#Seriously thank you so much its nothing major but this really made my day especially since im not a popular creator❤

[dontlookheswatching]

Okay, I’m really in love with your Lulu design 🥺🩷🩷🩷

Aww, thank you so much! I wasn't sure if I wanted to go with it at first since it was kinda different outfit wise, but this definitely made me feel better about it. Your so sweet, this made my day!❤❤❤

[bitchiswild]

Pervert

G!P Karina x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.7 k

Warning: unprotected sex, slight choking,possessiveness, reader being a major pervert

A/n: hai 😝imma disappear after this again… sorry! i do miss yall tho!!!😩 smut is whatever tho not my best!! Fyi!!!

Requested

──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“Y/N!” Karina burst into the backstage area, panting heavily. She was supposed to be on stage in minutes, but a button on her shirt had popped off, leaving her in desperate need of a quick fix. And that meant she needed you—her stylist and dresser—to save the day.

Being Karina’s stylist had its ups and downs. On the plus side, she was incredibly kind, treated you with respect, and trusted your judgment completely when it came to her outfits. She made you feel like an essential part of her team, always listening to your suggestions and appreciating your work.

But there was also a downside—though you couldn’t exactly call it a ‘con.’ You had a hard time keeping your eyes off her, especially when dressing her. Your job gave you the perfect excuse to admire her body up close, particularly her chest, and you often found yourself getting lost in those moments. It didn’t help that Karina seemed to enjoy teasing you, flirting just enough to make your heart race.

It wasn’t really your fault, you reasoned. How could anyone blame you when Karina was standing right in front of you, practically glowing? And seriously—have you seen Karina?

You quickly grabbed your bag of sewing supplies and rushed over to Karina, ready to fix the button. As you got closer, she watched you with an expectant gaze, her eyes slightly hooded in a way that made you gulp. Despite the nerves bubbling up inside, you reminded yourself that you had a job to do.

Standing in front of her, you found yourself face-to-face with her chest, her curves mere inches from your own. It was like a dream come true, being this close to her, but you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. You began to sew the button back onto her shirt, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from her body and the way your hands trembled slightly.

As you worked, Karina lifted a hand and gently caressed your head. “That’s it, Y/N, you’re so good at this,” she murmured, her voice soft and almost sultry.

Your hands started to shake even more. Why did that sound so hot? Your heart raced at her innocent praise, though you knew you were only doing your job. But then again, Karina had a way of making everything she said feel like a tease, and her casual praise had always made your heart flutter.

Once you finished sewing the button back in place, you couldn't resist the temptation. You purposely let your hand graze against her boobs as you pulled away, feigning innocence. “All right! You’re all fixed up! You gotta head back on stage, Jimin,” you said, flashing her a wide-eyed, innocent look as if nothing had happened.

Karina stared at you for a moment, clearly not fooled. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Y/nnie,” she replied, her voice dripping with playful intent. Before you could respond, she winked at you and rushed off to the stage.

That wink nearly made your legs give out. You knew she was fully aware of the effect she had on you—how could she not be? And yet, there was something thrilling about the whole thing. The way she teased you, the way she knew exactly how to push your buttons, and the way you secretly loved every second of it.

Why did you enjoy it so much? Maybe it was because, in those fleeting moments, it felt like you were sharing a secret game that only the two of you understood.

You watched from backstage as Karina and the girls performed, completely mesmerized by their talent. As always, they were incredible—their vocals flawless, their dances sharp and synchronized. They were aces at what they did, captivating the entire audience with ease.

The show was nearly over, which meant it was time for you to prepare Karina’s going-home outfit. But with Aeri’s stylist absent today, you were also covering for her, adding a bit more pressure to your workload.

As the girls wrapped up their final number, they still had to greet the VIP fans who’d stayed for the after-show. But before they could do that, Aeri came rushing over to you, her face showing a mix of urgency and concern. “Y/N, the strap on my top just broke!” she exclaimed, holding up the loose fabric.

You heard her, but for a split second, your attention was completely elsewhere—specifically, on her chest. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the way the broken strap left her top barely clinging to her body. It was only a moment, but you snapped out of it quickly, hoping Aeri hadn’t noticed your wandering eyes.

But someone else had noticed—Karina. From across the room, her gaze was locked on you, and the sight of you staring at Aeri’s chest sparked something inside her. Jealousy. It was subtle, but unmistakable. She knew exactly what was going through your mind, and it lit a fire in her that she couldn’t ignore.

You quickly focused on fixing Aeri’s top, your hands working with practiced efficiency. Once the strap was secured, she flashed you a grateful smile and rushed off to greet her fans. You breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have handled the situation without further incident.

But your relief was short-lived. As Aeri mingled with her fans, Karina, having just finished thanking her own, made a beeline straight for you. Her steps were purposeful, and you could tell by the way she moved that she had something on her mind.

“Y/N,” Karina said firmly, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Your heart dropped at the sound of her voice. Was she angry? Had you been too obvious? You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was right there in front of you—it had been impossible to resist. You swallowed nervously. “Y-Yeah?” you replied timidly, unsure of what was coming next.

“I saw you,” Karina stated, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Huh?” you responded, trying to play dumb, but your voice wavered.

“I saw you staring at Aeri’s tits,” Karina continued, her eyebrows arched and her arms crossed over her chest.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” you pleaded, panic setting in. The last thing you wanted was to upset Karina.

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, she reached out and gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to her. Her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “The only tits you’re allowed to look at are mine,” Karina said firmly, her voice low and commanding.

Your jaw dropped at her words, shock rendering you speechless. Your face turned an even deeper shade of red as you processed what she’d just said. “I-I…” you stammered, completely at a loss for words. Your heart pounded in your chest, so loud you could almost hear it in your ears.

Karina’s grip on your jaw softened, but her gaze remained locked on you, waiting for a response. You could barely think, let alone speak, your mind racing with a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and something else—something that made your pulse quicken in a way you hadn’t expected.

Karina’s hands slid down from your jaw, gripping your waist as she pulled you closer to her. Her lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I see the way you look at me,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry. “I see the way you look at my body. You want me, don’t you, Y/N?”

You gulped, unable to trust your voice to respond. The intensity of the moment left you speechless, your mind racing with a mixture of desire and disbelief.

Karina’s breath was warm against your ear as she continued, “Because I want you so bad.” Her words sent a jolt through your body, and before you could fully process what was happening, she grabbed your hands, guiding them to her chest. She pressed your hands against her breasts, forcing you to grip them.

A soft sigh escaped Karina’s lips, and the sound made your knees weak. You let out a quiet whimper, the sensation of her body against yours overwhelming your senses. The boundary between what was real and what you’d only dreamed about was quickly dissolving, and all you could do was hold on, completely captivated by her.

Karina's hands began to move over yours, her touch sending electric currents through your body. You sighed at the sensation, your heart racing, and the pulse between your legs intensified with every moment. You wanted Karina so badly it hurt.

Her other hand slid down, guiding your hand to her crotch. “You feel that, Y/N? You do this to me. You make me so hard,” Karina groaned into your ear, her voice thick with desire. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and your eyes locked onto hers, hooded and dilated with lust. You wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to close the distance between you.

Just as you began to lean in, there was a sudden knock at the door, startling you both. You jumped apart, the heat of the moment dissipating as reality crashed back in. Karina quickly turned away to change while you tried to collect yourself, your mind still reeling from what had just happened.

You opened the door to find Aeri standing there again. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes flickered down to her chest before quickly snapping back up. “Uh, sorry, just checking if your strap is holding up,” you said nervously, trying to cover your slip with a nervous chuckle.

Aeri chuckled in return. “Y/N, you’re a pro at sewing—it’s going to hold up just fine,” she reassured you before casually pulling off her shirt in front of you, leaving you momentarily speechless as your jaw dropped slightly.

“Where’s my going-home outfit?” Aeri asked, looking around the room as if she hadn’t just rendered you completely speechless. Your eyes remained glued to her chest, unable to tear yourself away.

Karina, now fully dressed, caught you staring and the jealousy in her eyes was unmistakable. “Y/N!” she snapped, her voice cutting through your daze and jolting you back to reality. You scrambled to find Aeri’s clothes, your hands fumbling as you handed them over to her.

“Here you go, Aeri,” you said sheepishly, feeling more than a little embarrassed. Aeri flashed you a cheesy smile before heading off to change, leaving you alone with Karina.

“What did I just tell you?” Karina’s voice was sharp, dripping with jealousy.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” you whimpered, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you.

“You’re such a fucking perv, Y/N,” Karina spat, her words like a punch to the gut. Your heart dropped, and you felt tears springing to your eyes. “Karina, I’m sorry! Please don’t tell anyone—I promise I’ll stop!” you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation.

