaprio?

an first chapter out. first social media fic out. so pls tell me u love it before i crash out💋

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 3 – The One About That Guy, That Girl, and the Dragon

I’m just going to jump right on my magical pixie pony for this one – because why the fuck not? But, I promise this speculation has a foundation of fact. So, there’s that.

On Sunday, November 10, 2024 – seemingly out of nowhere – Zoe McConnell posted to her IG stories a picture of Nicola from a photoshoot from November 2022.  Yes, you read that right – 2022. Zoe reposted this to her stories exactly two years from the day she first posted it to her grid.

Why?

Uh, happy anniversary to the picture? [feel free to scratch your head in confusion because I sure as shit did – but only for a second]

Who cares about a photoshoot from 2022?

And, don’t even get me started on the weird ass suggestion this was a push for Nicola to win – what bullshit award show is up next? – People’s Choice Awards. Actually, do get me started on that because that theory just makes my eyes roll.  The only connection I see here is that the dress Nicola is wearing was from her 2022 Glamour Awards appearance.  What exactly does that have to do with People’s Choice? Nothing.

Now, forget all about that shit and keep reading.

What IS interesting about this post from Zoe is that, if you’re a certain creator or anyone who has ever read this certain creator’s timeline, you’d know that this picture is referenced in said timeline (P.S. My disclaimer today is that I am not a fan of said creator but that doesn’t negate the information she has distributed to the masses).

Here’s what happened two years ago:

On November 9, 2022, Nicola posted one of Zoe’s images to her own grid, thanking Glamour for her award. Luke liked this post.

On that same day, Nicola posted a second set of pictures from that same photoshoot. Luke did not like that post.

The following day, November 10, 2022, Zoe posted one of those additional pictures to her own grid. Luke liked that post from Zoe’s grid. But, he did not go back and like Nicola’s second grid post from the day before. Why? Why go to Zoe's grid instead of Nicola's to like the pictures? I could speculate on this for the next eight minutes but I’ll let you come to your own conclusion.

So, this past Sunday, Zoe posts to her stories a link to that November 10, 2022 grid post that Luke liked. Nicola reposted Zoe’s story to her own IG stories. If you’re a Nicola fan, I can probably guess what you're going to do next. You’re going to click on Nicola’s story – which takes you to Zoe’s page – and when you click on Zoe’s stories – it takes you to the original November 10, 2022 post, which Luke liked at that time.

Odd, that.

And, by “odd,” I mean odd in the fact that no one cares about a two-year-old picture. I mean, really, who fucking cares? Except Lukolas who see Luke’s like on the original post.

Let’s keep moving.

On November 11, 2024, Zoe was right back at it. She posted to her IG stories another picture of Nicola from the same photoshoot. This time it was the one Zoe originally posted back on November 11, 2022. Yay, another anniversary. Zoe put a cutesy little caption that read: “Princess Peach.” Nicola did not reshare this story. I mean, at this point, we’re all watching Zoe, right? No need to reshare because our Lukola interest has been peaked, in my opinion.

Then, a few hours after Zoe’s post, Rachell Smith, also a photographer, posted an old picture of Luke to her grid. This picture isn’t as old as Zoe’s but it does go back to May 2024. Rachell follows it up with an IG story of the same image with the song, “Lifting You” by Jungle. Take a moment and go look up the lyrics and meaning of that song. Fine, fine, fine. I’ll just tell you. The song is about being deeply committed and doing whatever is needed to make a relationship work (this, per Mr. Google). Rachell’s caption? “[O]ur knight and shining [Luke].”

Well, fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

We have a princess and we have a knight.

Interesting.

I mean, we grew up with this idea that the knight in shining armor saved the princess, right?

To be honest, yesterday, I had no clue what that was all about (and I really didn't care -- the seas have been rough for the USS Lukola lately) so I went about my day like normal.

But, this morning, the wheels and cogs in my head started working together.

I wondered how that ever came about – the idea that a knight saved a princess.

So, I asked Mr. Google: “Where did the story about a knight rescuing a princess originate?”

Okay, yeah, I see Perseus and Andromeda…and in Western culture….Saint George and the Dragon…

Wait --

What?

Saint George and the Dragon?

Nope. Not possible.

But, I was certain it was.

I scurried over to Tiktok to find the post I’d seen a few months earlier about the medallion Luke wore for a long time – the one Nicola allegedly gave him. The TT creator believed that the necklace depicted none other than Saint George and the Dragon! Now, I must add that this has never been confirmed but the TT creator did make a fairly convincing argument for it. This is also the necklace Luke was allegedly wearing in the “Polin” picture that was released simultaneously by Nicola and Luke on October 21, 2024 (based on the chain of the necklace he was wearing).

Delulu?

Yeah, maybe.

But, we also can’t make this shit up.

Edit (11/14/2024): Today, Luke's People Magazine photoshoot came out. Guess who his photographer was? Zoe McConnell.

Again, we can't make this shit up.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

hii love! i just read your clingy so u distance yourself fic for the bazillion time and i cried again no surprise🥹 I just wanted to say i love your works so much and would live to request for an angst oneshot with brother bsf chan? basically reader has been pining for chan for a few years but she never got the courage to tell chan cause she thinks she isn’t good enough for chan. Then afterwards basically chan got a girlfriend who hated her and basically influenced chan to stop hanging out with her which he listened to and told the reader which the reader told him that his girlfriend wasn’t loyal but he thought she was sabotaging his relationship and so they ended off on bad terms but turns out a few weeks later he caught his girlfriend cheating and went back to the reader? sorry if it is kinda long but i rlly need a oneshot like this to read when i just need some angst i really live and admire your works so id be elated if you did my request. thank you and lots of love❤️

my first piece since I went on a mini little baby hiatus. and i had a lot of joy writing this. so i hope you enjoy <3!!!

Brothers Bsf Chan x Fem!Reader (angst/fluff)

6.8k words

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You didn’t know when it started. Was it a simple touch? A brush of a hand or an accidental graze of fingers? Or was it one of those lazy Friday nights where Chan would crack jokes to you and his best friend- your older brother Jisung- while you three were watching movies in the house you grew up in. Or did it stem back all the way to those days where you would chase after Chan and Jisung on the playground, down your neighborhood streets- crying out for them to wait for you. Those cries stopped when Chan would reach his hand out to bring you along.

Maybe it was a combination of all of those things, those things you had tried so hard to forget because it could only lead to heartbreak. Falling in love with your brother’s best friend was no easy feat for anyone. Let alone when you were falling for someone like Chan, who was so hard to fall out of love with. Maybe even more so for you since he would always be in your life. Him and Jisung were nearly joined at the hip, which made it even harder to hide your pining for him. You wouldn’t dare love out loud, but it was starting to whisper through the cracks of your resolve.

You were unconditionally in love with everything about Chan. 

That's how it was for years, and how you intended it to be for as long as allowed. You spent countless nights staring at your ceiling, wondering if he could ever see you the way that you saw him. You were sure things were only platonic between the two of you, but you couldn’t help but linger on the memories of certain looks, certain gestures that you couldn’t delude yourself into believing happened between friends. 

Things started to change when Chan began dating someone new. 

Duri. Her name was Duri, and the first time you met her, you knew she was the type to turn heads. She had a smile that could light up a room and a confidence you could only dream of. Standing next to her, you felt small, like a background character in Chan’s life story. A girl who captured Chan’s attention so easily. A girl who wrapped him up in her life so easily that you knew you were to be forgotten. He was smitten and her words flowed like the river of the smoothest molasses. She could easily convince Chan, he didn’t need you. Because she didn’t like you.

You weren’t sure why, but it was obvious. And because she didn’t like you, her feelings towards Jisung weren’t all that different, it seemed. And slowly you felt like Chan was making his way out of your life.

“Ji, why isn’t Chris here?” You loved the way his name sounded when you said it. Not many people around you called him Chris, so it felt special to call him that. He seemed to enjoy it as well, not ever asking you to conform to societal norms.

“He’s probably just busy, Y/N-ie…I’m sure he’ll come back around.” Jisung said one day as you guys sat on the couch, scrolling through movies. It was the first Friday movie Chan had missed. And even if it was the first time he had missed it, you knew it would be a regular occurrence.

In all honesty, at first, you tried to like Duri. She was with Chan, after all, and you thought that maybe you could be friends. That maybe if you could convince yourself to like her then the pain of not being the one that Chan loved would ease.. But the more you saw her, the more you felt her sharp, indirect glances, the way she dismissed you with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She made you feel invisible, as if you were only tolerated because you were Jisung’s sister. Even if she just barely tolerated the latter.

Over time, you saw the changes in Chan too. He became distant, no longer the easygoing guy who’d spend hours with you and your brother. He was still polite, still kind, but he was pulling away, bit by bit. You told yourself it was just a phase, that he’d come around once things settled down with Duri.

But then, one night, things came to a head.

You, Jisung, and Chan had made plans to meet at your favorite café—just a casual hangout, like old times. But when Chan showed up with his girlfriend by his side, something was off. His smile was forced, his laughs hollow. He barely met your eyes, and when you spoke, and even then  it was like he wasn’t really listening. To the point that Jisung even pointed it out. Every time you spoke, Duri happened to speak at the same time. Every time a question was directed at you, Duri somehow changed the conversation. You felt small and insignificant and made your way home early. You couldn’t stand to sit there and see the man you were so down bad for with his significant other. Duri had sat close to him, her hand always somewhere on his arm or shoulder, marking her territory in the subtlest way, in a way that caused an anger that wasn’t so subtle. 

But even then after leaving you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest. You sat down on a bench outside of a convenience store by your home, trying to sort out your feelings. 

You okay? I’ll be heading home soon. We went out to drink. 

You quickly type out a reply to Jisung, your fingers shaking as you realized just how cold it was. Just as you were about to get up to leave a pale hand reached out to you with a warm drink. 

You looked up to see a guy with dark and prominent eyebrows, and a little birthmark on his nose. 

“You seemed cold. Its…” He looked at the can. “Mocha flavored.” He handed it back out to you and smiled softly. 

“Thank you.” You said with a small bow of your head, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtful gesture. 

“You live in the neighborhood right? Your brother…looks like a squirrel?” The man’s voice was soft and shy, like he thought he was talking too much.

“Oh! You’re our new neighbor? I’m Han Y/N.” You said with a flourished bow.

“Park Sunghoon. Nice to meet you…” He shuffled awkwardly. “Would you like me to wait before I walk home…I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! No! It’s fine, I'm not uncomfortable. You can walk home with me.” You say quietly. “Maybe it’ll be nice to not feel lonely.”

As you made your way back home with Sunghoon you had a weird feeling in your chest. You thought maybe you were just trying to sort your feelings, but it was more of an intuitive sense. 

Then you got a text from your brother.

I’m coming home. Duri tried to make a move on me and I’m not trying to get into it with Chan while she is here.

You blinked at the text, nodding when your voice registered Sunghoon asking if you were okay.

That was that odd feeling…

You didn’t know if it was selfish to feel happy that Duri was a tool, but you did. You didn’t want Chan to get hurt so you decided to go talk to him. Giving a message on behalf of Jisung, who thought maybe Chan would listen better if it was coming from a girl

“Hey, can I talk to you?” you asked, your voice soft but determined, as you walked up to him outside of his job a few days later.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, looking a bit surprised. He followed you to a quieter part of the park, away from prying eyes. “Is everything okay? Jisung hasn’t texted me in a couple of days…"

You took a breath, feeling the words tangle on the tip of your tongue. “Chris…I just…I feel like you’re not around as much anymore. I get that you’re with Duri, but…it’s like you’re pulling away from me and Jisung. My brother is too scared to say anything, but he feels just as bad, if not worse than I do.”

He frowned, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry if it feels that way,” he said finally, but not much emotion in his voice. “But…I need to be there for Duri. She’s… she doesn’t feel comfortable with me hanging out so much with, you know…” He trailed off, not meeting your eyes.

Your heart sank, a cold dread washing over you. “With me, you mean?”

He hesitated, but the silence was all the confirmation you needed. “She…doesn’t get why I’m so close with you. And I don’t want her to feel insecure, so I…I think it’s best if we… keep some distance. Just for now.”

You stared at him, feeling a surge of hurt and anger. “Chris, she’s manipulating you!” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “She’s making you feel guilty for caring about people who were here long before she was. Because she knows those people will pinpoint, that she’s a manipulative cheater!”

He looked at you, a flash of anger in his eyes at the words. “You don’t know her like I do,” he snapped.

You flinched at the venom in his voice. He had never snapped at you and you could feel tears spring to your eyes.

“She tried to make a move on Ji…” You said quietly. “And don’t try and say my brother is a liar, Chris,  because you know he’s not.”

Chan gave a sarcastic chuckle. “She already told me that Y/N. She was drunk. It was nothing more than that.”

“Drunk actions are sober thought Chris!” You shot back.

“Oh, so the first time you ever got drunk and confessed your feelings for me was a sober thought?”

You felt your body freeze and you blinked at Chan with wide eyes. You blacked out the first time you had ever drank and didn’t touch anything since. You never knew you had admitted to liking Chan.

“So it’s true then? You actually love me?” Chan let out a large sigh. “Frankly, it’s not fair for you to accuse her of things that aren’t true just because you put me on a pedestal. Your feelings for me aren’t my responsibility Y/N. This…this just feels like you’re trying to come between us because of some childish jealousy. She’s my girlfriend, and I trust her more than I trust someone who hasn’t been honest to me for years.”

You felt like you’d been slapped. The words cut deeper than anything you’d expected, leaving you struggling for air. “That’s not…that’s not what I’m doing, Chan. I just…I don’t want to see you get hurt.” You tried to say back. “My feelings have nothing to do with this I’m coming to you as a friend-”

“Friends don’t feel that way about each other Y/N! Once you cross that line friendship can’t be used as a label. Do you ever think that Duri might be acting this way because you absolutely suck at hiding your feelings?!” His voice was sharper than ever and you could feel a sad squeeze in your heart. “So deal with the fact that I’m going to put my girlfriend first- regardless of what I feel for you.” There was the slightest hesitation and falter in his face at his last words, but you were too upset to decipher what exactly that meant. “ I’m done with this conversation. I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He said in a soft yet defeated voice, leaving you standing there, heartbroken and speechless.

The next few weeks were met with silence.  Jisung asked what had happened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. You kept your pain buried, letting it fester in the corners of your mind. Chan had felt terrible for yelling at you, and had come over to apologize with extra snacks for your guys Friday night movie, but to his surprise, it was only Jisung who was there. 

“Where is Y/N?” Chan asked, setting down your favorite candy and chips on the reclining chair you always claimed. He looked around the corner to see if you were in your room. Your door was open and he walked in, looking at the little polaroids littered across your room on various walls and flat surfaces. He looked at your books and plushies with a soft smile. 

“She’s working overtime tonight. Do you want to watch a Marvel or DC movie?” Jisung called from the living room. Chan’s brow furrowed. He knew the company you worked for closed early on Fridays, all employees getting off early. Something he had realized after observing you for so long. 

“Marvel…” Chan called out, closing the door behind himself.

As suspected you weren’t working overtime. 

Rather as time passed, you found comfort in unexpected places. One of those places was the attractive man that one night, your neighbor Sunghoon. Who, much to your surprise, shared your interests and understood your silence without question. He became your confidant, your quiet escape from the heartache Chan had left behind.

“He’s probably over at my house right now with Jisung.” You had mumbled as you cuddled up on his side. Also, much to your surprise, Sunghoon was a great cuddle buddy. What was even better is that he wanted nothing in return, nor were there any ill intentions letting you grow close to him in an emotional and physical way. He had confided in you that a deeper intimacy was something he couldn’t ever see himself liking, which was why he was set on settling down alone, and that he wasn’t much of a physical person to begin with, but with you he found himself not minding the soft physicality much at all. 

“Like we’re twin flames right.” You had joked, that day, holding out your pinky. He had nodded, locking pinkies with yours. 

“You’re right, but I am more than sure he won’t think to come over her-”

The doorbell rang and you sprung up from your position on the couch as Sunghoon made his way to the door. 

“Well speak of the devil…” He mumbled. 

Chan stood at the doorway of Jisung’s new neighbor, delivery food in his hand. He looked at the bag and considered the weight of the bag.

Maybe a couple having date night?

“Hello?” A tall and undeniably attractive man stood at the door. 

Damn…wow uh-

“Oh, hey! I think your delivery was sent to my friend’s house. I just wanted to make sure you knew it was here...” The man looked at Chan with a blank look. 

Are kids these days given supplements or something…why is he so majestic looking…

“Oh, thank you.” He said , bowing and grabbing the food.

Before the door was shut, Chan could’ve sworn he noticed a pair of familiar shoes, but disregarded it, making his way back to Jisung’s.

As more time passed, you found yourself missing Chan rather than getting over him. 

“Is it strange, Sungie?” you asked while you were building a puzzle with him one evening- another Friday. “That I’m absolutely pissed, and heartbroken, but I want nothing more than to see him? And I can’t think of anything other than I miss him?”

Sunghoon thought for a moment and then spoke softly. “No, it’s not strange at all. Rather, it’d be strange if you didn’t. Sometimes, love clings to us hardest when we’re hurting the most. It's like every part of you is aching for the one person who can make it better—even if they’re the one who hurt you. Missing him doesn’t make you weak; it just means he’s still a part of your heart. Sometimes, loving someone means feeling everything all at once—the anger, the heartbreak, and that unstoppable longing. It’s okay to feel it all."

You were at your house, and Sunghoon was over since he had become a regular visitor, after Jisung befriended him and then finally pieced together where you were going every Friday and other odd days of the week when you first heard the news. At first he had assumed you and Sunghoon were a thing until you both quickly shot down that notion by informing Jisung that relationships and love were not Sunghoon’s cup of tea.

But since he now knew that wasn’t the case, and had long since known the truth since your first and last drunk outing he thought you might want to know.

“They broke up. Strange enough, Chan didn’t seem all that upset—I mean, he did seem upset, but you think you’d be more upset when you break up, you know?” Jisung rambled, barely pausing for breath. “Instead, he was, like, really calm, which made no sense to me. I feel like I’d be freaking out, or, like, super sad, or anxious, or angry. How can you just be indifferent to a breakup with someone you thought was going to be the love of your life? It’s like those characters in anime—”

You tuned out Jisung’s voice, the news sinking in like stones in your stomach as you laid your head against Sunghoon’s side as he read the ingredients on an air freshener bottle while he waited for Jisung to finish warming up food. 

Chan and Duri had broken up. Your heart was a tangled mess of relief and pain, of memories you hadn’t let yourself fully process. After all those months, he was free—but what did it mean now? What did any of it mean when he’d already chosen her once?

As Jisung continued his rapid-fire monologue, you watched to the two people who had been a distraction these past few weeks: him and Sunghoon. Sunghoon, in a more practical way since he knew the depths of your doubts and worries, and easily fit into the spot of your platonic soulmate and best friend. It seemed he was more versed on the Chan-sized hole in your heart than even you were, and you were glad you now had him to walk these roads with you.

Eventually Jisung came back to the living room with dinner, and you were soon enough immersed into the activities of the evening. 

You were unaware what was about to go down when the knock at the door came, Jisung springing up to answer it, his laughter echoing down the hall as he let someone in. The air around you shifted, growing thicker, familiar, and before you even turned around, you knew who was standing there. 

You had known him long enough to sense when the man you loved was in the room. His presence filled it quickly enough, his gaze sweeping over the space, lingering a little too long on you and Sunghoon, who seemed to be molded together perfectly, Sunghoon’s arm lazily resting on your leg.

Jisung shot you an awkward glance before mumbling something about getting snacks from the store. He and Sunghoon exchanged a glance, and, with a silent nod Sunghoon got up, and they left, closing the door behind them. You were left alone with Chan in the thick silence that followed, the quiet pressing down around you.

Chan’s expression was tense, guarded, and yet, behind his eyes, you saw a trace of vulnerability. He took a hesitant step toward you, his voice soft. “Y/N…”

You met his gaze, pain simmering just beneath the surface. “What are you doing here?”

He took a deep breath, guilt etched into the lines of his face. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I should have listened to you. I didn’t… I couldn’t see it. I was so focused on Duri that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. She wasn’t loyal. I caught her cheating, and I realized just how wrong I was and how right you and Jisung were.”

His words landed between you, each one a mix of relief and ache that clawed at your heart. But you couldn’t ignore the questions tumbling through your mind—the doubts that held you back from even entertaining the hope you’d once felt. You folded your arms, steadying yourself as you looked away.

“Chan, I don’t even know what to say to you. It’s not just about her or your breakup,” you said, voice low.

The older boy flinched at your words. 

“Chan…” He mumbled. You had rarely ever spoken his name aloud like that before. So rarely he couldn’t even remember the last time you did, and he didn’t even recognize your voice when you said it. “I messed up horribly…didn’t I?”

 “You didn’t just choose her.” You started. “You looked me in the eyes and didn’t believe me. You accused me of saying things because of personal feelings. Then went on to accuse me of lying to you because I never confessed my feelings- even though apparently I did and you just omitted the truth of what I said when I blacked out as if that's not also a form of dishonesty. You thought I was trying to ruin your happiness, like I’d sabotage your relationship out of jealousy. Are you serious, Chan?”

He winced again, his hand reaching toward you as if he wanted to touch you but was too afraid. “I know, Y/N, and I hate that I did that to you. I was wrong. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I just… I needed you to know that I truly am am sorry. I didn’t think I had hurt you that badly and it was foolish.”

The hurt that had sat quietly in your heart surged to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, you murmured, “So what? You’re here now because you need a rebound? You want someone to feel close to because she’s gone?”

Chan’s face fell, confusion and hurt flickering across his features. “What? No, Y/N, it’s not like that at all. You’re not some replacement or… or backup. You’ve never been that to me, ever.”

“Then what am I, Chan?” You shook your head, frustration and sorrow mingling together. “Because if I was the first one you come to- not even your best friend-” You said referring to your brother. “Than there has to be reason behind that. Let me guess, you feel something for me?” 

Chan swallowed and you knew his answer when you saw the look in his brown eyes. You let out and exasperated sigh and tried to hold back your tears, but couldn’t so you looked at the ground instead.

“If you really felt this way—if you really cared about me or dare I even say loved me…then why did you pick her? Why now, after you’ve been with her all this time? Am I supposed to believe that just because she’s out of the picture, you’ve suddenly realized what you want?” Your voice was sad and defeated and you let your tears fall. “If so that's really really mean.” You whined sadly.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head emphatically. “No, it’s not because of that. Y/N, I was so stupid. I’ve spent these past few weeks… I didn’t even realize how much I missed you until I lost you. I can’t just go back to how things were, but I know I want you in my life. I don’t want to lose you.”

He paused until you looked up at him, his heart shattering even more at the glossiness behind your sad eyes. “It’s not that Y/N-ie not at all. Sometimes you really just don’t know what you’ve had until you lost it.

But something about his gaze shifted as he glanced back toward the door where Jisung and Sunghoon had left. His mouth pressed into a thin line, his brows drawn together in a dark, unreadable expression. “Guess I’ve already been replaced though, huh?” He said quietly.

You felt your stomach twist at his words, your tears drying almost immediately with the thought of where this was heading. “Replaced? What are you even talking about?”

“Your neighbor,” he said bitterly, albeit soft; the label sharp on his tongue. “You and him. I came here to tell you how much I’ve messed things up, only to see you with him. I guess it didn’t take long for you to move on.”

The accusation in his voice stung, leaving you feeling exposed. You bit back the urge to yell, to let out the anger that had simmered for so long. You knew it brought some validity to his earlier statement, him being jealous of Sunghoon, but God did you sometimes want to smack sense into him.

 “You don’t get to come in here and make assumptions about me, Chan. Sunghoon is my friend. He’s been here because you weren’t. Because you pushed me away. I didn’t have a choice.”

“But you looked happy cuddled with him,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “It didn’t seem like you missed me at all.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in your chest intensify. “Of course, I missed you. But you don’t get to accuse me of moving on. I waited. I wanted… I thought maybe one day you’d see me. But you chose her. You chose someone who didn’t even care about you, and I was the one left behind. So of course I needed comfort.”

He took a shaky breath, eyes softening as he stepped closer. “I chose wrong. I see that now, Y/N. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to just forget that. But I can’t pretend now that I don’t feel something for you.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of sincerity, but doubt gnawed at you. “We just went over this. How am I supposed to know it’s real? How am I supposed to believe that you actually want me, and not just because it’s convenient? If you loved me before than why not say something.”

“Why didn’t you say something!”

