#(this post hurt us and now we graciously share it so it can hurt you too!)

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

At first it’s just an unexpectedly early but otherwise normal visit from Aki– boxing practice had been canceled last-minute for whatever reason, leaving Aki free to come pester him as soon as classes ended. As the date of their last mission creeps closer and closer, Aki makes sure to keep him up to date on their progress through Tartarus. 

Shinjiro doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s nice to know, but it’s not like telling him any of this will make a difference. He won’t be there for the final battle, and after that, Tartarus and the Dark Hour will just be unpleasant memories and it won’t matter anymore. 

Still. It’s kind of sweet that Aki wants to keep him posted on everything, even if all he can do is sit here uselessly. Plus he gets to hear about blackmail-worthy mishaps like Junpei getting charmed and attempting to serenade one of the shadows they’d been fighting.

Aki describes the latest dead end they’ve encountered, and the strange note that had been left for them to find there. It’s weird, Shinjiro thinks, that there’s still more of the tower that they can’t get to, even though there’s only one big shadow left. 

Then again, the idea that they needed to get to the top of Tartarus had only ever been a guess, hadn’t it? Hell, the idea that Tartarus was the source of the Dark Hour was just a guess too. If getting rid of the twelve big shadows would get rid of the Dark Hour, then they were probably the source. Maybe the tower had only ever been a scar left over from the explosion that had started this whole mess.

And it’s not like the damn thing followed any kind of logic, anyway. Stupid to expect it to come to a nice and tidy end, probably.

He’s about to run this line of thought by Aki, but he’s distracted by the sound of shuffling coming from the doorway. His door is open right now, if nothing else so people won’t have to knock if he gets more visitors. The last person he’s expecting to see is standing there. 

It’s Amada. 

This is the first time Shinjiro’s seen him since… Well. Since the obvious. He immediately zeroes in on Amada’s left ear. The actual scars are pale and faint, but the knuckle sized chunk of empty space that interrupts its shape is impossible to miss.

His chest feels like it’s been packed with ice, his lungs frozen solid. He can’t even cough. 

Aki seems equally shocked. Clearly Amada hadn’t told him that he’d be stopping by–  for one thing, Aki would for sure have given Shinjiro a heads-up if he’d known. Amada looks about as surprised to see Aki as Aki is to see him– he had probably thought that Aki would still be at practice right now.

Between the three of them, it’s Aki who gets his shit together enough to speak first.

He says it in the same ‘don’t worry you’re not in trouble’ tone he used to use with skittish new kids at the orphanage.

He comes into the room mostly as a technicality, just barely inching over the threshold and sidling along the wall beside the door. It’s not like Shinjiro can really blame him for his nerves.

God, it is weird to hear that tone in Aki’s voice how it sounds now, instead of how it sounded back when it was still a coin flip whether it would crack or not.

Amada continues to worry about it. His eyes flick between Shinjiro and the floor, then Aki and the floor, then to Shinjiro again. He looks like he’s two seconds away from bolting.

He wonders if his attempt to sound casual sounds as forced and fake as it feels. 

Aki makes eye contact with him, frowns so slightly that probably only Shinjiro or Kirijo could pick up on the expression– a question. Shinjiro gives a nod so small that, again, only Aki or Kirijo would notice it– an answer.

Amada doesn’t look that much more sure of himself once Aki’s left the room, but he at least peels away from the wall a little bit. Shinjiro waits for a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he ends up having to break the silence himself.

Amada gnaws on his lower lip, his brows pinched together so hard that it looks like it hurts. Shinjiro can’t say he knows what the kid is thinking, but he knows what’d be on his mind if their roles were reversed:

Why would you be worried about me? How could you even stand to be?

Shinjiro is the one to speak up again.

He does not want to ask this next question, doesn’t even want to look at that particular elephant in the room. But he knows he has to.

The kid cringes in on himself, sucking air through his teeth.

He promised Aki– and himself– that he was done running away from the past, done wishing to forget things no matter how painful. But if there’s anything he would make an exception for, it’s that. If he’d known that Amada had planned on following him to the grave…

Then what? What could he have done differently?

Fucking hell. It was bad enough hearing it from Yamagishi, but this– He feels sick. Amada’s expression is open and earnest and Shinjiro doesn’t deserve it. He’d actually rather be shot again.

Another funeral-shroud silence falls over them. Amada scuffs his shoes against the floor and opens his mouth, then closes it. He does it again, and a third time, looking increasingly distressed. Shinjiro sighs.

He says it as gently as possible, but Amada still hunches in on himself and looks like he’s done something wrong.

Amada blinks hard and slinks out of the room without another word. Aki returns a moment later, concern plain on his face.

[whump-lover-and-reader]

Whump Fic:

‹Jung Eui Sung gets drugged at the bar›

Leverage Team starts what they think is just nother job, but… the person they're after turns out to be far more dangerous than they expected initially, and Jung Eui Sung learns that far too late.

Tags: one shot, whump, hurt/comfort, non-consesual touching, non-consensual drug use, date rape drug/roofies, attempted kidnapping, implied/referenced rape/non-con, unconsciousness, protective caretaker

Word count: 7,180

A/N: my first attempt of writing an original fanfic that is in canon universe. I hope it makes sense👍 it took me quite a lot of courage to post pls be nice

[Ao3 link]

 “This time,” said the team leader, Lee Tae Joon, looking at each member of his team at the briefing table, “we’re going to be a little more spread out than usual.”

Their new target’s name was Kim Dae Kyung. How the team had found him was a little bit different story than most of their cons.

A few days ago Tae Joon ran into his old classmate, a woman named Hye Soo. He remembered her as a wonderful, kind girl, and as an adult she hadn't changed. But one look at her and he could tell that she was not doing great.

“Let's find somewhere to sit down, and you can tell me everything,” he said. Tae Joon decided then and there he was going to do everything he could to help this woman.

They settled in a random little cafe, and Hye Soo shared her story.

Just a week ago she had everything. She was to marry a nice guy from whom she was having a baby, and just the mention of a baby touched Tae Joon’s heart, since he used to be a parent himself. But it turned out, that guy was only after her money. He stole everything from her, even her home.

“He gave me a week to find a new place to live,” she said, “and it's already up. Now I don't have anywhere to go!”

Tae Joon put a hand on her shoulder, but before he could say anything, she continued:

“But it's only a half of the story. As I was searching for a new house, I found this guy,” and at this point Tae Joon already could piece together the rest of the story, but he still let Hye Soo continue. “He had a small company with a few employees. He said they helped families in crisis. He promised new housing cheap and quick. I should've known it was too good to be true... But I was desperate. And he even showed me the apartment, and the documents, and everything, so I thought it might be safe.”

“He conned you.”

Hye Soo nodded, defeated. “When I went to the new apartment the next day, there were people living there. And they said they hadn't heard anything about it being sold to anyone, and even promised to call the police if I didn't leave.”

She then went quiet, and Tae Joon spoke with confidence.

“It’s settled then. We’re going to help you.”

“We?”

Tae Joon smirked. “I know a few people…”

***

Tae Joon graciously offered her to stay at his place while he himself crashed at the headquarters. Not the most ideal solution, but it was only temporarily, until they dealt with the dirtbags accordingly.

After that he introduced Hye Soo to the team, and together they planned out their course of action.

First of all, Soo Kyung and Tae Joon posed as a married couple that were expecting a child in the future and were in desperate need of a new home to get the scammers' attention. They threw the bait and waited until they could meet the agents of this "company".

After that they had to figure out how to get the leader of the company, a man named Kim Dae Kyung. They decided to get more evidence of his crimes and hand him over to the police, which was the least risky and the most effective way of doing away with him. That meant going through his personal belongings and probably blackmail.

But getting the much needed information was so much harder considering their target was a literal hermit. The only times you could catch him outside his house were when he would meet his new clients or unwind in a bar.

Which had brought them to this moment.

“What do you mean spread out?” Eui Sung asked.

“Since it's so hard to catch the right moment, we have to act as quickly as possible. And that means... everyone will have to play their part at the same time, but we'll all be in different locations.”

He then explained that he and Soo Kyung would have a meeting with the agents of the company, allowing the other three to go after the head, Kim Dae Kyung.

“Na Byeol, you will search his house. Find anything and everything that could incriminate him,” he said, and Na Byeol nodded. “Our target only goes out to the bar for a short break, so you’ll have limited time. And that’s where you,” he pointed at Eui Sung, “will play your part. You will have to go in and distract him as long as you can.”

“Me? Wait, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re going to be just another customer who decided to strike up a conversation. Talk to him, stall him, prevent him from going home as long as you can to give Na Byeol time.”

For some reason Eui Sung’s palms started to sweat.

The thought of having to spend one-on-one time with their target, especially after the last time he was forced to be on his own with their targets involuntarily came to mind, of course, didn’t bring him any comfort. His strengths were technology and surveillance, backing his team up from afar, opening all doors for them, only occasionally providing help as minor characters. Not directly interacting with the target, especially when he didn’t have his teammates right behind him.

“W-wait, why me? Why not Roy?” he pointed at the other man. “Surely he fits better. He has more, uhh… natural charisma?”

Roy quirked an eyebrow at that, and Soo Kyung giggled quietly.

“Because you are generally more, you know, amiable looking. Let’s just say I think it would be better if Dae Kyung was approached by someone… less intimidating,” Tae Joon said.

Eui Sung made a confused face, and Na Byeol laughed out loud. He then realized that the insinuation here was that he was just naturally giving off an impression of someone who couldn’t stand up for himself, and he was slightly offended.

“Hey, I can be intimidating!” he pouted.

“The only thing you can intimidate is maybe your breakfast,” Na Byeol smirked and high fived Roy, which has only brought Eui Sung more annoyance at his situation.

“Besides,” Tae Joon continued, not paying their bickering any mind, “Roy will have a different mission. He’ll be the one driving you both to your respected locations and back. Since Dae Kyung’s house is in a very closed off neighborhood, others might get very suspicious of a van waiting around. So instead Roy will wait under the bar and only pick up Na Byeol when she’s ready.”

“So, he’s going to be nearby?” Eui Sung asked, perhaps with a little more enthusiasm than he wished to reveal.

“What are you so worried about, Hacker?” Roy suddenly asked.

“Well, you know… Who knows what could happen…” he thought back to last time, when after he was done with his part and still got got.

“You get to just relax at a bar, what could there possibly be to be scared about?”

Eui Sung didn’t know what to answer. What was he scared about? There was nothing concrete, he just had a bad feeling, but he already had bad feelings most of the time, so he said nothing. He hated to admit it, but he was acting unreasonably in that situation. He really had nothing to complain about.

Roy, on the other hand, was surprised at the lack of a response from Eui Sung. His question was meant as a teasing, but he realized that the other must be genuinely worried, so he decided to lay off for now. Later he would regret his words said in that particular moment. He should’ve listened to his worries, probably should’ve offered to switch places, since he understood very well that the jokes about Eui Sung’s helplessness weren’t particularly unfounded. But at the time it didn’t seem too important, and they were much more concerned with preparing Tae Joon and Soo Kyung for their performance than anything else. So this conversation was long forgotten.

-линия перерыва-

All too quickly came the evening to put their plan into action.

Tae Joon and Soo Kyung had already left, and Roy had already dropped Na Byeol off at the target’s house and was on his way to the bar to leave Eui Sung to do his thing.

He stopped the van in front of the entrance to the bar, and Eui Sung stood up to reluctantly exit.

“You’re going to be outside, right?” he asked Roy.

“Yes, I’m going to be here, at least until Na Byeol finds the safe,” he heard Roy’s firm voice in his left ear. “But the trip there and back only takes fifteen minutes, you will be fine.”

Indeed, they had calculated that the road from the bar to Dae Kyung’s house and back only took about fifteen minutes. But that did not mean absolute security.

Eui Sung really wanted to object that actually so many things could go wrong in fifteen minutes, but then he decided that he should stay silent to save last bits of his dignity in front of Roy. After all, excluding Roy, he got the easiest job of them all, only having to sit and talk for a while, not even playing any particular role.

“Now hurry,” Roy said, “before our target decides to go home.”

Eui Sung nodded resolutely. “Yes, sir.”

He was determined to do his absolute best and not let anyone down. But when he entered the building his confidence instantly faded. He spotted Dae Kyung right away, and at that moment it hit him that he was completely alone. And he would definitely be whining about it if others didn’t absolutely depend on him.

Instead he simply looked around. It was a small establishment with a few tables and a nice atmosphere. It wasn’t too crowded, and Eui Sung could definitely find himself a vacant table if he wanted to. But his destined seat was, of course, next to their target.

Dae Kyung was sitting at the bar counter sipping on a drink. Eui Sung took a deep breath and headed straight to him.

He plopped down on the stool two seats to the left of their target and ordered himself a glass of something light. He had absolutely no desire to get drunk that night. After about two minutes of sitting in silence and figuring out his next move he felt more than noticed the other’s eyes on him.

So Eui Sung got his attention without any effort straight away, great.

“Well, hello there, pretty guy.”

The voice and the words caught him completely off-guard, and made him nearly choke on his drink. He turned to Dae Kyung to make sure the man was talking to him.

“M-me?”

He heard Na Byeol snort in his ear. “Who's pretty? Is he talking to you?”

Dae Kyung laughed softly. “I'm sorry, it's probably not an inappropriate getting. I just couldn't help myself.”

“Ah… It's okay,” Eui Sung laughed it off awkwardly even though in reality he was immediately on edge without even realizing it. “Good evening to you too. My name's Park Man Young,” he introduced himself with a prepared name to move on from the awkwardness.

“Kim Dae Kyung.”

So now Eui Sung just had to bust out all the charm of his personality and get this guy into a conversation.

“So… Do you come here often?”

“Do I come here often? You could say that...” Dae Kyung said, and it was about the most cryptic answer Eui Sung ever heard. He didn’t even know what to say after that, but luckily, Dae Kyung continued: “Although tell me something. I've never seen you around.”

“Ah, right... I'm sort of new to this part of the city. I've moved in a few days ago. I just decided I should go out and meet some people.”

“I knew it.”

“Huh?”

“I knew I would remember someone as handsome as you,” Dae Kyung laughed again, and Eui Sung's cheeks flushed bright red. “You could sweep anyone off their feet, you know.”

“What the hell? Is he flirting with you or something? I can't listen to this,” he heard Na Byeol's voice.

“Hah! Who would've thought,” Roy chuckled. “You're in luck tonight, Hacker.”

Eui Sung started violently coughing to shut them up. “Stop saying nonsense!” he mumbled quietly so that only his teammates would hear him.

“Eh? Did you say something?”

“Nothing! Nothing. It's very nice to meet you, sir.”

He then thought he noticed something weird flicker in the target's eyes. But it only lasted a second, so Eui Sung wasn't sure he didn't imagine it.

“Hey,” Dae Kyung motioned to the bartender, “let my friend have some more, and put it on my tab.”

“Really? Thank you,” Eui Sung said, and Dae Kyung winked at him, which only made Eui Sung more uncomfortable. But nothing was too intolerable just yet.

In fact, Eui Sung felt pretty good about it so far: he managed to draw the attention of their target pretty effortlessly, and it looked like the man was pretty interested in this conversation, so if he kept this up he was sure he could buy Na Byeol all the time in the world to search his house upside-down. Not that he wanted to, since this guy was giving him the biggest creeps ever.

“Do you like this part of the city?” he asked to continue the conversation.

Dae Kyung hummed, thinking. “No, not particularly,” he said in the end.

“Why staying here, then?”

“I like the people here,” he replied. “They mind their own business, you know? I could be doing anything behind the doors of my home, and they wouldn't even care. They don't ask questions.”

Eui Sung suppressed the urge to ask what questions. He determined that he didn't really want to know the specifics. Surely he just meant his fake real estate company, what else could there be, right?

“What, you're not going to ask me what I mean?” Dae Kyung suddenly asked.

“What? U-um...” Eui Sung laughed nervously. “I figured since I'm gonna live here I'm not going to ask questions and mind my own business as well?” he offered. “Unless you want to tell me yourself, of course.”

Dae Kyung bared his teeth in a weird looking smile which could only be described as a wolfish grin of a predator right before it sunk its teeth into its prey.

“No,” Dae Kyung said, and after a somewhat ominous pause he added: “I have a feeling you'll find out soon enough anyway.”

Eui Sung would lie if he said he didn't feel slight chills run down his spine.

He felt his glass nearly slipping out of his hand because of sweat. He set it down on the table. It was empty already anyway.

Back in the van Roy scrunched his nose in irritation. Now this guy was just trying to intimidate Eui Sung to try and manipulate him in some way. And he could practically see Eui Sung's fluttering eyelashes and slightly open mouth as he loses his train of thought completely. If it was Roy out there, he wouldn't have even bat an eyelid at such a crude attempt to instill fear in someone. But it was Eui Sung they were talking about, and the prolonged silence on the other end of the earpiece was good enough indication.

“Hacker, remember who you're talking to. He's just a scammer, he's not going to do anything. Just ignore whatever he says and stay calm,” he spoke in hopes to calm his teammate down a little bit.

But Roy himself didn't believe his own words. He wasn't particularly worried, but if he had only been listening halfheartedly before, now he was definitely more alert. If he was being honest, this guy didn't sound like just a usual scammer, rather more sinister. And now he wished he did switch places with Eui Sung. But it was too late now, and he didn't want to throw their hacker into panic in fear of compromising their mission.

Hearing Roy's words in his ear both comforted and ticked Eui Sung off even more. He was glad to know Roy was still there and listening, so, in theory, he was safe. But he was annoyed because Roy could only hear, he didn't see Dae Kyung's creepy smile, his predatory eyes, couldn't smell his foul breath or feel the revolting warmth he was radiating that Eui Sung could sense even being one seat apart from him. So how could he tell him to stay calm?

“I see your glass is empty over there, little buddy,” he heard Dae Kyung’s voice. “Please,” the man turned to the barkeep, “a refill for my friend.”

The newly refilled glass landed in front of him, and snapped his attention back to the problem at hand. He briefly glanced at Dae Kyung and saw that the other was watching him, as if waiting for him to take a sip.

Eui Sung brought the glass to his lips, and saw Dae Kyung's smile widen ever so slightly.

“Why don't you tell me about yourself?” Dae Kyung then asked. “For example, what do you do for living?”

Eui Sung barely stopped himself from sighing in relief. Finally, a normal question.

Their further dialogue went pretty smoothly. Eui Sung fed him some wild stories about his made up life, and listened to Dae Kyung lie about his line of business as well.

“I work as a real estate agent,” he said, completely omitting the fact that he sold already occupied apartments and stole his clients' money.

“That's so cool!” Eui Sung replied. “Can you tell me more about it?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Dae Kyung flashed him a smile, and once again Eui Sung's stomach twisted just the tiniest bit.

Back in the van Roy also found himself frowning. First time it was kind of funny, second time it was already getting old, but at that point this was starting to look more like a pattern, and Roy wasn’t liking it.

The talk went on for about ten more minutes, until something strange happened.

A loud bang and a sound of glass shattering made Eui Sung jump in his seat and turn his head sharply. At the far corner table an angry woman was storming off leaving behind a lost guy who looked just pathetic. She shouted at him so loudly that everyone in the bar could hear. Something about him cheating, and he could only miserably attempt to defend himself. Eui Sung hissed sympathetically. That guy was definitely having a terrible evening... But that wasn’t his problem. He turned back to their mark to find the other man smiling warmly.

“Has anybody ever told you you have pretty eyes?”

Eui Sung almost choked on his drink once more.

“W-what?”

“Absolutely gorgeous, I could definitely drown in them...”

“Uhhh...”

Eui Sung's skin crawled. Something about Dae Kyung's voice was different, but he couldn't figure out what, and that last comment made him want to run to the exit and ask Roy to drive away as fast as possible.

Dae Kyung moved just an inch closer to Eui Sung, who simultaneously backed away.

“Seriously, with those pretty eyes I bet you have a gorgeous smile as well. Don't you want to smile for me?”

Eui Sung swallowed thickly.

It seemed even Na Byeol understood there were no place for jokes anymore.

“Is this guy out of his mind? I feel gross even listening to him,” Na Byeol commented. “Is it safe for Eui Sung to be next to him?”

Eui Sung wanted to yell that yes, he was, in fact, feeling very unsafe right now, and let everyone know just what he thinks of this guy next to him. But on the outside he could only flash an awkward smile and do his best to hide his discomfort so as not to blow his cover. After all, everyone depended on him being able to stall as long as possible.

After a few more seconds Dae Kyung suddenly burst out laughing. “You should've seen your face! My little guy, I'm just messing with you, relax.”

“Oh,” Eui Sung breathed out. Suddenly he felt a dull headache forming behind his eyes. Was it the drinks, or the fact that he had been stressing out all evening?