Karina’s expression softened for a moment, but there was a glint in her eyes that told you she was enjoying this—enjoying the power she held over you. Seeing you cry, seeing you so vulnerable, seemed to give her a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“I’m going to put you in your place, Y/N. The only person you’re allowed to stare at is me,” Karina said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“But—” you began to protest, your voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty.

“No buts,” Karina cut you off, her tone brooking no disagreement. “I better see you in my hotel room later, Y/N. Or so help me, I’ll make sure everyone knows about your little habit.” Her threat hung heavily in the air, a sharp reminder of the power she held over you.

You nodded quickly, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “O-Okay,” you stammered, unable to look her in the eye.

Karina’s eyes held a steely resolve as she turned away, leaving you to grapple with the weight of her words.

You arrived at the hotel with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, your mind racing as you navigated through the lobby. Karina’s threat still echoed in your ears, and you couldn't shake the nervous energy that had settled in your stomach.

When you reached her door, you took a deep breath and knocked. The sound echoed through the hallway, amplifying your nerves. Moments later, Karina opened the door, her expression a mix of curiosity and determination.

“Come in,” she said, her tone firm but with a hint of anticipation.

You stepped inside, your heart racing. The room was tastefully decorated, and Karina was already in casual clothes, having changed out of her stage outfit. She gestured for you to sit on the couch while she moved to the other side of the room, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts.

“Did you think about what I said?” Karina asked, her voice carrying an undercurrent of authority.

You nodded, feeling your face flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. “Yes, I did.”

Karina’s gaze was intense as she walked towards you, her movements deliberate. “Good. Because tonight, I want to make sure you understand just who you’re allowed to look at,” she said, her voice low and steady.

She sat down next to you on the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her body. “I’m going to show you exactly what I mean,” she continued, her eyes locked on yours. “And I want you to remember this moment, Y/N. Remember who has control here.”

As she spoke, Karina’s hand reached out to gently touch your arm, her touch sending a shiver through you. She leaned in slightly, her lips almost brushing against your ear as she whispered, “You’re mine tonight. Don’t forget it.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. “I won’t forget,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

Karina smiled, a mixture of satisfaction and desire in her eyes. “Good,” she said, her hand moving from your arm to gently cup your cheek. “Now, let’s make sure you remember who you belong to.”

Without breaking eye contact, Karina guided you gently but firmly onto the bed. The sudden shift from the couch to the soft surface of the bed intensified the electricity in the room. You looked up at her, your heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of nervousness.

Karina followed you, her movements confident and assured. She positioned herself above you, her body pressing down against yours as she straddled your hips. Her eyes were dark with desire, and she leaned in close, her breath warm against your skin.

“Do you understand now?” Karina whispered, her lips almost brushing yours. Her hands explored your sides, her touch both tender and possessive. She paused, her gaze intense and searching.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, overwhelmed by the proximity of her body and the heat of the moment. The weight of her presence was exhilarating, and you could feel every touch, every movement acutely.

Karina’s hands roamed gently over your body, her fingers tracing along your curves with a mix of tenderness and assertiveness.

Karina’s hands gently gripped the bottom of your shirt, lifting it slowly as her eyes locked with yours. The intensity in her gaze made your breath catch, and you let out a shaky sigh. Her movements were deliberate, filled with an almost tangible anticipation.

Once your shirt was off, Karina’s hands continued their journey, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. She pulled them down slowly, her eyes never leaving yours, and you felt a rush of vulnerability and excitement.

Karina stood back up, her hands moving to your bra strap. She looked at you with a question in her eyes, seeking permission, which you gave with a slight nod. As she removed your bra, a low groan escaped her lips at the sight. The sound was both appreciative and possessive.

Karina’s hands roamed gently over your body, her touch exploratory and tender. As she leaned down, she placed a soft, lingering kiss on your chest. The warmth of her lips and the sensation of her touch created a mix of anticipation and comfort.

Her kisses deepened as she began to suck on your tits, each movement both electrifying and soothing. Her gentle touch with the intensity of her sucking left you breathless, your arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and you arched your back into her touch,

Karina’s right hand slid down to your lower body, her touch teasing and gentle as she made contact with your clit. Your breath catching in a gasp of pleasure. “Fuck Karina,” you whimpered, your voice filled with a mix of need and desperation.

“What is it, baby?” Karina’s voice was a low murmur against your chest, full of urgency.

“I need you,” you gasped out, your fingers gripping her hair as she continued to kiss and caress you with a desperate intensity. Her touch was relentless, making every sensation more acute. In one quick motion, Karina pulled off your panties, leaving you exposed. She swiftly followed, and you couldn’t help but let your gaze roam over her body.

“That’s it, baby. Look at me. I want you to focus on me and no one else,” she said firmly, her tone commanding.

Your eyes dropped to her body, and the sight of hergrowing cock made your breath hitch. The thought of feeling her inside you, was nearly overwhelming.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Karina said as her fingers explored you. Her touch made you shiver, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Karina started moving her member against you. Each stroke slid smoothly against your dripping wetness. You could feel the slickness drip down you as her member glided against your soaked crotch, each movement adding to the pleasure driving you both wild.

The tip of her member brushed against your opening. “You’re mine, Y/N,” Karina whispered with a possessive edge. With that, she slid into you, filling you up with a deep, satisfying pressure. The sensation of her moving inside you was intense, and you could feel every shift and thrust.

You gasped at the overwhelming sensation, a mix of pleasure and surprise escaping your lips. “Oh my god,” you moaned, gripping Karina’s back tightly.

Karina responded by kissing your neck, her lips leaving possessive marks as a reminder of your connection. The room echoed with the sounds of your movements, each thrust from Karina purposeful and deep. Her grip on your hips was firm, guiding you to match her rhythm. “You’re mine, Y/N,” Karina groaned, her hands moving to your neck, adding to the intensity.

Her thrusts grew harder and more deliberate, each motion pushing deeper inside you. The sensation was intense, with every thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel the pressure building with each movement. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your body on edge.

Karina’s hands left your neck and moved down to your clit, rubbing it quickly and skillfully. “That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Squeeze me with your tight cunt,” she moaned, her voice thick with desire. The pleasure was almost too much to bear. “God, Karina,” you cried out, letting the wave of your orgasm wash over you.

Your body tightened around her, your slit gripping her member so tightly that the pressure and sensation made it difficult for her to move, but the pleasure was undeniable. Karina’s breathing grew heavier as she neared her own climax. “God baby you’re so tight” She groaned out.

With a final, deep thrust, Karina’s orgasm hit, and she filled you completely, the sensation of her release made you shiver against her.

As the intensity of the moment faded, Karina’s breathing gradually slowed. She gently pulled away, her movements tender and careful. Her eyes, filled with a mix of satisfaction and affection, met yours.

Karina brushed a strand of hair away from your face, her touch soft and soothing. “You did so well,” she murmured, her voice warm and reassuring. She helped you adjust your position, ensuring you were comfortable and relaxed.

Gently, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close in a comforting embrace. Her fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin, and she pressed a series of soft kisses to your forehead and cheek.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice full of concern as she checked in with you. Her eyes searched yours, wanting to make sure you felt good both physically and emotionally.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of her care and the afterglow of your shared experience. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, your voice filled with gratitude.

Karina smiled and continued to hold you, her presence a calming reassurance. She fetched a warm cloth and gently cleaned you up, her touch gentle and attentive. As she worked, she stayed close, her touch and gaze conveying her affection and commitment to making sure you were well.

The room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing and Karina’s comforting presence.

Karina chuckled softly as she looked at you with a playful glint in her eye. “You’re gonna hate what I did to your neck,” she said, her tone light but mischievous.

You stared at her, puzzled, before slowly getting up to head to the bathroom. Your heart raced as you approached the mirror, curiosity mixed with a touch of apprehension.

When you finally looked in the mirror, you saw the marks Karina had left on your neck. The dark, hickeys were a clear reminder of the intensity of your time together. “Karina!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Karina’s laughter was soft but warm, her eyes twinkling as she joined you in the bathroom. “I just wanted to make sure you remember who you belong to,” she said with a grin, her tone affectionate despite the teasing.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, despite the shock. “Well, mission accomplished,” you said, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll be wearing high collars for a while.”

Karina reached out and gently touched your arm, her expression softening. “I’m sorry if I went a bit overboard,” she said, her voice sincere. “I just got carried away.”

You smiled at her, feeling a deep sense of affection and connection. “It’s okay,” you replied. “I like it”

──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

[cherrytreedreams]

Hi!

Thoughts on Luther in s4? I feel like they dumbed him down a lot and it made me really sad :( especially because I just rewatched season 1.