“Because unlike you I don’t go around dating people while I have a crush on someone Chan! If it was ‘oh so obvious�� than you should have said something. Or I don’t know, maybe when I blacked out and confessed you could have done something then-”

“I was petrified!” Chan shouted, causing you to take a step back. “How…how am I supposed to respond when my best friend’s little sister tells me she’s been in love with me since we were kids. And that’s its only growing?” He swallowed. “Am I supposed to take that risk and tell her its mutual, but that I don’t want to do anything in case things get messy? Because I don’t want to ruin things? Relationships are complicated Y/N! People fight and argue but romantic ones are so much heartier. Those arguments and fights hold more weight than friendships. I wasn’t…happy…only being your friend but I was content. Even if it meant I wouldn’t get to hold you or kiss you, or see your face in my children’s faces I was okay with that as long as it meant there was no risk in ruining things between us. And that saved me from the risk of getting on uneasy territory with Jisung. So I left it alone. I didn’t tell you. I asked Jisung to forget about it even if that meant he was upset at me for quote ‘rejecting my wonderful and perfect  little sister’ unquote.”

You stood there, lips trembling, not knowing what to say as he lay his heart in front of you.

He reached out, brushing a thumb over your cheek in a tender, hesitant motion. “But now that I know what it’s like to live without you, Y/N,  I can’t go back to that. I can’t. I don’t want anyone else. I just want a chance to make this right.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much, the raw honesty in his touch searing against your skin. But your heart still trembled with uncertainty, with a fear that ran deep.

“I’m petrified now.”

A tear slipped down his cheek as he nodded, a small chuckle leaving his lips, his thumb gently wiping away a tear that had fallen from your own eyes. “I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I love you, Y/N, so you won’t have a reason to be scared. I don’t want to lose you, not again. I was blind, but I see it now. And if you’ll let me, I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. To get you to a point where you won’t be able to deny the fact I only want you.”

You held his gaze, your heart wavering between the hope you’d never fully let go of and the fear that he’d break it all over again. And in that quiet moment, with the ache of the past between you, a fragile, cautious feeling began to bloom once more.

You took a steadying breath, bracing yourself as you met Chan’s eyes. “Chan, I don’t know what assumptions you’ve made about Sunghoon, but he’s just my friend. He’s been there because…” You hesitated, the words delicate on your tongue. “Because I needed someone. Not someone to date, or to replace you, but just…someone who understands. He’s helped me pick up the pieces after everything fell apart. And he’s not even interested in relationships like that. We’re just close in a different way.”

Chan blinked, his gaze softening as he listened, brows knitting in a mixture of relief and confusion. “So… you and Sunghoon… you’re really just friends?”

“Yes,” you replied, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your voice. “And he’s not going to change his mind about that. He doesn’t want anything more with anyone. It’s not in him. But he’s been a good friend—my best friend…my soulmate really.” Your voice trailed off quietly. “He’s someone I could talk to when I felt like I’d lost you.”

Chan let out a slow breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked away, processing. “I…I feel so stupid. I was so ready to believe you’d moved on, that you’d replaced me. It was like this nightmare I’d imagined every night, that you’d found someone else who actually deserved you. And when I walked in and saw you both…”

His words faltered, and he rubbed a hand over his face, frustration and regret etched deep. “But I know I can’t blame you for being close to him. You had every right to find support after what I put you through. I just…”

“You just didn’t believe me,” you finished for him, the words raw but necessary. “And then you left, and I didn’t know how to fill that space you’d left behind but Sunghoon found a way. But that doesn’t mean he warrants any jealousy from you, Chris. I’m hoping you can learn to love him like you love Jisung. For me?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with regret.A part of you softened at the earnestness in his expression, the vulnerability that showed he understood, at least on some level, of what all of this meant. You sighed, feeling the weight of everything settling over you, but also immensely light.

But Chan seemed like he was struggling for a moment.

“Whats wrong?”

He bit his lip, his gaze darting away for a second before he finally asked, “Was there ever a point when…when you thought you could move on? That maybe you’d fall for someone else?”

The question struck deeper than you’d expected, and for a moment, you just looked at him, letting yourself process the vulnerability etched into his features. Did he truly think he could simply be replaced? That you’d spent years loving him, only to let him go?

“I thought about it,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady. “I thought maybe it would be easier if I could just let go. Even before all of this I thought about it. But no matter how much I tried, it was always you. It’s always been you.”

You felt the familiar sting of tears, and you blinked them away, not wanting him to see just how deeply his words affected you. “For the record, I don’t want to lose you either. But if we’re going to do this, we have to be honest. No more letting other people’s opinions get in the way. No more letting doubts fester between us.”

He nodded, a fierce determination filling his gaze. “No more doubts. I want us to be real, Y/N. Nothing standing in the way, just you and me.”

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his gaze, was almost overwhelming. You felt the warmth of his hand as he reached for yours, his fingers tentative, as if he wasn’t sure you’d accept him.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently, grounding yourself in the quiet assurance of his touch. It wasn’t the grand gesture you’d once dreamed of, but it was real. And somehow, that made it mean even more.

He looked down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “Thank you for giving me this chance, Y/N. I’ll spend every day showing you that I mean it.”

You offered him a small, tentative smile, one that held a flicker of hope. “And I’ll do my best to believe it. But you have to understand—this is going to take time.”

He nodded, his own smile softening his face. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

For a moment, you both stood there, hands entwined, caught in the delicate balance between past hurt and the fragile possibility of something new. The wounds might still be raw, but you could feel them beginning to heal, slowly, with each beat of your hearts in sync.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time—a cautious, budding belief that maybe, just maybe, this time, things would be different.

A few weeks later, things had settled into a comfortable, tentative new rhythm. The past wasn’t forgotten, but it had softened around the edges, allowing something new to bloom between you and Chan—no, Chris. You’d started calling him that again recently, just between the two of you, and every time he heard it, his eyes lit up, as though it was his own quiet assurance that he had your forgiveness, that he wasn’t just “Chan,” your brother’s best friend, but Chris, the man you were falling for all over again.

You weren’t rushing anything, taking each moment as it came. There were stolen glances, shared laughter, and late-night conversations that stretched until dawn, weaving a new kind of trust between you. He was patient and gentle, letting you set the pace, and every step you took forward felt right. It was healing, a slow rekindling that felt like rediscovering a part of yourself that had been missing.

One Saturday afternoon, you and Chris were sitting on the couch, a movie playing in the background as he leaned closer, his arm resting around your shoulders. Sunghoon and Jisung had left to get snacks- Chris listening to your request and giving Sunghoon a chance, finding out that he genuinely enjoyed the company of your best friend. 

“Its like eternal best friend double dates.” Jisung had joked.

But since your brother and best friend had left, Chan had been looking at you with that soft, adoring expression you’d only dreamed of before, and it made you feel like you were the only person in his world.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, smiling as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured back, his voice warm and low. “I’ve missed so much time, I don’t want to miss a single moment now.”

You felt your heart stutter, a nervous excitement bubbling up as you glanced down at his hand, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on the back of it. The space between you felt electric, and when he gently cupped your face, tilting it towards him, your breath caught. Slowly, as if asking permission, he leaned in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and then his lips brushed softly against yours, a delicate kiss that felt like everything you’d waited for. His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing gently as if he were afraid you might disappear. You kissed him back, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips, strong and steady.

“Chris,” you whispered softly as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, his name slipping out naturally, comfortably. The warmth in his eyes told you he’d heard everything you couldn’t put into words—how he was forgiven, how he was here, truly here, and that was all you’d ever wanted.

The tender moment, though, was cut short by a loud gasp and a stumbling sound near the doorway. You whipped around to see Jisung and Sunghoon standing there, both looking wide-eyed and more than a little surprised.

“Oh… I did not mean to see that,” Jisung said, covering his eyes dramatically, though you could see the smirk threatening to break through. “My best friend and my little sister? Wow, I was not prepared!”

Sunghoon, by contrast, grinned openly, the kind of grin that said he’d known this would happen all along. “Took you both long enough,” he teased, making his way over towards you to whack your head affectionately. “I was starting to think I’d have to do something drastic to get you two together.”

You laughed, face warm with embarrassment, but Chris only chuckled, unfazed even by Sunghoon’s physical touch with you, as he slid his arm around your shoulders again. “You two need to learn how to knock,” he said lightly, squeezing you a little closer.

Sunghoon just shrugged, shooting you a mischievous look. “I’m sure Jisung didn’t feel a need to consider having to knock on the door of his own home.”

Jisung laughed, giving Sunghoon a playful nudge. But then turning to Chan with a serious look. “I might still need to have ‘the talk’ with you, Hyung. I know we’ve known each other forever, but this is new territory.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to scowl at your brother. “Oh, please, Ji. You never said anything before.”

“It’s because you weren’t actually together at the time! But now you are.”

Chris leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, a look of peace and contentment in his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, looking up at Jisung and Sunghoon, his tone serious yet gentle. “Not ever.”

Jisung nodded, his expression softening as he took in the scene. “Good. Just make sure you’re good to her, alright? Or else I’ll have to do the brotherly duty of fighting you or whatever older brothers are supposed to do…” He mumbled, turning towards Sunghoon for backup.

“Yeah…and I’ll do whatever a best friend does…” He said confused, shrugging as you laughed.

Chris’s grip tightened just slightly around your shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, his voice low and steady. “She’s the most important person in my life.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose, pretending to gag. “Ugh, okay, I was prepared for the brother talk, but I did not sign up for the mushy romance stuff. Can you two not be gross for five seconds?”

Chris laughed, glancing down at you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Fine, I’ll spare you… for now,” he said, giving you a playful nudge and a kiss to your nose

Sunghoon, ever the instigator, leaned back with a grin. “Hey, give them a break, Jisung. They’ve got years of this to catch up on. And honestly, I’m enjoying the show.”

Jisung threw a pillow in Sunghoon’s direction. “Well then maybe you should go find yourself someone if you think it’s cute seeing how my best friend and sister act.” He teased, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe they’ll have a sister and then you can join our family.”

Sunghoon shuddered and shook his head. “No thank you. But Y/N’s kids will have an Uncle who spoils them.” He said, grabbing the bottle of Soju from the coffee table.

“Hey! I get the title of favorite Uncle automatically.” Jisung whined. “No fair.”

Sunghoon shrugged. “The favorite Uncle has to be from the maternal side.”

“The hypothetical-” He shot a look at you. “Mom in question is my sister!”

“Logic, doesn’t always logic my dear friend.”

As Sunghoon and Jisung went back and forth you laughed, settling into Chris’s embrace, feeling the warmth of home around you. You felt his smile without even looking and it made your heart leap. This, right here, was everything you’d hoped for and more. And as the teasing and laughter filled the room, you knew that no matter what, you were exactly where you were meant to be. With who you were meant to be with.

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[auclairedetoru]

“This has been y/n and Satoru, thank you so much for watching, bye!”

The moment they reached the greenroom, y/n's smile drops. God, her cheeks hurt, nobody talks about how hard it is to fake a smile all day, it's like a workout for your face except you gain nothing at the end.

Her co-star walks in behind her, a cocky smile on his face. If she was him she would get tired of herself. How can someone be so egoistic? He loves himself more than his own mother loves him. Every second she's in his presence, she feels herself losing brain cells and getting gray hair, and as much as she loves silver locks on other women, she does not want the cause of it to be Gojo Satoru.

“Great job today, everyone! Y/n you could've been a little more cheerful toda-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She plops down on the sofa and rests her head against the back of it. They still have one more interview left to do, so she's forced to tolerate that dumbass for a couple more hours, and it's a recorded one so she has to pretend she likes him too.

Why did she choose to become an actress again?

Right, childhood dream, worked hard for it, blah blah blah.

“Whoa! Careful there, tiger! Someone might be filming and you don't want to ruin the season before it even starts.” Gojo smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as he continues to push her buttons.

The people in charge decided to promote the filming of the new season of their show to remind people of it and get them excited, not that anyone was able to forget the last two seasons. According to the statistics, people love a slow burn story, especially when it stretches over multiple seasons. Yes, that does mean y/n has been stuck with Gojo as her co-star for three years now, as known as the longest three years of her life. Everyone around her tells her that time is passing by too fast, but it's been the opposite for her.

She's dreading this season the most. It might be the last, but it means the story will finally reach its long-awaited climax, which means her character and Gojo's will become more than friendly.

She doesn't even want to think about it.

“Leave her alone, Satoru. You still have one interview left.” his manager scolded him making the bright blue eyed man pout like a four year old not getting the candy he wanted.

The fact Gojo and y/n can't stand each other is something known only between them and their close staff, not even the director and producers know that the "chemistry" between them is something they make up on the spot and doesn't come naturally at all. They're surprised no one has figured out they don't like each other in any way, but y/n takes that as a compliment because it means that she's a really good actress who has perfected her craft and is able to fake getting along with a menace like him.

After touch ups, she goes to where the interview is being held, greeting the staff on her way and telling them she's excited to be working with them. Gojo smirks at her from his seat as she makes her way to sit on hers next to him. She mirrored him to keep up with the "we're best friends behind the scenes" thing they somehow built for themselves.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Can't a man admire his friend and co-star?” he teases, milking the hell out of the act they put on for the camera. Y/n wanted to roll her eyes but instead she forces out a laugh and takes her seat.

She ignores the way her heart flutters at his words. No need to focus on that.

A few months into filming...

“Alright, everyone!” the director calls out as he claps his hands, “Cameras rolling, sound is up, let's do this.”

Ah yes, the most important scene of the entire franchise. The first kiss scene. This is what the show has been leading up to, this is the moment everyone has been waiting for, this is the thing y/n has been looking forward to the least, in fact, she has not been looking forward to it at all, she wishes it wouldn't happen.

The scene takes place at her character's apartment, a place the set design team has made so cozy looking she wishes she could curl up and take a nap on the couch. Gojo's character is her coworker and he's coming to check on her because she disappeared from the office party after seeing him flirt with someone. That's when she confesses that she's been pinning over him for years and he confesses back before pulling her into a kiss.

“Okay you two,” the director looks at them, “not to put you in any pressure, but this is the most important scene of the entire show. All your hard work has led up to this moment. Satoru, you're the one leading the kiss, remember that she's very vulnerable and heartbroken, so you need to be gentle and soft, she's the person you love most so you're gonna handle her with the most care. Alright? Here we go!”

The apartment door closes between y/n and Gojo as the clapper loader steps in and holds the slate in front of the camera, “episode 11, scene 45, take 1!” they call out before snapping the clapper shut and stepping back.

The director pauses, glancing around one more time to make sure everyone is ready.

"And... Action!”

Y/n steps into character and hesitantly opens the door. Her expression shifts to shock as she sees Gojo standing across from her, hair and clothes disheveled. “What are you doing here?” her voice is a mix between surprise and hurt, just as the script calls for and just as they rehearsed. Gojo's eyes soften, exactly how he was instructed.

Yes, she can't stand him, but that doesn't mean she won't admit that he's really good at his job. He's not one of the most sought out actors for no reason.

“I was worried about you, you left so abruptly.” he says, letting his eyes dance all over her face only to catch her wet cheeks and red eyes, and no, it isn't makeup and fake tears, she spent half an hour before filming started watching "soldiers reuniting with their dogs" videos to get to that point.

He moves to cup her cheek, but just as scripted, she steps back, her expression flattering. She starts to remind herself of things that make her emotional to start tearing up, “I-I'm fine, you can leave.”

Gojo stares at her a bit longer than he's supposed to, but she blames it on his love to suddenly improve, and not that he's admiring her or anything, not like she wants him to admire her, that would be crazy on her part.

"You don't have to hide from me," he says with the same soft tone.

She tries to hold back the tears to keep up the strong and always optimistic personality her character is known for, and after a moment she allows a couple to flow down her cheeks. Gojo's face morphs into a concerned expression.

“I don't like seeing you with someone else,” she mumbles, her voice breaking with every word that slips out of her lips, “it hurts me, right here,” she taps on her chest with a shaky hand.

Gojo's eyes widen to feign surprise, a perfect mix of confusion and disbelief on his face, playing the oblivious character to perfection, “you... You like me?”

“For the longest time,” she sniffs, her voice thick with emotion as she starts opening up, “I held back, I tried not to make it obvious, but i can't anymore.” She drops an octave to deliver the last line, showing as much vulnerability and pain as possible.

There’s a pause, and everyone on set is on the edge of their seat. They could feel the tension between them, the two playing their roles better than what everyone imagined from reading the script. Gojo goes to take a step closer, stopping half way.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice shaking to show that his character is feeling nervous. The director looks intensely between the scene in front of him and the one on the screen, making sure that the intensity they feel in the room is accurate on camera to what's happening in real life.

It's her turn for her to be surprised, playing unsure and hesitant, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth, “w-what?”, her voice trembles as her eyes search his face like she's trying to find any uncertainties.

“can I kiss you? Please?”

Gojo takes the step forward. His voice is soft and his gaze holds hers, intense yet tender, leaving no doubt that his character has been lounging for this and wanting it for just as long if not longer than her.

Y/n takes a deep breath. This is it, she's about to kiss Gojo Satoru, the person she despises the most. She hopes it won't be awkward, the scene was going smoothly and the last thing she wants is a retake from the top, she also doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of the whole crew and become the topic of their gossip.

After a small pause, just as instructed by the director, she gives Gojo a small nod. Gently, and hesitantly, he cups her cheek as he brings his face closer to her. The nervousness on her face is mostly real and she doesn't know why she's feeling that way, she wants the scene to end already.

The moment their lips touch, something surged within Satoru and his free hand quickly grabs her waist to pull her closer to him. Did she always smell so... Devine? Why are her lips so soft? Is her lip balm candy flavoured? Why does she taste so sweet? Why can't he pull away from her?

The kiss is supposed to be gentle, a tender moment of affection, yet the way his hand was gripping the pajama top she's wearing betrays his character's intentions. But the way his thumb caresses her cheek is the opposite, grazing the warm skin softly like he's handling a little kitten. He knows he’s supposed to pull away now. He wants to. He needs to, for the sake of this scene. But something holds him there and it's making him not care about the script anymore.

It’s only when he feels a gentle squeeze on his arm that he finally pulls back. He looks down at Y/n, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, her wide eyes bright with a spark that stirs something deep within him, making him want to lean down and kiss her again.

“cut !”

The pair jumped away from each other. They both forgot they were on a set, filming a show, and not in the comfort of their own homes.

“that was just... Wow,” the director shakes his head with a smile, “Satoru you went a little out of what I told you with the kiss, huh?”

“yeah, sorry,” he smirks with fake confidence, acting like his heart isn't beating faster than a racing car, “I just thought the moment needed that intensity, ya know? He's been waiting to kiss her for so long after all.”

“No I agree, you did the right thing. Go ahead and take five, everyone. This is one of those rare times when there's no need to do multiple takes, the first was perfect.”

Y/n lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and quickly leaves to go grab a water and get some fresh air. She can't believe what just happened. That was definitely not a normal kiss, it felt too real. What was Gojo thinking!? Why didn't he stick to the script and kept it short? And why did she like it so much? She's not supposed to! She's supposed to hate him and everything he does.

“Y/n? Can we talk in your trailer, please?”

Fuck... Please don't let that be Gojo, please let her ears be mistaken and it's not his voice asking her to talk in private, please-

She turns around, and it's him. He stands there, hands tucked into his pockets, looking a little... Shy? Since when does Gojo Satoru feel anything less than bold and confident? There's an unusual softness to his expression, one she only sees when he's playing his character, but without the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that he's just acting.

Despite not wanting to talk to him, she still nods and follows him to her trailer that wasn't parked far away from where they stood. She lets him in first and closes the door behind her to ensure no one can hear whatever they're about to talk about.

As they stood across from each other, Gojo's eyes dart everywhere except to her face, something he has never done before. His usual bravado is gone and replaced with an unusual hesitance. She watches him with a puzzled look on her face. Why is he acting so out of character? It's as if he's nervous to talk to her.

Eventually though, he opens his mouth.

“I apologize for going out of script during the kiss. I didn't plan it to happen and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Now he's apologising? Okay, something is definitely wrong. Gojo has never apologised to her in the three years they've been working together. She is starting to feel nervous herself.

“It's okay, really,” she crosses her arms across her chest, “like you explained to the director, it's what you felt the scene needed, and I respect you as an experienced actor to know what you're doing.”

“That wasn't my reason, though.”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. Huh?!

“what ?”

He takes a step closer to her, a look on his face she couldn't describe, “that's just a lie I made up on the spot. I felt a pull when our lips touched, I don't know what happened to me and it's driving me mad,” he runs a hand through his hair, a habit his manager told her he does when he's anxious, “I couldn't stop myself, so I just let whatever it is take over, but I still couldn't stop, I tried but I just couldn't pull away and I— I want to kiss you again! I want to kiss you right now!”

“Gojo, calm do-” her words fall on deaf ears.

“No! You don't understand! I want to kiss you, but you hate me! You can't even look at me without being disgusted, and I keep making it worse! I keep showing the worst version of myself around you and it makes you hate me more and-”

“Gojo! Stop!”

The look on his face is breaking her heart. He seems so desperate, struggling to put his feelings into words, but every attempt only makes him more anxious, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to make her understand.

“I don't hate you, Satoru”, his heart flutters at the sound of his first name coming out of her lips. Even in interviews, she always used his last name, this is the first time he hears her call him Satoru, “I hate how you act when we're together behind the scenes. You're always so sweet to everyone but I'm always the one you tease, and sometimes your teasing hurts.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just- I've liked you, as a person, before we even started working together, and I treated you how I treated my close friends. I didn't realise I was overstepping boundaries.”

Why is it so easy to forgive him? It must be something to do with the blue I'm his eyes, it holds some sort of spell that makes everyone want to be on his good side.

“It's okay, as long as you own up to your mistakes and don't repeat them, I'm willing to see past it all and start new.”

A huge smile takes over his face, content with her answer. He is so happy, he's been wanting to do this for so long. He knew he wronged her and needed to apologise for his actions, but he never knew how to approach it.

Without warning her, he lifts her up in a hug. A squeal left her lips followed by a melodic laugh as she hears him thank her over and over again. She allows herself to enjoy the warmth of his hug. His fans didn't lie, he is really good at them.

He pulls away enough to look at her face without unwrapping his arms from around her, “Can we start new by allowing me to take you on a date? I promise I'll treat you like the princess you are.”

She feels her cheeks heating up with a blush as she nods, unable to hide the small, shy smile tugging at her lips. Gojo grins wider, his eyes lighting up with an unmistakable spark of excitement and something tender, “can I kiss you again? Please?”

She barely finishes nodding before his lips are on hers. He’s smiling into the kiss, unable to hide the joy bubbling up inside him as he realizes his newfound feelings are reciprocated.

And yeah, she did like him more than she let on. The small crush she had on him before they met definitely didn't disappear like she thought it did, instead it stayed hidden away and came back out when she felt his lips for the first time.

She never expected this nor planned on letting herself fall for The Gojo Satoru Charm™, but with him here, holding her close, and pressing a kiss filled with passion on her lips, she realises maybe, just maybe, she’s been wanting this all along.

The ending looked way better in my daydream lol. Hope y'all liked it still 💕

[marsdql]

Unexpected — ༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

Extended verison of caught off guard !! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Pairing: Brother’s best friend!Heeseung x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're shocked to discover that your longtime crush Heeseung is now friends with your brother, leading to a fanfiction-like (literally) story.

Genre/warnings: fluff, little suggestive?, brother's bestfriend, reader is 3 years younger, mention of stalking, alloooottt of teasing, no dividers in between the paragraphs… | wc: 25k I think.

𝙈𝙖𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: im so extremely sorry for the ungodly word count I wrote each part separately and forgot to take in consideration the amount of writing I was doing.. The poll said to not make this into parts so I just put it all in one post though!!!!!!! + Masterlist coming soon, request me your suggestions (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ okay enjoy now

Your brother had made new friends during the first semester because of a lot of senior group projects, which made the house busy. Your brother and his friends wanted more quiet places to work on things, like each other's houses. It's strange that it was always at your house and not his friends' or the library, but whatever.

You didn’t mind much, until a particular someone came over, Heeseung, the 6’0 slim brunette senior you’ve been crushing on since you were in middle school, now a freshman. You followed him around everywhere with your friends, making it so obvious that you guys were following HIM. You would send him holiday letters provided by the school, stall his social media, follow his friends and him at one point until he removed you over a silly kpop story... everything… and now, he’s with your brother?! Since when!

Bad thoughts filled your mind as you remembered all the embarrassing moments he caught you staring at him, thinking that he’d tell your brother all of it if he sees you and finds out that you’re the sister of the guy he’s getting closer to each day. But you were hungry, so hungry, you needed to eat, you always do before taking a nap, it’s like a routine, he can’t just ruin your routine. You start making plans on how to get to the kitchen without Heeseung and your brother spotting you. After a few minutes of thinking, you finally build up the courage to get downstairs and pray for the best.

You tip-toe your way down the stairs, attempting to make as little noise as possible, and to your surprise, the two boys are on the island table right across the fridge, you’re doomed, he’s going to see you, you can’t just walk back upstairs!

“Y/n? What are you doing, you look so stupid right now.” Your brother blurts out which makes you jolt up and fix your posture. Shoot. You forgot that they can see you from their perspective more than you can see them. But you act fast, “huh? Oh! Hi um.. I was just counting how many steps we have to the stairs.. for a math project!” What the heck was that response? Whatever, it’ll do. As you finish your sentence, you give yourself an excuse to get closer so that it doesn’t get too awkward, and there he is, the Heeseung of your dreams, locking eyes with you with his stale and cold expression planted on his face, not one tiny bit of shock in his face when seeing you.