“Eui Sung, just give me a sign, and we can abort this,” Roy said. “Clear your throat if you need help.”

But Eui Sung kept quiet. He wasn't about to ruin the con just because of a few weird comments or some messed up jokes. Even if he was freaking out real bad right now. He turned away from Dae Kyung for a second, and whispered: “I'm fine.”

“Okay. Na Byeol, how much longer?” Roy asked, and you could hear it in his voice he wasn't enjoying any of this either.

“I only have the living room to go through. I bet the safe is in here. I think you can start driving now.”

“Okay.”

Eui Sung both sighed with relief internally and freaked out even more. He was alone for real now, but it was just fifteen minutes. He had to endure this creep for just fifteen more minutes, and then he was done.

He asked for the third drink, just to calm his nerves, and prayed to whoever his anxiety didn't show on his face.

But just a few minutes later something else threatened to show on his face, and that was extreme discomfort he was starting to feel in the area of… pretty much his entire body. Not only his migraine had considerably worsened, but now his muscles also began somewhat aching and feeling numb. He blamed it on the exhaustion from tonight’s mission and also maybe his whimsical attempts to exercise earlier that week.

Then he tried to continue a conversation, and… to a certain amount of fear, he felt some difficulty forming his next line.

“How- how about you- you tell me...”

“Do you have any family?” Dae Kyung suddenly interrupted him.

“What?..”

“Like, is there anyone you live with? A girlfriend?”

“Well, no...”

“Really? How interesting...”

“You really should've said you have someone at home,” Roy said.

Eui Sung couldn't understand why.

“...huh?” he accidentally said out loud.

“What?” Dae Kyung asked.

“No, nothing.”

That headache of his was getting noticeably horrible. In addition, it was suddenly getting much harder to verbalize his thoughts correctly. He wanted to tell Dae Kyung that his family was none of his business, but his mouth just wouldn't cooperate.

“It's...The living... none...”

What was happening to him? Why was Dae Kyung suddenly smiling so predatory?

“What are you trying to say there, little guy?”

“How much did you drink?” Roy’s voice could be heard somewhere in the distance. It held almost a worried tone to it. “I’ve told you not to drink too much, damnit.”

Eui Sung really wanted to protest that no, he shouldn’t be drunk at all, he’s only had like three glasses… wait, then what was the case?

Suddenly Dae Kyung hopped from his own seat to the one right next to Eui Sung.

He put his own hand on Eui Sung's, and his heart made a leap. His first instinct was to immediately pull it away, but to his own horror he realized it wouldn't fully obey. He could only make a weak attempt to free his hand, but Dae Kyung grabbed it really tight.

Eui Sung's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would break his ribs. That was enough, he was done. He had to tell Roy, he needed to... but his mouth just wouldn't listen...

He started to speak, but Dae Kyung quickly placed his hand over his mouth.

“Shh, you don't want to say anything wrong now,” he whispered.

***

Meanwhile Na Byeol was nearly jumping from joy, as she finally was able to lay her hands on their target's safe. Number combination and a padlock? Pshh, not a problem for her. She was done in under a minute.

But having opened it, she was disappointed to see there were no gold bars. And no money whatsoever in general.

“What a cheapskate,” she huffed. “Didn't even leave any money for me!”

“This is not what we're after. Look for documents,” Roy reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah...”

There was only a folder and a closed shoebox in the safe. She figured the folder must be where their target kept the documents and everything important, so the shoebox was what had really caught her attention.

“There's some weird box, I wonder what's in it,” she said and went to open it.

What she saw inside almost made her drop it.

There were pictures, a lot of pictures. As she flipped through them she wanted to puke more and more, and her eyes widened in horror.

“Roy, turn the car around,” she said, the tone of her voice having completely changed.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Forget me, you need to drive back and get Eui Sung out, now,” without a second thought he complied, turning the van around to drive back where he came from.

“Why? What did you find?” his voice was steady, but his stomach grew an uneasy feeling. Without noticing he pressed on the gas pedal to drive even faster.

“There are pictures of... of... people...”

“I got it.”

Na Byeol didn't need to continue for him to understand that those weren't pictures of cute puppies and butterflies that were kept in their target's safe. Suddenly it made sense why he spent so much time at the bar. It made him sick.

Next thing he realized he hadn't even heard any kind of complaint or protest from Eui Sung about the fact that they decided to pull the plug on his mission. It could be, of course, due to him not being able to speak next to someone, but still Roy couldn't help but feel even more anxious.

“Hacker, can you hear me?” no answer. “Clear your throat if you can hear me,” only silence in response once again. Roy cursed and punched the steering wheel.

“Is his earbud not working?” Na Byeol asked in a weak voice.

“It couldn't have broken on its own. It must've been found by Dae Kyung.”

Not to mention that Eui Sung turning it off voluntarily was out of the question. All of them know not to turn it off under any circumstances.

“Ah, what are we even going to do?” Na Byeol lamented. Panic was evident in her voice, but Roy couldn't have that.

“Na Byeol, focus on your own escape right now. Don't worry about Eui Sung, I'm going to go and get him.”

“Please hurry. He's there all alone now, no doubt scared out of his mind,” she said.

Roy bit his lip. He really couldn't bring himself to tell her that, considering who their target was, Eui Sung getting only scared would be the perfect outcome.

***

Dae Kyung cupped Eui Sung’s cheek with one hand and reached towards his ear with the other. Eui Sung wanted to scream at him not to touch him there, but his mouth might as well have been full of wool. He blinked, and the next moment he saw his earbud drown in the contents of the glass. Even through the thick fog in his brain he could understand that it was very, very bad. His one chance to call for help was gone.

He could only stare at it blankly, and Dae Kyung snickered, pinching Eui Sung's cheek.

“That's right, I knew about your little toy. I noticed it back when you turned around and exposed your left ear to me. Turns out, some other people have been listening in on our little date all this time. But no matter... Now we are finally truly alone.”

And if Eui Sung's muscles didn't feel completely numb at that moment, he would definitely shudder with his whole body. Suddenly Dae Kyung dropped what little had remained of his nice act, and his face distorted to that of a true maniac.

Next moment Eui Sung felt the last crumbs of strength leave him, a heavy hand landed on his shoulders, and his head dropped on the counter with a dull thud.

“Oh gosh, look at you. That last glass was definitely one too many, eh?” Dae Kyung purred. He then turned to the bartender with a toothy smile. “I apologize, my friend here had a bit too much. I always tell him, he should be more careful, and still...” The oblivious bartender smiled sympathetically, and Dae Kyung continued. “I parked my car at the back, let me take him away.”

Dae Kyung took Eui Sung and half led, half dragged him to the back entrance. Eui Sung wanted to resist, screamed at his body to move even a muscle, but it was all in vain. Nothing was working, and the world around was spinning so quickly that he couldn't even focus on one point. He was completely helpless. Oh Roy, where are you?

He felt the night air hit his skin. The car was close now. With each step they took Eui Sung felt more and more dread. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't even raise a finger to try and fight off. He knew he couldn't fight anyway, but this was on a whole another level. He was completely at the mercy of a sick and twisted pervert.

“There we are, little friend,” Dae Kyung said with a grin in his voice. “Almost there.”

Eui Sung wanted to cry. Please don't open that door, he begged inwardly, anything but this... Somebody help me...

Dae Kyung’s hand fell on the door handle, and Eui Sung's heart sunk… when suddenly he felt incredible lightness. Dae Kyung’s other hand that was supporting him was gone, and next second he found himself sitting on the ground with his back against the car.

Through rapidly blurring vision he only saw two dark silhouettes, and heard vague noises of someone fighting. For a minute he was only hearing rhythmic punches, and wondered what was going on.

After the hitting stopped, the silhouette moved towards him, and Eui Sung's heart picked up the pace again, when a face appeared in front of his eyes, and he could recognize...

Roy!

The relief hit Eui Sung immediately. Boy was he glad to see him! He could barely see straight, but even like that he was able to see Roy's eyes filled with worry. He felt wetness on his face, and right after that Roy's rough hand through his jacket's sleeve on his cheek. The other man had said something to him, but he couldn't hear. His consciousness was quickly slipping, and very soon the world around him submerged into darkness.

***

Two minutes earlier…

Roy practically tore the door off when he ran into the bar. He scanned the crowd, but couldn't find neither Dae Kyung nor Eui Sung. He sprinted to the counter and spoke to the man behind it.

“There were two people here. One in his thirties, and the younger one had blond hair and glasses,” he hastily explained. The bartender nodded in understanding.

“You missed them by just a minute. The blond guy got messed up, so his friend had to take him home.”

Roy's hair stood on ends.

“Where.”

“They exited through the back door. Maybe you'll catch them, if...”

But he didn't get to finish the sentence, as Roy was already gone.

Oh please, let me be on time.

In a flash he found himself outside and staring at the horrible scene: their target was dragging Eui Sung who couldn’t even stand upright towards his car ready to take off and do god knows what to him.

Roy saw red.

He ran up to Dae Kyung, and practically tore him off from Eui Sung. The latter then immediately lost his balance, slid down the car’s surface and just sat on the ground.

“Who the hell…” Dae Kyung began, but Roy didn’t let him finish. He punched him and knocked him down on the ground, and then proceeded to punch him again, and again, and again. He stopped only when he realized he was hearing some strange noise. Then he realized that it was Na Byeol’s voice calling his name.

“Roy! Roy! Can you hear me? What’s happening?!”

Dae Kyung was completely unconscious now, and even though Roy’s rage would only completely disappear if he killed the motherfucker, he reminded himself what was more important at that moment.

He rushed to Eui Sung, kneeling in front of him to check him over. Thankfully he didn’t find any injuries. Eui Sung’s glassy eyes stared somewhere through him, but he still saw some semblance of relief on his face. A tear ran down Eui Sung’s cheek, and it broke Roy’s heart. He went to wipe it with the sleeve of his jacket, so as not to get blood on Eui Sung’s face.

“I’m sorry for being so late. You’re safe now. Let’s get you home.”

After that Eui Sung’s eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness, his head dropping to the side. Roy sighed and went to pick him up from the ground.

“Roy? How is Eui Sung?”

Roy looked at his load.

“I’m assuming he got roofied. He’s unconscious now. I’m taking him back to the van.”

Na Byeol was silent for a minute, likely processing that information.

“Okay… I’ve already texted Tae Joon and Soo Kyung, they’re coming back too.”

“Alright, meet you at the headquarters.”

***

Eui Sung woke up and immediately wished he hadn’t. He tried to sit up, but then groaned and clutched his head. Somehow that dull headache from yesterday still persisted even today, and was twice, if not three times as bad. Wait, yesterday? What even happened yesterday? A surge of panic went through him, and he attempted to get up again to assess the situation.

“I would advise you to lie back down,” he heard a voice. It was Roy. So Roy was here, huh. It instantly made things better, and he relaxed, feeling much safer.

He looked around the room as much as he could without turning his head too much and realized he was back at the headquarters. His body was covered with a warm blanket. He had no recollection of how he’d gotten here, or what had even happened after he’d gotten into the conversation with their target.

“How are you feeling?” Roy asked him.

A wave of nausea hit him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, a slight moan escaping his lips.

“Like shit,” he managed.

Roy hummed and squatted down next to him. Eui Sung flinched slightly from the sudden movement, but then he saw Roy was only handing him a glass of water.

“Better to stay hydrated,” he said plainly.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the glass. Roy helped him get up a little bit so that he could drink. Even that little movement made his stomach twist with nausea once more, and he nearly gagged. Roy laid him back down, and after waiting a few seconds until his stomach calmed down, he finally asked the question that had been bugging him since he’d woken up.

“What happened?”

“You got drugged and nearly kidnapped, then you passed out and I took you back to the base.”

“…oh.”

Memories came flooding back in. Images of events of the previous evening flashed before his eyes: Dae Kyung’s ugly smile, his hands on his face, the bar’s back door, the car…

All of it came back at once, threatening to completely overwhelm him. His heart picked up the pace, and suddenly it was harder and harder to breathe…

“Hacker?” Roy was right at his side instantly. “Hey, Jung Eui Sung. Just breathe, okay? It’s all over, you’re safe now.”

For a few seconds Eui Sung was simply breathing, in and out, until he was back in the present.  

“Sorry…” he swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. “You must think I’m a total loser right now.”

“Not at all,” Roy replied. “You just went through something traumatic, it’s only natural to freak out.”

Eui Sung couldn’t find what to reply. He fully expected Roy to, well, maybe not mock him openly, but he still messed up where Roy would definitely never.

“I made a mistake…” he said. “I ruined the mission. I…”

Roy demonstratively sighed so loud that Eui Sung had to quiet down.

“You did not ruin anything, okay? And also, do you have any idea how that happened? At what point did he spike your drink, I mean.”

Eui Sung had to pause to think about it. He made sure to watch his glass at all times, even though he did not expect something like this, but there was one moment. If he had to guess then it would be…

“When some loud noise distracted me,” he started recalling. “A couple was having an argument, and the woman caused a scene. I turned away from Dae Kyung and from my drink for a moment because I got startled when she broke a glass.”

Roy closed his eyes and frowned. Eui Sung was already anticipating an earful, but instead all Roy said was:

“I see,” then, after a pause he continued. “So it was premeditated after all. He either was originally targeting someone else and switched to you, jumping at the opportunity, or planned for a random attack, and you were simply there at the wrong time. People like him would stop at nothing to get their way, so it would’ve happened no matter what, and it’s not your fault.”

“…Wow, okay. I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel better, or be in even more misery.”

Roy breathed out the faintest laugh.

“It’s your choice, Hacker.”

They heard the metal gate slide to the side and several footsteps go down the stairs to their headquarters.

“Jung Eui Sung!”

“Eui Sung-ah!”

It was Na Byeol together with Tae Joon and Soo Kyung. They saw that he was awake now, and rushed to his side. They wouldn’t have been able to do anything, but they simply had a strong need to make sure their teammate and friend was relatively okay. Obviously, he still felt the aftereffects of the drug, and was shaken to a great extent, but Roy was just in time to prevent something much more horrible from happening.

Their loud voices felt like someone was hitting Eui Sung’s head with a hammer. Against own desire, he flinched and quietly hissed.

Noticing that Roy has brought his finger to his lips, wordlessly telling everyone to mind their volume.

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” Soo Kyung whispered.

“How are you feeling?” Tae Joon asked, voice as soft and gentle as ever.

“Like shit,” he repeated his own words. “Okay, maybe just slightly better than when I’d woken up. My head’s killing me.”

“It’s gonna be like that for some time. I’m afraid you’ll have to get through it,” Roy said.

“How long?” Na Byeol turned to Roy with worried eyes.

“A day. Maybe two.”

Meanwhile Soo Kyung squatted next to Eui Sung and put her hand on his forehead. He leaned into her touch with gratefulness, as her cold hand felt medicinal to his devastating headache.

“What did we tell you, ah?” she murmured. “Be safe. Why didn’t you listen?”

“Sorry…” Eui Sung replied.

“Yeah, what did you do?” Na Byeol started.

“I got distracted, and he used the moment to spike my drink,” Eui Sung admitted to everyone.

“What?! How could you be so careless?”

“Na Byeol…” Tae Joon stopped her.

“It could be any of us,” Roy said. Everyone turned to him in question. “The couple were most likely his accomplices. It’s a classic scheme: some paid actors create a distraction and make the victim look away while the guy uses the moment to mix in the drug,” Eui Sung looked taken aback. He didn’t even consider the possibility that that wasn’t a coincidence. “Even if that didn’t work, no doubt they had a plan B, or even C. I’ve told you it’s not your fault.”

Soo Kyung gasped softly. “What rascals… Unbelievable.”

Eui Sung swallowed hard and then turned his eyes to Tae Joon. “What happened to Dae Kyung?”

“He’s at the police’s hands now. Drugging and kidnapping attempt is a completely different matter,” he said. “I’ve called detective Park right away, they’ve already searched their house. Turns out real estate fraud isn’t the worst of his crimes. They’ve found evidence of serial abduction and sexual assault, all documented with intent to blackmail the victims if they threaten to go to the police later.”

Eui Sung felt his throat close up just the smallest bit. That means if Roy hadn’t been there…

Soo Kyung ran her hand through his hair. “We’re just glad nothing too horrible happened,” she reassured, “and you’re safe now.”

You didn’t have to tell Eui Sung twice. The thought that something similar could happen to him made him physically shudder.

“What, do you need another blanket?” Na Byeol asked. And for the first time Eui Sung didn’t hear any sarcasm in her voice. It felt really weird.

“No…” he replied. “I’m just… a little freaked out I guess.”

“I know you don’t want to think about it right now, but you will need to give a statement to the police later when you’re better,” Tae Joon told Eui Sung Sung. “Would you be okay?”

Eui Sung pondered on it for a second. Right now all he wanted was to go back to sleep to forget about the whole thing and get rid of his horrible migraine. But they also needed to get that scumbag behind bars for as long as possible. So he gathered up his strength and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Tae Joon patted him on the shoulder. “Now… I and Soo Kyung have to go for now, but we’ll leave Roy and Na Byeol with you.”

“Rest up, Eui Sung-ah,” Soo Kyung told him and slightly ruffled his hair.

After that they both left.

Eui Sung was already exhausted by this whole interaction. And it was probably very noticeable since both Na Byeol and Roy turned around to leave him alone.

“Don’t go,” he unconsciously called out to them.

“We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll be around the headquarters,” Roy told him. “I just could use a snack.”

“Yeah, Leader would have our heads if we left you.”

“Oh, okay,” at this point Eui Sung’s eyelids were lowering on their own. “Don’t do anything weird to my face while I sleep,” he murmured.

“It would be very funny,” Na Byeol said, “but now we’re just not in the mood.”

But Eui Sung couldn’t hear those words anymore, he had already dozed off. He slept mostly peacefully, knowing that his teammates and best friends would watch over him and would not let anything or anyone get to him.

[scaramel]

how they kiss

ft. ayaka, ei, yae (gn!reader)

a/n: inazuma women appreciation post!!! probably gonna write a part 2 with the rest and maybe another for a few male characters as well. also yae's part might have slightly suggestive undertones so feel free to avoid it. enjoy !! <3

KAMISATO AYAKA

kisses with ayaka are quite rare, yet only for the reason that you would almost always have to coax one out of her. knowing her nature, it comes as no surprise that the kamisato princess grows shy and flustered simply by the thought of intimacy and affection. just the single brush of your hand against hers is enough to send warmth rushing through her cheeks.

in the occasional moment that you do manage to share a kiss, however, it's something akin to fairytales.

it happens in hidden places, locked away into a safe haven just for the two of you to share. it's then when ayaka's eyes widen slightly and her breathing hitches, her heartbeat sporadically exposing her own anticipation. unsure of where to place her hands, you simply guide them into yours.

ayaka keeps her eyes closed, her grip on your fingers tightening ever so slightly once your lips meet. it's gentle and innocent, a gesture so delicate as if the other could break like pieces of glass. and yet it's enough to feel the love you both share pour into eachother and invade your lungs with the smell of sakura petals.

once you both pull away, a smile graces ayaka's face. her eyes twinkle in adoration, along with a playful hesitance for more.

"forgive me for my boldness, but would it be alright if we could perhaps ... do that again?" she requests quietly, lacking certainty in her own words as she avoids your eyes with cheeks as pink as the ribbon tied around her waist.

you chuckle at this, lacing your fingers once more. "of course, anything for you." and it's enough to make her already precarious composure crumble completely.

RAIDEN EI

the electro archon had developed quite an interesting way of expressing her feelings for you over the course of your intimate relationship, mainly stemming from her longing curiosity of the world beyond her sealed existence, of present day inazuma and its people — but most of all, you.

her eyes can't help but glimmer whenever you describe the wonders across the lands to her, entirely foreign and alien and yet enough to pique her interest all the same. sometimes, you bring her exquisite flowers or just about any fascinating trinkets you can find along your journeys. despite its value being supossedly meaningless to a god, it somehow manages to set off a peculiar feeling in ei's heart, and to this she rewards you with what mortals call a kiss.

she generously allows you to sit on her lap, caressing your face gently amidst an eternity of both everything and nothingness. if she recognizes the drumming of your heart, she simply says nothing of it; perhaps only because she feels something similar in hers.

once your lips finally meet, you feel the familiar crackle of electricity instantly jolt into your skin — you flinch in surprise, pulling away with the residue of tingles rushing through your spine.

"ah! my apologies," she frowns, voice laced with genuine concern. "i truly didn't mean to shock you. did that hurt?"

ei seemed to fully understand the fragility of human flesh and bones, for she held you graciously in her arms out of worry. despite the foolishness of her attachment to you, and how it was but the furthest thing from her idealization of eternity, she was allowing herself to learn. by extent, she was also allowing herself to change.