Thank you!

hiiiiiiiiiiiii welcome to my cringe pit.

im actually a patented Luther Enjoyer. this isnt as much of a hot take since s2 and 3, but i remember back in the s1 days that luther was bar none the most hated sibling. and i actually think s1 is his best season, easily. i like his puppy-dog vibes in s2 and 3 (esp since in s2 in particular, hes still kind of an asshole-- remember when five said the world was ending and he said "i dont give a shit"? major dick move. plus ill never forget his pathetic kicked-puppy vibes in ray's living room.)

anyway, i think s1 is his best season because s1 is very thematically coherent, in a way none of the other seasons are. every sibling embodies a facet of reginald's abuse, and every sibling embodies how the abuse affected them. luther is the sibling holding onto their childhood-- still vying for dad's approval, all the way until he realizes he'll never get it again. luther lashes out because he'll never be what his father wants him to be; and luther lashes out because while he holds himself to reggie's standards, he also holds aaaallll of his siblings to reggie's standards, too. its why he treats viktor cruelly; because reggie treated viktor cruelly. and luther, deep in his heart, really wants to be his dad.

but anyway. so, with that arc reasonably done with in s1, i feel like the "vaguely pathetic but wide-eyed and figuring out who he is for the first time" angle is the obvious direction to take luther in, after that. luther is essentially a young adult in s2 and 3; leaving home for the first time, experiencing his breakup, getting his first job, figuring out what he wants, falling in love, etc. he's finally getting to make his own choices! and he's not always nice about it (and has a pretty specific frustration with five, but thats its own post...)

sooo.. with the inherent premise of a 6 year timeskip between s3 and s4, you've already lost this angle for luther. in my opinion, the obvious direction to take luther in is actually pretty similar to the direction they took him in; he misses his wife. he's lost the person he's connected with the most to; his rock, maybe, even? i get that luther and sloane didnt have much time together, but hear me out.

the siblings struggle to connect with each other, this is a well-established fact about tua. the love interests are significant because they offer the siblings someone to truly connect with. so, with luther having lost sloane, it actually makes perfect sense that he'd fall into this position of feeling the burden of "keeping the family" together.

luther doesnt care about being a leader, really..? nor does he put the stock in being "number one" that he used to, but him becoming the patriarch of the family in his own right makes perfect sense to me. bringing everyone together, organizing meetups, parties, that sort of thing. i actually think it'd be a really satisfying end to his arc; he cant become his dad, but he can become who his dad should have been, eh?

so i dont really have a problem with the premise. nor do i really have any real problem with him being a stripper? what i have a problem with is how... you phrase it as being "dumbed down", which i agree with; but what i think it is, is how luther is framed, narratively. there's nothing actually dumb about luther being full of love or being a stripper; but the narrative treats him like he's dumb. the show wants you to point and laugh, and not take him super seriously. he's comic-relief, basically.

we, the audience, are not meant to treat luther seriously. the framing mocks him, derides him, and makes jokes about him-- which theres actually nothing wrong with, by itself. previous seasons did this with every single character (including SB's favorite self-insert, five). whats different is that luther doesnt get any substantial character work to balance it out.

why does he choose to live in the academy? why did he choose to become a stripper? has he tried looking for sloane? how does he feel about losing her? how does he feel about getting his powers back? or his ape-body? (and no, the jokes dont count.) so theres just nothing there; nothing of substance. he does get the seasons one good fight scene tho, lol.

you can attribute this to a lot of things; the seasons slashed episode count, whatever. personally i think this ties into s4's wider cynicism regarding love, and the siblings love for each other, like i said in my other meta on the subject. because if luther embodies the want to keep his family together, then the narrative has to treat him like he's a wide-eyed child, because the narrative is preoccupied with how much love sucks. and, ultimately, that is how the narrative frames luther: like hes childish. which sucks, because a) shouldnt we be beyond that by now? and b) i actually dont think he is, really. he just wants to see his siblings? and work at a job? and grieve his wife? and fix up a house? none of that is particularly childish. but what do i know, lol

[baby-xemnas]

the weirdness and unconventionality of lawbepo are major charm points to me tbh!💕 i also really love how lawbepo elevates law’s character! it’s not that i didn’t like law before, but to be honest, i feel that a weakness of the character is that he is easily put into the “stoic badass with a tragic past and a secret heart of gold” stereotype. which is cool and fun, and it’s obviously a popular trope for a reason, but every anime/manga has this type of character tbh, and if nothing more is done with them, they can be kinda generic and one note. and it’s especially hard if the character is a side character, so it’s unlikely the creator will spend more time with them. unless it’s like for fanservice or something. so i like these types of characters but i don’t usually love them because of that.

that was how i used to feel about law, i liked him and thought his design was cool but that’s it. but everything is different now- like maybe it sounds insane to say, but considering “what if that bear is not just law’s vice captain, but also his first love from childhood? his babygirl? his ride-or-die wife?” has seriously like opened my third eye when it comes to law tbh lol, and i have you and your incredible art to thank for that! 🙏❤️‍🔥💕💯🔥✨

YOU PRETTY MUCH WENT THRU THE SAME JOURNEY AS MYSELF AND I LOVE THAT

yes so true all that....law by himself is only okay, yes hes sexy so ppl are crazy abt shipping him with whoever the fuck

but i really love when a sexy and intelligent character is WEIRD and its ignored by those around them cuz they are hot.

i like to bring him up cuz it was such a great discovery idk maybe someone will relate - i had that moment with akaashi haikyuu cuz i was like sure whatever, he is cute and bokuaka is FINE but when akaashis obsessive controlling calculative nature was revealed i had a real 💡!!! moment abt it and fell so hard for the character and the ship. like of you are pretty and WEIRD AF abt bokuto. gaslight gatekeepe girlboss. a dumbass' manipulative psycho boyfriend. perfect

and with Law honestly i cant commend japanese artists enough who saw Bepo day ONE and saw the potential of Law being very particular (pervert) about his bear - drawing dozens of comics of Law bleeding from the nose because Bepo is That cute. THEY REALLY HAD HIS NUMBER i meanwhile needed more convincing cuz im too canonfaggy to live off of Just the intro and the hug (all we had at the point where i got into op first) yes the hug was monumental and parially made up for the PH and DR lack of Bepo and having to tolerate the stupidity and insult of "law is gonna join SH/law is a honorary SH" no he wont, is not. die????

anyway yes it took me more fanservice to be like oh So we really ARE putting Law's softness for Bepo as one of the core characteristics? Not just a passing occasional thing like the hug was? Okay. BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

weird is great weird is enriching and its fucking phenomenal that it's Just bepo. Not just cute things even tho he does love them - Bepo being a whole Person that gets Law's cuteness dokis in a bunch is soooooo sus and charming

idk how other Law fans see it but i dont think Law loving cuteness and fluff like the Onigiri moment - would be enough, its too circumstantial. But Bepo.... Bepo is always there, making Law better by being his spoiled rotten softie baby angel

sorry if my train of thought is all over the place. Thank you so much for the ask you the real one ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[cjsinkythoughts]

Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes. 

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

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

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow. 

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.  So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”

[stagemanagerssaygo]

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

[wh6res]

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic. 

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane." 

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. 

"bitch," you mutter under your breath. 

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again. 

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?" 

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway. 

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?" 

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him. 

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath. 

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement. 

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year. 

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her. 

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" 

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living. 

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing." 

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done. 

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way. 

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement. 

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears. 

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend. 

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word. 

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel. 

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode. 

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information. 

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics. 

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve. 

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too. 

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today  —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?" 

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind. 

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head. 

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest. 

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!" 

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys. 

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history." 

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said. 

"do you really want to know why?" 

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart. 

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss. 

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone. 

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment. 

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day. 

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor. 

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down. 

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud. 

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand. 

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't… 

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper. 

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused. 

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going. 

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back. 

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video. 

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers. 

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples. 

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration. 

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin. 

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day. 

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder. 

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp. 

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time. 

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside. 

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home. 

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off. 

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung. 

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him. 

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with. 

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it...  but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you. 

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob. 

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face. 

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Ch. 2, Ghost

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Chapter Summary: Byun Baekhyun and the Reader remember the day they spent in UN Village together while they are heading to Chios. (Guys, this chapter, which is dedicated to the beginning of their relationship, is going to be two parts, otherwise it is going to be more than 20k lol)

Word Count: 11k

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be 7 or 8 chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Ghost

5 years ago, Hannam-dong

Even if I want you so much it drives me crazy

You ghost

Even if I want and call for you all night long

You came to me and left without a word

You ghost, you ghost

You want to go crazy all night, you plead

You ghost

You disappeared again without a trace

“What type of sadistic and sick person could say that we have to work here?” you cursed between your teeth, you jaw clenched because of pure anger. “How do they expect us to do our job in the middle of fucking super-ultra-rich people?”