 “Hey by the way, don’t take a nap, mom wants you to help her with groceries, she’s coming in a minute, wait in the living room or something just don’t go back upstairs” your brother says before putting all his focus back to the project he’s doing with sousou. At this point, you mutter out a small “okay” and forget the snack you came downstairs for, heading to the couch to go on your phone and act like nothing happened(secretly glancing at Heeseung from time to time.)

30 minutes later, your mother comes back while your brother and mister take a bathroom break. You head to the garage, opening the door for your mother to bring the groceries in for you to then place them on the counter. You’re holding big heavy bags, making you groan trying to pick them all up, then all of a sudden, as you're trying to get up, you feel the weight getting lighter and lighter, thinking you're stronger than you thought, but to your surprise… It's the dream man helping you. “Are you that lazy? Couldn’t you have just picked them one at a time? Hm?” He says as he coughs out a small chuckle, picking up the bags with ease. You can’t do anything but stare at him and place them on the table, your lips forming an O but unable to make a sound or blurt any words out. Before you get yourself to say anything, he cuts you off with a “You’re not slick, we both know exactly why you’re so shy” what…????? “I’m not shy at all?! I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You scream before the nervousness gets to you. You never thought your first conversation with Heeseung was going to be like this. “Oh yeah? You think I don’t know what you do? All the letters you sent me the past 2 years? Common now, I’m not stupid hhh…” suddenly, he lets go of the bags and gets closer to you, your brother still in the washroom and your mother still outside. His cold expression is still there but with a slight smirk. Your cheeks and nose get red quickly, making him only grin harder as he sees the effect he has on you. “You wouldn’t want your brother to see all the cheesy things you’ve done, let alone your mother, hmph? Of course you wouldn’t want that, you’re such a nice girl they would never think you’d do that, you’re just a sweet girl who goes to school and hangs out with her friends, definitely doesn’t beg them to follow me around, right?” He’s so close to you, his words only making you blush harder. His eyes shift to the door as he watches your mother call for him “Oh hello Heeseung! Would you be a sweetheart and help me with these bags? Y/n, please put the milk away! I forgot something at that store, I need to go back and pick it up.” Of course, the young man quickly obeyed your mother and helped her out, leaving you red and shoving your face in the fridge to cool down, you’re cooked, you have no idea what's taking your brother so long, but it feels like an eternity… Since when did LEE HEESEUNG have the courage to say that? What’s he gonna say next???? You keep replaying the words he said a few seconds ago, making you go crazy all over again.

Hours later, 22:00, your brother and his friend passed out on the counter of the kitchen as you were laying in bed, bored and unable to think of anything except the incident that happened earlier. Your best friend would always write fanfiction of you and hee as a joke, not thinking anything of it because you knew you were not delusional enough to think a guy 3 years older than you would actually notice you or look your way.

Abruptly, you feel the urge to go to the bathroom, wanting to wash the guilt written all over you face from the amount of overthinking. As you get to the entrance, you notice a black statue from across the hallway, making your heart drop as it walks closer to you. Suddenly, your screams wake up the entire neighborhood, "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I don't know what I did but I'm sorry I'll never wish death upon anyone else who likes Mingyu and joshua! I promise god I'll never ever hope that all S.coups fangirls except me will fall in a hole!" you close your eyes shut as you squeal and think its the end of your days.

Until that skinwalker finally decides to open his mouth and.. "BOO!" Heeseung screams as he shakes your shoulders, not initially intending on scaring you until he realized that you couldn't see his figure. Why did it have to be him again?! "Hey, I'm joking, calm down, you're okay. It's just me. What was all that blabbering about?" he says, again, with his famous chuckle you've probably heard more than actual words from his mouth. "You can't just do that! It's dark, nighttime and it's just annoying!" you wail, feeling surprised that you managed to actually say something to his face. "Huh? feisty, calm down scaredycat, do you usually see things?" You swallow, knowing that you not only see things, but hear things at night as well.

There's an awkward silence between you two, both standing in the dark with nothing but the light of the bathroom reflecting on eachothers skin. "So? You ain't gonna speak ‘bout nothing YOU'VE been doing? You just gonna stay quiet like that?" You gulp hard, since when was he this bold and confident? What did he expect you to say, then there you are, too scared and shy to talk again, obvious shyness on your face, making heeseung aware of it, once again. He would always secretly tease you, manspread in front of you while looking at you, trying not to stare at him back and attempting to put all your focus on your friends. He would lean against the wall and look at you up and down as you walked past him, with your face buried in your friend's back, trying not to go crazy over his state. He knew the effect he had on you, since the start, it boosted his ego the most. "You shy, doll?" He whispers as he gets closer, not scared of anyone catching you both being so close, almost heads touching.

“W-what if someone catches us like this?, you can't be so close..” You mutter under your breath, forcing the words out of your mouth knowing that you don't really want him to move. “Hm? You gonna stop me? I'll stop if you tell me to, you just gotta use your words, pretty” he whispers once again, looking down on you as he pushes both your bodies onto the wall near the door of the bathroom with his chest. Your lips are shut, unable to get yourself to push him away or say a word.

He feels you slowly giving in, he knows you would, you might know information about you but he knows all your body language, he knows how nervous you get when you're alone with him and he's ready to take advantage of you all. GO HIT THAT GUM JILGEONG!!(sorry i got bored) You feel 1000 knots in your stomach from his breath hitting you cold neck, seconds later, “Take me to your room.”

Saying that his words shocked you was a huge understatement, you were feeling so many emotions that you just went numb. Sight went foggy and you couldn't think anymore, the last thing you remembered was showing him the way to your bedroom. Heading to your bed with wobbly legs due to the fear you were feeling, you had zero idea on what was going to happen. How is this the first day you talk to Heeseung and it's already this crazy? You always imagined scenarios and insane stuff, but now it feels like you just manifested them all because this craziest one is coming to life.

“Cute room. Surprised you don't have any photos of me.” The tall man says as he throws himself on the bed. At this point, you would've been able to speak to him like a normal person, but all his flirtatious words made u only use your movements, no verbal communication in sight. He stares at your BT21 plushies with disgust, pushing them off the bed with his foot, is he really still annoyed about that instagram post? Or is he still jealous? “Hate those people” he huffs as he turns to his side, seeming amused with your sweet candy-like scent on your bed. “Why are you scared of your own bed?” He comments as he watches you stare at him from your desk, realizing that you arent on your bed because HE'S ON IT. “I-im not scared, maybe you're just too big for my bed and I can't fit.. Fatty..” ‘What'd you just call me?’ “Huh? What! I didn't say a-anything?” ‘No no i deeefinitely heard something, did you just call me fat?’ “Okay yes! I did, am I lying though? You're not slick, I know the locker you share with Jay is greasy as hell!” you squeal as you make a disgusted face. ‘Yeah? You saw me get out of class to get a cookie too? Or were you too busy trying to hide from me to be able to see what was in my hand?’ Shoot, You cant reply to him with anything, both answers are wrong.. ‘Yeah that's what i thought.’

“W-what are you doing in my room, why do you wanna be here?” You ask him, innocently. ‘Because I don't break my back sleeping on the couch and I have enough manners to not barge into your brother's room when he's asleep.’ “It's better if you sleep in my brother's room than anyone finding out you slept in mine…” 'I'll leave before anyone wakes up. Comon, I wont do anything.’ It's not like he’d do anything anyway, he's as nonchalant as ever and obviously wouldn't try anything on you, he knows you wouldn't actually give into THAT, plus, he's glad youre not like that, atleast at your age.

As Heeseung takes over your bed, you are still in shock. He is sprawled out like he owns the place, watching you from the other side of the room with a small smile on his face. When someone dares to call you out on your personal space, you feel both irritated and agitated.

He pats the empty spot on the bed beside him with the same smirk and asks, “Are you really just going to stare at me from over there?”

You pause, but you cannot maintain any resistance and end up stumbling over. You take care to maintain some distance between you while sitting on the edge, but he does not let you off that easily.

Hee laughs and creeps closer, making you all too aware of the distance vanishing between you two. “Calm down, I don’t bite.” When you look up, you see him observing you with that recognizable sparkle in his eye that indicates he is relishing every moment of it.

You make an effort to minimize it by rolling your eyes, but your cheeks’ redness most likely shows that you are not paying much attention. “Heeseung, what are you even doing here? Wouldn’t you be better off downstairs or not settling into my room?”

With a low chuckle, he leans back comfortably without shifting. With a playful tone, he raises his eyebrows and asks, “What, do you not like me here? Your mom is still out shopping, and your brother is unconscious. I thought, why don’t I keep you company since it’s just the two of us?”

Even though he still teases, his eyes are now softer. For a moment, he seems to be genuinely interested in you rather than just making jokes, as if he is looking at you differently than he has in the past. As the air between you thickens and you feel trapped but unwilling to move, your pulse quickens.

He leans forward abruptly, getting so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “Are you sure you actually want me to leave?” He whispers as his gaze moves over your face, capturing every tiny expression you are unable to conceal.

You catch the words in your throat. Before you can respond, he raises one hand and gently brushes a flyaway hair out of your face, his fingers remaining in place for a beat too long.

He whispers, “Tell me to stop, and I will,” in a low voice that is so intimate it chills you.

However, for some reason, you remain silent. You cannot decide whether you want him to stay or enjoy the excitement of him being this close to you and staring at you as if you are the only person in the room.

All he does is smile, that knowing smile returning to his face. He leans back and whispers, “Thought so,” remaining close enough to feel the electricity of the distance.

The weight of the moment presses down on you in the most euphoric way, making it seem like it will last forever. Even though Heeseung’s smile is still there, his eyes seem softer now, almost tender. He seems to be assessing each response, blush, and look as though recording them all.

In a low, informal voice, he begins, “So.” “Will you explain to me why you stare at me all the time, or will you continue to act as though it’s not obvious?”

He tilts his head, leaning a little closer to make sure you are not escaping too easily, but your face turns red hot, your heart pounding, and you quickly turn your head away. Please do not be so shy around me right now. He laughs softly and adds, “We both know you have been looking for a while.”

It feels like the words are stuck in your throat when you try to say something. He moves, keeping you cornered with his arm braced against the headboard next to your shoulder. The closeness is dizzying.

At last, you are able to find your voice. “I’m not… Really, I wasn’t. It’s not as if I—” His gaze prevents you from forming a coherent sentence, so you trail off.

Evidently taking pleasure in your agitated state, he laughs. “So it was not intentional that I always caught you staring at me in the hallway or whenever you passed by with your friends?”

Your lack of response is sufficient, and he smiles, obviously enjoying your response.

He leans slightly closer, until you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, and murmurs, “I guess I was right, huh?” He says quietly, “But you don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” in a tone that has become more earnest and almost comforting. “I kinda enjoy it.”

You look up and meet his eyes as those final words give you a start. They have an unexpected quality that makes it seem as though he has known you as well as you have known him. There is still teasing, but it has a deeper, more genuine undertone.

“Wait—what?” Your voice barely rises above a whisper as you manage to blurt out.

His eyes remain fixed on yours as he smiles, softer this time. “Are you sure you don’t know?”

You do not trust yourself to say anything more, so you shake your head. He sighs as if he is having a hard time believing what he is going to say.

“Y/n,” he whispers, “I have been interested in you since long before tonight.”

The words linger between you, vibrating with an intensity that catches you completely off guard, and you freeze. Heeseung’s eyes soften, becoming completely serious instead of playful. His closeness now seems more like a confession than a tease.

You mumble, “Wait,” hardly believing your own voice. “You have not been ignoring me?”

He nods slowly, his previous sly smile giving way to something more real and vulnerable. “Yes, I have noticed you, but I wouldn’t say I have been staring at you. Do you think I have not noticed your gaze on me? Or the way you become silent around me? It’s clear, y/n.”

You are rendered speechless by the shock of what he said. Your heart is thumping in your chest and your mind is racing as you try to process this new reality. You have always known Heeseung was self-assured, perhaps even arrogant, but this? You have never seen him like this before. It is honest and unvarnished, and for a split second, you cannot even tell if you are dreaming.

Trying to gather yourself, you ask, “Are you serious?” but your words come out more breathless than you meant.

He responds softly, “I don’t joke about this kind of stuff,” as his thumb lightly brushes the side of your arm, warming your skin. “I have been trying to determine whether you were feeling the same way or if I was just dreaming.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought, and you bite your lip. The air feels heavier and thicker now, and the room feels smaller. In this moment of unsaid tension, everything around you seems to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you.

You do not say anything for a few seconds, allowing his words to register. You have long admired Heeseung from a distance and wondered what it would be like to be near him. However, you never imagined that he would share your sentiments. And now here he is, publicly acknowledging it, his eyes full of sincerity.

“I…,” you finally manage to say, “I did not know you would notice,” in a hesitant and low voice. “After all, I believed I was being subtle. I did not want to cause any strangeness.”

Hee laughs, his voice deep and comforting. “Clever? You? I promise you, y/n, there is nothing subtle about the way you gaze at me. However, I enjoy it. I have enjoyed it for some time.

For a moment, you question whether you are dreaming as the words hit you like a wave. The fact that he is sitting so close to you and that his hand is now resting on the bed between you two, inches from where yours is, makes the entire situation seem unreal. Even though everything is so personal, there is still a lot of uncertainty, which makes it difficult to completely unwind.

You ask, just above a whisper, “So, what now?” as a mix of anxiety and excitement rises inside of you.

Heeseung’s face softens as he inhales deeply. “Now?” he asks in a soft yet purposeful tone. “y/n, all I am waiting for now is for you to say what you want. Because I am listening to whatever it is. I would rather not hurry you. I have been waiting for you to solve it as well.”

For the first time in what seems like an eternity, you release the tension that has been building between you, and your heart skips a beat. You see the honesty and rawness that mirror your own feelings when you look into his eyes.

You look at him with fresh clarity and say, “I think I have figured it out,” in a quiet but firm voice.

It is the same spark in his eyes that has always held you, and Heeseung’s smile is back, albeit softer this time. “Yes? What did you discover?”

As you slowly extend your hand and touch his, you sense a spark of electricity.

His smile grows, and everything seems to be in harmony at that precise moment. There is no longer any hesitation or act of deceit. Now that you and him are at last in agreement, you can look forward to seeing where this unspoken bond may take you.

With his hand now resting on top of yours, Heeseung whispers, “I am glad you figured it out,” his voice barely audible above a whisper. “Because I have been anticipating that statement from you.”

And then everything is different. Something new—something thrilling, something genuine—replaces the tension and the air feels lighter

Neither of you could have imagined as Heeseung leans in and lightly touches your lips. A thrill is sent through you by the gentle touch of Heeseung’s lips against yours, but it is cut short by the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the door. Panic sweeps through you in a flash, and your heart jumps into your throat. With wide eyes, you instinctively glance at the door as though it might save you from the looming catastrophe as you swiftly pull back.

You hear your brother’s voice, loud and clearly irritated, as the door creaks open just a crack. “Y/nnie? Are you in there?”

Quick as ever, Heeseung leans back and puts just enough distance between himself and you to appear casual, but you can tell he is not nearly as shaken as you are by the way his eyes dart to you and the faint smile that is still tugging at his lips.

You force yourself to swallow in an attempt to control your panic. “Yes, I’m here!” you call out, your voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.

Your brother is standing in the doorway, obviously bewildered, as the door opens wider. His brow furrows in that manner that indicates he is going to ask a ton of questions, and he blinks twice as his eyes dart from you to Heeseung. “What on earth are you two doing in here?”

Your mind is a jumble of ideas and excuses as you fumble for the right words. “Nothin’! Nothing bad, really. We were just—uh, talking.”

Your brother folds his arms across his chest and his eyes narrow. “Talking?” he asks again in a suspicious tone. “You two talk like this all the time?”

Heeseung gives you a barely contained smile when you meet his gaze, as though he finds the entire situation humorous. He is not phased at all, of course, because he has always had that arrogant confidence that helps him get out of a tight spot. In the meantime, you are just a few seconds away from losing it due to embarrassment.

“Indeed, we were just catching up. We haven’t seen one another in a long time,” Heeseung’s voice is smooth and unaffected, as if a single sentence would allay your brother’s suspicions.

Your brother looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Catching up in her room, you two? Doesn’t that sound a bit suspicious?”

You give Heeseung a quick, frantic glance, hoping he will save you, but he is taking too much pleasure in this. “Again, we were just conversing. Nothing strange,” Heeseung says with a nonchalant shrug. “But we can go if you have to. I don’t want to invade your territory.” He says with a chuckle.

As though this whole exchange is one big headache he did not sign up for, your brother pauses, still glaring, and then sighs. Then he turns back to the door and murmurs, “Anyway, just don’t make it weird.” “You understand what I mean when I say that you don’t want to hear anything too strange from this room later?”

Heeseung shakes his head and lets out a barely contained laugh as he leaves. His voice is light as he says, “He’s got nothing on us,” but his grin remains mischievous and a bit too knowing.

With your heart still pounding, you release a breath you were unaware you were holding. You mutter, attempting to steady yourself by running a hand through your hair, “I can’t believe he just walked in like that.”

Leaning back against the bed, Heeseung laughs. “Slow down. In any case, he’s too ignorant to solve anything.”

Despite his playful tone, there is a surprising undertone of protectiveness in his voice. He looks you in the eyes, and for a brief moment, you are the only two of you. The tension from earlier returns, but this time it is different—more at ease.

You start to say, “Well, I suppose we should wait until he returns downstairs before we—” but Heeseung cuts you off, his eyes softening.

With a tone that conveys something unsaid, he asks softly, “Before we what?”

You look him in the eyes and feel the tension between you two return. This time, the separation between you is not about actual distance but rather about the potential outcomes and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. You can’t shake the feeling that something could change everything right in front of you.

You confess, “I… I don’t know,” not knowing how to move through the distance between you but unwilling to let go of the bond you have just found. “However, I am aware that I’m not yet prepared for him to solve this.”

With his confidence fully restored, Heeseung grins. “Don’t be concerned. We will resolve the issue. Furthermore, both you and I are aware of what really happens next.”

The ease with which he returns to his typical, carefree self makes you laugh and shake your head. However, you realize that perhaps—just possibly—you are ready to stop acting like everything is easy and let whatever happens between you and Heeseung play out naturally as you sit there with him and hear your brother’s voice reverberating in your head.

Reblogs & Comments are appreciated!

[ marsdql ] •⩊•

[ylangelegy]

is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell. 

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you. 

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.” 

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily. 

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you. 

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument. 

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter. 

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.” 

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in. 

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—” 

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong. 

You break away from him. 

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?” 

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue. 

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that. 

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after. 

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff. 

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved. 

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night. 

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears. 

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely. 

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin. 

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face. 

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt. 

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low. 

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall. 

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets. 

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—" 

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to. 

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him. 

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear. 

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication. 

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there. 

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command. 

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back. 

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes. 

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately. 

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—” 

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts. 

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his. 

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words. 

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing. 

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little. 

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous. 

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.” 

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure. 

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you. 

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them. 

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane. 

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp. 

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you. 

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this. 

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems. 

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow. 

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night. 

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung." 

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol. 

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. 

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

 "You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone. 

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one. 

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

a/n: Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

wc: 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead. 

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

.

.

addt. a/n: I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @feralgoblinbabe @frogtape @fromasgardandback

@fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive @rach5ive @sapphire4082

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

@teethvenom @tvserie-s-world @twihard28 @urlivingdeadgirl @v1per1ne

@wefracturedmotivation @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ⁴ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.9k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho | wyoming (you’re here)

tags: @elliecoochieeater

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: healing!reader, healing!ellie, vulgar language, ellie being avoidant as hell, slow-burn romance, little jj, reader being really depressed at the beginning, little time jump, sexual content but not smut per se, pure sugary sweet ending (almost pissed ME off)

note: omg final chapter!! i didn’t really know how i wanted to end it, so i went through scenic route. i hope you guys enjoyed my little series, because i had fun writing it.

wyoming

For the first time in a long time, you were cozy—absolutely bored and comfortable, and what a delight that was! The settlement in Jackson was everything that you had hoped for. It was warm and welcoming. Not by everyone, but by enough to want this place to feel like home. When the moon replaced the sun and the stars trickled over the night sky, warm yellow lights flickered on. Draping over the center of the settlement, where the establishments flourished. Lighting up a path that was being adorned by the first snow of the year.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen snow in all its icy glory; you were nothing but a child then. Waking up from a troubled sleep, in a spacious home that you could call your own, you shuffled to a frosted window. With your arms wrapped around your body, looking to see minute flurries fluttering from the sky. Collecting in piles on the outer edge of your windowsill.

After a month of already being in Wyoming, at the settlement, reality had set in. You were no longer a soldier, or a slave, or a traveler. Finally, you have made it to the place that was nestled in your mind for endless days, weeks and months.

Relief. Solace. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing.

The house was a two-story home, with beige striped wallpaper; mahogany wood accenting arches separating rooms, cabinets, bannisters and floor boards. Upon your arrival, it was already furnished. A long, soft maroon couch. Decorated with quilts and knitted blankets from neighbors. A square wool carpet laid flat under a mahogany coffee table. Lamps in various places, warmly illuminating the room.

A dark wood dining table. Iron cookware. Upstairs, a quiet bed frame with a decent mattress and comforter on top. A couple of pillows. Two dressers. A proportionate closet—this house looked like a home. Minus the adjustments and additions you were planning for. However, it didn’t quite feel like a home.

It was empty… Or you were empty.

Since your arrival, talking with Ellie became a challenge. You rarely saw her; it was like she handed you off to the officials of Jackson’s and dusted her hands from you. It was dramatic to ruminate over a woman who’s only obligation was to get you to Wyoming—to this community. That’s what you tried to tell yourself to stay in line, but it wasn’t working. Even after busying yourself with different jobs and tasks to start earning your keep, you still thought of her.

Hell, you caught glimpses of her. Jackson wasn’t that big. She’d be walking hand-in-hand with a small child, a toddler, talking intimately with a dark-haired woman. You saw them together often. It could only be assumed that they were important—her ex-girlfriend and son. Well, now, you were uncertain if that was her ex-girlfriend… But, again, you shouldn’t be ruminating. You got what you wanted, remember?

It was an early morning when Maria had asked to meet with you, at a coffee shop in the middle of the square. Dressed in an insulated coat with a hoodie underneath, a pair of trusted light-wash jeans and black leather boots; you began a trek from the corner of the settlement in a light layer of snow. The asphalt wasn’t cold enough to let it fester just yet, but the grass held onto the ice. Headphones rested over your ears, playing a tape gifted to you as a housewarming gift from your young neighbor.

Some old rock band from the 90s. Nirvana’s About A Girl played in your ears as your boots crunched the snow.

It took about four songs off the album for you to get to the coffee shop. Pulling the flimsy headphones down to rest around your neck, you entered the shop looking for a head of sleek blonde hair. An aroma of burning coffee beans and sugar infiltrated your nose. Small chatter was heard from people holding warm mugs, looking at old newspapers, reading novels.

From a table in the far corner of the shop, Maria stood to wave you over. A friendly smile spread across your lips, taut and plastered, as you approached the square wooden table. “G’Morning, Maria.” You reached your hand out to shake her hand, professionally.

She looked down at your hand, snickering. Impressed by your insistence on professionalism. After all, she basically was your employer. It was the one thing the fireflies taught you well—respect your superiors. “Good Mornin’,” Maria firmly shook your hand, taking her seat.

The heaters in the shop toasted up your exposed skin, causing you to remove your jacket before sitting down in the seat across from the older woman. Two cups warm mugs were put in front of you, almost on cue, by a young girl with a maroon apron. “Thank you, Melissa.” She smiled at the barista. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I just ordered you a hot chocolate. Hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, it’s fine. No complaints here.”

“Good.” Maria curtly nodded her head, pulling a black binder from a bag hanging on the back of a chair. “You’ve been sleeping well in that house?�� Dabbing her middle finger on her tongue, she sifted through the pages and hand-written documents.

You blink, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug. “There’s good nights and bad nights…” Nodding, you attempt to take a sip of the hot beverage, but it was too scolding. “Not the fault of the house, just me.” The ends of your lips curl as a softener to your words. Being negative in the face of someone who granted you a place to stay felt like a crime.

Maria hummed, looking up at with genuine blue eyes. “Well, I hope there are more good nights than bad nights.”

“Yeah, of course!” You shrugged, answering entirely too quickly. Which certainly gave away the fact that you telling the truth. Her icy blues were intimidating, although you’ve seen much worse than a pair of eyes.

Falling asleep alone, in the dark was another challenge you had to face. After spending months on the road with someone, knowing they’re there… It was an eerie feeling being far from them—being along. Especially, those last few weeks leading up to knocking on the community’s door. Whenever you found a place to camp out for the night, her arms would be wrapped around you. Or your arms wrapped around her. Relishing in each other’s clothed or bare bodies; it had become a tragic comfort.