"i'm alright," you assure kindly, being somewhat used to the archon's elemental energy seeping out of her control in moments like these, when time felt like it stilled between you.

before ei could respond, you make the bold move of lightly tucking away a lock of her hair to plant a single daring peck. the sensation of electro seeps into your lips once more, but you try to ignore it. "now we're even," you announce, grinning at the pleasantly surprised look on her face.

YAE MIKO

yae is a tease by nature.

she just can't help but pull you behind the shrine's red walls, eyeing you up and down before letting out a saccharine giggle. "you came all the way up here just to see me? how cute."

regardless of whatever reaction you give her, be it a scorching blush or a stubborn eye roll, she would simply exploit it for her own amusement.

"now, now. i was just about to give you a little reward. don't you think you deserve one?" her breath fans against your face, ever so mischievous with the faint scent of cherry lip gloss. you squirm under her sharp gaze.

"quite scandalous for the chief priestess to be seducing shrine visitors in broad daylight, don't you think?" you retaliate, or at least try to. nothing you do seems to hold enough weight to wipe the smirk off yae's face. if anything, it might've just further fueled it.

"nice try, sweet thing." yae scoffs in amusement, inching closer to ghost her lips over yours as the witty banter almost instantly becomes forgotten. at this your eyes instinctively shut closed, hands finding their way over her shoulders before one of hers cup your cheek tenderly. the task comes to both of you like second nature, really.

impatient and needy, you can almost feel the soft texture of her lips, bordering on desperation as you lean your head upwards to initiate the kiss yourself — only for yae to pull back abruptly with a humored chuckle.

feeling cheated, you peer at your lover with a pleading look of confusion, much like a lost puppy. "be good for now, won't you? there's much more where that came from." she sends you a sly wink, playfully leaving you breathlessly leaning against the wall as she walks away to tend to her duties.

you let out a grumble, swearing to get back at her once the day's work is over. somewhere in the distance, yae's laughter resonates through the air.

[havenoffandoms]

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

[kiyosamu]

painful reminders

(part 1/3)

——— ♡ ———

pairing: suna rintaro x female reader

genre: angst to comfort

cw: brief mentions and descriptions of assault (not from suna, not domestic violence), reader experiences post-traumatic stress, panic, anxiety

——— ♡ ———

“hey, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

the words echoed in your mind for a few seconds too long. you were hardly able to register their meaning while under the influence of your deep fear. you felt nothing but dread; impending pain and horror that you were sure was coming at any moment.

——— ♡ ———

suna slumped his body on the window of the train, trying to contort his larger than average build into a position comfortable enough to get a few moments of rest before arriving at his stop.

“attention passengers. there is a situation and we need to make an emergency stop at the next station. please gather your belongings and file out of the train as soon as we arrive.”

weird, he thought. must be another petty robbery. maybe someone refusing to get off of the tracks, or something exciting, like a mass murderer.

suna caught himself just as he had the thought, stopping his process immediately.

he shook his head, unimpressed at his ability to appear removed and disinterested no matter the situation. not to mention the scenarios running through his mind; scenarios that would terrify any sane person with an ounce of emotion no matter who they were.

suna scoffed and sat up to grab his bag.

of course, he knew it was nothing like that. that’s probably why he didn’t stay in his head and scare himself with anything further. why bother upsetting yourself by simply letting your mind run away from you? stupid, he thought. he never understood overthinkers. not only was it not productive, but it was exhausting.

thankfully, this station was only about a ten minute walk from the next, the one he was supposed to get off at. even though he was coming home from a tiring practice, the athlete never seemed to run out of stamina.

suna squinted as bright blue and red lights lit up the dark streets. rain began to pour and suna cursed his odds. the forecast predicted only a 10% chance of rain, and he just so happened to be getting caught in that unlucky percentage when he had to walk even further just to get back home.

he groaned and pushed his hair out of his face. the rain soaked his clothes, his sweatpants and shirt clinging to his body. suna felt disgusting and suddenly the thought of a hot shower was even more appealing than the leftover onigiri he had waiting in his fridge.

just as another thought of self pity was about to cross his mind, another police car flew by him.

must be pretty bad, wonder what happened..

that thought was as far as his curiosity went. if it was major, he’d probably hear about it on the news or in the paper. if not, well, it really was none of his business.

as he turned down the next street, he saw four police cars all blocking off the station. police tape sectioned off the area and officers stood with their arms crossed and chests pushed out as other vehicles pulled in.

he blinked a few times, taking in the scene for a second before realizing he’d stopped walking. suna brought himself back to reality and stared at the ground with his hands in his pockets. while he was shamelessly nosy as a teenager, he’d grown into quite the reserved young adult who knew how to mind his business.

unfortunately, that new trait flew out the window the second he heard a familiar voice.

——— ♡ ———

“officer, please. he said he’d come back for me, i don’t feel safe going home… i don’t have family here, i don’t have anywhere else to stay-“

“look. you’re just scared, but you’re not injured.” the man stared down at you with an emotionless glare. “there’s nothing more we can do for you. the suspect assaulted two other women and they’re cooperating. why are you asking us for more when we’ve done everything we can so far?”

his voice was as cold as your quickly declining temperature, the rain soaking through your t-shirt and causing you to shiver.

“he.. he held a knife to my throat. there’s-“ you lifted your hand to lightly trace the marks on your neck that had been squeezed in place only an hour before. “he said he was going to kill me but…” you trailed off, the night’s events playing over and over in your mind with no indication of stopping the endless repeat. “but then he saw the lights and ran. he said he’d be back for me…”

the officer sighed.

“criminals often utter threats to make their victims submit to their words and give in. they want to commit their crimes as quickly as possible. we’ve gone over this, you didn’t know him. he doesn’t know anything about you-“

“but what if he does?!” you shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks before you’d even realized you were crying.

“listen ma���am, you need to calm down-“ the officer grabbed your wrist and you ripped it away from him, covering your mouth and staring in disbelief at the officer. you were in shock. you couldn’t process what was going on, let alone what had happened. you didn’t know what to do.

you froze as you felt an arm around your shoulder. a familiar voice spoke your name with tenderness and a low, empathetic tone that you’d never heard from him.

“i’ll take her home, officer. she’s my neighbour.”

while that was true, you were still surprised at the gesture. rintaro suna had been your neighbour for 3 years. the two of you were friendly; you’d been to each other’s homes a handful of times and sometimes would share a meal or drop off some food that was too much for one person.

you were both single, living alone in your apartments. although you weren’t super close, you always felt like he was a friend. a slightly distant, reserved, quiet friend, but a friend nonetheless.

the two men exchanged words for what felt like an eternity before suna squeezed you closer to him, guiding you out of the area and walking you towards your apartment.

you opened your mouth to say something. anything. even just a greeting, a thank you for the escort home.

when you stopped walking, he stayed close to you and looked down at your expression.

you opened your mouth to say something but the moment you did, you relived the traumatizing situation once again and fell into a deep panic.

“i-i-… no-n..” your words broke as you felt your body shaking. the cold rain was doing nothing to help your condition, and if you could describe it in any way, it was like losing control of your own sanity. you felt the panic wash over you as the phantom pressure of the knife pressed against your windpipe - your mind quite literally putting you in a choke hold.

“hey. i’m here now, you’re safe.”

the words echoed in your mind for a few seconds too long. you were hardly able to register their meaning while under the influence of your deep fear. you felt nothing but dread; impending pain and horror that you were sure was coming at any moment.

suna wrapped his arms around you protectively. he didn’t know why, he didn’t even really know what was going on, but he knew that all he wanted to do in that moment was to prevent anything further from hurting you.

you clutched at his hand and dug your nails into his skin. you didn’t mean to, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. suna would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but he ignored it and held you close against him until you felt like you were okay to walk again.

when you caught your breath, you pulled his hand away from your face.

“i’m sorry… i don’t know what happened.” you choked out.

“you had a panic attack.” he said quietly. “we don’t need to talk about anything right now, though, okay? let me get you home. you went through something horrible and you’re freezing cold. it’s just a little more up the road, can you make it?”

you nodded, dropping your hands to your side and suna instinctively held onto the one closest to him.

“i’m scared to stay in my apartment… alone…” you whispered.

“you can stay with me.” suna said this with more certainty than suggestion. if anything, it was a statement. he was planning on having you stay over or even him staying at yours. whatever worked, he just didn’t want you to be alone and he knew you had nobody else to call.

he had never planned to get involved in your personal business like this. he didn’t want to be the weird neighbour, and he already worried if bringing you food some nights would make you uncomfortable.

those thoughts were always put to rest whenever you smiled at him and graciously accepted his gestures. your warm smile and the way your cheeks made your eyes squint when you were really happy was an image he’d always have trouble shaking out of his head for the following days.

suna snuck a glance at you as the two of you started to walk again. your smile that he swore could light up an entire city was nowhere to be seen.

he would do anything to see that smile on your face right now.

you looked like a shell of what you once were. he knew that you’d experienced something traumatic, but seeing you like this made him feel something hard in his chest.

you didn’t deserve that.

a painful squeeze developed deep inside him when he thought of what your face must have looked like when it had happened. a sweet girl who seemed to always bring out the bright side in any situation. you’d made him sweets (that he secretly broke his athletic diet for) when he’d lost an important game, and always made him smile whenever he saw you.

it was different right now. he felt anxious. he squeezed your hand in his and you didn’t even flinch, didn’t even seem to notice as you looked ahead with a blank stare.

on the other end, his touch alone was enough to give you the tiniest bit of comfort. it wasn’t much, and you were still scared, but it was enough to get you home.

——— ♡ ———

part 1 | part 2 (in progress) | part 3 (in progress)

[h2bakugou]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hii, new look oo, also first genshin post. i wrote this a while ago, and it’s loosely based off of tangled. i’ll probably keep this look for the genshin posts but mha posts will stay the same!!

at the time of writing, these characters do not have official ages, all characters are written within an aged up (18+) alternate universe.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a little more than determined to spend time with the so called ‘vigilant yaksha’ and he’s a little more than persuaded at the mention of almond tofu.

𝐤𝐞𝐲: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/e) - your element

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k

;cut for length;

The air was crisp as you trudged on through to the Wangshu Inn. The once clear blue sky had begun to melt and mix with the purple and pink hues of a sunset. Stars began to hang in the sky, illuminating millions of constellations for you to glance upon on your journey.

You had made plans for the evening. To spend with Xiao. That was if you could drag him down from the Inn to come with you. You had little hope you could actually manage the task ahead of you, but you just had to believe. It wasn’t as if you were asking him to come march into Liyue Harbor with you.

You had other plans. While a calming stroll through the lit-up city of Liyue would be nice with the so-called ‘Vigilant Yaksha,’ all you really wanted to do was spend some alone time with him.

As you step foot onto the lift that would bring you into the treetop that held the Wangshu Inn, you could feel your nerves beginning to grow. Maybe this was a bad idea? What if he was busy and already had plans to do something? What if-

“Are you just going to stand there and go back down?” Xiao’s voice cut through your intrusive thoughts when you realized you were still standing on the wooden lift, now stopped on the top floor. You quickly darted off, turning to see it begin to lower.

“I was lost in thought. Sorry.” You apologize and smile, forcing your nerves down as you stood in front of him.

“What brings you here?” Xiao asked, beginning to walk around the wooden terrace, over to where he usually gazed out upon the landscape of Liyue.

“I came to see you, actually.” You spoke softly, admiring how Xiao’s features seemed to glow from the sun’s setting rays. His amber eyes gleamed as he turned his head to look at you, taking in your own seemingly glowing appearance in the sunset.

“It’s always something with you.” Xiao commented, looking back over the land. He preferred to be alone, yet there was a little piece of him that did enjoy your company. Although you were persistent and rather eager to spend time with him, he secretly enjoyed your surprisingly quiet presence whenever you bought him Almond Tofu.

“Whaddaya’ say we go take a little boat ride? Just the two of us, the water, and maybe some yummy Almond Tofu?” You’d said the magic words.

“Almond Tofu?” Xiao had been captivated yet again by the mortal dish. He’d say it was your superpower to make a dish so well, but with how many times you’d prepared it for him, he could only say it was just from practice.

“I know you prefer to be alone, but just for a little while? It wouldn’t hurt to dine elsewhere tonight.” You knew he hadn’t eaten yet. He had a set schedule of eating dinner promptly at 7:05 pm. You’d made it on time with about an hour to kill, which would give you plenty of time to get to where you had planned everything out, time to eat, and a few minutes to spare to talk.

“Fine. But only for a little while.” Xiao was staring at you. You were making those puppy-dog eyes that he found hard to resist. You were one of the few mortals Xiao was ‘fond’ of.

“Great! Let’s go!” Your hand darted to his, pulling him along quickly as you rushed over to the lift which had returned up again. Xiao was unfamiliar with the warm feeling of your hand in his, but he swallowed his snide comments and let you be contempt with the sudden gesture. It was his job as a Yaksha to ensure your safety and comfort.

The small journey there didn’t take long, your destination was right near the bottom of the Wangshu Inn. Getting into the wooden boat was a bit tricky, but all was well when you sat down.

Xiao glared at you as you sat in front of him on the wooden boat, asking him nicely to use some anemo power to push the small wooden boat off of the land and into the water.

“Pretty please?” You begged, fluttering your eyelashes. Xiao groaned and in a swift few movements, the boat began to float on the water, moving slowly down the river.

Sitting back down across from you, Xiao took in the sights. A small lantern adorned the bow of the small wooden boat the two of you sat in. The water around you was clear and blue, reflecting the stars that twinkled in the sky above. It was ethereal and beautiful. Xiao couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen something so gorgeous.

“I’m sorry, it’s a bit tossed around, but it’s still Almond Tofu.” Your rather long journey to Wangshu Inn had proven to be a bit difficult, running into a Ruin Guard had certainly thrown you off the beaten path. You handed Xiao the container that held the meal you cooked up, thankful that it still looked appetizing.

Xiao didn’t hesitate, digging into the delicious meal that you’d made from him. Even when you didn’t have any ulterior motives when you showed up to see him at the Inn, you always brought or made him Almond Tofu, as a thank you for his protection.

It was an unusual bond, the one you shared. Xiao could ignore you, or tell you to go away, and you’d give him a nod, giving him an offering before parting ways. But you always came back, the same familiar bright smile adorning your lips.

Even on the days when Xiao could tell you weren’t okay, you always wore a smile. Because you got to see him. He would never understand, or at least at the moment, would never understand how seeing him brought you so much joy. Perhaps it was beyond him. He didn’t wish to be a burden on someone who seemed so happy, that’s why he distanced himself from you. But it never stopped you from climbing up that big tree right to where he sat on the branches, an eager smile on your lips as you hoisted yourself over the branch.

The sky had finally tuned a deep dark navy blue, lit up by the stars and the rising moon. You had finished your own helping of Almond Tofu and patiently awaited Xiao to finish his. You didn’t say much, only commenting on the beautiful sky as you quietly pointed out stars.

When Xiao finished eating, you stored the containers back into your satchel and glanced over at him. Xiao’s amber eyes met with yours and for a few seconds, he swore he saw your face grow a bit redder. You quickly looked away, worried about making him uncomfortable.

“Now that we’ve eaten, I can head back.” Xiao said curtly, ready to turn the boat around and return to where you’d departed from.

“Wait!” You quickly stood, attempting to stop him which only rocked the boat more, causing you to become unstable and fall over onto him.

Lifting your head, you were met with those cold amber eyes, only ten times closer. Your noses were just about touching as you stared at him. You couldn’t help but ogle at him, your heart beginning to beat faster.

“Are you, um, alright?” Xiao asked bluntly, his words were sharp and unfamiliar to his tongue. You nodded and quickly sat up, regaining your composure on the wooden bench of the boat you had been previously sitting on.

“Sorry! I just uh, can we wait a little longer?” You ask softly, glancing out in the distance. Xiao sighs and returns to his own wooden bench, crossing his arms over his chest.

A few minutes go by of complete silence. It was beginning to feel deafening as you waited. And then, just over the horizon, a singular lantern floated into the air from behind a hill.

Xiao peeked an eye open at your gasp, glancing over to where you were looking. His eyes widened as he began to see dozens, no hundreds of paper lanterns flood the sky, illuminating it with an orange glow.

“I’ve waited years to see this.” You said softly, carefully leaning over to try and get a better look.

Today was a celebration. For some unknown reason to you, thousands of lanterns got released into the night sky, adorning it with a warm glow from the small flames that burned inside them.

You had always heard rumors of the celebration, but every time you came around to ask, you were met with news of having missed it by a few days, or you were simply not there in time to see it.

But tonight, with Xiao, you were witnessing it for the first time, together. As lanterns littered the sky, you were mesmerized by the beautiful sight. A few lanterns drifted toward you, Xiao extending an arm to catch one. He glanced over at you as you reached for one as it touched the water.

Xiao huffed quietly, catching your attention. You glanced and smiled at him as he offered you the lantern in his hands. You took it graciously, your fingers grazing across his as you lifted it back into the air, watching it rejoin the others it had parted from.

“Is this what you wanted to wait on?” Xiao asked, watching as lanterns drifted all around you. You nodded and looked down at your reflection in the water.

“I thought you might like to see them too.” You glance back at Xiao and then at your lap.

“I know you think you’re a burden to those you’re around, but to me, you’re special.” You confess. Xiao is quiet for a while as he admires you. The glow of lanterns that floated on the water lit up your skin, appearing to give you some sort of aura. Xiao’s muddled feelings made him only more confused.

He wasn’t supposed to feel such attraction, let alone to a human like you. Yet, he felt a strange, warm sensation in his veins.

“Special.” Xiao repeated, earning your attention.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better protector. Thank you for always being here for me.” You felt giddy and warm inside, your heart racing as you bit your bottom lip.

“You’re welcome.” It wasn’t the first kind words he’d ever spoken to you, but they were nonetheless surprising. After all these years, living in a blur, Xiao could see perfectly clear, someone who truly enjoyed his presence.

Shining in the starlight, he laid his amber eyes upon you. You were right here, right in front of him. It was all crystal clear now. His thoughts and feelings, although still new and unfamiliar, were brought to the light.

Leaning over, Xiao placed a nervous hand on your waist and pulled you into him, his lips meeting yours.

He balanced on one hand which rested beside you on the wooden bench, his body bent over you as he kissed you. You kissed back, both surprised and contempt. Kissing back, you moved your lips against his, leading him through the kiss with ease. When he pulled away, he stayed frozen over you, staring into your eyes.

“Your lips taste like almonds.” Xiao commented. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Well of course they do.” You reach a hand up and twirl a strand of his hair between his fingers. Xiao feels fuzzy as you do so. He’s so used to people being so cold and being cold to them. Being blunt and harsh would usually scare people off, which is exactly what he wanted.

But here you sat, that same goofy smile on your lips, giddy and flustered after just one kiss. Xiao placed one more kiss on your lips, it was short and straight to the point. After he leaned back and glanced back out at the lanterns.

Xiao didn’t want to speak out loud on the topic, but he did think the lanterns were beautiful. It was soothing, mixed with the sound of trickling water from the river, it was a sight to behold, one he was thankful you’d shared with him.

After returning to the shore, you made your way back to the Inn. The two of you walked side by side quietly, your pinky laced with his. When you reached the foot of the large tree which held the Inn, you let go and stood beside Xiao.

“I had a lot of fun tonight, with you.” You spoke quietly to not disturb the peace around the Inn. Xiao glanced at the ground and then to you.

“It would be foolish if you tried to journey back home, you should stay at the Inn for tonight.” Xiao knew you could be stubborn as well. You were planning on traveling toward Liyue Harbor, but that journey alone would take hours.

“Oh, I’ll be alright, I’ll make it at least halfway before I need to stop-”

“You can stay with me. I won’t say it again.” Xiao’s grip on your hand was strong, but gentle. He wasn’t hurting you, but you could tell by the tone of his voice, he seemed concerned for your journey.

“It’s not safe. And I’m not going to save you a second time today.” Xiao’s comment was humorous in intention, but it sounded more like saving people was a chore.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” You sigh and begin to head up toward the Inn’s front desk. Xiao followed suit, bringing you up to his own room. It wasn’t anything super lavish, like what people would’ve expected for a Yaksha.

There was a rather large bed and many war-type relics and artifacts littered the room, from swords to pikes you swore you’d seen him use before.

“Sleep. And you better not snore.” Xiao changed quickly behind a room divider and waited until you said you were decent to step out. You both wore simple sleep clothing.

“I thought you didn’t get tired.” You huffed, smiling as you crawled into the bed,  a yawn leaving your lips.

Seeing Xiao in something so plain looked almost criminal. He looked like a normal human. Xiao crawled into the bed and scooted as close to the edge as he could. 