“Get used to it.” Junmyeon flinched your forehead, but his frustration was oblivious, even though he was doing definitely better than you. “Where is Baekhyun?”

“I do not know.” you recklessly pointed to the expensive cars on the road. “Maybe he was looking for a sugar mommy.”

“As your sunbae,” Minseok hit you. “I would like to remind you to hold on your manners.”

“Someone has to give a speech on manners to him.” your eyebrows knitted together. “Not to me.”

“Both of you,” Kyungsoo nonchalantly spoke. “need a really good beaten session, since both of you have no idea on how to behave.”

You threw the book you were holding to Kyungsoo, but he was too quick and easily saved himself from your unexpected attack.

“I am here, right?” you hissed. “Where the heck is that bastard? He always disappears when it comes to work, why do you hold me in the same esteem with him?”

“Because you are definitely a copy of Baekhyun.” Chanyeol laughed at your god-fucking-damn-it-so-horrible face expression. “Let’s face with the fact, Indy. Everyone knows that Baekhyun is a disciplined student, just as you are, badmouthed, just as you are.”

“Are you talking about me?” Baekhyun popped out of nowhere. “I heard you are praising me less than the way I deserve.”

Your face could be described as disgusted, but this would be the kindest way of telling how your appearance was. Actually, you wanted to punch his narcissistic self-perspective, to shake his cage in order to give him the lesson he deserved, but you did not want to be scolded by Junmyeon again. You just walked away from him, needing to put a safe distance between yourself and Baekhyun.

God, if you could run away to space, you would do it in order to not infuse with the same air with Baekhyun.

You disliked him, you disliked the way of his well-being, you disliked his velvety voice, his lame jokes, his sharp remarks, you disliked everything about Byun Baekhyun.

And you hated yourself because of finding him very handsome. Sometimes, you caught yourself, staring at Baekhyun, forgetting how to breath properly. His face was like a gift of God himself; his body ratio made you to say oh-my-fucking-god.

Thank God, he had the most annoying character, because if he had a good personality, you knew that you would fall in love over the heels with him.

“What kind of idiot chained us here?” Baekhyun asked to Junmyeon. “Fuck’s sake, what the heck we are going to here? Digging beneath the Richie riches’ villas?”

Chanyeol bite his lips before looking at you, silently reminding your own words and his remarks about being very same with Baekhyun. You did not back off, staring at Chanyeol with all frustration went through your veins, causing Chanyeol to laugh. Baekhyun hit his head, then walked towards Junmyeon to take his own tool bag.

You hated him for this, too. He was acting like he was a superior, like he was better than any of you, and what got your nerves badly was no one scold him as they would scold you if you would do the same things.

“Yeah, I am like this scumbag who does not carry even his own stuff, huh?” you literally sizzled between your teeth, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo heard your annoyed voice, but they preferred to keep their silence. Your hate was not a secret for the team, everyone was aware of the fact that putting you and Baekhyun was a dangerous decision since he also loathed you.

But to your dismays, you were the brightest students Sejong could always play on.

“Seriously what we are going to do?” Baekhyun repeated his question because he really did not have a single clue.

“Didn’t you read the mail Sejong sent us?” Jongdae asked him, raising one eyebrow. Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder, you bit your lower lip in order keep your frustration under your control. What a bastard!

“We have to visit UN Village, there are seven neighbourhood where we have to go and collect the permissions of the residents.” Junmyeon run his hand through his hair. He was already on the verge of cracking since he was the one who had to deal with a lot of capricious upper-class members in order to complete this fucking task. He wished nothing but changing his path, he started to think like the field was not his cup of tea, but before resigning from leadership, he wanted to find a good candidate who could lead the team.

He wanted you to be that leader. You and Baekhyun. Heretofore, Junmyeon laid his eyes on both of you and your abilities persuaded him to nominate your names when he could propose an election. He did not want to be a fieldperson, he wished to stay in his office, but at the same time, he could not inherit his legacy, Godfuckingdamnit Junmyeon’s did his best in order to engrave his name as one of the most successful captains, to anyone but the best. Yet, Junmyeon had no idea how to put you in good terms, since you were like a cat and dog, and Chanyeol, that giant idiot, used every opportunity to fan the flames, even that silent Kyungsoo enjoyed watching intangible scuffles between you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon has been sensing that the team was becoming aware of the situation and camping as two different poles. Jongdae, Shinhye and Minseok were setting off closer to you while Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and the newbie, Jongin have been shifting to Baekhyun’s side. Damn, Junmyeon could not let it to be happen. He needed all of you under the same umbrella, especially you and Baekhyun had to stay together. He was seeing a great potential of you, if you could combine your powers, you were going to be the perfect team. Period.

“Let’s split into teams.” his eyes wandered around all of you. “We are eight, if we can divide ourselves into four teams, we will finish the job easier and quicker.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Kyungsoo approved. “I am going to take Chanyeol.”

“Are you my superior, dumbass?” Chanyeol hit his shoulder, but he was laughing. “I am with Kyungsoo.”

“Good.” Junmyeon inhaled. “Shinhye, you are with Jongdae.”

You automatically stirred next to Minseok, however you shuttered after hearing Junmyeon’s next orders.

“Indy, you and Baekhyun are together, Minseok, let’s go.”

“What?!” you immediately stopped and hissed at Junmyeon. “Am I with who?”

Jongdae realized the storm before seeing the clouds, clever as always, he disappeared while dragging Shinhye with him. You even did not notice, but Chanyeol’s smile widened, Kyungsoo smirked, and they rushed to their own direction.

Only four of you were standing on the pavement, you were throwing daggers to Junmyeon with your eyes. Baekhyun was nonchalantly looking at Junmyeon, while Minseok could not find a way to break the tension.

Junmyeon was cool as a cucumber.

“You are with Baekhyun.” he repeated his words, sounding like he was condemning you with execution. “What? Do you have a rejection?”

“Yes!” you exploded without thinking. “Why shou-

“Believe me,” Baekhyun interrupted your words, he was indifferent to your frustration. “I did not beg for being in the same team with you.”

“Did I claim that?” you swiftly turned on your tiptoes. “Did I say you are eager to be with me?”

“It would be the greatest joke you could make.” Baekhyun winked to you. “But you are not so into the entertainment, right?”

“Baekhyun,” Minseok noisily cleared his throat. “I am not sur-

“What do you know about me?” you heard your own voice. “This is why we cannot work together, you always make assumptions out of your ass, instead I work as organized, with the facts and tangible proofs.”

“What do you know about me?” Baekhyun coldly smiled at you, you could not describe its impacts on you, that smile had you wanting to punch him at the same time ignited some fires in your lower stomach. “We barely talk, have you been watching me all the time?”

“You wish.” you took a deep breath. “You are not worth my time.”

“Oh,” his eyes glimmered with a menacing luminescence. “I am deeply wounded.”

“If you are done,” Junmyeon raised his hands to the air. “We have to work.”

“Jun-

“Young lady,” Baekhyun barged on. “They did not teach you this, so it’s up to me but we are not in kindergarten anymore.”

You had to admit, no one could get your nerves till now like Baekhyun did.

You had to admit, you hated being called as a kid. Junmyeon’s eyes blown up when Baekhyun labelled you as a kid, before he could open his mouth, you stared at Baekhyun.

“I can see why we could be a team.” you took the directional instructions from Junmyeon’s hand. “A kindergarten kid has to take care of a cry baby while the adults have to work.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed, but you wholly ignored his visible annoyance, and started to walk. Junmyeon was looking at your back with a little bit concerned face, but he knew that he did what he had to do.

You were going to scold Junmyeon in the following hours of the day, however, now your job was teaching a couple of lessons on manners to this scumbag who has been walking beside you.

You spent the first hour in a total silence, talking only if the occasion called for it. The tension between you and Baekhyun was solid, someone could cut it with a knife without any problem. Baekhyun was bored to death, he never plan to have a day like this, he wanted to enjoy everything he did, he thought he could be with Chanyeol or Kyungsoo, having fun to death.

Instead, he was trapped with you.

The only girl he loathed to the bits.

He could not endure to hear your voice, even though you talked with the residents very kindly and respectfully. He had to admit that you were doing a good job, but it did not change anything he felt for you. He had been cursing Junmyeon since he put you two in the same task, however, he knew that if Junmyeon wanted something from Baekhyun, he would do it without question. Baekhyun could be many things, but he was loyal to his friends, and Junmyeon had a special place in his heart.

Also, behind the curtains of his hate, he could see why Junmyeon gave you to him. Although you were an abominable bitch, an obnoxious creature, a walking blasphemy, and a hate crime, Baekhyun did not think you could be an offspring of a lovely or healthy relationship, he was sure your parents were diabolical beasts, to his disappointment, you were reallyclever.