Your skin burned for her like it did on that fucking pillar. It tingled, ached and wanted for her touch. Her lips. Her eyes. Her hands.

The nightmare’s of your traumas persisted when you closed your eyes. You wanted to blame it on Ellie’s absence, but they rarely surrendered with her around. But at least when you woke up, boiling, sweating and heaving like you’d just run a marathon, a pair of arms were there to lull you back to sleep. Kissing the back of your neck to remind you that you weren’t there anymore—that you were safe.

And, when she had her moments, shooting up from your arms with tears rolling down her cheeks. You coaxed her back to sleep with her head on your chest, and affirming whispers.

You couldn’t help but wonder if those moments meant as much to her as they did to you.

She hummed at your response, pursing her lips. “If you’re having any problems let me know. I have some great remedies to help with sleep.” The blonde woman offers, a soft smile spreading on her lips. You nodded, chewing on the soft skin inside of your lip. “Now,” Maria begins. “I see that you’ve had some time to try out some of the positions we offer. Have any taken your interest?”

Flipping through a couple of pages, she continues. “I’ve heard great things from Ava Marin, she manages the patrols. Uhm, and Mrs Hayworth, from the gardens and greenhouse…”

“Mrs Hayworth is a very kind woman. I enjoyed working with her— she’s great at explaining things.” You compliment, thinking about the few days you spent with her planting vegetables and fruit. Her salt and pepper hair puffed in coils around her cherubic but wrinkled face. Crowd feet leading to a pair of squinty hazel eyes. Mrs Hayworth treated her plants like they were her children, and she enforced you to do the same.

“She is— wonderful woman.” Maria agreed.

Humming, you think about all the jobs your tried—which was a lot. Patrol was something that you were used to. Being out in the world wasn’t a grand change. However, you weren’t certain that you wanted to go beyond the walls so often. You’ve spent lots of time patrolling, surveying, killing infected—you wanted to hang that up. Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, though. “If I were to sign up to help out with the gardens… Would that mean that patrolling would be off limits?”

The blonde woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “Not at all! For patrol, it’s in a sign-up basis. If you were to mainly do patrol, it would mean going out every other day. If you were to mainly work the gardens, that would be more of a consistent job— but you could still sign-up for patrols if you wanted.” Maria informed. “As long as you’ve been approved to go, and you have.”

“Hm…” You thought, weighing your options. The inner rage that you harbored had remained dormant since you arrived. It had been replaced with rumination and sadness for things out of your control. “Gardening full-time seems serene… I’ve spent enough time out there.” Nodding, with a subtle curl to the corners of your lips, you admitted.

Maria begins to scribble with a pen on a sheet of paper, connected to the rings in the binder. “Sounds fitting. But, of course, you can change your mind anytime.”

After you deal with business, Maria continues conversation with you. Casual, of course. You could tell she was trying to pry without being obvious—wanting to know more about you. Willingly, you gave in, because why not? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone. Maria Miller seemed genuine enough.

However, when she brought up Ellie, the air stiffened. And you could tell she noticed it.

“You and Ellie… Have you spoken, lately? It’s been hard getting a hold of her— it’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” She chortles, taking a sip of her coffee. Pressing her lips together at the bitter taste.

Stunned by the mention of her, you shook your head. Fingers growing numb around the warm, untouched, hot chocolate. “Uhm, no I haven’t…”

She hummed, leaning her head to the start. “That’s odd.” Maria scoffs, bunching her eyebrows. “She made it seem like you two were very close— being that you traveled so far together…” It’s like she was thinking out loud, making you want to bolt from the wooden chair holding onto you. “I mean, she made sure that you got the best house in Jackson… I would assume that she would’ve at least visited—“

“Well, she hasn’t.” Sternly interrupting her, you inhaled, sharply.

Noticing the mistake, she sighed, looking at with blue eyes filled with pity. It irked you. Trying to fix it, Maria plastered a bittersweet smile on her lips. “She’s more like Tommy than I thought.” Bunching your eyebrows, she continued. “My husband— ex-husband— I don’t know… It’s complicated.”

You know the feeling… Kind of.

Ellie had told you about Tommy Miller. He was a very ambitious man, to say the least. Ambitious enough to send a grieving girl to kill someone in his absence—feeding off her own despair. You caught that much. But, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever met her. What a selfish thought. “They’re both hermits in their own right, but they always come around.” She released a wistful sigh. “Ellie will come around… Just give her some time to get all her ducks in a row.”

With tight lips, you nodded. How much time? You desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood up, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. “Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Maria, but I have to go.” Speaking quickly, you slid your arms into your puffer jacket. Maria abruptly stood to her feet with an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, well, uhm,” She began, rubbing her hands together. “Of course. You’re schedule should be out in the next few days. Consider the meantime your sabbatical.” Her eyes drifted over your frame like a concerned mother. “It was a pleasure talking with you, y/n. I’m glad you could join us here.”

Sending another tight-lipped smile her way, you stuck your hands into your pockets. “I’m glad you let me. See you around.”

Leaving the coffee shop, the cold air was a smack in the face. Pulling you from shackles of solemnity—briefly. Raising your headphones back around your ears, you resumed the tape inside of the Walkman clipped to your hip.

Thin flurries of snow began to fall from the bright grey clouds. Trickling over the strands of your hair, melting in contact. Stuffing your hands back into your pockets, you walked down the icy path of the square.

The main square in Jackson was littered with people. Some were standing around conversing, with cigarettes in their hands. Some worked pulling supplies in large wooden carts, moving them to another establishment. You seen a man on a ladder fixing a broken light on the outside of a pub. And a woman walking a train of small children holding hands—like they were on a field trip of some kind. They laughed and giggled under knit beanies, bundled in their jackets that may have been too big for some.

A smile appeared on your lips as you watched them march by you.

You stopped at an art store, looking up at the wooden sign. Quoting Maria, you were on sabbatical; so, you wanted to use this time to fully explore the settlement. In the month that you’ve been in Jackson, you have visited the local pub more often than you’d like to admit. Entering the store, a bell sounded, and you smiled at the few people walking around the decorated shop.

Organic paints and brushes were located in the back corner of the store, taking up two walls and some floor space. While the rest of the store harbored artwork from the people who lived in the community. And some refurbished work found outside the wall. A sign on the wall read: talk to an attendant for group and private classes. You hummed, impressed by the normalcy. Perhaps, you could sign up for one.

Meandering around, your eyes survey the paintings and drawings. Thinking about your home, it could use some personalization. You came across a landscape portrait of two women. The strokes emulated grass—olive tones—that they were lying on—intertwined with each other. Arms and legs entangled. Lips grazing each others cheeks. The strokes that were made were intentionally blurry and messy. Who were these women? Was their relationship as unofficial and indifferent as your own?

Fingers grazing the canvas of the painting, you couldn’t help but think of that freckle-faced woman you’ve grown to adore.

“You interested in that one? Nice choice.”

Even though your headphones played Nirvana in your ears, you could still recognize the outsourced voice. Her voice was like honey. Soft, warm honey. Luring you like a spell spoken by a witch or warlock. God, you missed the sound of her voice. “Funny thing is… The woman who painted this actually has a husband.” She chuckled, glancing at you with a nervous glint.

You froze at the sound of her voice, eyes glued to the art before you. Just blinking. Buh bum. Buh hum. Your heart beat in your ears, in your chest, in your hands—everywhere! Skin growing hot as if you were sat in front of a furnace. Were you mad or just upset? It was hard to tell, even for yourself.

The smile on her lips faded, immediately. Fiddling with her fingers—she always did that. “How’re you settling in—?”

“I’ve already settled in…” Your voice was eerily calm, side-eying her as you spoke. “I haven’t seen you in five weeks, Ellie.”

She sighed, adjusting the knit cap over her hair. Licking her lips, nervously. “I know—“

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” When you finally look at her, she notices the irateness in your eyes. Crowding over the feelings of yearning and sorrow.

“Can we talk? Please, just let me explain.”

Gritting your jaw, you peer at her. Thinking about hashing it out within a small walk. But, you were tender, sensitive—you couldn’t be sure that your reaction wouldn’t be explosive. What if she told you she was getting back with Dina? Going back to her family. That alone could send you into ruins. And you too far from your house to escape the public once you unleashed hell upon that woman. “You know where I live.” You told, with a pinched expression.

That was your cue to leave the store, pulling your hoodie over your head. Maybe, today wasn’t the day to tour the community. Another day. Plus, you had to spend the rest of the day anticipating a knock at your door.

It was a glum walk back to your place. You had put your Walkman on pause, walking in a depressive silence. Each step you made up your porch was deliberate and slow. An old swing chair swung in the wind, bolts shaking once you put your weight on the porch. It wrapped around the entire front of the house, and it definitely needed more décor.

Entering your house, you hung up your jacket and kicked off your shoes at the door. Stalking up your staircase, leaning in the railing, you made your way to your bedroom. The un-made bed beckoned you; so you kicked the door closed, and jumped under your covers. Hopefully, getting some shut eye could ease your nerves.

The sleep was rocky—you were in and out. In the moments when you awoke, you pulled a book from your bedside table to read—George Eliot—hoping to fall back asleep. But the novel only intrigued you for hours. Distracting from that anticipation long enough for it to come sooner than you expected.

It was dark, but it was no later than six-thirty.

You approached the door with a heavy heart, sliding your fluffy socks across the wooden floor. The reveal of the woman on your porch caused your body to heat up once more. She turned around, still dressed in the clothes from earlier.

“Hey,”

“Hey…”

Pressing her lips into an awkward line. “Nice porch.”

Scrunching your eyebrows at the compliment, you abandoned the door while it was ajar. Telling her to enter without losing your dignity. Ellie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Shoes off.” You tell her, waving a hand, carelessly.

Walking to the kitchen, you threw onto the stove a metal kettle filled water. While your innate anger was healing, there was still pridefulness about you. You had to have some sort of control over any situation that you’re in. Ellie came to your house; this conversation was on your terms. And it was going to stay that way.

Ellie had navigated around your living room, feeling the softness of the carpet under her feet. I did good. She thought. Ellie taking part in the decision making for your accommodations was true. She wanted to give you the absolute best, because she knew she was going to need some time alone.

Appearing from around the corner, you leaned against the mahogany frame lining the entrance to the living room. With your arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. “You have about seven to eight minutes before that kettle goes off, and when it does, this conversation is over.”

She slid the hat from her head, dragging it down to the place over her belly button. Kneading the fabric with her thumbs. “Do you not want me here?” Her voice cracked, hands smacking down at her sides. “Because we can talk another time—“

“Six minutes.”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You know, what?” Ellie scoffed, striding past you toward your kitchen. Irritation rushing through her nerves. It confused her how she could be so obsessed with someone who might’ve been more stubborn than herself.

You followed her into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman reached for the kettle, taking it off the small flame. Flicking off the fire, she turned to look at you. “You’re not gonna give me six minutes to explain myself— I’m not gonna let you rush this.”

“I’m not rushing anything.”

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms. Leaning her back against the counter, coolly. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, mocking words that you’ve said in the past.

Squinting your eyes, glaringly, you scoff. “Just… Talk, Ellie.” You waved your hand, leaning on the threshold bordering the kitchen and the small foyer. Perhaps, you were pushing it a bit too far.

The auburn-haired woman sighed behind speaking. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “When I left… It was an immediate decision— made in the middle of the night in a farmhouse I shared with my girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, and my kid.” She began, eyeing you intently. “I left my family behind, y/n, including Maria and Tommy and anyone else in this fucking community that I knew.” Her hands moved as she spoke, passionately. “In that moment, I don’t think I ever planned to come back. There was nothing to come back to…

Then, I met you. When I thought I traveled so far for nothing— I met you.” Her olive eyes looked to the ceiling, thinking. While your heart blundered under your ribs. “Coming back was never my intention, and I left that way. So, when I walked through those doors… I had a lot of work to do. A lot of bridges to mend and gain the trust of again— which I’m still doing, by the way.”

Her hand jutted out, before slapping against her thighs. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like that. Truthfully, I was overwhelmed.” The woman confessed, scratching the back of her head. “For the first two weeks, I was begging for Dina to let me see JJ, my son. For the next, I was arguing with Tommy for letting Abby go— it was a lot. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to put any of that on you.” Pursing your lips, you nodded. “You’ve been through enough… I was protecting you. I wanted you to just focus on settling in.”

“Well, it was hard settling in without you.” It almost came out like a whisper—a little louder than a whisper. Followed by a dry, stubborn chortle. “I spent months on the road with you, and it’s like you just hung me out to dry. That fucking sucked.” Averting your eyes, you peered at the shining floorboards.

She nodded, frowning at your downcast expression. But, there was an element of proudness. Give or take a few weeks back, you’d argue her down over anything. However, this time, vulnerability leaked from you. Poured from your words and demeanor like liquid gold. “I know, and I’m really sorry. It was fucked up. But it will never happen again— I swear to you.”

“What if something else comes up?” You question, chewing on the skin inside your lip.

“I’ll clue you in— every time.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the status on you and Dina?”

Ellie rubs her nose with her index finger, ready to answer your rapid-fire questions. “Cordial co-parents.”

“Does she know about us?”

A goofy smile spreads across her plump lips. “We’re an us?”

Narrowing your eyes at her, fighting a little grin, you responded. “Answer the question, Ellie!”

“Oh, my God! Yes, she knows about us, and she’s happy for me.” With amused features, she begins to slowly approach you. “Now, are you done with the twenty questions game? Because you haven’t accepted my apology once…” She pouted, sliding her hands over your arms, pulling them from their crossed position.

Batting your eyes at her, feigning thought. The touch of her fingers on you sparked a fire, setting your skin ablaze. Even if it was in your best interest not to accept her apology, you probably still would. The way her eyes looked into you with such gentleness—it couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. “I accept your apology…” You admit, grazing your fingers up the sleeves of her flannel.

“Fuck, yes!” She wasted no time to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Tightly, you wrapped your arms around her back, leaning your head over her shoulder. “I missed you. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“You have no choice but to make it up to me.” You spoke against her exposed skin, pecking the side of her neck. “For the sake of lost time.”

Ellie giggled at the brush of your lips, pulling away with raised eyebrows. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot— be right back.” She runs to your front door pulling it open, and leaning to the side to grab a flipped canvas that was leaning against the outside brick wall. It was the portrait you were considering buying at the art store. “Housewarming present!” She grinned, presenting it in front of herself.

You matched her smile, reaching out to take it from her. “That woman is totally gay for making this.”

“So gay. I feel bad for her husband.”

Sharing a laugh, you look back at her, setting the canvas to the side against the wall. Walking up to her, you grabbed her face, caressing the skin of her cheeks. Musing at her earthy features, taking them all in like you’d never see her again. The last time you saw her, it’s like you took it for granted—not knowing if it was going to be a while before you got to look at her the way you wanted to. Leaning into her, you pressed your lips against hers, unabashedly. Her hands found comfort at the divot of your waist, pulling you flush against her.

Sliding your hands down to the nape of her neck, the kiss deepened. You whined into her mouth when she slipped her tongue between your lips. With the combination of her grip on your waist and the taste of her lips, you wanted to merge your bodies—so she could never leave your side again. You’ve survived enough tragic loss; was it so bad to want this one thing? The touch of your troubled lover.

Ellie backed you against the wall, muttering against your lips. “I wanna take my time with you…” She began to trail hot kisses over your cheek, down your jaw, to the sensitive parts of your neck. “Show you…” Smack. “Just how much…” Smack. “I love you.”

Under the waistband of your jeans, you throbbed, but the thing beating inside your chest swelled and beat louder. “Y— You love me?” The tips of your fingers scratched at her scalp, comfortingly. As she pulled her face from your neck, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I do.” Her thumb came up to caress your jaw. “I really do.”

That was your cue to completely devour her. You pulled her upstairs, into your bedroom, to ravish her—to ravish each other. Stripping from your clothes to come unto one another with a sickening love. Her lips traced every part of your body; suckling, nibbling, tonguing down the most sensitive parts. Pulling moans from your diaphragm, seamlessly. She cooed for you and spoke filthily in your ear while touching you with a gentle firmness that only she could replicate over and over—making you come undone hard. As if the universe came from within you.

Stars, planets, galaxies—celestial bodies!

You and Ellie were two halves of one whole. Everything that led up to that beach happened with the purpose of bringing the scorned together. To cancel it out, blossoming something much greater. Somehow, you proved to each other that you were both worth saving. No matter the sin. No matter the guilt. It was all worth it to end up wrapped in her arms, skin to skin, caressing her battered epidermis.

As months progressed, gearing up for the spring season, Ellie had long moved her stuff in. Her easel and unfinished works nestled in the guest room. Her clothes were stuffed beside yours in the drawer before your bed, and the closet beside your door. Bringing in sunrises with sleepy, feathered kisses and innocent touches. It was a dream you both got the chance to live out.

This wasn’t enduring or surviving—it was living. Experiencing life.

With your hands covered in dirt, replanting a radish, joyful voices were behind your back. Looking over your shoulder, a tiny frame was trotting toward you, calling your name. Ellie in his trail, with her hands in her pockets.

Gasping, you turned around with a grin. “Hey, buddy!” You opened your arms for him to promptly land in them. Keeping your hands far from his jacket so the soil wouldn’t dirty him up.

“Careful, JJ, she’s working!” She tried, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, Ellie, it’s fine.” You waved a dirty hand, sliding them off your fingers, dropping them onto the grass. So you could reach under his arms to hoist him onto your hip. The sun landed just right on his little head, sparkling off his small growing teeth.

Ellie’s lips curled at the sight. “He wanted to come visit you at work before I dropped him off.” She meandered toward you, pecking your lips.

“Just JJ? Or you, too?”

“Both of us, whatever.” Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I had to remind you of our dinner date tonight— its mandatory. You can’t be late.” Her fingers pushed fallen pieces of your hair from your forehead.

Once you had gotten into the grove of gardening, time flew by. It would go from seven in the morning to eight in the afternoon like it was nothing. Causing you to miss out on some of the plans you made with your generous lover. “You’ve been reminding me since I got up this morning. Trust me, I remember, Ellie.” You squeezed his chubby cheek, cooing at him. “Ugh, I love him.” You gushed, peering between him and your girlfriend.

“Oh!” You pulled a folded-up paper from your back pocket. “JJ, you wanna do me a big favor?”

His eyebrows lifted, grinning.

“Give your mama back this recipe for me, all right?” He takes the paper in his hands, preparing to unfold it. “Promise me you’ll give it to her…”

“I promise!”

“Okay, bud. Tuck it tight into your pocket until you get there.”

Instead of unfolding, he pushed it into the pocket of his coat, messily. Patting it, to let you know it was inside. Kissing him on his cheek, you put him back on the ground. Eyes glancing at the watch on your wrist. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Your hand found hers by her side, leaning your body toward her arm. “Thanks for visiting me, babe. Letting me see that beautiful face of yours.”

Ellie blushed, averting her glazing eyes. You leaned your head closer to hers, warmly kissing her cheek. “My pleasure…”

“I’m sure.” You teased, inconspicuously biting her ear. Quick enough that it went unseen to the surrounding people, and JJ as he played with the leaves sticking out of the garden. Ellie released an airy sigh, narrowing her eyes at you. She whined your name as if she were embarrassed. “Don’t be like that— you know I love you.”

“I love you more… But you have to chill. Mrs Hayworth is right there.”

“You don’t know Mrs Hayworth like I do.” You snicker, waving a hand to the older woman a few bins away. The salt and pepper haired woman waved, sending a teasing wink. Ellie looked back at your with confused, and slightly horrified, features. “I’ll tell you about it later. At the dinner I’m not going to be late to.”

“And you better not.” Ellie poked you, with pouty lips.

“Ellie, I won’t.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She kissed you one more time. A little longer. A little deeper. “I won’t keep you from the vegetables anymore. JJ, say buh-byes.” He jumps from a squat, waving his hand with a smile. “I’ll see you later. C’mon, kid.” Ellie hoisted him up into her hip and began walking back the way she came to deliver him to Dina’s. Leaving you with metaphorical heart eyes, pulling your gloves back onto your hands.

And, when later came; over a hearty chicken dinner prepared by Ellie Williams herself, a shiny silver band was presented to you in the pages of a book. Laying over an underlined and highlighted excerpt of the book—something you highlighted. It was a novel you had finished sometime between the end of December and early January.

“‘What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?’” Ellie had recited, evenly. With not a speckle of wavering, or awkwardness, or pause—unless it was intentional. “Adam Bede. Your favorite book… I hope it’s your favorite book.”

Jumping from your chair across from her, you leaped into her arms after placing the book into the dinner table. Pecking your lips across her face. “Yes! Yes! Ellie, a million fucking times, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask the question.” She laughed in your ear, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

Pulling back, you narrowed your tearing eyes at her. “You don’t have to. I already said yes.”

“But isn’t that the exciting part… Popping the question?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “I thought the exciting part was me saying yes to marrying you…?”

Ellie spent days studying George Eliot, hours setting up the dinner, and minutes shaking with anxiety. Working herself up to saying those magic four words, only for your to swipe the chance right from under her. And, honestly, she loved you more for it. “All right, can I at least put the damn ring on your finger?”

“‘Course, you can, Els.” You pull the book toward you, opening it up on the page with the ring. Ellie takes it from your fingers, glancing at you with opalescent olive eyes. She slid it onto your ring finger, delicately twisting the band around. You grinned, hopelessly, with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Her hand trailed up your arm, squeezing. “My lucky charm…” She muttered, thoughtfully.

“I’m all yours.” You lean close to her lips, glancing at them. “And you’re all mine.”

Neither of you were able to finish the dinner while it was hot.

[mychemicalore]

some notes on the recent announcement; (will edit this later probably)

It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE”; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade.

okay so 17 years ago was 2007, and exactly 6246 days before today (11.12.24) it was October 7, 2007, which is the date of The Black Parade's final perfomance ever (aka The Black Parade is Dead! in Palacio de los Deportes, Mexico City).

it is implied that after this performance they were "sent to the MOAT", which almost sounds like they were vanished/expelled, because of the "work privilege reinstated" part.

this could mean that The Black Parade was opposing somehow to the Dictator, perhaps even preventing him to step into power, which he manages to do only after The Black Parade is gone.

now, i believe whoever is writing this announcement is a citizen of DRAAG on the Dictator's side, because of the tone and the pronouns use. "OUR rich and storied culture", "a GREAT Dictator", "a GLORIOUS time of STABILITY and ABUNDANCE".

i'm wondering if there's a connection to the Melbourne 03.16.23 show, in which Gerard dressed as the character that appears in the video.. the drums that day said "TERROR" which i think is worth noting as well. maybe it's that character who's writing this?

i have no brain left bull ill keep editing this post to make a more complete "analysis"

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 1

Summary: Christmas time is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but for Y/N it has become a lonely holiday now that she is a divorced mother. This Christmas, she gets looped into a love triangle with two lovers from her past, Joel Miller and Negan Smith, where the holiday brings all of them back together.

Characters: (in chapter 1) Joel Miller, Negan Smith (mentions), the reader (OC), Rosita Espinosa, Carol Peletier, Tommy Miller (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/154453672

Warnings: Alternate universe, swearing, angst, third person reader, female reader, reader is a mother, reader is divorced, reader was a teenage mother, reader is in her 30s, Joel and Negan have both been de-aged, etc. There is a mix of both TLOU and TWD characters. Please be sure to check the overall warnings on AO3, so you know what to expect!

Notes: I'm a fool for Christmas stories, so I'm back at it again this year. This time having a story featuring both Joel and Negan. Apparently my favorite duo! I will be updating this story three times a week until Christmas!

Remember Y/N means your name or whatever name you choose.

The warmth of a crackling fire. The scent of gingerbread, peppermint or a freshly put-up Christmas tree. It was amazing how many things could really start reminding you of Christmas. It was a time where those who celebrated would start to get excited for the festivities that were to come. Radio stations were playing Christmas music. Stores would be full with people shopping for both presents and food for their holidays. Christmas was always certain to draw out many emotions from people. Whether it was the excitement of the holiday, the events that you could go to, getting together with your family or just the whole genre all together.

Sometimes baking, decorating, planning and enjoying the overall atmosphere of Christmas could be a good distraction for someone who was going through a hard time. Right now that was the primary focus for Y/N. It was toward the end of her workday. Luckily, she got to work remotely from home so that meant she could also do other things at home when she had her breaks. Right now, the smell of gingerbread and sugar cookies were filling her home and she knew the timer would be going off any moment now. She was in the middle of a video call with her boss Carol and her best friend Rosita who had gotten her this job so many years ago when she was in need of one. What was supposed to be a rundown of the work they were getting done when Y/N went on vacation had become a talk between friends instead. Each person going over what they would be doing for the holiday.

“You seem distracted,” Rosita noted with Y/N looking back over her shoulder. Forcing herself to look back at the screen, Y/N realized that she must have checked on the timer too much. Rosita wasn’t one to pick up on things like that easily, so it had to have been a lot. “What are you up to now?”