“Just because I don’t tire doesn’t mean I can’t sleep.” Xiao’s tone shifted as he sat down on the edge of the bed, debating on whether to lay down beside you or stay sitting up, eventually he caved and laid beside you, as close to the edge as he could get, leaving you plenty of space to sleep.

But as the night carried on, you inched closer to one another, eventually ending up in his arms, held tightly, it made Xiao feel secure to hold you in his arms. He was safe, you were safe. It made him feel at home. Like he still had a piece of tranquil mortality inside him.

He knew he’d ‘wake’ up tomorrow and play the role of the ‘Vigilant Yaksha’ but for now he’d hold you in his arms as you slept and hope for this to be a glimmer of redemption for a better, more peaceful, kind of karma.

masterlist

[siswritesyanderes]

If it had been Jasper-Sadie or Alice-Sadie as the vampires and finding their third later, how if at all would any of the “prior” story (the Twilght saga proper) have changed?

This turns the timeline inside out, but Meyer was never great at those anyway.

(Hi, if you're from the Twilight fandom stumbling across this post without context, Sadie is my OC in a yandere Alice/yandere Jasper/OC fic that you can read here.)

Ohhh, so much potential there! I can't answer that in full, because doing so would spoil what Sadie's potential vampire ability is. (Super sorry about that. Feel free to ask again after that information has come up in Rule One!)

I can say that both Bella and Edward would take to confiding in her and seeking her counsel with regards to their relationship. Especially if it's a Sadie-Alice duo; Edward would be super close with both Sadie and Alice (like he's close with Alice in canon), and while he sometimes gets frustrated with Alice, he pretty much always respects Sadie. It's like, Alice would be Bella's best friend and Edward's partner in crime (since she's still the one who would agree to kidnap Bella, whereas Sadie would never), and Sadie would be Bella's confidante and Edward's moral compass. Both Bella and Edward would go to Sadie for advice about each other, and Sadie, though startled by their neediness, would always have something valuable to say.

(Picture Bella or Edward bursting into Sadie's room with a question, and Sadie, wide-eyed, putting down whatever she's doing and saying, "Alrighty then, have a seat.)

Edward trusts that Sadie wouldn't lie to him, so the urgency in having Bella run to him in Italy before he sparkles in front of people (lest he read Alice's thoughts and assume she's lying to him) wouldn't be a thing; Sadie just runs Bella to Edward with vampire speed and is subjected to that whole reunion as an awkward third wheel while Alice parks the stolen car.

Also, Sadie would tip every fight slightly more in favor of the Cullens, but she would also have a habit of really wanting to talk to the enemies instead of attacking them. This is good/useful with the Volturi but not so good/useful with Victoria and Riley.

Oh! Also, Sadie would realize that Victoria will probably follow Edward's scent, in Eclipse, and Sadie would accompany him and Bella in sitting the battle out, so that they have more backup against Victoria. Jasper and Alice wouldn't be privy to the fact that Victoria is coming; this is just a realization that Sadie has that Edward hears in her mind. (As far as Jasper and Alice are concerned, Sadie is sitting the battle out just to be safe, and they're happy that she won't be in harm's way.) This is where Sadie's need to talk to enemies would become a problem, because both Victoria and Riley are too far gone to listen to reason, but Sadie really believes in them and wants to convince them they don't have to die today. It still turns out fine, though. Sadie gets a little hurt, but she's fine. Alice and Jasper would be absolutely smothering, after. Victoria is lucky she's already dead, because they would make her suffer.

And Sadie would think to explain things to Irina before Alice realizes that Irina is going to the Volturi, so that whole misunderstanding never happens.

All of that being said, the thought of "Yandere Alice meets Sadie first" and "Yandere Jasper meets Sadie first" got really interesting to me. So I have to talk about those scenarios immediately.

I'm going to place Sadie sometime in the twentieth century in both cases, and I'm going to try to let the time period matter as little as possible, but feel free to imagine them in 50s or 60s attire, lol. (Or 70s or 80s; again, it doesn't matter that much; I'm just placing her in the twentieth century to keep the rough order of events the same, kind of.) I'm approaching this with the assumption that Alice and Jasper still become vampires in the same way/at the same time as they do in canon; they just meet at different times. I'm not dealing with the Confederate thing here, though, because I'll be dealing with it in Rule One.

I'm gonna go ahead and put it all under the cut. (And if your experience of Rule One is more invested in the potential for wholesome romance than the yandere aspect, maybe the rest of this isn't for you, because this is definitely more yandere-leaning, lol.)

Alice-Sadie

Alice knows three things: 1. Her own name. 2. That she is going to join the Cullens. 3. That Sadie, whom she has not yet met, is her soulmate.

Though she slips up every now and then, Alice does her best not to eat humans. She wants to fit in with the Cullens by the time she finds them, so she's accustoming herself to the animal diet. Anyway, she has a mate out there whom she will meet as a human, and she has to get herself under control before she can risk being around her.

The thing is, Alice knows about Sadie before Sadie is actually an option, so she has to kill time so that she doesn't meet Sadie too early. And Alice hates waiting, so she goes ahead and introduces herself to the Cullens before Sadie. She tells them all about how she'll have a soulmate soon, and how it's killing her to keep her distance but she knows things will be way better if she never meets Sadie as a child. She decorates her room with things that Sadie likes, anticipating that one day she'll be sharing the room with Sadie. Honestly, if it weren't for Edward's mind reading, the rest of the Cullens might think Sadie was an imaginary friend or something.

(Rosalie would normally take issue with Alice's plans to intrude on the life of a human she's never met just because of a potential future where they're in love, but she doesn't really take Alice's fantasizing seriously until it's too late.)

One day, Alice just sort of disappears from the Cullen house, and only Edward knows where she's gone.

Sadie is finally at the right age; it's time.

Alice appears in Sadie's life, and everything she says and does is perfect. She rockets from stranger to friend to best friend at an impressive rate, her precognition easily compensating for Sadie's hesitancy (and Sadie would start off more wary than she is in Rule One, due to the time period). Having left the rest of the Cullens, for the time being, there is nothing (read: no one) holding Alice back from being absolutely surgical about making herself important in Sadie's life and subtly isolating her. She gives expensive gifts, and comprehensive compliments, and she always knows what to say to make Sadie like and trust her more.

When Sadie starts to become suspicious about the evolution of their friendship, Alice drops the vampire bomb and the soulmate bomb all at once, showing Sadie her speed and strength and sparkles. There was no better way to do it. Alice checked; this was the absolute best set of circumstances for the reveal.

Sadie asks for time to process the information. She asks for space. Alice graciously allows it; she's practically living with Sadie at this point, anyway. (Not that Sadie knows it. But yeah, she's in Sadie's house pretty much 24/7 (minus her hunting trips), dodging notice with stealth and psychic powers.)

When Sadie is ready to talk again, Alice pours out every reassurance: how she will never stop loving her; how she would never hurt her; how she thinks about her all the time and loves her so much. Sadie isn't fully won over by the whole vampire lover concept, but Alice does convince her to come meet her family.

They go to the Cullen house. Alice shows her off to everyone, and Rosalie is stunned, and Emmett laughs incredulously. Edward and Carlisle make polite introductions, and Esme hugs her, just glad to see Alice so happy. (Esme has been so worried about her newest daughter, so flighty and constantly pining for someone who wasn't there. And then she disappeared, and anything could have happened to her! But now she's back, and she's brought someone lovely, and she looks happier than Esme has ever seen her.) Carlisle and Edward give Sadie a more in-depth explanation of how vampires operate and why the bond between mates is a big deal. Esme cooks her a huge meal. Before they know it, nighttime has come, and Sadie falls asleep in Alice's room.

She wasn't drugged or anything; Alice just perfectly orchestrated a set of circumstances in which she would be tired by this exact time.

When she wakes up, Alice is an utter angel, offering her breakfast and a bath and telling her that there's more to see, around the house. She hasn't seen Rosalie's garage, yet! She hasn't seen Esme's garden. And soon enough she's sleeping over again.

On that third day at the house, Rosalie pulls Sadie aside to say that she'll drive Sadie home, if Sadie needs her to. But Alice has done her job well; Sadie likes Alice, and she likes the Cullens, and most of all, she's so curious about vampires and the world thereof. She's willing to stay and learn, provided she can visit her friends and family, and provided Alice doesn't try to change her. She fills several journals with what she learns about vampires, all in the span of a single year. She learns so much, and she's never satisfied that she's learned enough.

When Alice asks her to let Carlisle change her, she chooses exactly the right conversation, exactly the right approach, and exactly the right time. Sadie agrees and becomes a vampire. (She kind of has to, for this prompt, lol.) Rosalie is annoyed, but she knows that Sadie thought the matter over thoroughly.

When the day comes that Alice sees Jasper in their future, she drags Sadie off to meet him, barely explaining herself beyond "We have another mate!". Sadie goes along with it because she's used to Alice's antics.

They meet this crimson-eyed, roguishly handsome vampire, and Jasper is pretty instantly enthralled with them both. He's curious about their golden eyes, charmed by Alice's forwardness, and amused by Sadie's mix of intrigue and wariness. The emotional flavor of Alice's joy and cheerfulness, and of Sadie's curiosity and uncertainty, are enough to pretty much have him wrapped around their fingers right away.

Sadie's reaction is more "Ohhhh, Alice, this guy eats people..."

Alice just goes, "It's okay. Jasper will be willing to change his diet if we ask him to. Won't you, Jasper?"

And it's so presumptuous, but also he's into it, because Sadie has already made it clear that eating humans is a deal-breaker for her, and he doesn't want this meeting to end.

He joins the family, and it feels like the best thing ever; he has two amazing soulmates, and he belongs to a large coven that will always be safe from strangers. The animal-eating thing is a downside, but there's no help for that.

The dynamic for the next little while is that Alice is already in love with both Jasper and Sadie, Jasper is already in love with Alice and Sadie, and Sadie is in love with Alice and polite to Jasper but isn't quite sure about him. Like, she's in a peculiar place of "We are soulmates, and I do like you and feel an attraction to you, and I understand how our personalities are good together, but I don't know how long it'll take me to become comfortable with your past", and Jasper is just falling over himself to earn her approval, but she's comfortable with allowing it to take time.

(Rosalie is secretly very entertained by the whole thing, and Emmett is not-so-secretly entertained.)

Unlike in canon, Jasper would never suggest eating any human ever again; even once Sadie is comfortable with him, he never wants to risk making her doubt him the way she did in the beginning.

Jasper-Sadie

So at this point in his life, Jasper is eating people. His eyes are bright red, and he is ruthless, and Alice isn't around to temper that side of him.

This is absolutely a kidnapping situation.

When he runs into Sadie (entirely by happenstance), he doesn't know immediately that he is in love with her; he just knows that he wants to follow her, so he does. He stalks after her like he has stalked lots of prey in the past. Her blood doesn't sing to him, though; after several hours of just tailing her, he realizes that he just likes to hear her breathe and speak and laugh. He likes to look at her. He likes to taste her emotions on the air. He likes this human.

Then he realizes that he's in love with her, as much as Peter is in love with Charlotte.

He never wants to stop looking at her, listening to her talk...

He manages to get her alone, and he introduces himself in a charismatic, gentlemanly fashion. He kisses the back of her hand (managing to ignore the feel and sound of her pulse so close; he shouldn't take a risk like that again) and says, "Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is Jasper Whitlock. May I ask what your name is?"

She notices the coldness of his skin and the redness of his eyes (and again, time-period-wise, this interaction is very weird), but he is sending her the most powerful waves of comfort and calm that he can. She is dazed and perplexed, but not afraid, as she answers, "I'm Sadie Gilder."

It's the most beautiful name he has ever heard.

He abducts her pretty much then and there; he leads her away with a request that she accompany him and a heavy layer of mood control. Sadie is able to break out of the daze (through sheer overthinking) after they've walked together awhile; by the time she asks, "Wait, where are we?", they've reached the secluded mansion of an old widow.

(Jasper doesn't need a place to sleep, but his Sadie does, so he quickly identified this place as the best option.)

The order in which Jasper eats the occupants of the house and brings Sadie inside the house is up to your imagination, as is whether or not Sadie ends up seeing any bodies or seeing him with blood on his face and clothes. Either way, just the kidnapping itself is enough to have Sadie panicking, and he hates to feel her fear.

He holds her, gives her calming energy, and whispers to her. "Don't be scared. I won't hurt you, Perfect Sadie. I won't eat you. You're too special. Just gonna keep you right here." (He's just eaten a lot of people, so he's okay with breathing right next to her, so that he can keep whispering to her.) She falls asleep in his arms. He doesn't stop holding her, and he doesn't stop whispering. (Also, remember how the first thing he says to Sadie in Rule One is that she's warm and soft? Yeah, he still says that, pretty much verbatim, in this scenario. I'm not putting it in quotes, because it sounds dirty in a kidnapping context, but he for sure says it.)

The next day, since he's keeping up the comforting vibes to keep her from being afraid, Sadie asks Jasper a lot of questions. He tells her everything he knows about vampires. He isn't fully versed in vampire mating, so he isn't able to really inform her that his obsession with her is, to some degree, an inherent vampire trait, but he is very good at conveying to her that he is obsessed.

With no one to tell him to cool it with his power, and with his diet of human blood making his power more potent than it would be on animal blood, Jasper uses it at pretty much full capacity every time, instead of subtle shifts in emotion. So, while Sadie does notice that it's happening, she can't keep herself from the effects of his power by self-awareness alone.

He generally doses her with the same kind of peaceful calm he uses when he meets strange vampires for the first time, instead of the lethargic calm he uses to keep prey docile. He uses the latter when he wants her to sleep, but for the most part he just wants her to be unfearful and communicative.

She eats the food that's in the house. When he's able to convince himself to leave her unattended (usually after he's put her to sleep), he picks up more groceries and abducts some humans for himself. He keeps them in the cellar, far enough away from Sadie that she needn't know they're there but close enough that he can still hear her when he goes down to eat them. It's actually very convenient, not to have to hunt often; he just has to pop down to the cellar and enjoy a few of the already-injured occupants. Having a steady home has its upside. It's a shame someone will eventually notice the widow missing and he'll have to move with Sadie. But there will always be another empty mansion, or a mansion that can be easily made empty.

(When it's time to change homes, Jasper carries Sadie to the new destination while she's sleeping.)

Partially due to the mood control and partially due to the upfront-ness of everything, there's honestly very little tension between them. There's fear, sometimes (The one time Sadie tries to leave the mansion while Jasper is eating, he runs up from the cellar to stop her, and he's still covered in blood, and she's terrified, and it takes him a lot of soothing to get her calm again. It upsets him when she's scared.), but no tension. Sadie would like to leave, but she gathers that she can't, so all there is to do is maneuver within the new situation and learn more about her captor.

And neither of them is inherently a romantic. Jasper loves her, but even he isn't under the impression that they're dating or something. As far as he's concerned, he's keeping her; as far as she's concerned, she's studying him. Jasper is ecstatic with the arrangement, and Sadie is as comfortable as the situation allows.

Peter and Charlotte follow Jasper's scent at some point, wanting to hang out, and Jasper socializes with them outside the mansion, explaining that they can't go in because there's a human inside whom he is invested in keeping alive, and he can't risk them eating her. When they learn that he's in love, they ask if he plans on changing her, but he says that he can't yet. His control isn't good enough.

One day, Alice shows up.

She meets Jasper while he's in town, gathering food for Sadie and himself. They still have the little "You kept me waiting" "My apologies" flirtation, but he's a little more guarded, because he has to get back to Sadie, and as much as he is already beguiled by this weird-eyed stranger, he doesn't want her following him home. She's a vampire, and no vampires are allowed near his Sadie.

Alice really wants to skip the wooing; she's already seen herself with Jasper and Sadie. But she knows that mentioning Sadie too soon could make Jasper defensive, so she has to sprinkle herself slowly into Jasper's life, meeting him when he comes to town and letting his instinctive attraction and fondness for her grow into trust over a span of months (even moving towns when he does). She doesn't say anything about him switching to an animal diet, either; she tells him that she eats animals, but trying to influence him at this stage could alter her chances of seeing Sadie. Better to just let him murder.

Once they're at the right place, trust-wise, she tells him that she is already as in love with Sadie as she is with him, due to her psychic visions, and she asks to meet her. At first, Jasper isn't ready, but after she's asked a few more times, he allows it.

Alice has to be extra careful, because she wants to just run and hug Sadie as soon as she sees her, but if she makes a sudden move, Jasper will react badly. (Especially since the speed that comes with her small frame makes her a genuine threat to Sadie, even with Jasper there.) Not to mention, she has to endear herself to Sadie, whose only experience with vampires has been abduction.

"Sadie Lily Gilder," Alice says, barely restraining her excitement. "I am Alice Cullen. I'm your other soulmate."

Sadie is mostly perplexed and a little exasperated, but Jasper feels suddenly as if the sun has broken through the clouds. (Which means a lot, since he was already happy before.) Alice's joy at finally getting to see Sadie seems to fill the room, and this is his first time hearing Sadie's middle name, and...

"I like seeing you together," he realizes.

For the next few months, Alice is allowed to visit Sadie every now and then, under full supervision from Jasper. He can feel that she loves Sadie as much as he does, but he's still got to be careful. Humans are so fragile, and he's used to only trusting himself. When she comes, Alice brings Sadie little gifts that she never thought to ask Jasper before. She brings a new spritely energy to the house that Sadie comes to enjoy.

The following few months, (and after Jasper has watched her hunt animals) she's allowed to stay over full-time. They watch Sadie sleep, together. She's able to answer more of Sadie's questions.

Alice introduces Jasper to the idea of joining a family she's seen in their future. He doesn't want that many vampires around their Sadie, but as always, Alice says just the right things: they're all animal eaters; she hasn't seen a single future where any of them hurt Sadie; and the eldest of them could change Sadie for them.

(She also has to convince Sadie to want to become immortal with them, since she knows that Carlisle and Edward would be against turning her against her will. It helps that Sadie has been captured by a vampire for a while, now, and being a vampire herself would give her a chance of exerting some control over her future.)

When they meet the Cullens, Alice acts like they're already best friends. Jasper is more formal in asking the patriarch if he can change Sadie for them.

Edward calls them out on kidnapping Sadie, but Sadie points out that, unless things come to blows between the Cullens and Alice and Jasper, the only way for her to no longer be kidnapped is by becoming a vampire.

So Carlisle changes her, and she stays with the Cullens so that she can have someone to help her overcome her thirst during her newborn years without slipping up and hurting someone. Alice and Jasper stay with the Cullens, too (and the Cullens tell Jasper that he has to switch to the animal diet if he wants to stay). Eventually, all three of them are close enough to various members of the Cullen family that they just sort of become part of it.

Having been kidnapped at the start of all this, though, Sadie exerts her autonomy in pretty much every way. In her newborn years, in which she is more temperamental (though that isn't saying much; she's still pretty mellow by newborn vampire standards), she confronts Jasper for what he did, and he pretty much just takes it; things have worked out pretty great for him, so it's only fair to let her get it off her chest. Sadie can feel the bond between her and Alice and Jasper, but she can also feel that he didn't have to do what he did. She goes to visit her human family, once she knows that she won't eat them; she and Rosalie go on lengthy road trips; she and Emmett go to football games; she goes volunteering and home renovating with Esme; she learns languages and musical instruments from Edward; she learns vampire history from Carlisle and even joins him on a trip to Volterra.

She lets Alice buy her clothes but overall gives Jasper a wide berth.

Alice, having gained full trust from Jasper, is able to convince him to allow Sadie her space for a while, as she comes to terms with everything that happened. Jasper agrees, since Sadie isn't so fragile anymore and he knows that Alice is keeping an eye on her. So long as they know where Sadie is at all times, and so long as she is accompanied by at least one of the Cullens, he can bear to spend uninterrupted one-on-one time with his newest mate, especially if doing so will help Sadie to forgive him.

The diet of animal blood makes him less wild (but more tense, as he can feel that he is weaker), and the newness of everything in Sadie's life raises her spirits. Maybe eventually she'll be willing to hang out with him again, but it'll take a few years.

[sankyeom]

letters | j.b

pairings: jacob bae x reader, a few elements of younghoon x reader but only a bit genre: college au, strangers to lovers summary: in which jacob accidentally gives you a love letter meant for someone else word count: 3.9k requested: nope! i saw the picture i used for my header on the boyz’s twitter and it just screamed college au so here we are 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“Are you sure a love letter is the right way to go?” Kevin asked Jacob, a brow raised in concern. “You don’t want to, I don’t know, get their number and just text them?” he suggested. Jacob shot him a pointed look, causing Kevin to raise both his hands in defence. “Just an idea,” the younger boy mumbled, stepping aside so Jacob could face the door.

It had been approximately two months since Jacob first saw his crush in his history class. After endless pining and staring, Kevin and Hyunjae encouraged him to confess to his crush, or at the very least speak to them. Jacob had been far too shy to do so, and instead decided to pour out his feelings into a lovely letter.