He wished you could be more reliable person, so he could work with you.

Baekhyun did not like to confess, yet he was aware of the fact that he desperately needed his own Evelyn O’Connor. Someone who could play the game with him, as his trustable partner in crime. He was extremely close to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but they were not equal to his wits and ambitions. Sometimes he was brassed off the conversations, time to time he found them boring and lame. His logic was faster than his mates, actually he was longing for nothing, but someone was equal to his high-speed brain.

You could be the one he was searching for, but you were made of poison, greed, and wickedness. Even if he would be blessed by the Heavens, he could not agree to work someone with you.

“Your Highness,” he heard your fucking voice. “We have to visit at least twelve houses more; do you mind hurrying up?”

“The only thing I mind is your fucking attitude.” he gritted his teeth. “Give the plan to me.”

“So, you can destroy everything I organized properly?” you smirked. “I do not think so.”

“Organized?” Baekhyun cocked his eyebrow. “Organized, my ass. Didn’t you lose Park Sangwan’s house? Twice?”

“Look who is talking.” the red of embarrassment slightly painted your cheeks and ears. “The one who had no idea about today’s plans.”

“At least I did not lose my fucking way and circled around the same house almost for half an hour.”

“And the award goes to Byun Baekhyun for his greatest achievements.” you gave back the wink to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, breaking news. No achievement no award.”

Baekhyun took it personally since you two competed to each other as the finalists of last academic year. Your project was accepted as the winner while Baekhyun received only a certificate. You hit the lotto, he had to watch you, walking to the stage with a bright smile tugged on your lips.

Still, he could vividly remember the little smirk you gave to him that night when they announced your name.

“You did it consciously.” his jaw clenched. “That night. When they called you as the winner. You immediately turned to me just to annoy me.”

“It seems, I achieve my goal.” your smirk widened, a glistening layer of fun covered your face. “Were you disappointed?”

“Yeah, of course.” he did not miss a single second. “I was disappointed of the professors, I was believing they were cleverer than me, but their choice showed me they were nothing but idiots.”

“Could you smell the air, Baekhyun?” you asked with a serious face. He was confused for a second, you never ask a question to him or call him by his name, but before he could register, you tucked the words in his throat. “Oh, jealousy, my favourite.”

“Darling,” Baekhyun swallowed hard. “There is no single living soul who can be low enough to jealous you in this universe.”

That was not quite truth, because Baekhyun not only remembered your revengeful smile but also how you were looking like that day. He could paint you on canvas by closed eyes, and he would not miss a single detail.

And he was a little bit jealous on that day. Not only because he lost over to you, but also because of the people around you. You annoyed him not only with your award, but also with your closeness to the other men.

Despite of your usual oversize clothes or no makeup policy, you chose to present yourself in a different style. Your hair was perfectly combed, your makeup highlighted your face features, and you were wearing a little light blue dress which tightly caressed your body. Baekhyun, or none of your classmates knew that you had curves for example till that night and to Baekhyun’s dismay, you had a really good body. You were a minion, your beauty was very soft and although he really hated to admit this, you were a view for the spectators. Maybe not the prettiest, but you had something had people looking at you, liking you, desiring you.

You had an aura which was enough to make your biggest enemy to silently acknowledged that you were attractive.

“Maybe, there is no one.” you shrugged your shoulder. “But youwere eager to low yourself, huh?”

You did not forget the look on Baekhyun’s face when Professor Kim called you to the stage. You were sure as fuck, he was cursing you but also there was something else, glowing in his eyes. Something you could not describe, but you could see the same emotion in your reflection when you saw Baekhyun with that crowd of girls.

Rarely.

But still you knew that feeling.

That ceremony was hard for you, of course you were over the moon because of your achievement, that project opened you some fresh opportunities and proved that despite of being a junior, you were more than a bachelor student. You proved your talents and abilities to yourself by winning the first place, you completed a step, made your first goal come true.

And you nailed Byun Baekhyun’s coffin. It was worth of every minute you spent sleepless, your tears and sweats, the hours in library, the hours in front of the plan of Gyeongbokgung Palace and search for the most logical and safest ways of conducting an excavation around the palace.

Your ideas were chosen over Baekhyun’s ideas, and you were aware of the quality of the solutions he proposed.

You were proud of yourself.

It was the bare truth that Baekhyun’s face were singing to you just as your favourite band could sing, seeing his face just like someone fed him with cucumbers was equal to being accepted into your dream field, Chios’ excavations, as the chief archaeologist.

But you were annoyed.

You could not happily taste your success. You could not feel its flavour on your tongue buds.

Because of that bastard looked fucking magnificent in that bloody black suit.

You have been told about the dress code you had to follow, however no one, not a single soul managed to catch his level of looking good in a suit.

You were annoyed because your taste in men was exactly equal to Byun Baekhyun. He had everything you could ask for, he was devilishly charming, there was even no need for words to describe him, he was beautiful.

And he was the only one you hated the most.

Every girl in the room was drooling over him, to your dismay, just like you. You felt that feeling in your stomach, a pain which was spinning, spinning, and spinning, causing a tornado inside of your stomach.

Was it jealousy?

“I already noticed your ignorance about the feelings.” Baekhyun could not control himself anymore and grabbed your shoulder, turning you to the opposite direction. “We have to follow this fucking street, or we will be lost again.”

“Have you been observing me, Baekhyunnie? That’s so cute.” you ignored the second part of his words, just starting to walk on the direction he instructed to you.

“Observing you takes a minute, baby girl, since there is nothing to see.” he answered but he found it interesting when you called him as Baekhyunnie. “You are a spoiled brat.”

“Hop, that hurts.” you pouted, pressed your fist on your chest, faking a whimper. “Would you like to tame this spoiled brat?”

You started to think that you went nuts.

“In your dreams.” Baekhyun laughed, but he literally lost himself in the fucking possibilities you could be tamed by him. “You have to wait a couple of centuries for someone who can be willing to be with you.”

You chuckled but preferred to keep your silence after his words. Damn, your sudden quietude caught Baekhyun’s attention more. Why didn’t you not attack to him? Why didn’t you give him a sharp answer as you should have?

Why you chuckled like there was a line at your door?

Was it?

Baekhyun pondered that instead of the fact that you were generally with a small group of friends, to both of your dismays your common friends, he did not see you with strangers, so there could not a queue for your hand.

Could it be?

And why the fuck he should have care if there is a crowd for you or not? No one could want someone like you if they did not lose their mind.

But he cared. Fuck, he cared more than he wanted.

Because to his disappointment, he knew that there was a real cavalcade of knightly candidates for you.

“Okey,” you checked the time. “After this one, I am going to have lunch.”

“We are going to have lunch.” Baekhyun gritted his teeth. “I hate eating alone enough to endure your presence.”

“Didn’t you tell me there is no one who could want to be with me?” you snickered. “But you have no reservations about having lunch with me?”

“Imagine the situation I am in.” he grumbled. “The day gets better and better.”

You decided to annoy him, pushing him to the edges as much as you could do. The first response that came to your mind refusing him, but the other option was funnier. You could play with Byun Baekhyun, you could take your revenge by being a pain in the ass.

He said that he could endure your presence.

You could make him regretful of his words.

There was a very little smile tugged on your lips which you were not aware of, however, to his dismay, Baekhyun realized it.

Her lips are rosy and plump, he thought to himself. Even though he called you a spoiled brat, he was not sure of if you were a brat or not. Kiddos have not the type of lips, calling people for the kisses, like you. There was something, even during your cocky performances when you tried to beat the life out of him, although you always kept that dull and bored expression and acted like Baekhyun was not worth of your time, but there was something just in you.

Baekhyun swallowed down his own vomit when he admitted it to himself, and you have caught his glare.

“What?” you purred. “Can’t you take your eyes off me?”

“Who the hell wants to watch you?” he quickly collected his thoughts and put them in a fucking trail. “I am looking for a restaurant where we can have good food.”

After a permanent mutual ignorance session for years, his next words caught you off your guard.

“You like local foods, right?” he asked. “I guess the second shop on this street is famous for jjangmyeon and tteokbokki.”

Well, you had to admit that his questions made your brain a little bit foggy. How could he know that?

“Yeah.” for the first time in history, you did not come up with any sharp answer. “How about you?”

“As long as there is no cucumber or extremely sweet cuisine,” he started to walk. “I am fine.”

You heard that Baekhyun is really not in good terms with cucumber.

“Feel you.” you murmured in your mouth because you hated cucumbers as much as you hated Baekhyun. He swiftly look at you, you accompanied him on the street.

“We should celebrate.” he teased. “I said something, you just answered, and we did not have a fight.”