“I’m just baking some cookies before the children get home,” Y/N was honest with the two. There was no reason for her to lie. She got her work done fast. In fact, she was the best worker in the business. Not that it was a great job or something entirely too complicated. It was just a data entry job that she had gotten when she was younger so that way she could help cover the bills. It wasn’t her dream job, but Y/N had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen and had her daughter when she was eighteen. That led to her not being able to get a degree until years later and it was just an associate degree from the local community college. At the time she got the job, she was desperately in need of a job that allowed her to be home with the baby and this one just happened to work out. Thankfully, Carol understood at the time because she had children as well and this job worked for her. Y/N always told herself that she would get a different job eventually. One that was better, but now her daughter was seventeen and she also had a son that was thirteen. She just got comfortable in the job that she was in and stayed. It wasn’t something to brag about, but at least she liked the people she worked with. And she got to stay home except for going into the office a few times a month. She couldn’t really complain. Especially when she got to be home to raise the children. “Their dad picked them up from school and they were supposed to be going out to eat with him.”

“I don’t know how you do it girl,” Rosita declared with a long sigh, adjusting her Bluetooth earphones that she was using over the video. “It’s super hard with just having Coco running around the house now. Yet, here you are baking cookies, decorating the house, being the amazing PTO mom for your children.”

“It’s a little different having teenage children than it is a toddler,” Y/N reminded her friend with a hesitant laugh. “I remember the days of Elizabeth and Peter being that age and it was hard. Sleep was not a normal thing during those days.”

“And suddenly I’m very happy that Sophia and Benjamin are in college and Henry is about to graduate,” Carol spoke up with a half-smile, throwing her hands up in the air when she spoke. “Kids are cute, but if I could do it all over again, I’m not sure I would.”

“Carol!” Rosita laughed making Y/N smile when her over the top boss continued to make a very dramatic expression. “I doubt Ezekiel would be happy hearing you say that.”

“What Ezekiel doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Carol placed her hand to her chest, and, in that moment the sound of the timer for the cookies was going off. “Alright ladies. We can sign off now so you can get to the rest of your day. Enjoy your holiday vacation, Y/N.”

Signing out of work and closing up her laptop, Y/N pushed back her chair and headed into the kitchen. It had been a few years since Y/N had really taken time off for herself. In the past she would have taken vacation time a lot, but not so much lately. That’s why she had taken it all at once. She had to take it, so it just made sense to do it at Christmas time. It gave her more time to focus on the children and enjoy the holiday.

Taking her cookies out of the oven, she set them out onto a rack to cool them. Preparing the frosting, she knew that the kids often liked to help so she was getting things ready for them. Likely, she would start the decorating of the cookies and they would help her finish. While the cookies continued to cool, she made her way around the house cleaning things up. The fireplace was on which gave a nice aura to the room that matched the lights that went with the heavily decorated tree in the corner of the living room. At the bottom of the tree was a toy train that her family had been collecting multiple pieces for since she was eighteen years old. It was a tradition to put it out every year. And each year they would try to add pieces to it. For Christmas, she had always tried to go out of her way to make it magical for her children. Being such a young mom, she wanted to do her best to make the holiday feel special for her children. At first, they didn’t have much, so she had to find ways to make things special and decorating was really the easiest way to do that.

Moving over toward the front window, there was a nook that was dawned with a Christmas village with extensive buildings and figurines that she had been collecting since she was younger as well. Each year she would buy one piece to add to it and it always looked really neat setting it up every year and lighting it up in the front window. Turning that on, she knew this was a daily thing. She got into the routine of things and it was just normal for her. Stockings were hanging in front of the fireplace and it just felt cozy for anyone that may have enjoyed Christmas.

Heading back into the kitchen, she started decorating the sugar cookies first. There were various shapes of candy canes, Santa hats, sleighs, stuffed bears, snowmen, reindeer and snowflakes. Those she figured her children would be less interested in decorating. It was usually the gingerbread men and women they had the most fun with.

The sound of the front door pushing open was heard and it made her smile when her son calling out to her followed, “Mom? Where are you?”

“In the kitchen kiddo,” she responded, raising her voice just enough. It was probably obvious where she was, but her son was very dramatic and liked to make his presence known. Hearing the sound of footsteps, she gasped when she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her and hugging her firmly from behind. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her son cuddling into her and it made her smile. “Hey Peter. How was school?”

“It was the last day before vacation, so great,” Peter offered up a big smile, his long eyelashes fluttering to an open. Y/N turned on her heel, brushing her fingers through her son’s dark hair and he gave her a weak smile. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but dad got me a big peppermint chocolate shake today at the diner. It was huge! It had sprinkles too.”

“Good job at keeping a secret,” Y/N heard the sound of her daughter coming into the kitchen. Elizabeth’s dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her dark eyes connecting with her mother’s when she dropped her backpack down in the corner of the kitchen. “No one is going to trust you with a secret ever. I hope you know that.”

“I have a hard time lying,” Peter explained, moving in beside his mother to see all the cookies she had already decorated. “I’m going to be on such a sugar high tonight.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to eat those cookies since you told on me,” a voice spoke up from the entrance of the kitchen making Y/N look back. “Ellie had my back. You on the other hand…”

“Liz. I want to be called Liz, dad,” Elizabeth corrected her father making him groan out in frustration, reaching out to pull his daughter in closer to him. A frustrated sound fell from Elizabeth with how hard her father was hugging her to his chest. “Dad! Come on!”

“You know she wants to be called Liz now, Joel,” Y/N corrected with a long sigh. It had the color flooding into Elizabeth’s face since both her parents weren’t really latching onto the whole Liz nickname. “I’m also aware of it, but I’m still having a hard time not calling her Elizabeth.”

“I reckon I’m never going to be able to remember this whole Liz thing,” Joel’s southern drawl lingered, his dark eyes narrowing when he lifted his hand to give Y/N a small wave. It had her returning the gesture watching Joel lean down to press a kiss against Elizabeth’s temple. Looking between the three of them, she let out a long sigh. The older the children got, the more they looked like their father. Joel’s genes were strong in both Elizabeth and Peter. They had his eye color, skin tone and hair color. The trio looked gorgeous on her daughter and her son looked like a mini version of Joel. Pretty close to what she remembered when she first met Joel. “You’re always going to be my Ellie. You should know that. No matter how old you get, or how uncool it is to call you that. I’ve been calling you Ellie since before you could walk.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Elizabeth pat her father on the stomach playfully. Pulling out from beneath Joel’s arm, Elizabeth moved over to look at the cookies. Almost instinctively she reached for some of the decorating icing to start helping. Following in his sister’s footsteps, Peter started to help as well.

“I always loved this day,” Joel stammered, walking across the kitchen to step in behind Y/N. Lowering his head in beside hers, Joel let his breath linger against the side of her neck. The closeness of him surprised her as he stretched his arm out to grab one of the sugar cookies that hadn’t been decorated yet. Instead of pulling away, Joel turned in to press a kiss against her cheek and it had her eyes coming to a tight close. Once the warmth of him left, her eyes opened and she saw him resting back against the counter. Tipping his head back, he dropped the cookie into his mouth and groaned at the way it tasted. “Your cookies were always top notch.”

“And you always stole a ton of them before they were done being decorated,” Y/N reminded Joel with a tiny chuckle causing him to shrug dramatically. Reaching for another cookie had her huffing out and he gave a wicked smirk.

Seeing Peter do the same made her scoff and shake her head. Wanting to be as much like his father as possible, Peter would often mimic the things that Joel would do. Which meant he plowed back two sugar cookies as well.

“How big was this shake?” Y/N wondered which had Joel shrugging and shaking his head. Obviously not wanting to give the answer.

“Gigantic,” Peter explained with a mouthful of the last cookie that he shoved into his mouth.

“You’re not helping buddy,” Joel grunted under his breath, swallowing down the last of his sugar cookie. “I need some milk.”

“You know where it is,” Y/N nodded toward the cabinet where the glasses were. With a sigh, Joel moved across the kitchen and grabbed four glasses setting them out on the counter. Heading over to the fridge, Joel pulled out the milk and started pouring a glass for everyone. “I guess it’s a good thing he is going to be with you tonight. Because you know how he gets when he has this much sugar.”

“I’m thirteen mom, I’m not six anymore,” Peter snickered, nudging his mother playfully with his hip and it had her smiling. “I can handle being on a sugar high. I’m a big boy.”

“Still my baby,” Y/N claimed with a wink, lowering down to press a kiss over the top of Peter’s head. “Did the two of you pack last night?”

“I did,” Elizabeth replied with a gaze down at her brother seeing him swallow down his last bit of cookie. “He did not.”

“Sellout,” Peter retorted under his breath, working to decorate the next cookie he grabbed from the rack. “I got…distracted. I was playing a game and before you know it, it was really late and I knew I had school…”

“Maybe you should have stopped playing the game?” Elizabeth suggested with a tip of her head, drawing Peter to grumble something under his breath.

“I really don’t understand why we can’t just have dad stay over,” Peter blurt out making Joel clear his throat. It had Y/N looking back at him and she could see that tension that filled Joel’s body while he was drinking the milk that he had poured for himself. “It’s Christmas. We should have things be the way they used to be.”

“That’s not how things are done when your parents are divorced,” Elizabeth stated with a roll of her eyes making Y/N’s heart skip a beat with her children talking about her and Joel. “We’re lucky that our parents get along. Some of my friends, their parents hate each other. Fight over them just to make the other mad. And it’s never about them, it’s always for personal reasons. It makes them miserable because the parents are more so focused on hurting the other one instead of loving them.”

“I’m just saying,” Peter kept up with his previous statement setting aside the decorated cookie and reaching for another. “I remember things being really fun when we did this. I miss that. I wish we could just go back to the way things were. Dad could move back in and we could do what we did every year.”

“Bud?” Joel spoke quietly which had Peter looking over his shoulder at his father. Joel shook his head and Peter’s tanned flesh went pale.

This was the fourth Christmas that the two of them had spent separated. It was three years since they had been divorced. Joel was her high school sweetheart. Both of them had big dreams. She wanted to travel the world and be a journalist. Live in the big city. Joel wanted to be either a football player or a professional singer. But when she got pregnant? That didn’t exactly work out for either one of them. It meant she never left her hometown. Neither did he.

Joel’s parents died tragically when he was eighteen which left him taking care of his little brother Tommy. Tommy was five years younger than Joel and because Joel didn’t want Tommy going into the system, he also adopted Tommy. So not only was he taking care of his little brother, but Joel had gotten Y/N pregnant not long after. That meant an incredible amount of stress had been thrown on him.

At first? Everything was okay between them. Joel married Y/N right after Elizabeth was born. They moved into Joel’s parents’ house and he was a great dad. He never stopped being a great dad. Joel took on his father’s business of being a contractor since he had helped his dad when he was a teenager while she stayed home taking care of both Elizabeth and Tommy. Four years after Elizabeth was born, they had Peter. Originally, it wasn’t too hard because Tommy helped out with the children and around the house, but when Tommy turned eighteen he decided that he wanted to make a difference in the world and joined the army. That alone stressed Joel out to the extreme.

By the time she was twenty-one and Joel was twenty-three they had been through a lot. More than most people their age had been. They weren’t making much money and they were doing their best just to get by. Thankfully, she got her job soon after that which helped with the bills and she got to stay home to take care of the children. It was a few years more before they moved out of Joel’s parents’ home and got one of their own. Even though she thought they had the perfect life, Joel was unhappy. And each day that became more and more clear. He was still an amazing father, but they started bickering. A few fights here and there led to nights where they would verbally fight all night long, sometimes leading their fights into the middle of the day.

After years of that, it led to them separating four years ago and eventually to their divorce three years ago. Neither of the children took it well. They both really loved their dad. And rightfully so. Joel was a good father. There was something about Joel that they were drawn to. She was with them all the time growing up and Joel was always the parent that was gone long nights and was working really hard, so he was the parent they wanted the attention of the most. And when he was home? He gave it to them. So it was safe to say they mostly blamed her for the divorce. They tried to hide it more now, but when the separation first happened neither Elizabeth nor Peter were happy with her. It made her happy that after this long, there were no more fights and even though there was an occasional comment made here or there, they seemed to be happy with her.

Joel and Y/N had shared custody of the children. Which meant they were pretty open with things. They were supposed to be with her half the month and with him half the other, but they never stopped the children from seeing them if they wanted. Joel had moved back into his parents’ old home with Tommy which was only a few blocks away so they still spent a lot of time together.

Honestly? Y/N never really got over the divorce. Her feelings for Joel were just as strong as the day she met him. Joel’s family had moved to town when she was young and she immediately had a crush on him. They were just kids then though.

Their divorce was hard on her. It wasn’t like anyone cheated. It was just the tension of it all. Joel had become cold. He wasn’t a very affectionate lover. And it was always inherently clear how unhappy he was when he was married to her. Being married became lonely. Which was vastly different from how Joel was when they were younger. Joel was very affectionate in the beginning. Very loving. Now? They got along as much as they could for the children. Which meant she had to push down a lot of her feelings. But it was worth it for the children to be happy and grow up in a stable environment.

“I know, I’m not supposed to talk about the divorce,” Peter finally spoke up after the uncomfortable silence flooded the room with the three of them still decorating the cookies while Joel stayed in the back of the kitchen. “I just really miss how things used to be. That’s all.”

“I do too,” Elizabeth agreed quietly, but Y/N didn’t know what to say so she kept her mouth shut. Of course she missed the way things used to be.

“I can help decorate,” Joel offered, setting his glass of milk down on the counter. Moving over toward the gingerbread cookies, he pulled one of them off the rack and set up his area to start decorating. “We always used to decorate cookies as ourselves every year. So why not do that again?”

“This could take a while,” Y/N suggested, but Joel look to her with his dark eyes and shrugged. “Tess won’t get mad that you are here?”

“They aren’t together anymore,” Elizabeth was quick to answer and it had a rush of color flushing into Joel’s face. When his eyes connected with Elizabeth’s she shrugged her shoulders dramatically just like Peter had done earlier. “Well, you aren’t.”

“How long has that been?” Y/N looked to Joel noticing that he got uncomfortable when they brought up his ex-girlfriend. Tess and Joel had started dating a few months after their divorce finalized, so she was surprised to hear they weren’t together. Joel bobbed his head about with Peter adjusting his spot at the counter to move in next to his father to start decorating his gingerbread cookie.

“A while,” Joel grumbled under his breath, bringing his fingers up to suck off the icing that was at the tips of them. It had his dimples showing and he could see that Y/N was staring at him. “I don’t really pay attention to time with how busy I’ve been with work.”

“Months,” Elizabeth spoke again for her father keeping her focus on the cookies that were there.

“I’m glad you know more about my dating life,” Joel rumbled reaching for one of the sugar cookies to shove another one into his mouth.

“I just pay attention,” Elizabeth pointed out realizing that she was making her father uncomfortable talking about Tess. “When the two of you were together, she was always texting me. Making plans with Peter and me. Since you two broke up? I haven’t heard from her.”

“I thought you liked Tess,” Y/N recalled what the children had told her when she talked about the woman that Joel had been with.

“We did,” Peter replied back, his voice now muffled since he copied his father again in grabbing another cookie.

“It’s just strange that she drops us the moment they break up. You work so hard to build this relationship with us because you’re dating our father and then you cut us off completely when the two of you break up?” Elizabeth legitimately seemed bothered by the fact that Tess stopped interacting with them. “It’s messed up.”

“So how about these cookies? Huh?” Joel tried to come up with a distraction, going to reach for another one, but Y/N reached out to place her hand over his wrist to stop him. Instead of listening to her urgings, Joel grabbed one of the snowman cookies and bit off the head of it. “They taste really good.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was trying to finish helping mom decorate them first,” Elizabeth smirked back at her father, giving him a shake of her head. He finished off the cookie before going back to decorating. When they finished off the sugar cookies, the girls went to decorating their gingerbread women. Joel had moved on to working on other cookies, but Peter was pretty dedicated to making his gingerbread man perfect. By the time they were done, Peter was still working on that single cookie. “What’s taking you so long Peter?”

“You’re being lazy,” Joel moved in behind Peter to pick him up in his arms, pulling him away from the counter. The two of them wrestled while their laughter filled the kitchen. Finally, Y/N grabbed herself one of the finished sugar cookies that she had made while watching the two of them. “Making the three of us do all the work.”

“I just wanted mine to be good,” Peter jumped on Joel’s back, hooking his arms around Joel’s shoulders. It had Elizabeth rolling her eyes and grabbing a cookie with her mother. “You see what I mean? We shouldn’t have to go be with just dad and uncle Tommy. We should be together. Dad can just grab his stuff. Come over and we can pretend like we’re a family again. The four of us have the most fun when we’re all together.”

“Are we going to keep the gingerbread family like we did when we were younger?” Elizabeth looked to Y/N for confirmation. Nodding, she reached for a serving platter to first put down Joel’s cookie which he decorated in a green plaid shirt, work boots and a beard with dark hair. On his cookie, he gave himself a Santa hat. Then she set Elizabeth’s down next to Joel’s. Elizabeth had decorated hers in a softball outfit which made sense since Elizabeth was on her softball team and loved it. Reaching for Peter’s cookie, she could see that he decorated what she assumed to be an ugly Christmas sweater for his cookie and then Y/N placed her cookie at the far end. It was just a generic gingerbread woman with her hair color. Maybe hers was the saddest of the whole crew since it had the least amount of personality of the four. “You know your cookie is supposed to go next to dad’s.”

Elizabeth moved in beside Y/N to move the cookies together. It had a warmth flooding Y/N’s body when she sighed. In the past they would dry out the cookies by leaving them out before displaying them. Elizabeth seemed proud of herself when Joel finally let out a long exhale.

“Your Uncle Tommy has a big night planned of movie watching, so we better get ready to go,” Joel announced moving for his milk to finish it off. Setting the glass in the sink made Y/N’s head lower as Joel pointed upstairs. “Better go get packed buddy. You too Ellie.”

“Yes dad,” Elizabeth sighed knowing that she wanted to correct her father again, but instead she just accepted that he was still going to call her the lifelong nickname that he gave her.

It was almost as if their children were sulking as they dragged their feet out of the kitchen to head upstairs to grab their belongings to go be with their father. Once they were gone, Joel stepped in beside her and folded his arms in front of his chest. “It’s like Christmas brings out the inner child in them. Instead of being our teenagers full of teenage angst, they become young again. I like it.”

“They still are young,” she reminded Joel with a playful nudge before heading back for a container. “I’ll pack you some cookies for home.”

“And they will likely be all gone by tonight,” Joel declared with a snicker, placing his hand in over the soft part of his abdomen. It had her rolling her eyes and shaking her head while she gathered the cookies. “I always loved when you did the Christmas baking. All the cookies, cupcakes, pies…”

“You’re always welcome to take what you want,” she packed one container of sugar cookies and then moved to the gingerbread cookies to pack another. “So…who broke things off between you and Tess?”

“Uh…” Joel inhaled sharply, leaning against the counter again. Curling his fingers around the countertop, he shrugged his shoulders and didn’t seem to have a good response. “It was a little bit of both, I guess.”

Neither one of them spoke after that. It was awkward talking to Joel about his girlfriend. Tess was a very blunt person. It didn’t mean that Y/N didn’t like her. She did her best to like Tess, but Tess was very domineering. Which was hard since her and Joel shared children together.

“So…” Joel started, his thick fingers brushing through his hair drawing attention to his curls at the back of his neck. “What are you going to be doing while they are with me?”

“Tomorrow morning I’m putting decorations up around town. Helping out,” she explained, knowing that she needed things to do in order to keep herself distracted. It had Joel’s eyebrows bouncing up, his hands settling at his hips while he stared out at her.

“That sounds like you,” Joel commented, biting at his bottom lip having a hard time thinking of something else to say to her.

“You’re welcome to join if you want,” she offered and Joel let out a sarcastic laugh. When they were together she would always drag him along with her to do that so they had things they did together. Toward the end? Joel complained constantly and made it clear he hated it. “I’m just saying. Tommy is coming to help.”

“Well, good for Tommy,” Joel retorted with a long sigh, folding his arms in front of his chest when she shifted back and forth on her feet. “Unfortunately, I have to turn you down. I made an appointment with the children to go get photos with Santa. I know they are older now, but they seem to get a bigger kick out of it now than they did as children. It’s less scary and more so funny. I think Ellie calls it cringe, yet they still find it super funny.”

“Oh,” her face went hot when she thought about the idea of them getting photos. That was something she started as a tradition. One she was no longer included in. “That’s nice.”

“After that, I promised to take them shopping for their gifts,” Joel looked toward the exit of the kitchen toward the stairs. “And mine.”

“Last minute shopping. Totally still you,” she couldn’t help but throw that out at him since he used a similar line earlier. It had Joel smirking, his dimples showing when he shook his head.

“I guess I should go help them,” Joel pointed toward the stairs, backstepping toward the exit of the kitchen. “Make sure little man doesn’t forget anything.”

“I’ll clean up,” she barely had time to get that out before Joel was already making his way out of the kitchen.

Maybe that was too quick of a leave. It had Joel stopping at the bottom of the stairs to steal a quick look back at Y/N. Her head was tipped down and Joel felt tension in his body. Until that moment? She had actually looked happy. But now that she was alone in the kitchen to herself, she looked sad.

Considering his next move, Joel grasped tightly onto the railing of the stairway. Part of him thought he should go help her clean up. But he was never very good at that in the first place. It was one thing they used to bicker about when they were together. Joel always left dishes in the sink and his clothes all over the place. Which meant she was picking up after him all the time. They had more fights about it than he cared to admit.

Instead of helping, he let the other part of him win out and he started heading up the stairs. It was strange how even though he had been gone from the house four years, how much everything still felt like home. Y/N still decorated the same way. Just added a few more things here and there. Lights were wrapped around the railing leading up the stairs brightening the stairway. The photos were still up the way they were when they were together. With a few school photos added to the walls. The only ones that were down were the ones of their wedding or from when they were younger taking trips together.

The first bedroom on the right was Peter’s and he could hear the extensive shuffling. Standing in the doorway, Joel outstretched his arms and rest them against the doorframe, “You need help there kid?”

“No, I got it,” Peter insisted shoving a few of his clothes into his bag messily. “Thanks though dad.”

“I’ll check on your sister,” Joel pointed back toward Elizabeth’s room and Peter waved his hand about. Going to move for Elizabeth’s room, Joel backstepped when he saw the door to the room he used to share with Y/N was open. Looking to the stairs, Joel swallowed down hard and moved quietly into the bedroom. Even that didn’t look any different. The only difference is that his things weren’t thrown all over the place. His exercise equipment was gone along with his dresser. Instead there was a small sitting area there.

On the center of the bed was a robe that Joel assumed Y/N had been wearing earlier in the day. Reaching out, he caressed his fingers over the soft material before bringing it up to his nose to smell it. The scent of her perfume lingered over it and it made Joel smile. That was something he always loved. Her perfume. It had been a while since he had been close enough to her to actually smell it.

Setting the robe back on the bed, Joel looked to her dresser to see that two of the photos she had taken down that were originally in the hallway were now sitting on top of it. Stepping in closer to the dresser, Joel bit at his cheek when he saw the first one was their wedding photo. It was the two of them together with Elizabeth dressed in her flower girl outfit. Because they were just kids themselves, they had a backyard wedding at his parents’ home, but they were happy enough at that time. They had each other and that was enough.

Placing that photo back, Joel reached for the photo of them on their last anniversary that they shared. Tommy had made them reservations that Tommy was really proud of at an expensive local restaurant. It was something that Tommy had saved up for as a thank you to them for all they did for him growing up. It was completely out of Joel’s scene. All throughout dinner he felt awkward. It was one of those places that had multiple courses already chosen for you. Since Tommy pre-paid for it, Joel forced himself through it, but he hated it. And he really let Y/N know how much he hated it. Having to dress up nice was not something that Joel enjoyed. He was uncomfortable the whole time. When they got home, Tommy had taken the photo of them. It was Joel sitting in a chair with Y/N in his lap while Joel was holding onto the gift she had gotten him. Y/N got him a really nice acoustic guitar that he had told her he wanted when they first started dating. It was something he would go to the store and play all the time.  It was something she was really proud of. In the photo she looked really happy. And at that moment? She was.

It was after Tommy left when their fighting started again. Instead of appreciating the guitar that she got him, he told her to return it since it was stupid to waste the money. Especially since in the time that they had been together he had learned how to do wood carvings and he knew how to make acoustic guitars himself. Back then? He didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. He just saw it as a waste of money. Especially since he lost out on his dreams of actually becoming a singer.

They also fought over the fact he bought her nothing other than flowers. Grand gestures were something that Y/N was big on. Even when they didn’t have money, she always tried to do things special. That anniversary, he just bought her flowers and gave her them when he got home from work. She didn’t complain, he just could see that she was disappointed. Which led to them fighting about her needing to be honest with him about things. That night they didn’t get intimate together. Not once. It ended with him sleeping on the floor in Elizabeth’s room.