Said letter, written with the neatest handwriting Jacob could muster on sky blue paper, was now clasped in Jacob’s hands as he and Kevin stood outside his crush’s dorm. “Is this too much?” Jacob wondered. Kevin smiled, shaking his head. “Okay,” Jacob whispered, bending over and slipping the note under the door.

On the other side of the door, you were sitting at your desk and studying your vocabulary for your upcoming French midterm. Once the letter was completely out of Jacob’s sight, he stood back up again and let out a sigh of relief.

“Great,” Kevin patted his friend on the shoulder. “Now let’s get something to eat, I’m literally starving,” he exaggerated as the door next to yours opened.

Jacob’s mouth dropped open in shock as his crush exited the room next to yours, chatting with their roommate as the two trudged down the hallway past them. “That-“ Jacob stammered, pointing at his crush’s back. “That’s-“ The colour drained from Jacob’s face as he turned paler by the second.

Kevin seemed to have enough sense to realise what was happening as his hand came to cover his mouth, eyes widening in surprise behind his glasses. “You mean-“ he pointed at the door Jacob had slipped his letter under, then back at his crush walking away from them. “That isn’t-“ Jacob frantically shook his head, indicating that he had indeed put his letter under the wrong person’s door. “Oh gosh.”

After an hour of studying, you finally had enough as you closed your laptop and took ahold of your phone, texting Younghoon to see if he wanted to get some coffee with you. Your best friend had replied with a pleased affirmative, telling you that he would swing by your dorm so you could go to the campus coffee shop together before it closed.

As you did a visual sweep of your room to try and find your wallet, something blue caught your eye: a little blue envelope at the foot of your door. Someone must have slipped it under the crack at the bottom of your door while you were studying, since you hadn’t noticed it when you came back to your dorm. Curious, you got up to collect the little envelope and read what was on it.

To the one who makes my heart soar

You blinked. That was unexpected. Your brows furrowed together as you opened the envelope and read the letter that had carefully been placed inside.

You probably don’t know who I am, so let me introduce myself. My name is Jacob Bae. I’ve seen you in class for the past two months and I think you’re incredibly beautiful. I never considered myself to be somebody shallow who focuses only on looks, but something about you makes me want to gaze at you all day long. I’m sorry if that sounds weird. Your smile gives me butterflies when I see it. Sometimes I get jealous of whoever made it appear because I wish I was the cause for it. I want to get to know you better. I want to know what else makes you smile. You’re very extroverted and confident. I’m more on the shy side most of the time. I like when classes meet late at night because it means that I get to see you when I end my day. My heart beats faster when I’m near you. Sometimes you walk past me to get to your seat and I feel like I might stop breathing. I hope this didn’t make you uncomfortable.

You felt a little embarrassed once you had finished reading. It wasn’t just a note, it was a love letter. Dedicated to you. You had never received a love letter from anybody before, nonetheless somebody you weren’t even familiar with.

“Y/n!” Younghoon called, knocking eagerly on your door. You easily opened it, revealing your smiley best friend. “Ready to go?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take.

“Almost,” you said. Instead of taking his hand, you held up the blue paper with a raised eyebrow. “How do you reject someone?”

Taking a sip of coffee at the table in the campus coffee shop, Younghoon was thrilled to listen to your recap. “Wait a second,” he interrupted your explanation. “Did you say his name was Jacob Bae?” he inquired. You nodded, showing him the letter as evidence. “I know him! He’s friends with Hyunjae and Juyeon,” Younghoon recalled, taking out his phone to show you a picture of him.

You observed the brunet in the Instagram post on Younghoon’s screen. At first glance you could tell that he was attractive. He had big eyes and a kind smile, and after a few moments of scrutinisation you discerned that you recognised Jacob Bae. The two of you shared a Sociology class together. The longer you studied the image, the longer Younghoon studied your expression. “You think he’s cute,” Younghoon stated.

Clearing your throat, you handed the phone back to him and avoided his eyes. You and Younghoon had been friends for so long that you could easily read each other’s expressions with eye contact alone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied. “You said he’s friends with Hyunjae and Juyeon?” Younghoon nodded, pocketing his phone. “I guess I know where to go to give him my response, then.”

Younghoon pouted, eyes rounded and lower lip pushed out. “Go easy on him, okay? He’s really nice. Like, really nice. I’m sure he just thought you were really pretty.”

You sighed. “I guess so. And as rare of an occasion as that is, I still can’t accept the confession of someone who I barely know,” you retorted.

“Hey,” Younghoon dropped the puppy face and frowned. “Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous,” he assured you, and by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes you knew that he was being honest.

Locating Hyunjae and Juyeon in the dining hall was easy enough. The two of them sat with their friends at the same table for almost every single meal, and that evening was no exception. “They’re over there,” you pointed them out to Younghoon. Hyunjae was laughing so hard he was clutching the table in front of him for support at something a black-haired, glasses-wearing boy said to him.

“Hi guys,” Younghoon greeted when the two of you reached the table.

“Younghoon!” Hyunjae exclaimed happily. His eyes always shimmered when he was happy. “Y/n, take a seat you two,” he offered graciously, shuffling up the bench and making room for you both. “This is Kevin,” he introduced the black-haired boy opposite him. Kevin waved at you with a bright smile before giving his attention back to his lunch.

Younghoon and Hyunjae engaged in conversation about their math class, and your eyes flitted across the dining hall to see if you could catch sight of Jacob anywhere. Soon enough, he was making his way over to the table, eyes focused on his phone rather than the path his feet were leading him on. “Hey Jacob,” Kevin greeted his friend brightly.

Jacob looked up from his phone. “Hey Kevin,” he replied before meeting eyes with you.

It was the first time you had been face-to-face, and Jacob was momentarily startled by the new person that sat at his regular table. He stopped in his place, taking his time to take in your features, and could only come to one conclusion: you were absolutely stunning. Jacob was about to introduce himself when he caught sight of the blue envelope on your tray. His entire body froze, eyes wide and lips pursed slightly. Not only were you beautiful, you were the person he accidentally confessed to in a love letter meant for someone else. Confused, Kevin followed Jacob’s line of vision before finding the envelope.

You gave Jacob your best smile despite the fact that you felt like cringing. “Do you have a minute?” you wondered, gently picking the letter up. Wordlessly, Jacob nodded and followed you out of the dining hall, shooting Kevin a worried look behind you. Kevin only shrugged and mirrored his concerned expression. “So…” you trailed off once the two of you were alone.

“Um, you found my letter,” Jacob observed, clasping his hands together to keep him from fidgeting.

“Well, you did put it in my dorm,” you replied with a small laugh. “Um… I don’t really know you very well. And I’m really sorry but I can’t say that I reciprocate your feelings.”

The way you rejected him was so formal that Jacob almost laughed, but then he realised that he was being rejected and he felt his heart hurt a little. The confession wasn’t even for you, and yet you were still rejecting him. The thought made his stomach feel uneasy. “Oh,” was all Jacob could say, nodding his head. “Do you think I could have that back?” he wondered, pointing at the blue envelope. It would be the only thing that could lessen his embarrassment. You easily passed the letter over to him, not heavily attached to it despite the fact that it was the first love letter you ever received. “Thanks.”

“I guess having lunch together might be weird, so I can go somewhere else if you want,” you offered him. Jacob was touched by your thoughtfulness, and it was enough to make a small smile appear on his lips. Jacob was handsome, but you thought he was spectacular when he smiled.

“That’s okay,” Jacob refused your offer. “It’s just a letter.”

When the two of you returned to the table, Jacob realised why you were so gracious while rejecting his offer. The way your eyes lit up when you caught sight of Younghoon, how you easily slipped your hand into his after he opened your drink for you and procured a metal straw from his jacket pocket for you. How you admired Younghoon when he laughed, eyes shaped like crescent moons.

You liked Younghoon; you wouldn’t be waiting for any confession from Jacob or anybody else any time soon.

Not that Jacob could blame you. Younghoon was handsome in a way that made other guys jealous, and he was also goofy and kind. Plus, the two of you seemed to know each other like the back of your hands. The letter wasn’t even for you, it was meant for somebody else. So why couldn’t Jacob look away from you?

“How did that go?” Kevin asked as he and Jacob got up to put their trays away at the end of their meal.

Jacob shrugged, leading the way back to the dorms. “She said she didn’t feel the same. I asked for the letter back. She gave it to me.”

“That’s good, then,” Kevin concluded with a smile. “Sounds like it could have been a lot worse.”

Jacob hummed, a vague sound that didn’t indicate how he felt. “Do you know that guy she was with?”

“Younghoon?” Kevin asked. “Yeah, he’s close with Hyunjae and Juyeon so he’s around sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Jacob hums. “He’s really handsome.”

Kevin chuckles. “Right? When he walks around campus with Hyunjae and Juyeon, everyone just stares at them as they pass. Lucky guys.”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. Younghoon was lucky. And not just because he was blessed with good looks. The image of you playfully feeding Younghoon a forkful of your lunch came to Jacob’s mind. “Really lucky.”

Kevin was hilarious. And he got along with you really well. This prompted you and Younghoon to start eating with Jacob and his group of friends at every chance you got. During one of the many dinners you had been spending with them, Younghoon hadn’t shown up at first. Jacob thought this might be his chance to speak to you more, but he decided against it out of embarrassment with the love letter situation.

“Where’s Younghoon?” Kevin asked, voicing Jacob’s thoughts.

You smiled. “I see him right over there,” you said, pulling a funny face by sticking your tongue out when your eyes met Younghoon’s across the room. Kevin giggled at your expression, and Jacob couldn’t help but think that you looked gorgeous when you were this carefree. Your hair had been styled away from your face, further exposing your features to Jacob’s affectionate eyes.

Kevin was saw the look on his friend’s face. Jacob had been observing you in a way that Kevin could only imagine him observing his crush. Hiding a smirk, Kevin decided against disturbing Jacob’s gaze and struck up a conversation with Juyeon.

“Hey, you,” Younghoon greeted you as he slid into the seat next to you. “Sorry I’m late. I brought you a gift,” he teased, placing a tiny green tea swiss roll slice from the convenience store.

Your eyes lit up and you took the packaged pastry. “You’re an angel, Kim Younghoon,” you told him. Younghoon giggled, rolling his eyes at your excitement before greeting the others. He seemed to take notice of Jacob persistently peering at you the same way Kevin had.

“Jacob, right?” Younghoon snapped Jacob out of his stare. The two met eyes and Younghoon offered him a friendly smile. “We’re the same age!” Younghoon told him. “We should be friends,” he added.

Jacob nodded, reminding himself to smile. Younghoon was friendly and considerate; it wasn’t his fault that he was blind to the fact that Y/n liked him as more than a friend. “Definitely,” Jacob accorded with a nod. Then, his eyes went back to you. “You like the green tea flavour?” he asked you.

You had already abandoned your dinner in favour of unpacking the swiss role slice, pausing to acknowledge Jacob. “It’s my favourite,” you said with a smile so pure it made Jacob blush.

“I like the green tea flavour too. But chocolate is my favourite,” Jacob replied.

“Younghoonie likes strawberry,” you informed. “With all three of us, we’re a perfect set,” you added happily, referring to how swiss roles came in single slices or in a set of three flavours. Then, recalling how Jacob said he liked it, you broke off some of your swiss role and handed it over to him. Blush intensifying, Jacob accepted the treat with a whisper of a thanks.

You and Jacob never spoke of the letter. It was something you had silently agreed upon, and it just made things easier for you both. Jacob had started sitting with you during your Sociology lecture. Jacob found that you were a little more shy in class, preferring to only participate when it came to clarifying questions that you needed help with rather than answering. The way your brows pulled together and lips pursed when you concentrated was adorable, and Jacob found himself paying more attention to you than your professor.

“Thank god it’s Friday and this mess is over,” you sighed happily. “You ready to go?” Jacob nodded, reaching for his bag before the two of you made your way to the dining hall. You had been giggling at Jacob’s impression of your boring professor when you noticed Younghoon waiting for you outside the dining hall. “Hey Younghoonie,” you greeted him.

Jacob frowned. Younghoon had been dressed in a pair of dark pants with a button up shirt and a nice tan-coloured coat. He looked like a runway model standing by the footsteps leading to the dining hall, and Jacob felt jealous. Not just about the way Younghoon looked, but the way he commanded attention with his height and posture as well. And he certainly had your attention.

Younghoon smiled. “Do you feel like eating out?” he offered with a slight tilt of his head. “My treat. I’m really in the mood for convenience store cup noodles,” he added.

It was impossible for you to not smile back at him. “Sounds good,” you agreed. “As long as it’s your treat.”

Suddenly, Jacob felt like he was intruding. “I’ll see you guys later,” he excused himself with a wave, walking up the steps towards the dining hall to leave you and Younghoon alone.

At the convenience store, you were picking out what noodles you wanted to eat when the colourful treats in the refrigerated section caught your eye. Scanning the shelves, you found what you were looking for and took a pack, happily making your way to the cashier where Younghoon was waiting for you.

His eyes surveyed the colourful packet and he rose an eyebrow. “I thought you only like the green tea flavour?” he asked, motioning to the trio packet of swiss rolls in your hand.

You nodded. “You like strawberry and Jacob likes chocolate,” you told him with a smile. Younghoon paused in place, surprised by your words. He knew that you and Jacob were becoming acquaintances due to your shared Sociology class, but he hadn’t expected you to go out of your way to buy him something. Shrugging, Younghoon passed your food to the cashier and paid for your food.

“Hey,” Kevin greeted you once you and Younghoon sat down at the table in the dining hall with your food. You had both decided it was too cold to sit outside the convenience store and eat, so you made your way back to the University instead. “Nice haul,” he added.

You smiled, greeting him back before taking out the swiss rolls in your pocket. “Here,” you said, taking out the small chocolate roll and offering the packaged treat to Jacob. Jacob simply stared at it. “You said you like chocolate,” you added when Jacob didn’t take it. Kevin raised his arm to cough, using it as an excuse to elbow Jacob on the way back down.

“Oh,” Jacob said, reaching out for the roll. “Thank you,” you didn’t miss the way his fingers brushed against your palm, and the way it tickled slightly. You didn’t mind, though. The slight brush of your hands made you bite your lower lip to suppress a smile, Jacob doing the same with flushed cheeks.

“You like Jacob. Don’t you?” Younghoon asked. During one of your study sessions, Younghoon had gone crazy trying to figure out your feelings. Usually, you were an open book to him. On this matter, you seemed to be closed off.

Startled at the abrupt question, you glanced up from your review packet. Younghoon’s eyes were always soft and comforting. This time, it had been too much for you. You sighed. “Why do you ask?” you inquired.

“Y/n,” Younghoon replied in a kind tone. “He already confessed to you. Why don’t you just tell him?” he wondered.

You bit your lip. “I didn’t like him when he confessed,” you retorted. “I liked someone else.”

And there it was.

Younghoon sighed, closing his eyes. His eyes were warm and comforting and felt like home. When he closed them, you feared for the worst. “Y/n,” he said slowly. “We can’t. You know we can’t.”

You knew what he was referring to.

The elephant in the room.

The mutual, romantic feelings you and Younghoon had for each other. Neither of you were blind to it. And yet, you had never addressed it. Partly because you were afraid of ruining your friendship, but mostly because you knew it would never work out. It simply wasn’t meant to. “I know,” you admitted. “But you’re right. I do like Jacob.”

Younghoon’s eyes opened. They were still warm and still felt like home, but filled with pain. When he smiled, it was genuine. “You should tell him,” he said quietly. “I can’t do this with you and you can’t do this with me. But you like Jacob and Jacob can barely speak when you’re around,” you smiled at his comment, having experienced rendering Jacob speechless a few times. Younghoon laughed. “And you have that look on your face whenever you think about him. So you should tell him.”

Your best friend’s encouragement was genuine.

So you took out a piece of binder paper and started writing.

Dear Jacob. By now, you know who I am because I’ve gotten to know you now. And I know who you are too. I also figured out that letter you sent wasn’t for me. That’s one of the reasons it was so easy to tell you I didn’t feel the same. Your letter described someone confident who you saw during night classes. You and I always sit together in our morning classes, and I don’t like to speak up in class. But you know that by now. And I don’t think it matters that your letter wasn’t for me. You still make me smile when I see you, and I love the way I make you blush. I love that you eat the leftover swiss roll because Younghoon and I don’t like the chocolate flavour. I like that you can say more with a single look than you can with an entire conversation. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like you. And I hope I didn’t read this wrong because that would be really embarrassing. I hope you like me too.

Jacob couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face as he read the letter that you had slipped into his bag during your Sociology lecture. Kevin was growing impatient. “What does it say?” he pleaded, desperately wanting to know what was making Jacob smile larger than Kevin had ever seen.

“It’s a love letter,” Jacob said, warmth spreading through his chest. “And I need to go,” he handed the letter over to Kevin – since his younger friend seemed to be dying of curiosity – and made his way to the dorms he knew you were staying in.

When he arrived at your dorm and knocked on the door, you looked happy to see him. You smiled. “Are you sure you have the right room?” you asked him. It was a little joke, but Jacob knew what you were really asking. Are you sure you like me back?

“I’m sure,” Jacob promised, stepping through the threshold of the door and tenderly placing one hand on your cheek and the other behind your neck. Grinning, you allowed him to pull you towards him, lips meeting in a gentle kiss. You brushed your lips against his, slowly at first, and then with a passion and zeal you didn’t know you possessed.

You pulled away for a moment, lips throbbing slightly. “Don’t think I’m not expecting a letter actually addressed to me because-“ Jacob laughed, connecting your lips to cut you off.

“I will write you as many letters and poems and songs as you want,” Jacob mumbled, lips grazing yours as he spoke. His eyes looked so much more bewitching up close, and you easily wound your arms around his waist in a hug.

“I’m holding you to that,” you insisted, leaning in for another kiss.

[ragingpancake]

Times Like These - Chapter One

Summary: In which Rodney is very much not happy when his boyfriend suddenly finds himself six years old again, courtesy of those wacky Ancients. I, I'm a new day rising I'm a brand new sky To hang the stars upon tonight I am a little divided Do I stay or run away And leave it all behind?

“Unscheduled off-world activation!”

The sound of the Gate activating tears through the control tower, startling Elizabeth from her office. There’s only one team off-world and they weren’t due back for another day and a half, their next scheduled check in much later that evening.

“Who is it?”

“I’m reading Teyla’s IDC, ma’am,” Chuck says and Elizabeth gestures for him to open up a channel, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for Chuck’s nod.

“Teyla,” she greets, “a little early for your check in. Everything alright?”

There’s a muffled response that sounds suspiciously like Rodney before Teyla speaks, and though her voice is calm, the entire tower can pick up on the slightest bit of concern in her tone. “We have run into a… bit of a problem,” she hesitates and Elizabeth nods for Chuck to lower the shield.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Not exactly, but perhaps it would be best to explain to you in person.”

“The shield’s down. Come on through.”

“Very well.” Another pause. “Elizabeth… it might be wise if you have Doctor Beckett on standby.”

“We’ll have a medical team brought in immediately.”

“Not a full team,” Teyla warns. “Just Doctor Beckett will suffice.”

There’s another beat, Elizabeth’s head cocking to the side as she considers. “What exactly are we dealing with?”

“If I told you now, you wouldn’t believe me. We are coming through the Gate.”

The radio cuts off and less than a moment later, AR-1 steps through the event horizon, or at least three of them do. Elizabeth comes down the stairs, eyes scanning her people for any sign of illness or injury as she waits for Beckett and for John, but the event horizon closes and something catches in her throat.

“Where’s Colonel Sheppard?”

Teyla and Ronon share a look and for the first time, she notices the lump in Ronon’s arms, covered with a jacket.

“In case you’ve missed the memo,” Rodney snaps, gesturing broadly to Ronon, “this entire fucking galaxy is littered with stupid machines courtesy of those wacky Ancients that have horrible, no good, completely asinine purposes and so here we are.”

“Rodney,” Teyla admonishes gently.

They’re all saved a response with Carson arrives, looking a bit confused and Elizabeth can sympathize, because she still has no idea what’s going on. “I’ll ask again,” she says, keeping her voice even, “where is Colonel Sheppard?”

Rodney moves as if to pull the jacket from Ronon’s arms, but Teyla stops him with a hand to his chest and very carefully, gently, she pulls it back to reveal a small child with a crop of dark, unruly hair. He’s asleep (or unconscious, likely, given how the commotion has not woken him), long lashes brushing against pale cheeks. “Bloody hell!”

“Is that--?”