“This is a privilege for cucumbers.” you shrugged your shoulder, but you also felt that he did not buy your nonchalant tone. “I cannot stand them, mum loves it too much, I mean what type of person can love a cucumber? If I need water, I prefer to drink it.”

Your observation made him tilted his head back in that rumbling laugh of his, you were unwilling to join, but the corners of your mouth turned up slightly.

“Here we go.” He, as a gentleman, opened the door for you, you responded with the most neutral expression you could muster. “Oh, no thanks?”

“Thank you.” you rolled your eyes, however, despite of your strongly negative feelings against him, you do not like rudeness. “Sorry, that was insolence of me.”

“Your apology is fully accepted.” he winked, you hated that cocky tone, you hated yourself for falling into his trap. You passed him, went to a distanced table where it placed in the corner. You did not want to be seen as having a lunch with Baekhyun by your teammates.

Corner was fine.

“Oh, no.” he grabbed your arm, manhandled you to the tables of the center. “I will not let you escape. If they see us, let them to see.”

Your eyebrows knitted, your lips pressed to each other enough to form a thick line on your face, you could almost taste your growing anger. But at the same time, you realized that feeling his hand on your skin increased your heartbeats, you wanted to scream with self-hatred, but you bite down on your tongue as his hand quickly wandered to down, to your waist. He directed you to the most visible table from outside while you were fighting yourself in order to control your fucking pace of breathing.

Please, this could not be true, I could not be excited because of his touch, you thought.

This was not happening, what the fuck was happening?

Baekhyun was not so different from you, even though his face expression was not changed for a bit. He forced himself to take control, but it was really hard for him.

Your hate was reciprocated, right? You guys could not spend even a bloody minute in peace, the only thing you had was annoyance.

So, why you perfectly fit in his embrace just like you were made just to be under his arm?

Why Baekhyun wanted to tight his arm around your waist?

Why could you not say anything even though Baekhyun was literally holding you?

Why you felt like you were in the only place where you had to be for the rest of your days?

“Hi.” you heard the waitress who was a really beautiful girl. “Welcome to Sung’s String. How can I help you?”

Even though finishing her sentence, she begun to eye Baekhyun. You rolled your eyes and reached to the menu; to be honest, this show was not funny after seeing it for the million times. Every time, Sejong Team went outside for a drink, for a gathering or even for a museum trip, girls and sometimes boys gazing the members of Sejong Team just like they were idols or actors because of their good-looking. Eh, they were not wrong, you had to say that the Sejong Team included really, really, and really handsome boys from Baekhyun to Chanyeol, from Kyungsoo to Jongdae and these boys’ superiors were Kim oh-my-godJunmyeon and Kim lord-help-us Minseok.

Well…

You were already got used to the reactions coming from all around when Sejong Team showed their faces. You knew that both of insiders and outsiders of Sejong Institute called your team members as the Flower Boys or a shitty nickname like that.

“I would like to have a jjangmyeon without cucumbers, and a tteokbokki.” you turned the menu off. “With a light coke.”

“Coke?” Baekhyun mimicked you like he could not believe his ears. “Are you kidding? Everyone knows that you have to drink jasmine tea in order to help digestion.”

“Have you been majored in nutrition?” you gave him your bitchy resting face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No coke.” he wholly ignored you and turned to the waitress who was watching him as drooling. “Please, we want two bowls of jjangmyeon, two tteokbokki, also please we would like to have kimbap and kimchi as the garnitures and of course a pot of jasmine tea.”

“Yeah!” she sounded weaker after Baekhyun conducted all power he had in his eyes to her. “Anything else?”

“I guess we are fine for the time being.” Baekhyun smiled to her, causing a flush of redness on her cheeks.

“I will be back as soon as possible.” the girl literally purred, Baekhyun’s eyes shined after her reaction. Little bastard. You did not want to think about it, but his visible joy had your stomach churned. You inhaled and took your book out of your bag.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun glanced up at you, reached to take the book from your hands. “Having lunch together means conversation, are you going to read?”

“Give the book to me, Byun.” you kicked his foot under the table. “I know you do not know how to read and enjoy but that’s a good habit to have.”

“Yeah, I know that habit of you gives nothing but lonely hours in library.” he had no limits of shooting his arrows. “Have you ever tried something different for a change?”

“Like what?” you tried to get back your book. “Following your great example and dedicate my life to your favourite sport? Sorry, I have no interest in running after women by lolling my tongue out of my mouth.”

“Baby girl,” Baekhyun put your book in his leather bag. “You have no idea whose tongue lolls out of the mouth.”

You could not decide on what you hated the most. Baekhyun or the girls after Baekhyun? You concluded as both of them were equally horrible in your eyes.

“I am sure your stories are incredible.” you inhaled. “But I really do not like to hear the anecdotes of miserable women. Could you give the book back before I gauge your eyes off?”

“Nope.” he grinned. “I can bet on you are still a virgin but tell me if you have an affair or not, I would like to pay my condolences to your partner.”

He was already written as the first name in your list of most-hated-people, but suddenly became the first man to be written as the first enemy of a lifetime.

“Did you finish your own list of dead partners?” you raised one eyebrow. “Thinking of its length gives me chills.”

“No dead.” his grin widened from one ear to the other. “They just had some temporary heart problems due to the performances I gave to them.”

You opened your mouth to slap his face with the words, but the waitress came back to your table with a huge tray. She was placing every bowl and plate, actually fucking Baekhyun with her eyes, you literally hardly suppressed your instincts, telling you to warn her immediately.

But you were not honest with yourself about why you wanted to warn her. In the deep of your mind, but in very deep, you had been starting to realize that you disliked when the girls threw themselves to Baekhyun because you wanted them to stop. You did not like the scene because you did not want to share Baekhyun’s gaze with another person.

You were lying to yourself without realizing what was the real problem of you.

You loved Baekhyun from the beginning, even though he was a fucking tease and a bloody smartass. There was no other man for you, if someone could cut your chest, the only thing would be seen in your heart was his name.

But that would be the heaviest self-enlightenment, and you were definitely not ready for such as a thing. That’s why you unconsciously continued to trick yourself by disguising your own feelings from your own eyes.

You got the chopsticks and decided to have your lunch instead of burying yourself in the maze of thoughts. Baekhyun realized your discomfort, but he had no idea what the real reason of your mood was, whatever made you unhappy was more than okey for him. He could be happy as long as you were sorrowful.

“You still not give an answer to the question.” he was persistent on pushing your limits. “Do you have a relationship?”

“Why are you curious?” you took a mouthful amount of jjangmyeon. How much you wanted to stuff these noodle strings into his throat, suffocating him to death. “If you want to send a bouquet, please note that I love blue roses.”

“You are really a virgin, huh?” Baekhyun diabolically grinned, you could swear on you saw the red halo over his head.

“Darling, you cannot make me angry by stating what is obvious.” you smiled back, there was no reason holding it back, you were always open on these issues, and a sick part of you wanted to tell him to see his reaction. “Yeah, I am a virgin.”

“Do you conservatively follow a church?” his chin dropped a few inches. “How could it be possible with all the boys who try to seduce you?”

Well, you did not expect to hear this.

“Come on,” Baekhyun continued. “I always see you with a bunch of men, do you really think they are following you only for friendship?”

“On the contrary of you and your limit-does-not-exist type of libido, people can build the bonds of affinity.”

“Only when they do not search for an open door to sneak in.” Baekhyun pointed his chopsticks to your face. “Telling you, I can name at least six permanent names in the waiting room.”

You did not see the hidden meaning of his words, however, Baekhyun was already became regretful, he silently prayed for your ignorance and blindness were going to keep him safe. Because he gave you the biggest clue of his interest in you by stating he could give even names.

He still did not understand how he could know everything about you or why he always put a brick on the ways of the candidates for you, but he did. Hell, he was unapologetically finding a way to prevent the boys who liked you and no one could understand it was Baekhyun. He always came up with a solution in order to intimate them, put them back off. You were not aware but Baekhyun always appeared around you when he thought a candidate was close to you more than he supposed to be.

He already put his stamina on you as his girl, but he was not aware of his own actions. He was not aware of what he has been doing, how he was persistently looking for you, searching for your face in every class or harmoniously living with your voice. It was like your breathing was singing to his ears, and he was dancing with your melody.

Baekhyun did not understand but he was yours.

“I am not sure what you think,” you sipped from jasmine tea with self-confidence. “But there is no such a fucking waiting room.”

“You are really blind.” Baekhyun chewed a rice cake, generously dipping it into the gochujang sauce. “Don’t you think Oh Seunghwan is acting like more than a friend? Or Jang Jeongbun? Jesus, even you really cannot be that much idiot.”