The guitar put a big wedge between them because she told him if he hated the guitar he could return it to get the money back. Not wanting to look bad because it was a small town they lived in, Joel just let it sit and collect dust. Until they got separated and he took it with him. Now he played it occasionally and realized why she was upset because it was actually a really romantic gift.

It surprised him that she kept that photo considering how bad that night went. Setting the photo back where it was, Joel moved back over to the bed. Dropping back onto it had him staring up at the ceiling feeling an ache at his chest. Crawling over to the side of the bed that was his, Joel reached for her pillow and wrapped it up in his arms. Burying his face against it, he closed his eyes and realized how much more comfortable this whole set up actually felt than it did back at his place with Tommy.

After a few minutes, he forced himself to get up since he realized that it was probably creepy what he was doing. This wasn’t his house anymore. It was just a vague memory of how things used to be. That’s it.

Leaving the room, he headed over to Elizabeth’s room to see that she was sitting at her desk doing something on her laptop and he smirked. Leaning against the doorframe, he tipped his head to the side and cleared his throat causing her to jump.

“Getting in trouble?” Joel watched her shake her head when she showed him that she was writing her best friend in a chat. Taking a quick look, he sighed and moved over to her dresser to grab the softball that was there. Dropping back on her bed, he started throwing the ball up in the air catching it repeatedly.

“You know, Peter’s not wrong. Things were better when it was the four of us,” Elizabeth stressed hearing her father sigh loudly and she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re not with Tess anymore. So why not spend time with mom? She’s hot, right?”

“What?” Joel chuckled at his daughter saying that about her mother.

“Listen, I’ve seen the moms at my school. I know mom is a catch,” she suggested to Joel hearing him laugh before going back to throwing the ball. “Why don’t you want to spend time with the four of us?”

“Hey! I didn’t see your mom jumping at the idea when Peter was talking about it,” Joel fumbled the ball, letting out a groan when it rolled across the floor. Pressing up onto his shoulder, Joel scoffed out when his eyes fell upon one of the posters that she had hanging up. It was one that was new and it made him roll his eyes. “I still can’t believe you’ve had a crush on that man since you were fourteen.”

“Everyone has celebrity crushes dad,” she looked back over her shoulder at the poster that he dramatically groaned over. Giving her father her attention back, she saw him throw his head back into the pillows.

“Sure. But most girls your age have crushes on twinks from a boy band,” Joel declared hearing his daughter laugh at the description of the kind of boys that he thought she would like. “Instead, you like a professional baseball player that’s my age. Do you know how creepy that is?”

“Most women here have a crush on Negan Smith,” she stood up from her chair to head over to point at the poster that was on the back of her door. “He’s the hometown hero. Rookie of the year when he started. One of the greatest baseball players of our time.”

“Do you know how old you were when he won rookie of the year?” Joel’s eyebrow arched up in curiosity, dramatically turning his head to stare out at her. It had her cheeks flushing over with red and he let out a hesitant laugh. “I think I need to stress here that he’s my age.”

“You were young when you had me,” she pointed out, heading over to the edge of her bed to sit down with him.

“Not that young,” Joel countered finding it creepy that his daughter’s celebrity crush was Negan Smith who was probably the most popular player for their state’s professional baseball team. “What about that boyband kid that you liked when you were eight?”

Tipping his head back, Joel eyed over the magazine cutouts that she had plastered over her ceiling and he felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes fell onto one of the photos. Hopping up onto the bed had her gasping out when he snatched the photo from the collage of photos she had up there.

“The hell is this?” Joel’s dark eyes almost seemed angry when he held the magazine page out in front of her face.

“Uhm? Negan Smith?” Elizabeth flashed him an innocent smile with Joel looking over the photo. “It was a photoshoot he did in order to bring attention to the sexism in sports magazines. It was him making a statement.”

“He’s naked,” Joel sneered, looking over the photo. It had the baseball star holding a baseball glove over his groin and he had a baseball bat thrown over his shoulder. They had covered him in dirt and he had eye black under his eyes. “Why in God’s name do you have this photo over your bed? Why do you have this at all? Does your mother let you put these up here?”

“First of all, he’s not naked. Everything is covered,” she reached for the magazine pull out and he tugged it away from her. “Second, mom doesn’t know that that’s there. She actually kind of gives me my privacy. So, there is that.”

“You’re seventeen,” Joel scoffed looking over the pullout feeling like the room was spinning around him. “This is way too sexual for you. I went to school with this guy. He was one of my best friends. This is another level of creepy.”

“Dad, you’re being a little hypocritical. I know you and mom were having sex at my age. A magazine pull out is not the end of the world. It’s not even porn,” Elizabeth fought back trying to reach for it, but Joel yanked it back away from her again. “I used my babysitting money to buy that dad. It’s a few years old and it’s hard to find.”

“How much did you pay for it?” Joel scoffed seeing the confusion in her eyes. “How much?”

“Like thirty dollars,” she explained and he felt his blood boiling. “What?”

“Thirty dollars for this?” Joel’s eyebrows furrowed and he grunted out looking it over. “Can’t you just find a photo of it on the internet and print it out? Why waste the money?”

“Because it’s authentic and an original. It would probably be worth more too because he just announced that he was retiring because of his most recent injury. Do you remember when that one guy purposely hurt him when we were watching that game?” she brought back a memory of when he was still living here and they’d watch games together. “Well, he came back from that injury, but it still made his leg weak and he hurt it really bad. So bad that he has to retire. He’s only doing one more season. People are going crazy over his stuff,” she reasoned with Joel who reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Pulling out thirty dollars, he tossed it on the bed beside him and rolled up the poster causing her to gasp out. “You’re going to bend it dad!”

“Good. It doesn’t belong in my…” Joel stopped realizing he was about to say it didn’t belong in his house, but this wasn’t his house anymore. “It doesn’t belong in my seventeen-year-old daughter’s bedroom. I paid you back for it. I don’t care if it’s worth a hundred dollars. Spend your money on something better than some naughty ass photo of someone I used to be best friends with.”

“Oh come on, all of that’s bullshit dad,” she bickered with her father, throwing her hands up in the air and he dramatically shrugged his shoulders. “I know you say you two were best friends and I know you were on the same baseball team, but other than that? I think you’re pushing it with the best friend thing. If the two of you were best friends, why have I never met him? Why do I see no photos of the two of you together?”

“Because in our last year of high school we kind of…went different ways,” Joel explained, still clinging onto the magazine pullout that he had stolen from his daughter. “Him, your mother, me and Uncle Tommy were the closest of friends. We were since I moved here. Honestly? I reckon he was probably better friends with your mother. But we all considered each other best friends. We were together all the time. And back then he didn’t have a single tattoo on him.”

Joel reached up to pinch up at the bridge of his nose, “And as far as photos? We probably have loads of them upstairs in the attic. I can prove it right now. I still haven’t cleaned out that thing since we moved in here and I doubt your mother did either because she always asked me to clean things up, but I didn’t.”

“Prove it,” she frowned, folding her arms in front of her chest reminding Joel of what he looked like when he was angry.

Urging her to follow him, Joel set the magazine pullout down on the table that was in the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Elizabeth was reaching for it and he snapped his fingers at her to get her to stop, “Ellie! Don’t think about it!”

“You are so infuriating sometimes,” Elizabeth frowned realizing that she had officially lost part of her collage. Joel hopped up to pull at the hatch to get it opened and get the stairs down to go into the attic. Motioning her to go up first, Joel knew that if he turned his back on his daughter that she would likely grab what he had set aside. Color rushed into her face, her eyes rolling when she moved up the steps. Joel followed her not far behind. When they got up there, Elizabeth let out a dramatic cough and he huffed. “It’s dusty.”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel suggested taking a look around. A long time ago, Joel started to remodel the attic for Y/N, but he never finished it. Half of it was done and the other half just looked like a normal attic. Moving across the way, Joel cleaned off the bench that was at the far end where the nook he designed was. Holding his hand out, he motioned Elizabeth to take a seat. She eyed it over with disgust before slowly lowering down. “Give me a few minutes.”

“So,” Elizabeth began, her curiosity growing while Joel started going through boxes. “What was he like when he was younger?”

“Arrogant,” Joel stammered, his whole face scrunching up when he thought about Negan. “Everyone loved Negan. We were the two most popular guys in school by our senior year. He played baseball and basketball. I played baseball and football. We had a bit of a feud going on that last year. He was a smartass.”

“But you were friends?” her eyebrow arched in curiosity. Pausing, Joel looked over his shoulder at his daughter. Taking a second to think it over, Joel nodded and cleared his throat. “What did you like about him?”

“He was funny. He could really get under some of the teachers’ skin,” Joel responded, setting aside some of the boxes letting out a sigh when he dug through them. “He was really smart. He could look at a book and just memorize everything. He was a class clown so it always infuriated the teachers when they tried to embarrass him and he would come back with the answer. Negan either had people really loving him or hating him because he was so good at reading people. He could have people eating out of the palm of his hand.”

Smirking, Joel opened one of the boxes to see on top of the box was some photos of him and Elizabeth when she was a baby. Holding out the photos, he saw her smile when she reached for the photos accepting them to look them over.

“Maybe I’ll come over here and finish the attic up for your mom. Clear up some things and go through the photos,” Joel offered appreciating the smile that Elizabeth was giving when she looked at the photos of them together. “It’s been a long time since I had a clean-shaven face.”

“You look so young,” Elizabeth commented holding a photo up of Joel holding Elizabeth on his shoulders at a football game together. “You were such a jock back then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel waved his hand in the air, getting down on the ground to make it easier for him to go through the boxes. After looking through a few boxes, Joel stopped when he found photos of Y/N and him from high school. With a smirk, he grabbed a handful of the photos of them at his prom. Holding them out to Elizabeth, he allowed her to look them over while he dug through the photos. When he realized this was the box that he wanted, he headed over to the bench to sit down beside her. “That was a fun night.”

“Please don’t go into details,” Elizabeth groaned causing Joel to roll his eyes. “I know what happens on prom night.”

“I just mean we had a fun time at prom, then a few of the kids were throwing a party at their parents’ house. It was right off the water, it was awesome,” Joel explained with a long sigh, his eyes narrowing when he cleared his throat. “It was right before your grandparents passed away.”

Elizabeth gave Joel a sideways glance before continuing through the photos, smiling when she saw a photo of a young Joel kissing Y/N on the cheek with her mom laughing, “You two looked so happy together.”

“We were. We were so in love. All that mattered to me back then was her,” Joel admitted, his breathing growing uneven when he thought back to that time. “I just wanted to be with her all the time. I was afraid to let her go. I was supposed to be going off to college and she still had two more years left at school. I was so worried someone else was going to swoop in and take her. I guess the world solved that problem for me though. College was just never meant to happen.”

“You still could have gone,” she thought aloud and it had Joel taking a moment to break from looking at the photos to gaze out at her. “You could have. You had a full ride. You could have made it work. Mom eventually went to college.”

“I couldn’t. I had to take care of Uncle Tommy or else he would have been put into the system. And then your mom got pregnant with you,” Joel recalled his younger years, shifting uneasily knowing that Y/N had been pregnant at seventeen which was how old Elizabeth was now. “I couldn’t do that to Tommy. And I couldn’t do that to you and your mom.”

It looked like Elizabeth wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just went back to looking at the photos. Seeing a photo of Negan training with him when they were on the baseball team, he handed it over to Elizabeth and she snickered.

“I know the two of you were on the team together dad. I’ve seen the team photo in the hallways of the high school,” she reminded her father hearing Joel grunt. “That doesn’t mean you were best friends. He looks so different without the facial hair.”

“Not as big of a babe,” Joel mocked the way a teenage girl would talk. It had her reaching out to hit him in the chest and he chuckled. “That was before he got that scar on his face over his eyebrow.”

“You know how he got that scar, right?” Elizabeth was eager to tell the story, but Joel hushed her.

“Everyone knows that story. He told it all the time when he first started becoming popular,” Joel pointed out feeling a bit of jealousy at how much this town loved Negan Smith. Stopping on one of the photos, he tossed it to Elizabeth and heard the surprised sound that followed. It was a photo of him, Negan and Y/N sitting on the couch that was in his parents’ basement. A young Tommy was laid out across their lap and they were all laughing. “Told you. That’s at your grandparents’ home.”

Noticing that all the photos were starting to include Negan, Joel handed piles of photos to her and could see the awe that came from her looking at the photos, “See. I’m not a liar. I’ve always been a very honest person.”

“Holy shit,” she held up a photo of Joel and Negan together. Negan had his arm wrapped around Joel’s shoulders. Negan was curling his lip up in a ridiculous pose with Joel wearing a backwards baseball cap. Elizabeth clung to the photo before reaching for the next. It was a photo of Y/N between both Joel and Negan. Both of them were kissing her cheek and it had Elizabeth laughing. “So many people would be jealous of mom with this one.”

“Yeah, I know. I was really cute,” Joel knew that Elizabeth was talking about Negan, but he was being a smart ass. Elizabeth rolled her eyes before continuing through the photos. There were a lot of photos of Y/N and Negan which had Elizabeth shocked. There was an extremely young photo of Negan and Y/N that was in that box leaving Joel to shrug when Elizabeth held it up. “I told you those two were closer. Negan was my age, but they knew each other pretty much her whole life. They were neighbors. Together all the time.”

“Why doesn’t mom talk about him?” Elizabeth stammered, stopping on a photo of her mom sitting on Negan’s lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm,” Joel considered what to say next before clearing his throat. “Because when he stopped talking to me, he stopped talking to her. The woman he ended up getting married to showed up at the school the last year. Really pretty girl. Negan was hooked on her. Your mother wanted him to be your godfather…”

“No shit,” she gasped, clinging to the photo of Negan with her mother. “What the hell happened? Could you imagine if Negan Smith was my godfather?”

“He just stopped interacting with the two of us all together. Your mother tried to reach out to him multiple times, but then she just stopped trying,” Joel cleared his throat, rubbing at the side of his face before sighing loudly. “I think it hurt too much, so she just wrote him off. Didn’t want to think about it since the two of them were so close.”

“How did I never know this?” Elizabeth seemed upset that this was a part of her parents’ lives that she didn’t know. “So you just were friends with Negan Smith?”

“Yeah. When your Uncle Tommy and I moved to town, there was this boy that kept picking on your Uncle Tommy. All the time. He was smaller for his age. It was during the summer and this boy would knock him off his bike. Push him down. Do what bullies do. One day, I was outside and I saw this boy hit your Uncle Tommy. Your mother and Negan were outside playing hockey. We all saw it happen. I was heading over to whoop the bully’s ass, but she beat me to it. Hit the boy with the hockey stick that she had. Then she beat his ass,” Joel explained with a laugh mimicking a few punches drawing Elizabeth to laugh. “She kicked that boy���s ass so bad that he refused to tell his parents. He didn’t want the whole school knowing that he had his ass kicked by a girl. But yeah, you’re mother had a crush on me from the first moment I met her, but I’m pretty sure that day is the day she fell in love with me. That was the day we first started hanging out.”

“She fell in love with you? Not the other way around?” she was surprised to hear that and Joel tipped his head from side to side. “How couldn’t you fall in love with her after that?”

“She kind of scared the shit out of me, but in a good way,” Joel claimed, his hand placing in over the center of his chest. “So yes. For your mother it was love at first sight. For me? It took until I was about seventeen.”

“What are you two doing up here?” a voice made them both jump and they looked to the stairs to see that Y/N was moving into the attic.

“Your daughter has like the biggest crush ever on Negan Smith,” Joel once again teased his daughter, talking in a stereotypical way that had her pushing into Joel’s chest. A loud laugh fell from his throat when he pointed toward the photos. “She didn’t believe that we were best friends back in the day. So I had to prove it.”

“Why’d you never tell me?” Elizabeth was curious when Y/N moved forward to look at the photo that Elizabeth had of her with Negan and Joel kissing her cheeks. “I’ve had the biggest crush on him forever and you never said anything.” 

“It was a long time ago,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders as Joel started pulling himself up from the bench that he was seated on with Elizabeth. Talking about Negan didn’t seem to appeal much to her when she waved her hand about. “I have all the cookies packed up and I made a pie the other day that I’m sending with you.”

“How I remained skinny when we were together blows my mind. I like your food way too much,” Joel reached down to pat his stomach realizing now that he was older, it was harder to stay in shape for him. “Come on Ellie. We have to get home. Uncle Tommy is probably waiting.”

Elizabeth didn’t really want to, but she accepted her father’s hand when he helped her up. They moved down the stairs and onto the second level. Joel had Elizabeth going back to her room for her stuff before reaching for the poster he snatched from Elizabeth’s room. Handing it out to Y/N had her looking down and unrolling the photo. Once she realized what it was, her eyes grew wide.

“I guess her and her mother have the same type,” Joel sneered and it had Y/N lifting her eyes up at Joel slowly. “That was on her wall. Our daughter should never have anything like that on her wall. Maybe pay a little more attention to the things that she is getting her hands on.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N almost seemed offended when she rolled the photo back up and felt a warmth flooding into her face. The look that Joel gave her almost looked angry, but she couldn’t say anything else because the two children were walking out with their bags.

Seeing them out to say her goodbyes, Y/N cleaned things up before heading back upstairs. Noticing that the stairs were still pulled out for the attic, Y/N went to close them up before thinking things over. Going up into the attic, she headed over toward the box of photos. Lowering down on the bench that Joel and Elizabeth were on earlier. Pushing through the photos, there was a sense of sadness that ate her up inside seeing some of her photos of when she was pregnant with Elizabeth. Joel was so loving and sweet back then. And he looked so happy. Stopping on a photo had her heart racing. In that pile was a photo of a much younger version of her and Negan kissing. Clearing her throat, she pushed the photo into her back pocket. That was the last thing her daughter should be seeing and she knew that.

Closing up the attic, she headed to bed and pulled out the photo she snatched along with the magazine pull out that Joel had given her. Taking a look at it, she shook her head and tossed both of them into the top drawer of her dresser. For so long Y/N had pushed away her past. It almost felt like she had forgotten her past. Right now, she was just living and working to get through every day. And that was enough.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost

[starry-pierrot]

So I'm not one to usually come up with AU's let alone actually do anything with them, I work better with short stories and honestly I want to spend my time making my own ideas yet i fail to do that lmao

But an idea hit me. So Khan is an absent father right? Well what if he was actually over protective, like to a more grief ridden amount? Explanation under the cut!

Nori asking him as her final words to protect their daughter and he decides the colony isn't safe for her. But when he worked under humans he remembered another much smaller bunker, so he takes Uzi to the place and fixes it up. But...he puts her in a clear container. Or in this case 'These glass bullet proof doors will protect you!' sort of deal, idk I don't know how he'd do it or anything this all just jumbled into my head with no details. Anyway Uzi grows up with just her Dad and it honestly gets to her and pisses her off, she had no chance to make friends, she's alone here with just her Dad and her mom is gone. She misses Doll. But the bunker does have the one thing she hasn't seen in years, sunlight. Somehow her father missed the little beam of sun through a vent and every morning when he sleeps she stays up just a little longer just to look at it. Cue said Murder Drone cinnamon roll finding said weakness during a bad storm and finding Uzi. Her dad had been on a supply run, he's still in contact with the other bunker but refuses to stay with them. Yeva has taken over as leader and Khan refuses to tell her what happened to Uzi beyond 'She's fine! I'm keeping her safe!'. If she didn't have to run the Bunker she would go look herself, Doll on the other hand has a lot of time. ANyway-Uzi freaks out, N is curious about why she's trapped behind the glass and they of course become friends with N visiting on her dad's supply runs. He finds a packet of markers that surprisingly still work and with Uzi's own the two are drawing and coloring all over the clear container. Course she asks him to take her to the surface and he does much to the dismay of her father who tried to stop her and N but chaos and blah blah they get outside with Uzi now sporting her haircut from the show. I know from there it would sorta be canon compliant with the added bonus of V and J getting a new roommate that N has to smooth over with them, it would mostly follow the events while bringing back Doll's family. Tessa might be real Tessa. Love her. Probably continues on the camp episode right after the escape. Haven't decided if Nori told Khan about her solver and that Uzi might have it, sure with Nori she could handle it but with just him it would be hard to make sure she doesn't go feral. Might be a more concrete reason to lock her away. I don't know what I would call this, if I'm gonna continue working on it or what it will actually be. I could maybe write some one shots on it if I'm in the mood but if enough people like it I could try making a basic timeline? We'll see. And yes that one pic is a reference to draw with me.

[felassan]

The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard preview pages Part Two, under a cut due to spoilers. Preview pages come from Google Books.

[Foreword]

[Part One]

In Inquisition you had your advisors in the war room. We liked the idea of bringing the whole team in with you and the opportunity for friction it provides.

Part Two: Joplin

Top: Solas continues to taunt you and guide you through dreams. Middle: The suggestion of romance at sea. Bottom (1): Solas is nearly triumphant, but you reveal that you know about the last elves. Bottom (2): A stealthy, aquatic infiltration in Tevinter. Text: Story Art – After Dragon Age: Inquisition shipped, and all the DLC was complete, we focused our full attention on the sequel. It was going to have a fantasy spy theme, which was eventually modified to “covert commandos”. We were travelling to a new part of the map to hunt down the most dangerous man in the world. The beat boards continued. As the story started to take real shape, we asked if the artists could be moved into the same room as the writers. We could then get real-time updates to the story and create quick storyboards. Previously, most people working on the game didn’t know the full story until all the pieces had been put together in a take-home build (months from shipping the final game). For the first time ever, we could show the whole team what the story was intended to be near the beginning of the project, rather than the end. The biggest benefit of this was that the story could received feedback from a wider cross-discipline audience and could then be iterated on more than ever before. This also helped unblock the art team in an unprecedented way. Being able to look at the whole story in one glance meant that we could begin to prioritize our efforts. For example, we could tell which locations would feature most heavily, so we could spend more time designing their architecture, props, and clothing. It also forced us to do quick first-pass designs without overthinking, knowing that later we could come back and refine things if they changed. This method also takes a lot of pressure off and prevents things from feeling “overbaked”.

Top: The team is at its lowest. Middle: Sparking an uprising. Middle (2): Ghilan’nain is defeated. Bottom: In a dream, Solas is furious with you.

Top: You meet with the Archon of Tevinter. Middle: You stop Solas’s ritual, but something (or someone) escapes. Middle (2): Elgar’nan. Bottom: The patchwork team doesn’t get along at first. Bottom (2): Exploring the Anderfels.

Top: Solas reconstructs the lyrium dagger from the idol. Middle: The team discovers the body of Elgar’nan’s Archdemon. Middle (2): Ghilan’nain. Bottom: Tranquilizing himself, Solas recloses the Veil around himself and the Blight.

Top: This sequence was an early fail state. Solas succeeds in his ritual, life as Thedas knows it comes to an end, and the ancient elves return. Middle: Storyboards had played a critical role in the development of Inquisition. We wanted to integrate them into our process even earlier. To that end, we created an interactive storyboard. Starting with the early drafts of the story, we sketched it all out, including any major choices. These boards were then stitched together into a playable choose-your-own-adventure-style game. It meant that years before the real game was up on its feet, an early draft of the entire story could be played from beginning to end. This was invaluable in receiving early feedback from the team and planning out what visuals would be needed to support the game. Bottom: A rather covert entry into Tevinter remained a consistent element in the story right to the end.

Top: Rook and a team track a mysterious idol to a black-market auction. Middle: You’re not the only team that has been tracking the idol. Bottom: The remnants barely escape. Text: While we worked quickly, these sketches helped reveal where to best spend our efforts later. It turned out we spent far more time in particular locations. Some factions were over- or under-represented. In one case we discovered a unique creature that would have taken ages to build but would have only appeared for ten seconds before disappearing forever (it was cut).  

Middle: These quick sketches are often used to approve new ideas as fast as possible. In this case, exploring a “hidden in plain sight” meeting place in a Thedas nightclub. Bottom: Icons from the interactive storyboard, where you could decide whether your Inquisitor had disbanded or preserved the Inquisition, and whether they stood opposed to Solas or not.

Top: Solas reaches out to Rook in dreams. Middle: Exploring new sections of the Deep Roads. Bottom: With the help of the Wardens, you defeat Elgar’nan. Text: After a round of feedback, the story was revised. For the next batch of drawings, we added more polish. This helped us design the game before designing the game. At this stage, we weren’t too precious about anything, so we could make visual design decisions quickly, purely to tell the story. Many designs made during this stage remained largely intact.

Top: A version of the deserts of Nevarra. In this case, trying something with very high contrast: white ash and sharp black obsidian.   Bottom: The eastern Tevinter town of Ventus. This Tevinter location is a little less oppressive than the megapolis of Minrathous. You can see the hanging gardens, and in the background are magical statues keeping Arlathan Forest from encroaching any closer.

Top: Another fail state was that if you couldn’t find a way to block Solas from your dreams, he would be able to kill you remotely. Bottom: Solas lures his greatest threats to one location and wipes them off the board.