“Colonel Sheppard, yes,” Teyla finishes, tucking the jacket around the tiny body again, hiding him from view. “I am certain that the Colonel would appreciate it if we could move our discussion from the gate room.” She settles a hand on Ronon’s shoulder as Carson steps forward as if to get another, closer look at the boy, but he must see something on Ronon’s face that stops him short.

“Right. Er… c’mon then, bring the lad this way. We’ll get him to the infirmary, under some scans and find out exactly what we’re dealin’ with.”

“What we’re dealing with is another example of how it’s not actually the Wraith that are the bad guys in this narrative, but the Ancients,” Rodney says scathingly and while the team sets off for the infirmary, he starts in the opposite direction, intent on locking himself in his lab until all of this blows over.

Or at least intent on scouring the database to figure out what he needs to piece that god damned machine back together after Ronon blasted it into six million pieces.

Easy.

---

They all wait with baited breath as the scanner makes another pass over the little boy—over John, she has to remind herself. He’s still unconscious and the circles under his eyes look darker now in the harsh infirmary light and Elizabeth crosses her eyes, never pulling her eyes away.

“Okay,” she says, lifting a hand to chew on her thumbnail. “Walk me through this again. You were exploring an Ancient outpost.”

Ronon growls in frustration, hands digging into his dreads at the thought of having to go through this again, but Teyla remains unbothered.

“Correct. Rodney was picking up a strong energy signal. The outpost was empty, but there was a machine in the very center of a large dais, pulsating. Once Rodney determined that it was the cause of the signal, he decided that perhaps we should get a closer look, fearful that it might have been similar to the one on M1B-129.”

“The one that caused the hallucinations.”

“Exactly.” Teyla’s eyes returned to the boy’s face before she continued. “John stepped up onto the dias to get a better look and the next thing we knew, he was surrounded by a blue light, screaming.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then I shot it,” Ronon answers.

“You shot it,” Elizabeth repeats.

“Uh huh. And I’d do it again. We had no way of knowing what it was doing to him, but he needed help and we needed to get him out of there.” It’s almost as if dares Elizabeth to challenge his decision, though she thinks after studying his face for just a moment, perhaps he’s reconsidering himself.

“Yes, well,” Teyla says, reaching to settle a hand on Ronon’s wrist as if to calm him. “Once the machine shut down and the blue light dissipated, John was… well.”

“Do we have any idea what this has actually done to him?” Elizabeth asks and she glances at Carson for answers, but he has none. “Is he still… him? Will he have his memories or--?”

“He has been unconscious since the machine shut down,” Teyla answers. “We are not sure exactly what the outcome will be.”

“His scans look good,” Carson answers, sighing as the machine comes to a stop. “Well. For a six year old boy, anyway. I see no ill effects from the machine, other than the obvious, but until the lad wakes, we won’t truly know what we’re dealin’ with.”

“But he will, right? Wake up?”

“I see no reason why he shouldn’t. But perhaps we ought to prepare for the worst. There’s a chance that he’ll wake up and have no idea where he is or who any of us are. Perhaps we should clear out, leave one person in here to lessen the confusion or fear.”

“I’ll do it,” Ronon answers immediately, and Elizabeth is unsure of the most delicate way to thank him for his offer while gently declining. Thankfully, Teyla speaks up again.

“No,” she answers and she smiles up at Ronon before she turns her attention back to John. “I will stay. Why don’t you go find Rodney and see if he’s managed to find anything in the database that could possibly provide answers as to what’s happened to John, but importantly, how to reverse it.”

“I’m going to send a team back through,” Elizabeth decides. “See if we can find any spare parts that weren’t destroyed that we may be able to use to retrofit one of the Ancient devices here.”

“Aye,” Carson agrees. “Teyla, if he wakes—”

“You’ll be the first to know, Carson.” And he gives her a smile, dropping a hand to her shoulder to squeeze gently. “Perhaps,” she says as he moves to take his leave, “you would be able to dim the lights? It may be startling with the bright lights once he wakes.”

“Of course, love,” and then he’s gone, leaving Elizabeth and Teyla alone.

“Never a dull day in the Pegasus Galaxy,” Elizabeth tries to joke, but she feels like it falls short when the child on the bed snuffles and turns his head to the side, face relaxing just a bit as the lights in the infirmary dim. “Keep me posted, okay?”

“Of course, Elizabeth,” Teyla replies graciously and as Elizabeth takes her leave, she thinks she hears Teyla humming something quietly… almost like a lullaby.

[moonbeamsung]

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele​ @kisshim​ @radiorenjun​

network tags: @kpopscape​ @neo-constellations​ @starryktown​ @culture-cafe​ @dreamlab-nct​

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

[ketchup-monthly]

Night Talks - Chapter 2 Bonus

Loceit (post-relationship)

TWs: self-deprecation, flower mention

They were having a quiet night in, laying together in Janus’ bed, reading, when Logan remembered something he had been meaning to ask Janus for months. He and Janus were in their night clothes, Logan in a pair of shorts and t-shirt, and Janus in a set of gold silk pajamas, with the shorter one laying on Logan’s chest, head turned to the side, looking at his e-reader. Putting a bookmark in his book to mark his page and setting the book down on the nightstand, he placed his hands around Janus’ waist.

“Are you prepared to sleep?” Janus looked up from his book, glancing at him, mismatched eyes sparkling behind blue light glasses.

He shook his head. “I have a question for you, my dear.”

While Logan felt that it may have been underhanded, asking him a personal question in the one room where he can’t lie, it was something that had been weighing on him in the back of his mind.

Janus turned off the e-reader and removed his glasses, leaning further over Logan to place them on top of the book on the side table. He settled back down on his chest, smiling at him. “Of course, love. Ask away.”

“Do you still have that deck of cards that we played gin with?”

“Yes.” He snapped his fingers, materializing the cards in his hand.

Logan took the deck and shuffled through it, taking out the jokers, and one of every face card and an ace. He looked over them again, checking to see if they were the same as they were on that day.

“Why do you ask?” Janus set his chin onto his folded hands, eyebrow cocked.

Logan showed him which cards he had taken from the rest. “I recognize the flowers on these cards, but I am afraid I’m not sure what the meaning of each of them is. Could you tell me, dearest?”

“Of course. Which card would you like me to explain first?”

Logan held up the jokers. “This one has Roman holding a red rose and Remus holding a rhododendron. I know that red roses signify romance, but what do rhododendrons symbolize? And this one has amaryllis and angelica.”

Janus smiled a bit before talking. “Roman is Thomas’ romantic, fanciful side, hence the rose, however he is also Thomas’ ego. Amaryllis means pride. Remus, as goofy as he may act, still poses a threat. Despite that, he also shares the mantle of creativity. Rhododendrons mean danger or beware and angelica mean inspiration.”

“You think Roman is prideful.”

“You do as well, love. I also think that Remus is inspirational. He deserves to hear that more, and not just from me.”

Logan caressed his scaled cheek. “He would believe you, no matter what any of the rest of us say to him.”

“I guess. Shall I explain Patton’s next?”

He excitedly switched the cards in his hand. “White camellia, blue hydrangea, white jasmine, and forget me nots. A very beautiful mix; you have a very good eye.”

“You flatter me. I am colorblind in my left eye.”

Gaze sweeping across Janus’ face, he smiled. “Fascinating.”

He cleared his throat. “White camellias mean you’re adorable, hydrangeas mean gratitude for being understood, while blue ones signify frigidity and heartlessness. White jasmine is sweet love and amiability, and forget-me-nots are, quite aptly, do not forget me.”

Logan thought for a second, placing together what Janus and Patton had gone through together. “He was one of the first to truly accept you in front of Thomas, and is widely considered the sweetest of us. However, he is not always like that, shown through his interactions with Remus. You are thankful that he understood you, and want him to remember that. You are also on good terms with him, but feel hurt that he cannot accept Remus as he has you, and still hold that grudge.”

“Brilliant as always, love.”

He pointed to the jack. “What about Virgil? White clover, red columbine, edelweiss, and coriander.”

“Think of me, anxious and trembling, course and devotion, and hidden worth. What do you think that means when put together?”

“This was just after Virgil had joined us on the other side, so you were missing him. You think very highly of Virgil, and believe that he is more than just ‘Anxiety’, you believe him to be strong, able to stand up, if not for himself, for Thomas, at the very least. You understand that separation from you was for the best for him, but you don’t want him to ignore and block you out forever.”

Janus nodded. “He had good times here as well as bad. I don’t want him to live for the rest of his life remembering me as what he thought I was when he left.”

“And my card? The king? Why am I the king? Not that I’m complaining, my dear, I’m just curious because we were not together at the time.”

“You deserve to be someone’s king, both then and now.”

Logan leaned up and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

Janus pushed the blush off of his right cheek. “Blue hyacinth means constancy, violet means watchfulness, modesty, and faithfulness, clematis means mental beauty, rosemary means remembrance, and savory means interest.”

This time, Logan blushed. The cards were created long before he and Janus had chosen to pursue romantic endeavors, and yet this was still what Janus thought of him.

“And—ahem—and this means…?”

The man on his chest reached a hand out to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. “I find you to be exquisite, inside and out, not only your brain. Your memory is uncanny, you are so very loyal, even to those who may not always deserve that faith that you place in them, and while you see and know so much, you remain humbled. You’re stable, never changing for the negative, remaining by Thomas’ side even when he doesn’t believe he needs you there. And I find myself very interested in you, my love.”

“That’s beautiful, Janus.” He took Janus’ hand and pressed it to his lips. “And yours, my queen? Snapdragon, anemone, belladonna, black-eyes susan, lavender, and bittersweet?”

At this, he went from looking into Logan’s eyes, as he had been since they started talking, to looking to the side, a frown on his face. “Deception and graciousness, forsaken, silence, justice, distrust, and truth.”

His words were barely audible, shame clinging to every syllable.

“Darling, that can’t be what you think of yourself.” Logan’s brow furrowed and he squeezed Janus’ hand softly.

He still didn’t look up. “It’s all I’m good for. I lie, I silence others for my own gain, while I pursue justice, I don’t do it in a way that will help others. The rest of you still don’t trust me fully, after all, I am just a liar. I know the truth, I am the truth, but I am stuck in a gray area between that and deception, never fully filling either. I can act as polite as I please, but Roman and Virgil, and even Patton, still cannot look me in the face and believe what I mean. Thomas still doesn’t trust me. I’m stuck.”

Logan reached up and placed his hands on the sides of Janus’ face, gently turning him back to face him, wiping away tears. “That’s illogical and it’s not true. It may be true to you because you could say it in here, but it certainly isn’t true to me, or Virgil, or Thomas, or anyone else. Yes, you represent deception, but you also represent some facet of truth. Thomas needs you as much as he needs Patton, Roman, or myself. I believe you, I know when you’re telling the truth or lying, and understand the meaning behind what you say. So can Remus, and Virgil.”

Janus sniffed. “Virgil doesn’t, that’s why he left me.”

He shook his head, making sure Janus could see into his eyes, and could see that he was being truthful. “Virgil does know. He was hitting his rebellious phase, he was filling his role more. He got caught up in his own head, tricking himself into believing the opposite of what you meant, and that was making him more anxious than usual. That caused him to lash out in anger or isolate himself to give him a chance to calm down. You are not responsible for what happened to Virgil. He made his own choices. He still cares for you, all of us do, even Roman, but they don’t know you well enough now to be able to show you that they care.”

“But my powers—”

“Your powers are meant to protect Thomas. Yes, at times they can be used to cover up the truth, but the truth can often be ugly and harmful. The mission you have given yourself, keeping Thomas honest to himself, while the others cannot see it, I can. Thomas can. Your pursuit of justice within Thomas, it keeps him going, keeps him from breaking down over things that build up. You are as perfect as you can be, in fulfilling your role, in handling your relationships with us, in almost everything you do and are. You may not believe that about yourself now, but I will spend every day for the rest of our lives making sure you know what I believe.”

More tears spilled out of Janus’ eye, and he hiccuped quietly, rubbing at his face over Logan’s hand, trying to dry his wet cheeks. “You really believe that.”

“I do. And you believe so much about the others, in their strengths. Let yourself believe in you too.” Logan caressed Janus’ cheek with his thumb.

He buried his face in Logan’s neck, wiggling forward before relaxing more than he was. Taking a deep breath, he spoke again, in a small, cracking voice. “Can we sleep now?”

“Of course.” Logan took his glasses off and placed them next to the book, turning off the light. He wrapped his arms around the still trembling form of his partner and settled in.

He was going to make sure that Janus knew how much he meant to everyone, and even if that meant actually talking to the others about speaking to him, showing him that he wasn’t just meant for one single thing, then that’s what Logan would do. In the morning, though, because now he had someone dozing on him, someone who needed sleep as much as he did.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 21

21/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.8k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic 

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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

As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved. 

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her. 

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift. 

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth. 

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need. 

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue. 

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now. 

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning. 

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them. 

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons. 

Mulder just gives her a look. 

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong. 

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room. 

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning. 

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open? 

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him. 

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak. 

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out. 

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive. 

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose. 

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.  

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets. 

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness. 

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.” 

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary. 

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm. 

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly. 

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night. 

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning. 

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

 It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old. 

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him. 

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it. 

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord. 

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.” 

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?” 

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly. 

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask. 

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open. 

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in. 

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly. 

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.” 

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips. 

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.” 

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this. 

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls. 

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies. 

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies. 

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain. 

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him. 

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him. 

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

[pikemoreno]

that first day

a continuation of ‘face to face’

pairing: din djarin x reader

summary: a beautiful day in a safe, pleasant place gets din thinking about his past, present, and future. takes place the day after the riduurok.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: absolute mush, sadness if you squint and tilt your head

a/n: writing posted two days in a row? who even am i?

face to face | wanna join a taglist? | masterlist 

A long night turned into a comfortable, warm morning. The first night of being able to share a cot without the hindrance of the bulky metal that was in between you was better than you could've imagined. Since waking up an hour and a half ago, all you had accomplished was lying right there in that spot, exchanging soft words and softer touches. You both begrudgingly got up at the two-hour mark and slid your discarded clothes back on, relishing in the fragrant breeze and sunlight from where you'd opened the hatch upon waking. You were still pleasantly groggy when Din grabbed you by the hand, pulling you into an embrace for the umpteenth time, resting his head against yours. It was so comfortable for him. Now that he'd experienced it, he never wanted to go a day-- or even an hour, really-- without it. The memory of ever not being able to feel your skin on his was already fading.

His eyes blinked open and looked over your shoulder at a small noise behind you. 

The kid stared at the pair of you, wide-eyed and-- frightened?

Why would he be--

And then it donned on Din: the little guy had no idea who he was. In the little one's eyes, the man in front of him was definitely not his buir. His buir was shiny and imposing; this man embracing his other buir was neither of those things. Din removed himself from your embrace to walk over to him slowly. You turned to face him too, trying to stifle a laugh at his evident uncertainty of the new Din.

"Ad'ika," he called softly, kneeling to his level. "It's me." 

The kid was not having it. He shrank back with a little squeak, and Din's face fell. His own kid was utterly terrified of him. You grabbed the helmet from where it lay on a crate and handed it to him.

"Here. Put it on. We'll have to show him." Stepping calmly over to the skittish child, you picked him up, letting him bury his face in your shoulder. Oh, what a traumatic morning this was for him! He wakes up from a long night and looks for his buirs to find one of them with some strange man? He might've been hurting them! And where was his shiny buir anyway? Your voice stepped in to soothe him. "It's alright, ade. Look," you pointed to where Din had put the helmet back on. The little one squealed with delight, making grabby hands.

"It's me, see?" Din removed the helmet again and set it down, raising his arms to either side in a vulnerable, wide-open pose.

The kid looked between the two of you like you'd both grown three heads. The fact that his shiny buir was just a normal-looking man was a very rude awakening. He remained a little suspicious as you handed him off to Din, still very stiff in his arms. 

"Well, we'll work on that," Din laughed, rubbing the little one's ears, "Let's get you back outside, ad'ika. It's already been a stressful day for you." 

You laughed too, feeling your heart grow warm as you watched the fondness so plainly on Din's face. Sure, you'd heard it in his voice before, seen in it his actions, but never was his love for the kid so blindingly apparent. The way his eyes softened and his dimple appeared at the end of his bright smile, the way he made faces at him to try to win him over. He was surprisingly expressive for a man who hadn't had his expressions seen since childhood.

You decided to go down to the river today. It was remarkably calm, the water breathtakingly clear and sparkling with only the smallest little ripples interrupting the view to the bottom. You sat on the bank for a while with ade while he checked it out and explored in the sand. 

Din, on the other hand, stripped down to suitable attire for swimming and eagerly jumped in, relishing in absolute freedom

You were curious to see how the kid would react to you taking him into a much larger, splashier body of water than he'd played in the day before. Could his species swim? Did they even float? 

You started by holding him above the water, letting his toes barely touch the surface-- you were the one to do it, as he was still pretty unconvinced about Din and you didn't want him any more uncomfortable. His feet started kicking immediately, and you lowered him further. He took like a fish to water,-- maybe he was a fish, who knew at this point-- eagerly swimming between you and Din. 

"Good, ade!" 

Soon he was diving down to the bottom and, you winced, coming up with a fish in his mouth. 

"No, don't--" He swallowed it whole. You sighed. "Alright, then. But that's your lunch." He just laughed.

Another hour of swimming and diving, and the child was pulling himself onto the shore and curling up on the blanket you laid out, eyes heavy with exhaustion. You followed him up, laying out on the blanket yourself and soaking in the high afternoon sun, letting it dry you. It was nothing short of perfect. There was no way you could be allowed to be this happy. You looked towards where your riduur was floating peacefully in the water, looking as much like a gleeful child as the little green one. He saw you looking and swam over, crawling up onto the bank. He fell onto the blanket next to you and then thought better of it, scooching down so that his head laid on your stomach. The cold water from his hair dripped down onto your sun-warmed skin.

"Stars, that's cold," you shivered. He chuckled, turning to leave small kisses on your stomach in apology, mumblingly out a "sorry." You smiled and moved your hand to his hair. It had become quickly apparent that Din really appreciated his hair being played with. He shivered too as your fingernails scratched against his scalp.

"You looked like you were having fun," you mused, moving your fingertips down to trace over the scars on his bare torso. You were still discovering them, learning them.

"I haven't been able to do that in forever," he half-whispered. "I used to love the water when I was a kid, but The Creed doesn't allow for it. Anytime I had my helmet off outside, I couldn't relax. If I got to be in water, it was never for fun. This," he sighed, bringing a hand up to ghost over your jawline, "Made me feel like I was back there, that everything was safe, that I still had my parents. I remember I used to beg them to take me to the lake. We would go every single week, no matter what." He smiled at that. The thought of their deaths remained forever painful, but it was clear this memory wasn't tainted by that in the least. Memories of family days by the water remained sacred, peaceful. "I was such a brat sometimes."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he scoffed. "They spoiled me as best as they could. We weren't wealthy, but I never wanted for anything." 

"That's all we can do as parents, hmm?" you half-joked, looking over to the snoozing green child of yours. 

"Yeah," a beat of pleasant silence, "They would've loved you." You sat up, fully meeting his gaze. He sat up too. 

"You think so?"

"Of course," he rested his forehead against yours, "Just like I do." You sat in that moment for a minute, interspersing it with kisses, before laying back down on the blanket. You soon joined the kid in a light slumber while Din found himself unable to join you fully. He was still unable to will himself into not being in protective mode, but he didn't mind. It was still relaxing to him to just be for a while, watching your chest rise and fall, your mouth twitch at a secret dream. He took the time to think about where you’d been: all you’d been through with him, so graciously-- he knew he hadn’t been easy to deal with at first. He thought about where you were going. Stars, who could say? He had no idea, but the very thought of more days with you thrilled him. Perhaps most importantly, he thought about where you were. Safe, happy, and belonging to each other for the first time.