Baekhyun was right for the first time in history. You were nothing more than a retard because you really did not understand the behind the scenes of his words. He was unconsciously giving you the signs of his interests in you, but you were so naïve to see.

“They are my friends, Baekhyun.” you rolled your eyes back. “I know grasping the nature of different relationships is hard for you, but people can be nothing but friends. No need to add tensions or searching for hidden meanings.”

Every time you vocalized his fucking name, Baekhyun felt its impact went straight to his dick, and he hated himself for that.

You were not the type of people who could be okey with the target of teasing. You wanted to play, you wanted to be enhanced by it, sinking into the waves of the game.

And even Baekhyun did not admit it in his head, he believed you were the most attractive girl he has been known because of you always corresponded to his moves and cards.

“How about you?” you immediately played your reverse card, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I heard that you and your gorgeous looks which made entire school swoon and fantasize about you? Are you really called as the sexiest human being on the country?”

Your voice was the strongest indicator of your disbelief, he could be the biggest moron on planet Earth, nothing more nothing less.

Also, you were aware of those comments on Baekhyun more than you wished for. You kept everything you heard about him in your head, in the safest and the most secret file of your brain, refusing to think but keeping on unconsciously think about those speculations. You found them very suspicious, but not because of Baekhyun did not deserve to be called as the sexiest human being, you found those fantasies as unlikely because of Baekhyun had not that macho man stuff people were somehow attributing to him.

You had grown so sick from all of these dreams and comments, coming from every corner of school since Baekhyun was like a star.

And now, you had him seemed quite displeased with your tease.

“Only on the country?” he raised one eyebrow. “Shit, it seems I am not doing well.”

“Baby, you are coming after Park Chanyeol.” you sighed in joy of dancing on your tiptoes. “That’s a quite achievement, when you think.”

“Chanyeol?” he sighed in annoyance; you knew that you trapped his ego in a small box. “Coming after Chanyeol?”

“Yeah.” you gave the most nonchalant look to him. “Well, I can tell that’s quite unfair since Flower Boys includes really strong names such as Kyungsoo or Junmyeon but… Poor girls, they have to be lunatic to put you after Chanyeol.”

“What do you think about these extremely distorted images of us?” Baekhyun angrily took a mouthful of jjangmyeon.

“Do you ask my list?” you crossed your hands over your chest, cooing with gleamy eyes. “I cannot believe that Byun Baekhyun, asking me, a poor peasant, for her list.”

Baekhyun’s eyes darkening, and you were not sure why your mood was changed from the pure need of mocking him to an excitement which you could not ignore. His voice was really screechy and boyish when he asked your list, and his voice giving you a different kind of pleasure. Not the pleasure of scolding him, but the delight of toying him, pushing him to the edge.

But you did not analyse your current feelings, instead, you rushed to deliver your actually-not-existent list.

“We are talking about physical features, right? But I am going to rate everyone also with their characteristics.” you smiled. “For me, the first name is Chanyeol. I mean, look at that face he has, and his body ratio is excellent, but he has a golden heart. Then, of course Kyungsoo, he is fucking handsome, therefore, he is a great guy.”

“I really pity your tastes of men.” Baekhyun’s discontent with your made-up list was palpable, and the dissatisfaction of his tone was like honey left out in the morning sun.

“The number 3 is Junmyeon as always.” you wholly ignored his comment. “No one can say anything against to Kim Junmyeon, he is the definition of aesthetic. Minseok and Jongdae shared the same number in my list, and that’s all.”

“You forgot me.” Baekhyun snorted, his voice made you lifted your head. He was so tense; you never see his jaw clenched at this expand. What’s up his ass? you silently though in your head.

“I did not.” you were cool as a cucumber. “You are not in the list.”

Till now, you guys always ate each other, digging the graves for each other, always fighting always scolding always throwing invisible daggers to each other. However, you have never ever seen those dangerous lights, dancing in the pupils of Baekhyun after your words.

It was difficult to wrap your mind around the fact that you found this Baekhyun as more attractive than his usual-self and unfortunately you already found Baekhyun very desirable. Even though you would never even let yourself to think about being intimate with him, his eyes stirred something inside of you, ignited some fires close to your lower stomach.

“I am sorry to hear that.” you also never heard this cold voice tone of Baekhyun, and you heard almost every negative version of Baekhyun’s voice which he spared only to use against you. “Let’s finish the meals, we have to be back to work.”

“Yeah.” you nod, lightly smiled. You managed to make him mad, you achieved your goal to annoy him so bad.

Why did you feel bad?

Why did you want Baekhyun to continue on the game?

Why did you feel regretful?

Why did you want to cry?

When Baekhyun’s phone started to ring, you almost completed every house in the list Junmyeon gave to you.

And you spent the last two hours in a total silence. It was eerily, Baekhyun’s lips firmly presses into each other like he sworn on not to talk again. You were not so different, but inside of your mind, something was gnawing your inner peace.

You were not happy, even you coped with the most difficult task, shutting Baekhyun’s mouth.

But you were not happy. You did not feel like you got the prize.

Instead…

You were extremely sad, and you felt like you let the trophy to slid between your fingers.

You had to feel like you hit the jackpot, but quite opposite, you were miserable.

You were especially afraid of losing Baekhyun’s attention, your own heart was aching at the way you told him off.

Still, you were lying to yourself and trying to conceal what made you afraid, you were not honest to your conscious, however despite of your efforts, you knew something was wrong with you after his transformation after you showed him the door.

You were a coward; you were not accepting the solid fact that you were in love with Byun Baekhyun and what made you afraid was nothing but losing him.

However, you were also sure on Baekhyun had a place in your head, making you shutter, had you shaking in your shoes. You could not name where to put his name, but you knew he had a place in your life.

And you were horrified by the possibility of losing the chance of hearing his voice. Even if his cocky remarks were the only words you could rip from him.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun answered to the call, for a second, you were happy to hear his voice again, but he walked towards to the last house you had to visit without waiting for you. He did not do this, even in the beginning of the day. You took a deep breath, you did not know why the heck you were really sad for his sudden coldness, godfuckingdamnit didn’t you hate and always despise each other? You mentally slapped yourself to gather yourself up, but it was pointless, you rushed to catch him.

You were aware of there was a painful squeeze in your chest, but you could not understand the reason of its presence or how you could get rid of that.

“Junmyeon told us to retreat.” Baekhyun informed you without looking at you. “After this house, we have to run back to the meeting point.”

“Okey.” you nod, hated the meek voice tone you produced but your mind was not on the case, you were questioning your own feelings and firm beliefs about Baekhyun.

Baekhyun was not better, to be honest, he was worse than you.

When you nonchalantly told him he was not in your list, he wanted to puke everything he devoured during lunch even though tteokbokki was his favourite food. He wanted to punch himself on the face when you counted the members of your fucking list, he wanted to smack his head into the table.

Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Damnit, even Junmyeon found his way to sneak into your list, but Baekhyun was not there.

He was always sure of he would be landed in every list, but he never think that being in your fucking list was the most important for him.

Why did he care if you were not seeing him as a man or not?

This question swirling in his head had his mind shattering.

As much as he was happy to see you wiggling like a worm under the fires, he could not control his reactions against the problem. When he saw you trembling over a case, he was the first one always popped out of nowhere to fix the problem in the darkness and never let you learn that it was him. He did not let even Junmyeon to help you, putting aside Chanyeol or Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun was the one who had been saving your ass like he was your invisible rescue call.

But you did not name him in your fucking list.

It drove him into crazy. The lack of your attention. He never mean that alerting you on his helps or care for you, but at the same time, he never think that his efforts would be equal to nothing.

He hated himself as much he hated you.

While you were walking back to the meeting point, both of you were lost in your own darkest thoughts. You were carefully paying the attention in order to not to have immersed each other, however both of you wanted nothing but screaming to each other, enough to have the fiercest fight till now.

You wanted to lose yourself in Baekhyun just like he was dying to bury himself into you for his dear life. However, both of you were very good at muting the voices of your hearts and minds.

“Indy! Baekhyun!” you heard Minseok, turning to his voice. “It is going to be a blizzard; we have to find a shelter.”

“Ha?”

“The forecast was clear as fuck.” Chanyeol pointed Junmyeon who was glued to his phone. “Jun is looking for a hotel for us since we could not go back.”

“We can take the cabs?” you were puzzled, a blizzard would be bad, but it did not mean that you had to spend the night here. “I mean, we are not living in a different city.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Shinhye crossed her arms over her shoulders, trying to keep herself warm. You had to admit, although you did not feel it till now, the weather was really cold. “But the cab drivers refused to drive into the city center. They advised us to stay here.”

“How about using metro?” you asked. “It is not so hard.”

“If you want,” Junmyeon hissed at you, holding the phone over his shoulder for a second. “You can try your chance, Indy. However, we are going to spend the night here. Safe and warm.”