Top: Some visual backstory for Solas’s cut “bad cop” right hand, Reva. Middle: In disguise at a fancy Necropolis ball, waited on by the undead.   Bottom (1): As you sneak into the ball, you sneak into the host’s office, only to find Reva one step ahead of you. Bottom (2): Reva reports back to Solas.

Top: In one draft of the story, Solas manipulated Tevinter and the Antaam into open war, with the goal of performing the biggest blood-magic spell since the creation of the Veil.   Bottom: Rook would have to covertly approach both sides of the conflict to plead for peace. Should Rook fail at diplomacy, Solas also planted magic-collecting orbs around the battlefield. Sabotaging them would be Rook’s last option.

Top (1): Solas’s magical ritual in Arlathan Forest has already begun. Top (2): Elves loyal to Solas’s cause stand in your way. Middle (1): You finally reach Solas, just as he plunges his lyrium dagger into the Veil. Middle (2): Reva reveals a monstrous “Dread Wolf” creature. Bottom: Solas is stopped, but you begin to learn that you’ve unleashed something far worse. Bottom (2): The biggest advantage to working like this is turnaround time. You can show someone a drawing and say, “Like this?” and then quickly revise it.

Top: Imshael, having previous joined Solas, turns out to be a loyal double agent. Middle: Kal-Sharok dwarves perform a ceremony in the grip of an ancient Titan. Bottom: Solas tranquilizes Ghilan’nain (above) and, as his last act, performs the same procedure on himself.

Ghilan'nain reveals herself to the world.

[no caption]

Top: A final message from the Inquisitor. Bottom: Defeated, Solas enters the Black City alone.

Top (1): Team members betray you. Top (2): A sacrifice opens the Black Eluvian. Middle: A happy ending with your love interest. Bottom: Secret instructions from Charter.

[no captions]

The ship was a great backdrop for the interpersonal conflict of the team. We enjoyed thinking about how to make it unique, like including the collection of curiosities seen above. We also liked including the idea that Isabela procured it for you, but as a fixer-upper. Nothing like a scrappy but lovable ship to call home.

Preview pages end here.

[areyouwell]

Memento Mori

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Violence, slight body horror

Word Count: 8.1K

A/N: Took me long enough. New long-fic comin' in from the left! i know i teased this around three weeks ago (ish) but here's chapter one. not sure this is gonna be as long as Phobophobia but i'm really excited about this one. it's a little darker (yeah i know) but i already love this MC. if anyone wants tagging in this pls lmk, i don't wanna assume everyone who i tagged in Phobophobia wants to be tagged again so i'll start a new list <3

Dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics

“So, as detailed here, there have been a string of these… murders, I suppose.”

Logan sighed heavily. When he woke up this morning, the one thing he didn’t expect was to be called into Charles Xavier’s office so soon after having breakfast, let alone be greeted with grainy photographs of some of the most horrific murder scenes he’d ever had the displeasure of looking at. Entrails, bones, flesh, eyes. None of it was where it should be, which most of the time, seemed scattered around the floor rather than attached to whichever poor, unfortunate soul who’d had the shitty luck of running into their silent assassin. Charles pointed the telescopic stick towards the mangled jacket of one of the equally mangled victims. Logan couldn’t even tell what gender they were, their face nothing but a bloody pulp.

Almost as if it had been exploded from the inside out. 

“This symbol here is the only string that connects the murders, and after doing a little digging,” he nodded thankfully to Ororo, her white hair bobbing with her dip of acknowledgement. “We found they all belonged to the same company, here.” With a click of the remote in his hands, the projection flipped to the next slide, a map of San Fransisco, a large red circle drawn around a location Logan was only somewhat familiar with, only because he’d walked past it a few times. 

“It’s a warehouse,” he offered, several heads turning to look at him. “I’ve walked ‘round there couple times. Nothin’ special, s’always buzzin’ with life.” He shrugged thoughtfully, tugging a cigar from his jacket pocket and flicking the Zippo lighter open and shut with his other hand. Charles gave him a slightly irritated look, but he pretended not to notice.”So… What? Our killer’s just popping caps in the head’s underpaid workers? Doesn’t make much sense.” 

“That’s what we thought too,” Ororo continued, placing down a few pieces of paper and spreading them about the table. “Until we started to notice a pattern. They’ve been picking off specific shift workers, mainly those on the late shift. But it’s never new members of staff either. Always those who’ve worked there for at least two years. Lately, their security has increased, but once they leave work, they’re basically on their own.” Storm took the remote from Charles and clicked to the next slide, a list of names and hours flaring onto the screen, the names of victims having been crossed out, though their hours were still visible on the row of the rota.

“Ya don’t think this has anything to do with that orphanage incident, do you?” Kitty piped up, cupping her mug of tea in both hands, either for comfort or for warmth, Logan couldn’t tell. She had a good point. It must have been around a month ago now. A fire had started downtown in the dead of night. Officials had said it was a discarded cigarette from one of the employees, but that didn’t explain why all the windows and doors had been locked.

Everyone within burned. Children included. 

“It’s certainly a theory…” Scott mused, rubbing his hand against his jaw in thought. “A terrible accident sounded far too much like a cover story. Think this killer had something to do with it?”

Charles sighed heavily. “Ordinarily, yes, I’d have some kind of suspicion, if it wasn’t for the fact our killer was elsewhere at the time.” He nodded to Ororo, who clicked the remote once again. “This was taken not an hour beforehand, on the other side of the city. Unless the killer can teleport, there’s no way they could have made it across town in such a short amount of time, let alone take all the precautions and set alight to the building. Though I do not believe it was merely a terrible accident, I don’t believe they had anything to do with it.” Charles finished before Ororo leant over the pages she’d spread on the table, spinning one to face the rest of the team.

“Though we do have this. A pattern of all the attacks and locations,” Logan stood up to skirt around the table, standing between Kitty and Marie as he inspected the red pen. With every X, the attacks almost formed an exact circle around the warehouse, almost as if the killer could predict which ways those victims would take home. Especially after the first attack. “We think the next one will happen here,” Ororo pointed to a side street far between the locations either side. “The most recent one being here, it’s logical to think they’d take the opposite side. At least, that’s what we’re hoping…” She trailed off, and Logan returned to his seat, having an idea as to what this meeting was actually about.

“You want us to lay a trap, right? Trail several employees home and jump in before Killer McGee can get their hands on ‘em.” He clarified, and Charles nodded a little too darkly for his liking. 

“Exactly. Which is why I won’t be asking you all on this mission. We need to avoid detection and sending all of us would be too much of a risk. Whoever this is, we must assume they’re a mutant. These attacks happen quickly and viciously, and to cause such damage in such a short amount of time, we must assume they possess some sort of ability.

“Scott, Ororo and Logan, I trust you can handle this task? I will be in Cerebro with Jean on hand, and the rest I want you on standby in the Blackbird in case backup is required.”

“Wait, we’re doing this tonight?” Marie squeaked, casting a wary glance to Kitty who returned her expression. Logan was relieved neither of them would be actively on the mission, he’d come to care for them both deeply, and whilst that didn’t mean he didn’t care for either Ororo or, though he’d never admit it, Scott, he was glad the two girls would be on standby rather than active duty.

“The attacks seem random, as if they flipped a coin to see if they would head out each night, but when you look closer, they’re only on the days the older members of staff are on shift. We think they’re looking for something, or someone, specific.” Ororo explained, pointing back to the projection on the screen. “These three here have been working at this specific warehouse for three, four and seven years respectably,” she clicked the remote again for each of their work ID cards to flash onto the screen. “Scott, you’re tailing Alec,” she gestured to the string bean of a man, blonde hair styled into several spikes atop his head, two silver snakebite piercings adorned his lower lip.  

“Logan, you’ve got Manuel, he’s been there for four years,” Logan didn’t think they could have found such a different-looking guy to the previous one if they fucking tried. Manuel was built like a brick shit house, a buzzcut of dark hair dusted the top of his otherwise bald head, ears like fucking cauliflowers. Of course, that’s who he’d be tailing, probably because a punch from this guy would send anyone else across the damn room. 

“And I’ll be tailing Henry, he works in the office upstairs but is still very much a likely target. We’re hoping to locate and pin down the killer before their shifts even finish, but in the eventuality The Professor can’t get a lock on them, this is the backup plan. Got it?”

Both Logan and Scott nodded in unison. It didn’t seem too much of a problem mission if this killer was cowardly enough to be picking these guys off one by one, he didn’t think they had much in terms of fighting prowess. Taking an enemy by surprise was the coward’s way out, in his opinion, though he supposed not everybody could heal the way he could. 

And taking this killer by surprise was exactly the plan…

Maybe he should rethink his principles. 

“Be suited up and ready to head out at ten. Gives us at least an hour to locate and set up.” Ororo gathered the papers on the table, tapping the small stack against the surface before tucking them beneath her arm. “Right, I’ve got a class to teach, pretty sure you do too, Professor.” She turned to Charles who simply smiled and nodded, ending the meeting just like that. With a huff and a stretch, Logan stood from his seat, instantly reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a thick cigar, earning himself a sharp look of disapproval from Xavier, the Professor glancing pointedly to the chilly air beyond the window. Logan knew what he was saying, and usually, he’d tell him to go fuck himself and smoke indoors. But he needed a breath of fresh air after that stuffy, slightly nauseating meeting, and if he could kill two birds with one stone, why wouldn’t he?

With an acquiescing shrug, he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning on his heel to stalk from the boardroom, shoving the door open with his shoulder and almost walking chest first into Jean. His heart skipped a beat or three, lips pulling up into a small smirk to hide the fact he was borderline giddy to be running into her outside the meeting. She’d been the object of his affection ever since he was brought to the mansion and she checked his vitals. He couldn’t help it. There was just something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that drew him to her the instant he was in her presence. He didn’t find himself thinking of her much outside their interactions, but when they were in the same room, all he could think about was her. It would be frustrating if he cared about anything said in those meetings. 

“Watin’ f’me now are ya?” He teased lowly, savouring the way her lips pursed to stop herself from smiling. There were times Logan thought she felt the same magnetic pull toward him that he felt toward her, times like this, where she didn’t look away from his gaze, and entertained his relentless teasing. 

“You know Scott’s still in there. We have plans,” she responded, feigning an attempt to look past him and back into the room where Scott was discussing various strategies with the Professor. Logan raised a brow as he followed her wavering line of sight, keeping that brow raised as he looked back at her. 

“Plans? Hope you don’t mean dinner, doesn’t look like he’ll be out anytime soon.” If she could just see how terrible Scott was for her. If he could just make her see how he would be so much better. Would suit her better. Would take care of her better. He wasn’t willing to change for many people, but if Jean asked, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d change himself for her.

“Yes, Logan, dinner plans before the mission. And you know this is a tradition because you comment on it every time.” She huffed, her hair bobbing slightly with every emphatic move of her head. Logan chuckled lightly, his eyes briefly glancing from her gaze to her lips, how perfect they looked, and how perfect they would look wrapped around his–

“Then we both have our little traditions, don’t we? C’mon, doll. Why don’t we stop this dance?” His fingers curled through a strand of her hair, feeling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Haven’t I shown ya I can be the good guy?”

Jean sighed, and Logan half expected her to move away, but instead, she just closed her eyes, shaking her head softly. Was she mournful? Disappointed? It was hard to tell. 

“Logan, I don’t–”

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Scott’s voice slashed through the charged atmosphere between them, and Logan found his hand falling away from Jean’s hair almost instantly. 

“We were jus’ talkin’, Scotty.” Logan shot back, trying to keep the defence from his voice. There was no need to let Scott know just how irritated the interruption made him feel.

“Yeah, like hell you were. Back off, Logan. I don’t wanna have to tell you again.” Placing his arm around Jean’s shoulders, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way she shrank slightly, looking almost humiliated. He tensed his jaw. If she hated Scott’s attention this much, she knew what he had to do. Logan didn’t know how much more obvious he could make his interest in her. All she needed to do was take the leap. “Yeah yeah, ‘stay away from my girl’, I know.” He mocked, sending Jean a wink before continuing on his path to the courtyard. Now he really fucking needed that cigar.

The city was so pretty in the twilight. Silhouetted buildings scattered with twinkling lights against a deep blue sky, it almost made up for the lack of stars. And there was nothing like watching the city skyline descend into darkness that had you more prepared than ever for your latest chosen victim. You hadn’t learned nearly as much as you should have by now, nobody you’d tortured knew anything about what you were looking for and it was starting to piss you off. But you didn’t bury those feelings. Instead, you harnessed them. Used your frustration to your advantage and honed yourself like a forged weapon. Every burn of urgent irritation sharpened your slices, focused your fileting, and pinpointed your precision. 

For the greater good, you reminded yourself as your watch beeped ten, and you spun the small knife in your palm before sheathing it in your boot. Your specific target of the night finished early every other week on Thursdays, hence your change in schedule today. In fact, a good few of them did. You assumed it had something to do with specific shipments on the warehouse floor but you didn’t bother yourself with the details. You knew his schedule now. You’d been watching for weeks. And you had every single detail of his various ways home. He was a bus-taker. Though, to avoid you, he’d been taking different numbered busses to other parts of town, before heading home. But the moron used the same three in rotation. There was no cause to wonder why he worked in a warehouse…

Although you had a good feeling about this one. You’d already scored one victim of the night, who was currently unconscious in your chosen location. You were one hundred per cent sure he knew what you were looking for, and you had a fantastic feeling about this one too.

Standing from where you’d been lounging against a rooftop balcony, you stretched your arms high above your head, listening to your bones and joints crack slightly before securing the steel mask over your features, cursing the phantoms of your past for providing you with such memorable makeup, and, shrugging the hood of your short-sleeved jacket over your head. Your hands dipped into the various sheathed across your waist, double checking the various blades in your belt. You were thankful you never needed to go through any kind of metal detector, because it would likely take you the rest of the night to remove every weapon dotted about your body, from the little holsters on your biceps to the sheathes in your boots, to the retractable blades in the bracers on your wrists. A wise woman once said you can never have too many knives.

A phrase you really should copyright before anyone else claims it. 

Five past ten. Go time. Taking a few steps back, you broke into a sprightly run, leaping like a dexterous cat across the rooftops, every step measured in surety. You’d done this too many times to start second-guessing yourself now, and it wasn’t like you were a stranger to the city’s rooftops and sketchy alleyways before you started doing this. With little effort, you crossed blocks in a matter of moments, skipping over crowds and traffic like it was child’s play before you landed with a deft roll above the side street tonight’s victim would take in a matter of five minutes. 

Like you said. Child’s play

You crouched low, removing the serrated knife from your belt, and flicking it in your palm over and over. It was a habit you’d developed when waiting in anticipation for something. It kept your hands occupied whilst your mind focused on the events to come, picturing exactly how you wanted things to play out. It was difficult. Capturing and torturing these assholes was like shooting fish in a barrel. 

“Fourth clear, no signs of our guy.”

You ducked low on the rooftop, an unpredicted obstacle walking into view wearing some shitty leather getup, fingers delicately perched at the side of his horizontal glasses. Though they weren’t exactly glasses. How would you describe it? Eye-guard? Some weird single glass as opposed to glasses? Whatever the fuck they were, you didn’t exactly want to find out what they did. He was holding them as if they were some kind of weapon. 

Shit, this really wasn’t good. If he didn’t move on now, you’d have to take him out and risk alerting your victim to your presence. Fuck, fuck and fuck again. And just as luck would have it, Alec appeared at the other end of the alleyway, nervously looking about before entering hurriedly. People didn’t watch enough movies. Did they really not know that entering dark alleyways with a killer on the loose was practically the same as signing your own death certificate? In any case, this actually worked in your favour. With Mr Visor patrolling the other end, you sliced open your hand, your blood humming as you pulled it from your veins to wrap around the metal drainage pipe before you swung off the rooftop, the crimson rope twisting and writhing as if it were alive as you descended, landing quietly a few paces behind him.

Now, if he wasn’t on such high alert, he would have most likely chalked the slight thud of your landing to the sound of a street cat, or perhaps a fox. But the way Alec jumped with a yelp, staggering as he turned to face you, didn’t exactly scream discreet. You held your hand up in front of you, contorting your fingers as your mutation felt for his pulse, slowing down the blood flow in his veins as quickly as you could. Not fast enough, a strangled yell flew from his now pale lips, and you swore viciously as your latest obstacle jogged back into view between the alleyway’s walls. 

“Shit, HE’S HERE!” He called to nobody you could see, and you barely had time to duck before a searing red beam of pure energy shot above your head, illuminating the dingy street in the crimson glow. You thought it slightly ironic, as your knife slashed through the palm of your hand, the colour of his mutation and who he was up against. Curving your arm in a wide arc, you manipulated your own blood cells into a wide blade, propelling it forward whilst you took a few steps toward your now collapsed victim. With Glasses now distracted by what you assumed was him discovering your own mutation, you felt around his veins for his heartbeat, tracing the blood flow back until you found the source, and you poured all your energy into slowing that one too. 

“He can manip… manipulate bl… blood.” Once again he spoke aloud to nobody you could sense, his knees giving out before he crashed to the floor. You huffed out a breath, fishing a small bandage from the pouch on your belt before wrapping up your hand and pulling the tie tight with your teeth. The one thing you found frustrating about your mutation was your inability to heal. How fucking helpful that would be, if every time you had to slash yourself open, you could just reseal the wound? Instead of running the risk of bleeding out. But you guessed everything had its drawbacks. Even blood manipulation. 

You bent to pick up Alec’s ankles, dragging him a few feet back the way he came, before you stopped, and looked back to the unconscious mutant at the alley’s mouth. You should kill him. Things would be easier if you did. And so, dropping your victim’s feet without much care, you strode over, finding a small gap in the wrappings around your palm, you extended a small spear from your flesh with the intention of jabbing it through his head and silencing what he saw here forever. 

But there were little voices calling out from a small earpiece nestled in his ear canal. You tilted your head, plucking the bud from the side of his head and holding it up to your own ear.

“Scott? Scott can you hear us?!”

“We’re tracking your location, hang tight!”

“I’m en route, stay alive asshole.”

A kaleidoscope of voices blended together, though the last one had you dropping the earpiece and crushing it with the heel of your boot. Someone was coming. A big someone. Someone whose voice you really hoped didn’t match his body. 

You should kill him. You really should kill this Scott guy, but something about the concern and fierce loyalty of those in the earpiece stopped you. This man was loved. He was cared for. Most of your victims didn’t have anyone. No family, very little friends, and all with some kind of penchant for criminal activity. Alec, for example, was finding himself becoming a little too familiar with the gates of a primary school. The more you watched him, the more you found yourself utterly repulsed by the way he would try and get the attention of those kids. Those children. 

But Scott had people who would care if he died. And so you let him be, pulling and pushing him upright against the wall before jogging back over to your actual victim and resuming your strained attempts to drag him off to your chosen location for the night. 

An ancient, local church, ironically enough. 

Logan raced through the streets, across busy roads and through closed parks, leaping over fences and gates effortlessly. He knew Scott’s location, Jean begging him over coms to do what he could. He was still alive, The Professor could sense it, but how the mission had immediately gone south, he had no idea. But at least Scott was still alive. At least, he was for now. 

“SCOTT!” He called, slowing his steps as he closed in on his location, his claws sliding from his knuckles. The metallic scent of blood flooded his senses, but it wasn’t Scott’s. He knew what Scott’s blood smelled like, having punched him in the nose a few times for the scent to be memorable. No, this blood was new, unfamiliar, and reeked of mutation. Which he supposed made sense.

Blood manipulator. That was the last thing Scott had said before he fell silent and before his channel died completely. And stalking up to the mouth of the alleyway, he could see why. Scott’s earpiece lay crushed on the concrete, little pieces scattered across the floor. Peering into the alleyway, Logan’s heart raced as his eyes cut through the darkness to find Scott himself lying slumped against the wall, his head hanging low. Logan bent to one knee, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel his slow yet strong pulse. The same pulse that would be associated with someone unconscious. But there was no head wound. Nothing to indicate he’d been completely knocked out. 

“Is he–” 

Logan looked back to see Ororo landing behind him, her hair slightly wild from the wind. She must have flown her way over, avoiding the nightlife altogether. 

“He’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. You heard what he said, right? Blood manipulator. I think our guy must have slowed his heartbeat or somethin’. There’s no wound anywhere…” Logan gently moved Scott’s head in search of any kind of blunt force trauma but found none. Not that he was expecting to find anything, since the only blood he could smell was unfamiliar. And it lead right down the alley and out the other side. “Gonna need ya t’stay here, Storm. Make sure Scott’s alright.” He kept his eyes focused on the darkness ahead, and the small sliver of light beyond. 

“And where’re you going?” Ororo asked, crouching beside him as if to physically demonstrate she’d stay with Scott. Logan sniffed the air again, almost able to see the blood trail the scent was so damn strong. 

“Followin’ our man. We don’t know if he bagged his victim, but if he was here with Scott, then he was after Alec, and I don’t see him anywhere, do you?” He asked, raising a brow to the woman by his side, who shook her head. 

“No. And I didn’t see him from above either. Alright, you go. But be careful, Logan. He’s unpredictable and now we have an idea as to how dangerous. If he can knock Scott out cold like this, he shouldn’t be taken lightly,” Ororo implored, watching as he rose from his crouch. Logan huffed an irritated sigh, having to restrain himself before he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine. Look after Cyclops.” Was all he said, before taking off down the alleyway at a light jog, following his nose and turning left at the end. 

“Logan, this isn’t a good idea. You can’t charge into the unknown with no information other than blood-manipulator.” Jean’s voice echoed in his ear, and he once again felt his lips pull up into a small smirk. 

“Why, you worried about me?” He provoked, chuckling when he heard her deep sigh, pinching the earpiece between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll send up a flare if I need ya.”

“Logan don’t–” 

Whatever Jean was about to say was lost when he tossed the coms unit onto the ground, leaving it and all methods of communication behind as he continued on toward his target. He couldn’t believe his eyes when his nose led him to a looming church, stained windows dark from the inside, spires towering high into the night. This couldn’t be right. Either his nose had failed him, which was unheard of, or the killer had a wicked sense of humour. It must have been the latter, the stench of blood increasing tenfold as he crossed the neatly mowed lawn outside, taking the stone steps two at a time and up to the wooden double doors. 

His ears twitched as he caught distant screams from inside, deep enough that anyone passing by would be completely oblivious to any goings on within. Once again, he released the hold he had on his claws, razors slicing through his muscles and flesh as they slid from his knuckles. He took a breath, bracing a hand on the centre of one of the doors before he pushed slightly, the hinges’ echoing screech causing him to freeze, letting the sound settle before he moved. The screams continued, and as sick and twisted as it was, he used that to gauge whether or not he’d been heard. So far, remarkably, so good. 

Stealth wasn’t his strong suit. Never was, but he cursed every heavy footstep that bounced off the wooden beams and stone walls, even the stained glass seemed to be mocking him, some ridiculous depiction of a halo-wearing baby with the proportions completely incorrect, being carried by an equally disproportionate-looking woman who seemed to be bathed in holy light. Once upon a time, he may have found comfort in the frieze. Now he simply thought it ridiculous. How could there be a god when mutants like him walk the earth? When mutants like this killer were allowed to wander around completely free? 

He shook his head of the thoughts. Now was not the time to contemplate divinity. If he wanted to discuss religion, he’d have a conversation with Kurt. He followed his senses, down the aisle between the pews and up to the lectern, his head snapping to the right and through the door to the sacristy. Once again measuring his steps, Logan crossed the altar and into the shadows behind the pillars, that same coppery scent of blood lingering on the slightly crimson-stained doorknob, the faint smokey smell of mutation told him this was the killer’s blood. Had the victim fought back somehow? He assumed he’d done the same thing to them as he had to Scott, knocked them out before dragging them away. 

Shoving the door open, Logan took a moment to look around. Nothing much, other than a large closet, a chest of drawers and a small bathroom sink with a mirror. A rug covered a large portion of the floor, the patterns almost psychedelic in nature, but this was where the scent was strongest so far. Here, in this room. Then where the hell was all the screaming coming from? He could still hear it, in the distance, beyond several walls of stone, or deep beneath–

Logan paused, his eyes flickering from the bare walls to the rug on the floor, one corner ever so slightly raised from the ground. With determined curiosity, he tugged on the fabric, pulling it back from the ground before tossing it completely into a corner. There, now revealed, a wooden trap door. He couldn’t help but think it was a little cliché, to have a trap door leading down to some kind of torture chamber, but if the chosen location told him anything, it was that the killer had a flair for the dramatic. 

To hell with stealth at this point. Logan crouched, gripping the large brass handle and throwing up the door so it clattered loudly against the floor. He was glad he had excellent vision, as the darkness beyond would be enough to turn away even the bravest of souls. And yet, here he was, taking step after step down into the pitch black, his eyes reflecting what little light there was. Perhaps the setting was more fitting than he originally thought because it truly felt like he was descending into the pits of hell with each careful step. The scent of blood now fused with the acrid scent of urine, and the musk of sweat. It was enough to have him almost gag, but he kept on going, led by the sounds of broken screams. 

Until those broken screams were cut viciously short. 