At some point, the kid woke up and craved the same attention. Deciding this strange man had to be his buir, he hobbled still half-asleep over to squeeze himself between you and Din. He made himself comfortable and slowly fell back into the peaceful slumber of a carefree summer day with both of his buirs-- now officially, though he couldn't have told you the difference.

din taglist: @buckstaposition​ @dirty-dancefl00r5​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @captain-skytrash​ @lellaren-uodo-rian

forever taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @mistermiraclee @marydjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @miss-leto @spacegayofficial @winters-buck @phoenixhalliwell @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrpascals @aerynwrites @jigglemiwa @manda-but-not-lorian @dindjarindiaries @pancakepike @huliabitch @sammiesweet @randomness501 @king-belamy @opheliaelysia @the-silver-iris​  @lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache @bisexual-space-slut​

[meetmeatthecoda]

Okay so, I wanted to offer my two cents on that ask about Liz’s reaction in Luther Braxton: Conclusion. This is NOT meant as an attack on anyone—I find it 100% valid that the OG nonny (and anyone who related to them, including you dear Coda 💖💖💖) feels the way they do; they can’t control how they reacted to Liz any more than I can control how I reacted to that ask. Plus like, this is all fiction so no harm done? I purely wish to share my perspective, not ~present a counterargument~ or anything like that. :) Apologies in advance for how long this got. 😅😅😅

I get why you would react negatively to Liz’s screaming at Red, but I feel like?? That incident of all the times she’s treated him unjustly was (one of?) the most reasonable. Now, how she continues to act afterwards (regarding the Fulcrum but also, like, for the rest of the show welp) is 100% a continued bad decision in so many ways on her part and reflects terribly on her character, but her reaction in the immediate aftermath?? IDK, I feel the need to kind of defend her, probably because I absoluuuutely saw myself in her when she did that. I’ve (I shamefully admit) yelled, shoved, and even kicked at loved ones when they just wanted to comfort me but their attempts made me feel cornered and small. I’ve made logically unbased and ethically/emotionally unfair accusations against people who’ve done nothing but try to help me when I just needed something to get them away (literally or otherwise). When I just needed to attack something—take out my frustrations and confusion and fear and anger on someone. (And if Liz was like that, she might have latched onto Red as her target because he was the closest thing—physically, emotionally, and even in relation to the cause of that confusion and anger itself.) I have inflicted real harm on people while in an unsettling or unfamiliar mental state—harm that I couldn’t take back even when I could look back with a clear(er) mind and realize I never should have said/done any of that.

(Also, side note: when I first watched that ep and I saw Liz screaming at Red not to touch her?? I’d actually thought they were depicting her as being touch-averse due to the trauma and/or overstimulation, and I was?!! Like, call me badly coping but I appreciate seeing characters not being comfortable or straight-up being aggressive about being touched, even for just a moment, because that is me 24/7. Then of course a few more seconds and it turns out it’s not actually that?? Liz is just repulsed by Red’s Bad Guyness again apparently?? Whenever I rewatch the ep I still choose to see it as overstimulation though because, well… my heart is clearly very talented at choosing comfort characters for me. 🥲🥲🥲)

So speaking from personal experience, coming out of a trauma (or revisiting an unresolved one) is so stressful that it’s only natural to react explosively—even to the extent of unfairness and unreasonableness—in an attempt to protect or heal yourself, whether that attempt be justified or not. And honestly, I could even make the argument that for Liz, her attempt was to some extent justified. Of course Red would never hurt her, but sometimes a person needs breathing space. Like, literally needs. Maybe for the sake of her mental stability/health, Liz should have had her first moments coming up from her trance to herself. Does that make sense?? IDK if I made any sense there; I just know that while I never could have gotten to the place I’m at now without the EVENTUAL professional and personal support I’ve been blessed with, I also can’t fathom how much more mental anguish I would have experienced if I’d had people who knew me (or like, the “closest person” in Liz’s case) see me in the immediate aftermath of my trauma. Just… The state I was in? Yikes, am I glad only I saw myself pull myself together; I’d have had so much more to worry about with others seeing me like that. That might just be me and totally inapplicable to Liz of course, so I digress!

I’m not saying Liz isn’t responsible for her words/actions simply because they happened while she was in utter emotional upheaval and under mental and physical duress—Red definitely did NOT deserve that treatment from her. He did NOTHING WRONG. But with that kind of complex angst comes the inevitably mixed but nonetheless potent reactions of fans, I completely understand that. Everyone has different experiences and thus different viewpoints, and that’s fine and totally healthy in my book. Still, something about that discussion struck a chord with me—you can (and should) hold someone accountable for the harm they do while mentally unstable, but it’s possible and also healthy to do that without, yourself, harboring anger or resentment against them, you know? I had to teach myself (and those around me) that, so I guess I just wanted to put it out there. Again, I don’t mean to start anything and I’m so, so sorry if I inadvertently have. I hope it’s okay that I came here to explain my thoughts (and so wordily too, ack I’m sorry), and if not, I won’t anymore. Thank you for hearing me out this time though, I really appreciate it. :)

Dear anon!! 🤗����❤️ Firstly, I want to thank you for your kindness & respect for other's opinions!! This ask was worded in the sweetest, most considerate way & I appreciate it very much!! There's absolutely no need to apologize for having your own opinion & perspective, especially when you share & explain it so nicely, so never fear!! 😊❤️ Moving on to the meat of your ask - which is in regards to this previous one - you make such a good point!! When you look at it that way, the Luther Braxton Post-Memory-Unearthing Screaming Explosion is perhaps Liz's most justifiable negative reaction in the series LOL I guess looking back from where we are now - knowing all about & being completely fed up with all of Liz's awful writing & characterization in the subsequent seasons - it's easy to dismiss her reaction in Luther Braxton as something unreasonable & irritating & unfair to Red (which, to some extent - as you graciously allow - it is). But - as you generously point out - while that's a valid way of looking at it, it's also definitely worth examining from another point of view!! And I think your point of view (in everything ofc, but particularly in this) is so valuable!! I can relate at least on some level... I have definitely snapped at people, even those trying to help me, verbally & otherwise, when I lost my temper & just needed some space!! In fact, I think that's a pretty universal stress reaction & it's not necessarily something to be super ashamed of (but definitely something to be aware of & work on - a good reminder for us all!!) & it's definitely not a stretch to imagine Liz was going through something similar after being effectively water-boarded & having her memories so unceremoniously rifled through!! And, after all, Liz has one thing we generally don't... a perfect, convenient, willing catalyst for all the negative things in her life: Red (however undeserving of that title he may be.)

(And re: sidenote of touch-averse!Liz - Omg, I definitely thought about that being their angle at first too!! While I don't usually default to reacting that way myself [kind of the opposite for me usually LOL] I know that plenty of people do & it's 1000% valid as a coping mechanism & honestly??? A touch-averse Liz would be one of the more realistic reactions she's ever had 😂😭 especially considering the circumstances!! And hey, no shame about gravitating towards that interpretation bc it's 1) less painful for you & 2) you like comfort characters bc you 👏 do 👏 you 👏 but also?? I can't say anything bc the reason that I like that interpretation??? I love the angst of an overwhelmed & touch-averse!Liz unintentionally shattering Red's heart by completely rejecting his well-meaning physical comfort anddddd I'm not sure what that says about me tbh 😂😂😂)

Long story short, anon, you made perfect sense here, not to worry!! You were so respectful & cognizant of others' feelings, thank you so much for that, it doesn't go unnoticed!! You bring such a good point to the discussion with your perspective & outlook & I'm so thankful you chose to contribute!! I loved reading your thoughts & don't worry at all about the length, I appreciate your thoroughness!! (Plus, we all know I'm hardly one to talk, I never use one word when twenty will do 😂) Please don't hesitate to come back to my inbox any time to discuss whatever you like, I always love a little bit of friendly TBL conversation, especially since the show as we know it is so abruptly & unexpectedly over 😭 Yes, still grappling with that, in case you were wondering 🥲 Anyway, thank you again for your lovely ask, anon, I appreciate you greatly, & much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

[10kiaoi]

Tactical gear appreciation post lol.

CW: canon typical violence, issues related to death. Notes: Very much unbetaed and written with increasing desperation. Please go easy on me?

----

The first time Bond sees the boy, it’s in the busy shopping streets of Bangkok. 

It’s midday and sweltering but the Pratunam district is buzzing with activity. 

Bond idles along the street side vendors, ambling through the makeshift tents and racks. The crowd is thick enough that he brushes shoulders with others every few steps or so. He keeps half an eye on the lovely trinkets - little wooden carvings of various local fauna. The other half is firmly fixed on a man rumoured to be delving into the international arms trade. 

He inspects a figurine of an elephant, tuning out the shopkeeper’s enthusiastic pitch in broken english. 

A scream pierces the air- a high pitched shriek that sends the crowd careening backwards. As Bond is shoved backwards by the masses, he spots a man toppled over on the ground, motionless. Around him, there are yells in Thai, in English, in various other languages of the disturbed tourists. 

He quickly scans the panicked crowd but catches nothing more than a flash of deep brunette melting away into the throngs.

It’s an unexpected sudden end to his current mission. 

----

Berlin is a mess. 

The woman Bond is tasked with assessing is KGB- turncoat and now looking for a new master. Bond strides into a small chain cafe on a quiet street. The cafe isn’t too busy- the few customers present are already seated and distracted. Anya Pavlova is seated in the far corner up against the wall, engaged in her book and a cup of coffee.

Bond heads to the counter, places his order. It arrives in short order and he chooses a seat by the window. The occasional autumn breeze is refreshing in the stuffy cafe, after sunny, tropical Bangkok. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Pavlova slips into the washroom. 

Bond tucks into his meal. 

She slips back out after a brief pause, prim and proper, returns to her softback. 

No one else gets up. Bond slides into the washroom. The note is exactly where Bond expects it to be. He glances quickly at the series of numbers- a phone number, tucks it into a secure little pocket in the lining of his jacket. He flushes the toilet, washes his hands and steps back out. 

Pavlova waits for him to sit back down at his table before putting away her possessions into the little handbag at her side.

The waitress comes over smiling, a tray with a single cup. Bond frowns, ready to reject the clearly mistaken order. “With compliments, it’s already paid for!” the waitress chirps. Bond pauses, then graciously thanks the waitress as she transfers the cup to his table. He resolutely does not turn to look at Pavlova who is making for the door. 

It’s a lovely rich black, no cream or sugar.  

The napkin is folded neatly under the cup. 

Bond looks down to check his phone.  Pavlova steps out from under the shelter of the awning. The cashier’s cheerful “come again!” switches to a screech of horror, followed by several others both in and outside of the cafe.  

Bond whips up with his heart pounding, only training preventing him from dropping his phone on the way. There’s a telltale metallic glint from a far off high rise, no more than a shimmer off what most would assume is reflective glass. It lasts no longer than a flash.  

Pavlova is dead before she hits the ground.     

----

M is understandably spitting mad. 

One doesn’t come by an enemy agent offering their services everyday and Pavlova could have been a terrific addition to MI6’s arsenal of covert long term operatives what with already being in the KGB and all. 

The morbid hilarity of the entire situation - Bond hasn’t done anything to influence such an outcome. A textbook execution practically. 

And yet it has gone all tits up.

A fuming M marches him down to Q Branch with carte blanche to use all resources to find the leak. “Something we should have done since Bangkok!” M rages in a rare moment of self reproach as Bond bears her fury with silence.

A forensics team is sent to the building the sniper is suspected to have worked from. They find nothing. Q Branch fares no better, the few low res security cameras of little help when it turns out they have all gone down simultaneously around the time of the incident. 

He’s grilled on what he remembers. Every tiny detail dragged out to be examined on all fronts to determine if he has missed anything.  

There’s little else they can do with no other leads. 

----

In Mexico City, Bond destroys an entire warehouse’s worth of hard drugs before it ever reaches his country’s shores.

The explosion is magnificent- a great blooming flameball and a sound blast that blows out every window in a one kilometer radius. 

It’s almost makes up for being whacked hard enough atop the head that he blacks out instantly. 

----

Miguel Garcia is a terrible host. 

Bond watches as the man drops the unfortunate minion into a pit of crocs. The screams still ring in his ears when Garcia starts in on him. His earwig is long gone. For once, he misses having Q Branch in his ear. 

Standard villain interrogation routine- a couple of hits here and there, a good deal of verbal threats, a few electrocutions to top it off. Nothing a double oh hasn’t been trained to take. 

Bond laughs and screams through the entire facade, a savage grin splitting his face apart. He shoves the desperate need to know that someone is coming into a tiny box and pushes it into a dusty corner of his mind where a stone mansion lies. 

Garcia is coming apart at the seams and for good reason. Between the two of them, Bond would garner Garcia’s in deeper shit and he gleefully tells Garcia so. 

The lacerations with a dull knife are worth the brief terror turned rage across Garcia’s face. 

----

Bond is thrown into a dark room and left to rot without food or water.

His body is a mass of bruises and pain - there isn’t a part of him that feels like he could sleep forever. The relative silence is a much cherished balm against the earlier violence. He’s just drifting off into a light doze- all the better for maintaining his energy reserves when the single shot echoes around the facility. 

It’s loud and forbidding. 

Bond jerks awake, adrenaline rushing through his veins. 

There’s yelling and panic, a desperate attempt to mount some kind of defence but a great deal more bellows that cut off in the middle. 

Bond’s heart pounds painfully in his chest. He staggers up, ignoring the painful pull at all his wounds. 

Somewhere in the distance, there’s a bang of a grenade. 

Outside his prison, there’s a crack. The door swings open. Bond squints at the sudden brightness. A familiar silhouette appears in the light of the doorway. 

“Heard you needed backup, brother!”

Bond could just kiss him. 

--------

What the hospital staff doesn’t know won't hurt them. 

Bond makes it a point to share a drink with Felix whenever he’s in town. Langley isn’t too far from DC and it’s been a while since they have had the opportunity to catch up. 

Well, that and the man rescued him from the clutches of Garcia. Bond owes Felix more than a round of drinks.  

Bond steadily ignores the disapproving looks Felix aims at his shots. More than for the company, it’s an informal exchange of information- information locked behind red tape and bureaucracy in other circumstances. It’s efficient and lays bare the minute details Bond has to work to hunt down otherwise. 

Felix tells him about an operation in Alaska of all places. Bond tells him about Bangkok. They both down a stiff drink. 

Felix pauses, a momentary lapse that blares like an alarm to Bond’s trained eye. 

Bond narrows his eyes. “What is it?”

Felix grimaces. Something like suspicion and dread creeps over Bond. 

“About that, we found the warehouse because of a tipoff. Garcia was already dead when we got there.”

----

Felix doesn’t quite let him in to the CIA secure archives but it’s a pretty close thing. 

He leaves Bond waiting in one of the meeting rooms, blinds drawn. When he returns, it’s with a thin folder. There’s also a ziplock with tiny metal pieces no bigger than pennies. Bond turns a skeptical gaze at Felix.  

Felix waves the reports like a carrot on a stick. “All our agents’ reports of suspected encounters we have had with our man. Maybe you’ll see something our profilers haven’t.” 

Bond’s gaze at the file turns covetous. Felix smirks.

The cases weren’t unlike his own experiences- clean kills, in and out before anyone is aware enough to act. Security cameras were as good as useless with how the feed has clearly been tampered with. Nothing he hasn’t already deduced from his own encounters. It’s entirely frustrating and Bond feels the prickle under his skin, a clawing need to know. 

“Paranoid, that one,” Felix declares, settling into an empty chair. Bond snorts. 

“He knows he’s being hunted,” Bond corrects. 

“No one’s actually seen him, you’d be the first,” Felix admits, leaning backwards.

No traces left behind, no witnesses. Professional to the extreme. 

Bond hisses in displeasure. 

----

Felix insists on sending him to the airport despite his protests. Dulles International Airport comes into sight like a hulking grey beast, ugly and utilitarian. 

“Take care, brother,” Felix wishes over their hug, leaving with several commiserating pats to Bond’s back, carefully avoiding the still healing areas. 

A call comes over the speakers as Bond heads through the express security lane: boarding for flight SQ2522 has begun. There’s a flash of brunette curls in the distance- Bond’s heart lurches, mind flashing back to Bangkok. But no, it’s a lady, petite but tall.  

For one irrational moment he thinks that it’s Vesper. Brilliant, gorgeous, traitorous Vesper with her wit and charm and lovely red lips. 

But the woman moves out of sight towards her gate and the moment’s over and Bond is drawn back into the monochrome present.  

----

It’s a random thought- one driven more by instinct from years in the field rather than any rational explanation. 

He boards his plane- a direct flight back to London. It is after the stewardess has come round offering champagne that Bond pulls the memory of the little slip of paper Pavlova left behind for him in that Berlin cafe.

Pressing send feels akin to stirring a hornet’s nest.  

----

“Thank you for the coffee. It was most delightful. See you soon.”

----

There isn’t much in Pavlova’s handbag- her phone, a softcover likely plucked from a discount bin, a half used tube of lipstick, a writing pad and a fountain pen. 

It is the pen Bond focuses his attention on.

Q Branch excels in the technical fields. They’ve done their bit and gone through the cell. As expected of someone like Pavlova. The phone is clean - clearly a burner phone. It is a dead end.

Bond’s expertise is in people and their sentiments. 

The fountain pen’s barrel glints, polished despite the corners where the gold has gone dull with age. The nib is uneven, as though grounded down by constant pressure on one side. There’s a ring around the feed and the section, perhaps originally gold like the decorative edgings and on the clip but the gold’s almost completely faded. Bond twists the ring. 

A blade springs out from under the nib. 

----

Taipei is unfinished business. 

The cheap street food is an utter delight. Jiufen is beyond crowded on a weekend and going through the long narrow streets is a slow shuffle sandwiched between local hikers and curious tourists. Bond finds himself with a stick of some grilled meat in one hand, 

Several meters ahead, a man walks on oblivious, arms laden down by souvenirs. 

There’s a flash of brunette in the corner of Bond’s eye. His snack falls to the ground, abandoned as he slices through the crowd. Outraged yells go up behind him but his concentration has locked onto the scene before him.  

It is deja vu.  

He barrels through the horde, grasps the slender wrist in an iron grip. 

He’s pinned by a wide eyed stare, brilliant green eyes shocked and surprised behind glasses. 

Then the blade in the pen is abruptly twisted towards him. 

The crowd topples backwards, shrill screaming accompanying the wave of people attempting to flee the altercation. It’s utter pandemonium. 

Bond leaps backwards to dodge the blade, but the assailant follows, a dogged determination in his eyes. They grapple in the narrow stone street, amidst the fleeing crowd. The boy shoves him into a display counter of traditional snacks. He lashes out with a kick to the sternum, sending the boy into the corner of a wall and knocking the breath out of him. 

They clamber to their feet and circle each other, bruised and all the more vicious for it. 

The boy hisses under his breath, like a cat with its tail stepped on. Bond answers with a snarl of his own, blood dripping from the laceration on his cheek. 

The streets have emptied by now, the target having slipped away in the commotion. 

There’s a momentary flash of indecision, of uncertainty. Inexplicably, the boy turns and darts down an adjourning alleyway. 

Bond curses, bolts after the flash of military green parka around the tight corners. He leaps five steps at a time down a steep stairway carved into the street, charging past the backs of residential houses. 

He skids to a halt in the middle of a crossroad, utterly alone. There’s a familiar looking pen on the ground, its owner nowhere to be found. In the distance, there are sirens. 

Bond sends a fist into the ground, knuckles white beneath the bruises. 

----

Wang Guo Pei is a pale faced man, still green from the attempt on his life. 

He is also the younger brother of the man killed in Bangkok, whose death has and still is sending ripples across the networks. The interrogation room is bleak and bare. The cold lights enhance the man’s sickly look, hallowed by fear and anxiety over the threat of death even through the filter of the camera.  

The Underworld really doesn’t care if one is just a foot soldier, not when one is relation and have access to the inner workings of the organization. MI6 has no such qualms either. 

Bond has lost track of how many lesser devils MI6 has had to make a deal with to nail bigger fish. 

He watches as the interrogation is repeated, fiddling with his own souvenir. Unlike Pavlova’s, this model sports a two barrel converter on top of the hidden blade. One is filled with regular ink. The other… Bond replaces the cap firmly, slips it back into an inner pocket. 

He doesn’t put much stock in working with an entire team with how often they just slow him down instead of being helpful. But M’s made up her mind and the powers that be agree. He’s on his way towards the waiting ops team and Wang three hours later. 

----

“Now pay attention, 007, this is a bulletproof suit-”

“Yes, thank you Major, I know what a bulletproof suit does.”

“Not this one, you don’t, now pay attention! I don’t want to have to repeat myself. Now see this here, this little bag, it’s been engineered to be filled with blood- ”

“Isn’t that just a water balloon?”

----

Hours later, Bond lands in Changi Airport, Singapore with new orders and new purpose. 

----

Q slips into the office tower easily, waiting for the last few stragglers making their way out to pass by before continuing on his way to the lifts. The night patrol is swiftly dealt with, a quick prick of a gel coated dart with fast acting amnesiac properties. 

The ride up is silent, no cheery elevator music to soften the adrenaline. He uses the time to check on his systems briefly. A flick on his phone brings up the app that mirrors the processes his laptop is carrying out while tucked away safely in his hotel suite. It’s a particular test of his abilities, this city, with all its zealousness in adhering to security measures. His laptop has been running nonstop since the moment he stepped foot on this island. 

The security cameras remain silent in their judgement. His finger twitches, feeling the weight of his missing pen acutely. 

The accomplishment of successful missions has long since worn off. The thrill of travel, of seeing the world and all it offers has dulled with the gravity of the situation he finds himself in. Pavlova’s death is still a fresh wound, the condolences offered by the organization doing nothing to stem the loss and grief that accompanies losing the only maternal figure he has in his life. 