Logan stopped in his tracks, bracing a hand against the damp wall, a crippling sense of failure weighing heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now Alec was likely dead. He couldn’t think of another reason why the killer would just cut off his screams like that. But what unnerved Logan further, was that now one voice had been silenced, another was rising up the dark, dank tunnel. There were two. The motherfucker had managed to grab two victims in one night. What the fuck was he using them for? Why torture them? What was he looking for?

A pinprick of flickering light teased him from the distance, the literal light at the end of the tunnel winking in the distance. How far down had he gone for the exit to only now be visible? Had this guy really dragged two bodies down these stairs already today? A picture was forming in Logan’s mind. He had to have some kind of muscle on him to be able to carry weights such as these. But he couldn’t let himself get comfortable in his predictions. That would only lead to chaos. So he kept his mind open, the only thing he was fairly sure about was the fact this killer was a man. 

Not that a woman couldn’t be capable of this kind of thing, but he’d seen the size of some of the victims. Either she was some kind of bodybuilder or a man. One seemed more likely than the other. 

He felt like he’d been in this stupid fucking tunnel for years by the time his eyes needed to adjust to the flickering torchlight, the steps levelling out to a long, claustrophobic stone hallway, the low arch of the ceiling barely high enough for him to stand up completely straight, the tips of his brushed up hair lightly brushing the damp brickwork. He continued creeping forward, a cone of more flickering torchlight illuminating a doorway ahead of him and to the right. 

The secondary voice gurgled another agonised scream, and Logan felt a decent amount of urgency fuel his steps, half jogging the remaining feet up to the archway, peering around the stone.

His stomach clenched, eyes widening. Well, that would show him not to make assumptions. The killer wasn’t a man. 

You were a woman. 

The two victims were strapped to chairs, back to back, a knife in the mouth of one, the other’s head– Alec’s head, hung limp. In the lap of the other, you held a map, blood dripping from both your palms.

“Point.” You spat, delivering a harsh slap to the side of his face. “And so help you, your answers better match up.” 

With shaky movements, your captive craned his neck down, pointing the quivering tip of the knife against a random point on the map you’d lay in his lap, tears flowing down his face as he whimpered in utter terror. Logan watched as you raised your hand over Alec’s head, contorting your fingers as he groggily returned to consciousness. He couldn’t see his face before, and Logan would spend a long time wishing he could return to that ignorance. Two dark, bloodied holes replaced the sockets where his eyes should be, tears of sanguine had rolled down his cheeks, staining his flesh until it bled into the exposed muscle of his cheek. 

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You took a step back, snatching the map from your second victim and drawing a circle with the bloodied tip of your finger. After so many deaths, the cacophony of screams that kept you awake at night, finally you had a lead. “And what is it exactly th–”

You stopped, your nerves alight with alert. 

Logan whipped back behind the archway, pressing his spine against the wall and keeping his breathing steady. He didn’t hold out hope you hadn’t seen him, and he was incredibly thankful for that, clenching his fists when your voice echoed in the expanses of the chamber. 

“I can feel it. The mutation in your blood. Scott’s friend, I assume?”

With a long sigh, Logan stepped out from behind the archway and into the light. 

“Friend is a strong term. Associate.” He responded, his eyes flickering to each of your palms as crystals of crimson extended from the two wounds in your flesh, taking the form of jagged blades. Your head tilted to the side, hood shifting slightly for the light to catch your eyes. 

“Scott’s associate…” you mused lowly, striking out with surgical precision to the two captives, keeping your wince locked away as your two blades crunched through their skulls with a sickening squelch. 

Logan clenched his jaw, keeping his chin held high. “No explosions this time? Entrails seem far too organised for you.” 

“A fan of my work? Sorry, I don’t tend to do meet-and-greets. Although I’d be willing to sign your corpse for you.” You held your blood blades tight in your palms as you bent your knees. You wouldn’t be getting out of here without a fight. And whilst you could feel the mutation in his blood, you had no idea what it was exactly that he could do. The claws were an obvious giveaway, but was that it? You’d come to learn to put all assumptions to the side and be prepared for anything. 

Years on the streets had taught you that.

“Why?” Logan asked, taking a steadying breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why?” He repeated with just as much conviction. “Why do this? What’re you looking for? Why’re you doing this?” He watched you falter slightly as if genuinely taken aback that he was interested enough to ask. “You coulda killed Scott, but you didn’t. Y’not afraid of causing pain, but you left him unharmed. Why?”

Too many thoughts were running through your head. Truthfully, you didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t. He had nothing to do with this, and whilst yes he got in your way, he was innocent. None of these people were. None of your victims were. Least of all, you. 

“Why ask? Did you want me to? Yikes, that’s some rivalry you got there.” You deflected, twirling one of your blades in your hand. “Tell ya what, I’ll finish the job for you, free of charge.” You grinned behind your mask, taking a step toward him, dragging the tips of your crystalised blood blades along the ground, leaving little crimson trails as you walked. 

“Got a lotta lip, ya know that?” He growled, watching you like a hawk as you slowly stalked forward, step by careful step. 

“If only you knew the trouble my mouth gets me into…” You paused for a moment, crouching low. Anticipation crackled in the air, sparks of adrenaline igniting the room before you launched forward, keeping low to the ground. 

Logan tracked your movements, bending his knees and bracing his claws in front of his body before your blades cracked against his, literal sparks flying from the contact point as you stay low, your other hand braced against the floor, leaving bloodstains on the stone. Your leg swept toward his, and he wrenched his claws from where they’d tangled with your blades, taking a quick step back to avoid your jab.

Using your momentum, you pushed off from the ground, spinning upright just in time to parry a slice from his claws, your blood thrumming with the impact. He was strong. Really fucking strong. Annoyingly strong, in fact. You hated having to manipulate the vessels and cells within your body, but the moment his fists arced down toward you, you had no choice but to increase the blood flow to your biceps, wincing slightly as they shuddered and flexed in response, but it was just enough to catch him off guard, your two blades crossed between his six claws. 

You didn’t let the moment linger, delivering a harsh kick to the centre of his stomach and using the almost rock-like surface to send yourself a few steps back, sweat already trailing down the inside of your mask. 

Logan bent double, grunting in discomfort before lowering into a similar crouch to your own, watching closely as your blades dragged along the ground once again, leaving little slices of crimson. You raised your head in challenge, the flickering torchlight catching two sparks of sanguine red eyes, pulsing slightly as your mutation shimmered from your hands, veins bulging up your wrists. Something tugged at his chest, and he stilled for a moment. It looked almost… painful. The way he could see every pulse of your heart thumping within those bloodborne blades. 

His head tilted to the side, and you felt discomfort crawl over your skin. Was he… studying you? In the middle of a fucking fight? And not the ‘I’m studying you to see your next attack’ kind of way. You grit your teeth, irritation flaring in your gut as you launch forward, anger and frustration now fuelling your movements. How dare he. How dare he try to read you like this. He didn’t even fucking know you. But the way his features slackened slightly, the ever so small tilt of his head. You wanted to tear him to ribbons. 

Logan shook himself from his thoughts as you surged forward, once again bracing himself for the flurry of swipes he could sense was coming his way. Only–

You ducked to the side.

Your blades retracting back into your palms as you slid past him, grazing the centre of your hand against the floor in a wide arc. What the hell were you doing? What the fuck was with all the acrobatics. You’d done nothing but flip and spin around him, barely going in for any hits. He whirled around, claws still held before him in closed fists, but you looked… done. 

Like you’d already won. 

“Well, this has been a pleasure. But I’m afraid I’m a very busy woman,” you paused, placing a hand on your hip as if you were having a casual conversation in a shopping centre. “And you’re wasting my time.”

Logan barely had time to think before the bloodstains on the ground shifted, and in every place you’d dragged your palm across the stone, a sharp spear shot from the marks towards him, impaling through his suit and into his chest, his legs, back, and shoulders with a sick, wet crunch.

Through agonising pain, he finally understood what you were doing. Setting up a fucking trap. Any attempt to move resulted in tearing fire through his body, a rough cry of pain flying from behind his gritted teeth, before it became too much as he sank to his knees. Your sigh almost sounded disappointed, and he watched through hazy vision as you brought out a bandage from your belt and started to wrap up one of your palms with a slight hissed wince. 

You’d expected him to be dead by now, and yet somehow he was still clinging to life like a tenacious limpet. An irritated huff warmed the interior of your mask as you flicked your unbound hand, another jagged spear of ruby sailing from your palm and through the centre of his stomach, wrenching another agonised cry from his throat. 

“Fucking hell… still here? Most would be dead by now.” You folded your arms across your chest, wandering over to where he was still bent double on his knees, heaving rasped breaths. 

“Most of ‘em can die.” He snarled back, his strength slowly returning as his regeneration worked overtime to remove the whipping spears from his body. You watched as they shifted in response to the resistance, fascination curling like smoke in your head. What the hell was this guy?

“And you can’t, I presume?”

“Nope. Not yet, at least.”

“Huh,” you shrugged, your eyes flaring as you wormed those tendrils back through his flesh, something twinging in your chest as you did so. “That’s… unfortunate,” you crouched in front of him, running your fingers along one of the tendrils of blood holding him still, your eyes falling to the little X symbol on his leather collar, recognition striking you like lightning. “Wait… I know you. You’re one of Xavier’s, right? Never thought he’d meddle in simple human murders,” you thought for a moment, regarding him. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being nothing but a weapon to him? Just a gun to point at the enemy whilst he’s the one who claims the victory?” You provoked, finally garnering a response as he all but growled at you, bloodied teeth bared. You had half a mind to use his own blood to sew his mouth shut, but you were curious about him. A mutant who couldn’t die, running around playing soldier for someone who would never walk the battlefield himself. 

Sure he should be the one pulling the strings. 

Logan knew you were trying to get under his skin. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, you’d already achieved that, the sharp bolts of agony with every slight movement told him that much. But he needed to get under yours. 

“I know what these people did,” he breathed, chest searing with each fiery inhale.  “The ones you choose. I know why you kill them, but why torture them?” He continued through gritted teeth, tugging against the lashing spears through his body.

“You think that’s what this is? Me cleaning up after this world’s scum? I should add myself to that lengthy list.” You growled back, gesturing wildly to the walls around you. “These people know something. The fact they’re all child predators is simply luck. But don’t you think it’s strange? An orphanage burns down and none of the bodies are found?” 

Logan stopped his struggle. “What…? How d’you–”

“Nothing. Not even skeletons. Doesn’t that make you wonder where the hell those kids went? The disappearances throughout the city, all kids. All mutant kids.” You could see the cogs turning in his head as he processed what you were saying, and what it meant. 

“Y– you’re looking for information…” He muttered with understanding, and you nodded.

“The men at that warehouse… they’re always hanging around schools and –before it burnt down– the orphanage,” your eyes flickered to stairs beyond the archway, and the distant shouts echoing down the hall. “It’s a slave trade. A mutant slave trade.”

“How d’you know?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.” Something twisted in your gut as his expression shifted to something softer, despite the obvious pain he was in. You didn’t want to hurt him. It was a sudden realisation that you’d acted too hastily. Assumed he was here to eliminate you after the series of events you’d caused. But you should have known the moment he started asking questions. Sure, he was probably here to put a stop to what appeared on the surface to be a sequence of grizzly murders, but he’d asked. He wanted to know why. Not many others had done that. And there was something else flickering in his strikingly haze eyes. 

He didn’t want to kill you. Not now he knew. 

Your head whipped back to the archway, where those distant shouts had increased in volume and, terrifyingly enough, proximity. You could clearly catch the repeated calls of a name. His name. 

Logan. 

“Look, if you want to help, there’s a gala happening at Thornbury Hall, west of the city. Saturday the 18th. Meet me there or don’t, it’s your choice. But you come alone. I’ll know if you don’t.” You hissed hurriedly, flicking your fingers to withdraw the countless spears from his body, and he screwed his eyes shut as his wounds immediately began to knit back together, muscle and tissue reforming with an unbearable itch, the crystalised blood liquifying once again, staining the stone red. 

“Logan?!”

Your breath quickened as you looked back to the archway, and Logan could just see the fear reflecting in your barely visible eyes as you took a few steps back. He wanted to stop you. Wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to take this on alone. They could help. He could help. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wasn’t going to take the olive branch you’d just extended. 

“How’ll I know it’s you?” He asked as he stood to his feet, eyes narrowing in suspicion despite himself. He hadn’t seen your face. Just two scarlet eyes behind a rather unnerving, featureless mask. Your head flipped between looking at him and looking past him to the archway skittishly, hurried footsteps growing louder as his other associates honed in on your location. 

“When you get there, look for a man with a runic tattoo on his neck and ask for Alecto.” You explained, continuing backing up into what looked like just a regular wall. But the greatest thing about ancient buildings such as this was the secret little entrances and exits installed for servants, refugees. Criminals.

“Alecto?” You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the slight smirk on his face, the amusement lacing his tone despite your efforts to try and kill him not moments ago.

“Look it up.” Was all you said, before slipping through one of the cracks in the wall the moment he turned around as two other mutants rushed through the archway. You barely caught sight of Scott and the other before you were gone. 

“Logan! What the hell? You can’t just go dead like that, what happened to your coms?” Storm ranted before falling silent, panic entered her eyes as she registered the state he was in. “What… what happened to you?”

Logan looked back to where he’d last seen you, finding an odd kernel of relief to see you’d completely vanished into seemingly thin air. “I found our gal. Put up a good fight. Slipped out when she heard ya comin’ and I was immobilised.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just let the very same killer they’d come here to hunt slip away.

“She– wait, she?” Scott asked, clearly having recovered from whatever Alecto had done to him. 

“Yeah, she,” he nodded, before sighing heavily. “Look, no point in standin’ round here ‘n chattin’ about it. Charles is gonna wanna know what I know.” 

“And what is it exactly that you know?” Scott asked, suspicion lacing his tone, his arms folding across his chest almost in accusation. Logan rolled his eyes.

“A helluva lot more than you, Slim. Let’s go.”

[archiveikemen]

"Dark If" Story Event: Chapter 1

Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

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Victor: Miss Kate. The ability to create the ultimate happy ending lies in your hands. — Now, off into the twisted fairytale world you go. 

…

When I woke up, I found myself in a room inside a lavish castle. 

(Uhh… right, I’m the “princess” of this country.)

(... Huh? Why do I have memories of that?) 

Memories of being raised as the princess of this kingdom slowly came back to me. 

(It feels as though I have two sets of memories. One from living in this world, and one from another world.) 

Yet, strangely, both felt like they were indeed “mine”. 

King: … Are you awake, Kate?

Kate: Good morning, Father. 

After a knock, my father entered the room looking concerned. 

King: With only a few months left until that wicked fairy’s prophecy is set to come true… I can’t be at peace without personally ascertaining your safety every morning. 

I was born as the princess of this country and spent my life living a sheltered life within the castle’s walls.

The reason for that was— a curse. 

The fairy who placed the curse on me said, “in 10 years time, the curse will take effect when she pricks her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel”. 

— Without any explanation, he returned to his castle hidden deep in the mountains. 

In response, my parents gathered every last spinning wheel in the country and destroyed them. They relocated those working in the textile industry to state-run factories, and I wasn't allowed anywhere near them. 

Kate: If the curse takes effect, I’ll fall into a deep slumber for 100 years… right?

I muttered based on my memories, and my father nodded with tears welling up in his eyes once more. 

(A cursed spinning wheel… the world I strayed into must be the story of “The Thorn Princess¹”.)

¹ “The Thorn Princess” is also commonly known as “Sleeping Beauty”. 

(If I go along with the original plot, it’d probably be better to fall into a deep sleep because of the curse, but…)

The man who introduced himself as Victor said that there was “something missing” in this twisted fairytale world.

If I fall asleep before I find it— I won’t be able to look for it for the next 100 years.

(First things first, I need to break this curse to give myself more time to find it!)

Kate: I’m going to ask that fairy to break the curse. 

King: W-what!? Absolutely not!! 

Kate: You can assign a few guards to escort me. 

King: Even the royal guards fear him! I’ve sent people to assassinate him several times, and all of them returned in a dreadful state…! 

Kate: Then I’ll go alone. Don’t worry, I can sniff out dangerous places from my experience as a mail carrier. 

King: Mail carrier? H-hey, hold on—! 

…

(While I did say I’d go alone… it’s still better to be as well-prepared as possible.)

After dodging my panicking father and the royal guards, I made my way to a mercenary recruitment place in the castle town. 

Kate: I’d like to hire a bodyguard for my journey… 

Since there was a real chance of encountering wild beasts or bandits on my way to the fairy’s castle, I decided to use part of my allowance I had been secretly saving and hire someone to protect me. 

However—

Long-Faced Mercenary: Go to the fairy’s castle!? You’d need more than one life to make it there alive! 

One-Eyed Mercenary: No way, not doing it! I’ll never go anywhere near that terrifying guy ever again! 

— The last person I spoke to fainted the moment the word “fairy” left my mouth, his eyes rolling back in fear. 

(It’s just as Father said, the fairy is greatly feared…)

(Looks like it can’t be helped… I’ll just go alone.)

???: Is it true that you want to go to the fairy’s castle? 

???: If that’s what you wish for… I’ll be your bodyguard. 

I looked up when I heard the voice making the timely offer and saw a young man standing there. 

Receptionist: You’re in luck, miss. That guy’s a skilled assassin. 

Receptionist: Once he’s targeted someone, he latches onto them like thorny vines, that's why he’s called “Ellis the Briar”. 

The receptionist, a young man with mint-coloured eyes, politely introduced him. 

The fee he quoted in a low voice was an amount I could afford with my savings. 

Ellis the Briar: I only take on jobs from here every now and then, so I didn't know I had a nickname. 

Kate: Umm, mister… Ellis the Briar?

Ellis the Briar: Just “Ellis” will do. 

After being rejected by many people, Ellis’ offer to be my bodyguard made him look like a knight in shining armour. 

Kate: Thank you so much for accepting my request. 

Kate: But… are you not afraid of the fairy, Ellis?

Unlike the other mercenaries who fled at the mention of the fairy, this relaxed young man seemed unfazed. 

I was a little worried that he might not understand the weight of the situation he volunteered to be involved in. 

Ellis: I’ve been burned, frozen, stabbed, and slashed countless times by that fairy.

Ellis: If there’s anyone here who knows exactly how dangerous he is, that’d be me. 

Kate: What!? You were burnt— are you alright?

Ellis: Yeah. I can't die, and I’m not afraid, so I’m okay. 

(In a strange world where even fairies exist, not dying might be possible too… I guess?) 

Ellis: If the journey will lead to your happiness, I’ll go with you.

Kate: A-alright. I’ll be counting on you, Ellis! 

Ellis: Fufu… you don’t need to be formal with me.

Ellis: You can relax and speak casually. We’re friends, after all.

(Friends!? Since when…?)

I was a little confused, but the young man’s smile carried not a single hint of malice. 

(He’s probably just the kind of person to want to close up the distance between himself and others quickly…) 

Kate: Okay… got it. 

…

— And so, I embarked on my journey with Ellis, who had a mysterious presence. 

There were two paths leading to the fairy’s ancient castle.

One was a horrible half-day route, while the other was a three-day walk on flat ground. 

Ellis suggested the easier route, taking into consideration my limited stamina as someone who lived a sheltered life. 

— On the second night. 

Our journey was progressing smoothly, but I found myself having trouble sleeping. 

Ellis: Can’t sleep?

Kate: Yeah… I know I should rest, especially since we’ll arrive at the castle tomorrow. But…

Ellis: Kate, can you come over here? 

Kate: …?

I had come to trust Ellis after all the countless times he had helped me during this short journey, and so I unhesitatingly moved closer. 

Suddenly, he pulled me by my arm and I fell on top of him. 

Ellis: It’s hard to fall asleep on the hard ground, isn't it? You can rest on me instead. 

Kate: B-but, then you wouldn't be able to sleep with me weighing down on you… 

Ellis: You’re light as a feather, so it’s okay. Go on, you can sleep. 

I tried moving away, but Ellis held me close and wouldn't let go. 

Kate: You’re being so kind to me because I hired you… 

Ellis: Am I? Maybe I’m being this kind only because it's you, Kate. 

Kate: …

Thump. Thump. My heart was pounding loudly, but…

As I leaned my head against Ellis’ chest, I realised that I didn’t hear his heart pounding. 

(... Am I the only one who feels this way?) 

A strange unease crept up to me, but I started feeling drowsy as Ellis gently rubbed my back in a soothing manner.

Ellis: … Why do you want to meet the fairy? 

Kate: I want him… to break my curse…

Ellis: I see… 

Hearing Ellis’ tender voice, my eyelids slowly grew heavy. 

(Ellis took care of everything for me throughout this journey…) 

(I must give him a big reward and properly thank him once this is over…)

(Oh. But… I feel lonely thinking we’ll be parting ways.)  

While such thoughts crossed my mind, making me doze off… I drifted off to sleep on Ellis.

And because I was asleep, I didn’t hear the words Ellis spoke as he watched me. 

Ellis: So you want the fairy to break the curse…

Ellis: That means your feelings haven't changed since “back then”. … I’m so glad. 

Even as Ellis slowly wrapped his hand around my neck, I didn't wake. 

Ellis: … I want to kill you as soon as possible. 

…

I was able to get a good night’s rest thanks to Ellis, and we finally arrived in front of the fairy’s castle. 

However, the path leading up to its doors was overgrown with briar, as though rejecting all visitors coming from the outside. 

Ellis: We can’t pass here, let’s go around. 

Kate: Yeah… oh, can you wait for a quick moment? 

Ellis: What’s the matter? 

Kate: There’s a little bird trapped in the briar and can’t get out… 

I crouched down next to the briar and while being careful not to get pricked, created an opening for the little bird. 

It then quickly escaped and flew away. 

Kate: Had it stayed trapped in there, it might've died. I’m glad I could save it…

Ellis: … Indeed. 

Ellis: Giving even a little bird the choice of where and when it wants to die must make it feel happier, doesn't it? 

Ellis: You’re very kind for allowing it to choose how to die, Kate. 

(That wasn’t why I saved the bird, but…)

(... Ellis certainly has a strange way of thinking about things.) 

I felt a little uncomfortable, but decided not to dwell on it and continue our detour towards the fairy’s castle. 

…

Kate: E-excuse me… I’m here to seek help with breaking a curse.

Kate: Is the fairy home…? 

???: I am, but I ain't breakin' the curse.

The man who appeared was much younger than I had expected. 

Ellis: Jude, I’m back. 

Ellis: Let me introduce you, Kate. This is Jude, the fairy.

Kate: …? Hang on a second…

Kate: Why did you say that you're “back”? What's the relationship between you two…? 

Ellis: I’ve been working as Jude’s assistant for many years now. 

Ellis: When Jude isn’t busy, I sometimes find work at the mercenary recruitment place to keep my skills sharp. 

Kate: What… did you say…

Kate: Ellis. You offered to protect me on this journey, helped me so much throughout, and I trusted you… 

Kate: Now you’re telling me that you’re an underling of the fairy who cursed me…!? 

Ellis: Rather than an “underling”, I’d say we have more of a contractual relationship. 

Ellis confirmed it like it was no big deal.

(Ellis had ties with the fairy way before I did…) 

(We travelled together and I thought of him as a reliable companion… were those all one-sided on my part?) 

Ellis: What’s wrong, Kate? You don’t look so good…

Ellis extended a hand towards me in concern, which I reflexively brushed away. 

Kate: … I-I’m sorry. 

Kate: I… need to go outside to cool my head. 

Overwhelmed by all that just happened within moments, my heart felt like it was on the verge of shattering. 

I excused myself and wanted to leave the castle, but the fairy didn’t allow me to. 

Jude the Fairy: Ya had a reason for comin' here, didn't ya? Guests oughta stay in the guest room.

Kate: What.

— Jude grabbed my arm and roughly shoved me into the guest without further discussion.

Now that Kate was locked away, the hall went silent once more.

By now, Kate was most likely being served warm tea and snacks in the magical guest room. 

Jude: … Ellis. Ya don’t understand human feelings at all, do ya? 

Jude: If she finds out that her bodyguard, whom she saw as a friend, actually has a contract with the exact fairy who cursed her, she’ll feel betrayed. 

Ellis: Is that so…

Ellis: It’s been five years since I became human, and yet there’s still so much I don’t know. 

Jude: It’s “only” been five years.

Ellis: For us, it’s “already” been five years.

Ellis: All I want is to make Kate happy… human emotions are so hard to understand. 

Jude: … 

Jude clicked his tongue in annoyance, not bothering to hide his irritation with Ellis’ non-human mindset. 

He then picked up a sword and slashed at Ellis without hesitation.

— However, Ellis didn't even flinch. Despite being cut, he didn't bleed and was perfectly calm. 

Ellis: … It’s pointless no matter how many times you try, Jude. 

The wound Jude inflicted on Ellis healed on its own, returning his body to how it was before. 

Ellis: As long as Kate doesn't find happiness, I won’t die.

Ellis: Regardless of whether I’m burned, frozen, stabbed, or slashed…