Last one, and then you’re out. 

The rifle is cold and heavy in his arms. 

A robotic female voice announces the level they’ve arrived at and Q steps out. 

Wang is immediately visible in the building across the road, in his office.

Q runs a last check of the cameras. They come back clear so he drops to a knee, setting up his equipment. The thick glass of the skyscraper is easily dealt with, a perfect circle being cut out and lifted away to reveal a small hole through which the rifle can be fired through. 

It takes no more than a few seconds. 

Wang goes down in his office, blood painting the walls. 

Q starts packing up. 

----

Several muffled shots are followed by a heavy thump. 

The man stepping out of the shadows with his Walther primed and ready in his hand is a familiar face. Q can’t tear his eyes away, entranced when the MI6 agent unceremoniously drops the body to the ground. 

Q’s stomach drops, visibly blanching. 

He recognizes the corpse’s issue of equipment- he’s helped design some of it in fact.

He knows for a fact, that particular section never comes alone.

“Seems like you’ve pissed off your employer,” the man he fought in Taiwan drawls. 

Q’s hand goes for his rifle, only to flinch away when the man fires a warning shot. Q freezes. The man motions with his Walter. Q obeys, sliding the rifle away out of reach. He’s mentally flashing through all his equipment, looking for a way to buy time and find an exit, recalling all the areas where he landed hits just days ago.  

“Bond,” the man pauses significantly, “James Bond. 007.” 

Q blinks. Then slowly, “Am I supposed to curse your name as you kill me then?” 

Bond stares, confusion then exasperation. “Oh for Christ’s sake, the one time I try to be civil,” Bond grumbles mutinously. 

Q has to hastily stifle a laugh at Bond’s disgruntlement. There’s a moment of acknowledgement of the ludicrousness, yet it somehow lightens the atmosphere between him and and his would be executioner. It’s jarring, how that one line manages to bring a little humour back to his life. It’s simply another indicator of how much the state of things has deteriorated around him without him noticing. 

It’s almost regretful it isn’t likely to last. 

Q tenses as Bond’s hand creeps to one of his pockets. 

It’s cruel irony, if Bond does indeed intend to use that object as an instrument of Q’s death.  

Q turns distraught eyes upon the agent- a double oh, if he’s to be believed. 

“I gave her that,” Q whispers, eyes locked onto Pavlova’s pen in Bond’s fingers. 

“She gave it to me,” Bond states. 

Q’s face falls. 

“Is what I was ordered to tell you,” Bond continues, voice dropping to a murmur, “But I think you’ve been lied to enough, wouldn’t you say.”  

The full force of grief knocks the breath from his chest once again. 

Q watches with detached fascination as Bond winces, reaching up to remove the earpiece and drop it in a pocket. 

Bond turns back to him in all seriousness, and the dread rises again.

“I couldn’t do this for someone else,” Bond murmurs, catching him around the waist.  And oh, how Q can see the same loss and anguish in the other as if they are kindred spirits. “Someone important to me,” Bond chokes out, “but you have a choice now. You wanted out, this is your chance.” 

How Q wants to believe him. 

He leans in, breathes two words into Bond’s ear. 

Bond breaks out in a small, relieved grin. 

----

Bond cups Q’s face, pressing their foreheads together in reassurance. 

Q takes a steadying breath. His death is now fully in MI6’s- in James’ hands. 

“Now darling, do be a good boy and put this on for me,” James whispers conspiratorially.

[mybiasisexo]

Desperado

Genre: Angst | Highschool!au

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Length: 3.6k

Warning: Language | Unfinished 

Summary: Your high school sweetheart left you... while still in high school. Cradling a heartache like this is difficult, but you are able to confide in an unlikely student who is just, if not more, broken than you are. Based on the song Desperado by Rihanna. 

Author’s Note: This was going to be the first Sehun scenario I posted but idk I kinda just lost interest in it. I plan on finishing it, I swear! Also, this orange hair??? God tier!!!!! BRING IT BACK!!!!

MASTERLIST

credit

Heartache is never easy.

Especially when it is still fresh.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you squint up at the ominous building. Already the cacophonies of voices swim around you like the wind, sending a sharp chill down your spine. You can do this, you remind yourself. You have before.

You rush through the doors and scan the crowded hall. You missed school the day before and now need an assignment for your calculus class. The first person you find that you share said class with makes you cringe—it is Oh Sehun. You bite your lip; contemplating whether going up to him is even worth the effort, but you really need that assignment, so you give yourself a pep talk as you make your way towards the tall young man.

He’s at his locker, lazily spinning the lock back and forth as you approach him. “Um, Oh Sehun?”

His head slants over to your direction, dark eyes piercing.

“Yeah?” He asks nonchalantly, popping the lock and opening the metal door.

“I, uh, was wondering if you could fill me in on the calculus assignment from yesterday? I missed it.” You hate how soft spoken you sound, but you realize that’s the only way you talk on campus now.

“We have Calc together?” He wonders. You nod quickly and he shrugs. “Never seen you in there before.”

You pout slightly but dismiss his comment, not taking it personally. Oh Sehun never really notices anything anymore, apparently.

“Well,” You continue awkwardly. “We do. So, do you have the assignment?”

He digs through his locker, ignoring your presence, but you remain standing there, pride holding you prisoner. As you wait for him to do something, your head turns on its own accord across the hall. There you see a familiar man leaning against his locker with a pretty girl pressed against him. The pair giggle and share a sweet kiss.

Byun Baekhyun.

This man once held your heart. Unfortunately for you, he decided to crush it into nothing but powder without any warning. 

For two and a half years he was your world. The two of you were deemed the Odd Pair because you came from different worlds, but somehow you both made it work.

He was the popular, smart, rich kid that everyone knew would own his own multimillion dollar business someday, and you were the quiet girl nobody seemed to notice.

But Baekhyun noticed you.

You and Baekhyun had been making plans for the future. Talking about colleges and whether to get an apartment together and the closest bus stops near campuses. Now there is nothing ahead of you. Baekhyun snatched your future and gave it to somebody else and now there is nowhere for you to go.

You are stuck.

Your breath catches in your throat and you try to focus back on Sehun, but your eyes are stuck like glue to the pair. The man cups the girl’s chin, thumb rubbing the flesh tenderly, and you feel the ghost of the familiar action on your own skin. Their happy faces blur, unshed tears obstructing your vision. You don’t try to blink the water back; knowing the fall of droplets will expose your weakness.

You vaguely register paper rustling and a pressure on your hand and your vision clears. You inhale sharply, like you’ve broken the surface of the ocean and notice the math assignment in your hands.

Sehun is watching you intently, you can feel it and when you dare to meet his stare you both stay like that for a long moment—having a silent conversation you are too terrified to actually interpret. Finally, he makes a noise in the back of his throat and closes his locker.

“Tough break,” he murmurs, throwing a strap of his backpack on a shoulder before spinning away, blending in with the rest of the school population.

“You would know,” you reply quietly to yourself, wiping the moisture from under your eyes.

~*~

You notice Oh Sehun quite a bit after the day at his locker. Notice him walking in the halls, somewhat aimlessly, taking his time. Notice him grab his lunch in the cafeteria and leave with it, never sitting with the rest of the students. Notice him in your shared calculus class, never interacting with anyone and always acing the tests. Notice him in the school parking lot, leaning against a rusty Monte Carlo as he puffs on a cigarette.

You notice how he is always alone.

He doesn’t interact with anyone. He never even seems to notice anyone else. He walks with his head held high, but his eyes glazed over, as if he’s going through the motions.

You notice how much he resembles yourself.

~*~

You have one class with Baekhyun—History, ironically—and decide that today you can’t do it.

So you skip it. 

It is stupid and reckless and the first time you have ever in your entire academic career done it, but you refuse to watch them act all lovey dovey. 

There’s only so much your crumpled heart can take.

You stealthily make your way down the stairs that lead to the gym but pause once you notice someone sitting at the bottom steps. You easily recognize the tall frame and wild bright orange hair and carefully slide to the bottom. Once your feet land on the last step, you find yourself sitting beside him for some reason, making sure to keep some feet between the two of you.

“Hey,” you greet nervously.

He only nods in acknowledgement.

You sit there silently staring ahead at nothing for five minutes. The whole time you fight with yourself, wondering why you are even sitting there in the first place, but you can’t deny how comfortable if feels. Especially the silence, it is well needed.

Finally, Sehun leans back against the giant banister and faces you. “So, how are you feeling?”

The question catches you off guard and your body jerks around to face him clearly. His sharp features are unreadable, but his eyes seem bright, the dark chocolate brown melting and twirling in what appears to be concern.

“I—I…It still hurts,” you stutter, still shocked by his sympathy.

“It gets better,” Sehun informs you in a quiet tone. He avoids your teary gaze, finding solace in watching his fingers knot together. “It might not feel like it right now, but it will.”

~*~

Oh Sehun.

Your Junior year Sehun was a bright friendly kid. He was a part of the male dance team and was dating the third most popular girl in school, Lee Hyunhee. The two appeared to be in love—at least, Sehun was genuinely head over heels. Baekhyun’s crowd somehow blended with Sehun’s—you assume populars stick with populars no matter what clique—so you had hung out with the pair a few times, although you wouldn’t have called Sehun a friend. You remember him being happy. 

But Hyunhee broke his heart.

Cheated on him with one of his ‘friends’ on the team and then had the gull to get angry with him once he found out. She broke up with him in front of the entire school, in the busiest hallway, and stormed off with his friend in tow.

You caught the entire fiasco. Watched as Sehun ran away as if someone were chasing him, all while gripping tightly to Baekhyun’s hand.

Now you held a similar pain.

Summer came soon after and once school started again he was different.

He was a loner. He didn’t address anyone, didn’t acknowledge anyone. He never talked and didn’t rejoin the dance team.

He became invisible.

~*~

“You really need to go to class,” Sehun softly scolds you as he watches you make your way beside him on the stairs.

You haven’t returned to your history class for a week now. Instead, you have been joining Sehun at the gym staircase.

Despite his statement, he scoots over a little, allowing you room on the step he was residing on.

“I can say the same to you,” you reply. He shakes his head in disbelief but you’re pretty sure you catch a small grin on his lips. “I brought us something.”

You yank your backpack onto your lap and rummage through it until you find the gift. Pulling out a brown paper bag, you hand it to Sehun who takes it graciously.

He peeks inside and pouts immediately. You can’t help but to be entranced by his eyebrows bunching together.

“It’s crushed,” he whines, pulling out the giant yet flat cinnamon roll you bought. 

You roll your eyes and snatch the dessert from his grasp. “It’s been in my bag all day.”

Taking a bite, you lean back on the stairs. “It still tastes delicious.”

Sehun sighs and you feel his fingers break off a piece. You study him as he chews thoughtfully.

“I guess you’re right,” he allows with a shrug. He then leans forward and takes a giant bite right from your hand.

“Ew!” You squeal, laughing loudly from his antics. He doesn’t join in though, just continues chewing with a look of content. 

Slowly. Slowly you and Sehun have been getting closer. You wouldn’t say you are friends just yet, but you are definitely more than acquaintances. 

You see yourself in him and you believe he sees the same in you. Both have felt heartache like no other, both of you have to look at the person who broke your heart everyday, both of you are still attempting to heal.

But now neither of you has to do it alone.

“Sit with me at lunch,” you say to a busy looking Sehun in your calculus class.

He scoffs, not taking his eyes off the sheet he’s finishing.

“Sehun,” you whine. “You never sit in the cafeteria.”

“Yeah because I hate it in there,” he murmurs.

You sigh dejectedly. 

“You can join me though,” he offers nonchalantly.

You blink up at him. “Really?”

He sits up slowly and finally glances down at you. His face is as unreadable as always, but his eyes are a dead giveaway to you, and now they sparkle with excitement.

“Yeah. I mean, why not?”

“Okay!” You agree quickly, a huge smile on your face. Sehun scoffs again at your reaction, but he doesn’t look away.

The two of you make your way towards the cafeteria. Sehun’s long lanky legs carries him a few steps ahead, and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, to keep eyes off of you both. You bring the book you’re carrying closer to your chest, trying as hard as you can to not draw attention to yourself, to stop your heart from beating any faster than it already is.

You can admit you’re excited. Sehun is slowly opening up to you and you feel honored that out of all the people he could do that to, he has chosen you. 

You glance up quickly and, of course, just so happen to lock eyes with Baekhyun. He’s talking to his close friend Kim Jongdae. His sentence carries as your eyes remain locked, but he quickly shakes off whatever it is he is thinking and continues with his conversation. You quicken your pace so that you’re closer to Sehun. He feels it and peeks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow but you ignore it as the pair of you enter the cafeteria and join the line.

It’s silent as you grab your food and take Sehun’s lead to, unsurprisingly—although a tad disappointing—the staircase.

“So is this our staircase now?” You ask with your mouth full of food.

He starts coughing, choking on the bite he just took and you quickly pat his back and hand him his water. He chugs it empty and then pins you with his dark glare, eyebrows seeming sharper with his intense stare.

“I always eat here.”

You raise your hands in defeat. “But now I’m eating here too.”

“That doesn’t make it ‘ours’. I found it first.”

“And I found it second,” you shrug; enjoying the reaction you’re getting out of Sehun.

He glares at you again and you chuckle softly.

“Are you okay?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Baekhyun.” His name alone causes your blood to run cold. “I saw him look at you on our way to lunch. Are you okay?”

“I….” Your heart is racing, but it is less because of Baekhyun and more because of Sehun’s concern for you. “I’m fine… now.”

“Oh.” Sehun blinks in surprise before facing away from you awkwardly. “Well, that’s good…then.”

The pair of you continue eating in a somewhat awkward silence for a chunk of time before Sehun is calling your name.

You turn towards him. He’s still facing forward as he clears his throat. “You know, you can…well, we can come here to eat lunch. That way you won’t feel the need to keep skipping history. I know you’re getting behind.”

You suppress a grin. “I’d like that, Sehun. Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He shrugs, eating again.

~*~

Time is going by and you’re finding yourself gradually getting over Byun Baekhyun. You deny the cause having to do with spending a lot of time sitting on stairs, that surely has nothing to do with you moving on. You’re relieved all the same, the stinging in your heart now a mute thud from time to time. School no longer is a chore to you—something you have to just endure. You find yourself actually looking forward to it, looking forward to him.

Your friend, Oh Sehun.

It’s mildly hilarious how in the span of a couple months you have grown rather close to the tall young man. You’ve seen sides of him you doubt most have in years and his odd charms draw you in like a spell.

That being said, you can’t find it within yourself to truly like him romantically. There is no denying Baekhyun took something from you when he left. Made you hard, and you are afraid to let anyone else get that close. Afraid of trusting someone just for them to turn on you without any remorse. 

And you know Sehun feels the same way.

Because there are times when his stare lingers a little longer than appropriate. Times when he accidentally slips and says something that makes you lose your breath. Times when he moves his body so close to yours you think you might burst into flames. 

But he always pulls back.

The reality is Sehun is just as broken emotionally as you—if not more. He never talks about Lee Hyunhee, and you’re too nervous to bring her up. There is this unspoken rule between the two of you that she is off limits in conversation. It’s as if you’ve built your wall out of wood and Sehun out of concrete, there is just no getting to him.

But that’s what makes the relationship work, the fact that you both understand that and try your best to help the other.

Isn’t it amazing how healing friendship is?

Not to mention refreshing. Having someone around who gets exactly where you’re coming from without any judgment is a welcoming feeling, something you lacked in your life. You are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and it’s because Sehun is guiding you.

You just hope you’re doing the same for him.

Okay so yeah, you’re getting over Baekhyun, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t still feel some type of way watching him and his girlfriend being all mushy in your shared class with no regard of who may or may not be watching.

They sit directly in front of you and have been touchy since class started and you can’t take it any longer so you ask to go to the bathroom.

While wandering the empty halls, you consider skipping all together, but know Sehun would rip you a new one so you just continue to the bathroom. 

On the way back you hear some voices and pause.

One of them sounds like Sehun.

“I saw you with her.” The other voice, a female, says coldly.

There is a scoff as a reply and now you know that’s Sehun.

“So what if you did?” He snaps. “It’s none of your business who I hang out with. It hasn’t been for a year.”

“So I can’t be concerned for you?” She counters. The question confuses you. Who is Sehun talking to? “Sehun, I still care for you no matter what happened in the past.”

“You never cared about me, Hyunhee!” Hearing her name is like having a bucket of ice cold water poured over your head. “You broke my fucking heart! Someone who cares about someone doesn’t do that!”

“Sehun,” Hyunhee purrs and you scowl. Unable to fight it anymore, you peek over the wall out into the hallway they are in. Just as you expected, Hyunhee is resting a hand on Sehun’s taunt forearm. “I’ve always cared about you. And regardless of what I’ve done, I still consider you a friend. So, as your friend, I’m telling you that hanging out with her is bad news.”

Sehun squints his eyes at the beautiful girl. “Why would that be bad?”

“Because she uses people, Sehun. She used Baekhyun and now she’s using you.”

Baekhyun? Was Hyunhee…talking about you?

“That’s ridiculous,” Sehun dismisses and you swell with pride.

“Is it? Byun Baekhyun is the most popular guy in school and he left her. He was her ticket. Now that he’s with Choi Somin she has to find someone else. The thing is nobody wants her.”

“But I’m not popular.” His voice softens drastically and it makes you nervous. 

“Oh, yes you are, Sehun. You will always be one of us. No matter how hard you try to shut out the rest of the world. We all still see you.”

He remains silent and it urges her to continue. “She sees it, Sehun. You’re vulnerable. She can manipulate you.”

Your body moves on it’s own accord and before you know it, you’re right in front of them.

“Sehun,” you call his name loud and clear. They both turn towards you. Hyunhee does with disgust and Sehun in a daze. He blinks at you lazily.

“Sehun,” you repeat, your voice now lowered to almost a whisper. Tears spring in your eyes and you bite your lip to hide the trembling. “You don’t honestly believe her do you?”

“Looks like it’s time for me to go,” Hyunhee says, collecting her bag from the ground. She throws a look at Sehun. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Neither you nor Sehun break eye contact as Hyunhee saunters off, clearly satisfied. 

Your chest heaves and your hands curl into fists. You’re pissed, but don’t know at what exactly. 

Sehun murmurs your name but it doesn’t hold any warmth. 

“Please,” you beg. “Please tell me you don’t believe her.”

The bell rings, but neither of you register it. Doors swing open and students pile out in waves, yet you both stay frozen staring at one another trying to convey your true intentions.

Sehun’s emotions are always bared to you through his eyes, but right now you can’t decipher anything and it’s driving you crazy.

You’re also drawing attention. Those walking around you slow down and take in the stare down with curiosity. You can feel their eyes on you like pinpricks and it’s adding on to the rising anxiety. You’re going to burst at any minute you can feel it.  

Your name is called and you jolt as if being awoken. Byun Baekhyun is cautiously making his way towards you, girlfriend in tow. They both seem apprehensive, but it might have more to do with the aura around you and Sehun, who is still glaring at you unblinkingly.

“You left your stuff,” Baekhyun says. His eyes jump from you and Sehun but he doesn’t say anything about it. He clears his throat. “I thought I’d bring it to you because, well… yeah.”

You’re speechless. Your throat burns painfully as you take your bag from him and bow thankfully.

“I…” Again he takes in Sehun’s frame. He then leans in closer and whispers with concern, “are you alright?” 

You break. 

Gulping back the bubble forming in your throat you glare at him. “How could I possibly be alright, Baek?”

He flinches at your hostile tone and the use of the nickname you had given him.

“I just… Sehun’s glaring and… you look upset—I—”

“There are people here who think I only dated you because you are popular and that leads me to believe you believe that! I gave you so much of me! I gave you two years of my life and you just left me, Baekhyun! You left me!”

You are yelling now and a crowd is forming, but you are beyond reasoning right now. You never got closure with Baekhyun, never sat down and discussed anything, you guess now is a better time than any.

“I want to hate you so bad for what you did to me. You destroyed me yet have the gull to be friendly and bring me my stuff all the while your girlfriend—my replacement—is right there! You are so cruel, Baekhyun. People think I used you, but the truth is you used me!”

Baekhyun’s face is flaming red with embarrassment. He keeps opening and closing his mouth but nothing is coming out.

A hand wraps around your arm and you see Sehun through blurry eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He tugs you gently out of the hall and everyone parts for you. Once you’re out into the parking lot you break down. Loud sobs shake your frame violently. 

Suddenly, you’re engulfed as Sehun wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his embrace. This only causes you to wail harder, soaking the front of his shirt with your tears.

“That’s right,” he encourages. “Let it out, Babe. Don’t keep it in anymore.”