“He is right.” Kyungsoo smiled at you. “I prefer to be warm and dry, sorry.”

You took a look at the team, and everyone was approving Kyungsoo’s words like they were bloody zealots.

“Okey, dumbasses.” you sighed in annoyance. “But we do not have even fucking pyjamas.”

“You can always take your clothes off.” Chanyeol winked at you. “Who says you need a pair of pyjamas to sleep?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol.” a sudden blush spread over your cheekbones, Chanyeol could not help but burst into laughs.

Baekhyun was determined to ignore you, but he could not help himself.

“Yeah, number one.” he muttered between his teeth, enough to be heard only by you. “Golden heart.”

Your chin was dropped for a few inches after hearing his annoyed voice tone and vindictive comment.

Could it be the reason of his unexpected coldness?

Could he be jealous of your invalid expressions and your fake list?

No way.

He could not be.

Your heart skipped the order of beats.

“Okey,” Junmyeon interrupted your thoughts. “We are going, if we are lucky, we will be in the hotel before the bloody snow will sweep down on us.”

“Let’s go!” Shinhye grabbed your hand, dragging you beside of herself. You submissively followed her footsteps; however, your mind was distracted by Baekhyun’s last words.

Could it be?

“This is heaven.” Jongdae rubbed his tummy. “Thank you, Jun!”

“No problem.” Junmyeon smiled and looked at all of you, to be honest, after a really good and delicious dinner, everyone was knocked out over the table.

Except you and Baekhyun.

“If you want you can go to your rooms.” Junmyeon said. “Since we were fortunate to find a single room for each of us, I do not think we have to play rock-paper-scissor.”

“Ah, having a room for myself.” Minseok laughed. “I do not have to hear your snorts, Junmyeon.”

They were sharing the same flat, everyone laughed after his teasing, Junmyeon too.

“Look who is talking.” he beamed. “I am so happy that I am going to have one night without your damn showering rituals.”

“Tell us about it.” Jongdae whined. “Pleeeassse.”

While Junmyeon and Minseok had been giving details of their flatmate stories to the team, making everyone to enjoy the environment, you were deeply sink into the pool of thoughts.

What a day, you thought. And why I feel like I am desperate?

Also, Baekhyun was not enjoying the unexpected banquet, instead he was quite enough to draw attention to himself. Chanyeol was on the verge of asking what the heck was wrong with him, but Kyungsoo kicked him under the table, pointed you with his eyes. Chanyeol’s wit quickly grabbed the matter, and he devilishly grinned.

You gave a hard day to Baekhyun, and he had no intention to change a thing between you and Baekhyun.

He always believed that you were secretly liking each other, but as you were nothing but stubborn bastards, you concealed your feelings towards each other.

Chanyeol definitely had zero motive to interrupt the fight between you, if it meant you would understand your mutual feelings.

Junmyeon also sensed the tension between you and Baekhyun, but he was not the type of persons who could wait on his corner.

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun!” Junmyeon called out him, waking him up. “How was your day? Why you guys are silent as dead?”

“We completed the task.” Baekhyun answered sourly, the corner of his mouth jumping downwards faintly. “As you assigned me and her.”

Baekhyun deliberately avoided using the pronoun of us.

“And it was a hell of task.” he continued. “I am so tired.”

“Even if you are fucking tired,” Jongdae raised a rejection. “You never shut your mouth, tell us what the heck is gnawing you?”

The bloody girl who sits next to you, Baekhyun thought but he was clever enough to keep the filter between his mouth and brain as valid.

“The girl I gave a promise for this night.” he forced himself to beam. “Because of this fucking weather, I have to arrange another meeting with her.”

Your heart churned, his reply had you wanting to slap your face. Harshly.

And you thought that he could be jealous because you named Chanyeol!

You were nothing but such an idiot.

An idiot who did not know a single piece of shit but acting so superior.

You were a goddamn idiot.

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed after hearing Baekhyun’s shitty words, Kyungsoo wanted to punch Baekhyun’s face so bad, Junmyeon’s dislike of Baekhyun was obvious but he did not say anything, just sighed in desperation.

You felt nothing but another flash of pain as someone hit your abdomen.

“Are you okey, Indy?” Jongdae leaned over to you, whispering. You shook your head positively, smiling slightly. “You did not throw yourself into even desert.”

Your love for deserts was not a secret amongst your friends as Shinhye, sharing Jongdae’s concerns, handed you a bunch of cloudy puffs, filled with lemon cream. You took one of them, although you had no appetite, you forced yourself to eat the puff in order to put your friends at ease.

He was your biggest enemy and rival, right?

Why you were so devastated, almost on the verge of being hysterical?

You were not aware of you had been hypocritical with your feelings, and you were running away from your own heart. That’s why your hands were shaking, your heart was drumming into your ribs and aching as hell.

You were not ready to face with your heart, but you were also too naïve to save yourself from the pain it caused.

“Was he really harsh on you?” Jongdae murmured, his eyes was nothing but full of worries. “I am sure you could put him in his place but still…”

“He was not.” you said. “And you know me, nothing cheers me up but kicking his ass.”

“Glad to hear that.” Jongdae inhaled but the worries did not leave his face. “So why are you so down?”

“I am really tired today.” you sighed, tucking another puff into your mouth as you mentally punched your face in order to take the fucking control of yourself. “But if I will eat enough amount of these pastries, I will be like a bomb.”

“You are already like a bomb.” Minseok joined into the chat. “You look like on the verge of exploding.”

You unwillingly laughed at his damn right assumption.

“You know what?” you sniffed. “I am dying for a good drink. Would like to join me for a soju break?”

There was no single soul who could oppose to propose of grab a drink in your team. Jongdae jumped out of his chair, Shinhye was born ready and Minseok was the strongest drunkard.

“We are heading to the bar.” Minseok happily announced. “If you guys want to join, perfect, if not, good night to all.”

You were always impressed by the eagerness of Sejong Team to jump into any opportunity for a drink. Everyone, every single soul of this team, had a strong will to consume a respectable amount of alcohol. Less than a minute, everyone gathered up and headed to the elevators in order to visit the terrace of the hotel.

You had been wondering how rich Junmyeon was, even though he was a senior in college, or which kind of relations he had under his belt.

Jesus, you could not pay your attention during the dinner, however the hotel you had been staying was nothing but a touch of luxury. You had a strong guess on the payment bill of this place, however you preferred to keep it to yourself as you knew that Junmyeon did not like talking about the wealth lies beneath his fingertips.

But the bar was intimating.

Minseok, Jongdae and Kyungsoo were having a fierce conversation about the administrative offices of Roman Empire, Shinhye were with Junmyeon as they were talking on the next project that they aimed to present for the Head of Department. Chanyeol, only God knew how the heck he found that, was playing a guitar and you, as dwelling in an extremely comfortable armchair, tucked yourself into a blanket like a sushi roll, were enjoying the sudden calmness around yourself. The dim lights, from the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, casting mirages across the hall, showing the wooden tables scattered between the chairs and beautiful, fresh cut flowers in their elegant vases.

It is not Korean but Chinese or Japanese, you thought, however with your bad eyesight, making an observation about the porcelain and its design was impossible. Also, you were a little bit slothful at the very moment to move your butt, you wanted to indulge in the soju you were holding, not anything else.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, warm but unfamiliar, your head jerked to face the owner of touch.

Baekhyun was looking at you, however his eyes were different from his usual self. There was no intention to mock with you, his eyes were clear as the snow drops that covering the streets right now.

“May I sit?” Baekhyun asked to you, catching you off guard with an unexpected kindness. You nod, feeling a sudden increase of the level of excitement, but kept your mouth shut. “Thank you.”

Thanking you? Byun Baekhyun?

You perked up, starting to prepare yourself for the fight, despite of the considerable amount of soju flowing in your veins, you were ready to guard yourself.

His elbow brushed your forearm when he was rolling his body in order to adjust the chair next to you.

You were shocked by the reaction your body gave to the moment, the only thing he did was sitting on a fucking chair, but your cheekbones were on fire.

His hips, damn his hips your inner voice was hysterically whispering in your head.

“May I ask to which muse I owe this honour?” you searched Baekhyun’s eyes for a glint of dismissiveness, however this was the very first time you have been the target of sincere, chocolate brown and deep irises.

“I have a question for you.” Baekhyun quickly ignored your offensive joke. “Why I am not in your list?”

He may as well have tossed you inside of a volcano, kicking you into the pool of lava, the impact would be the same. Your heart prompted to your stomach, they churned together, your throat and lungs tightened so bad, enough to cut your air by yourself.

You open your mouth, but nothing come out, just a bubble.

“I do not know how to translate that.” he sneered however you were at a loss. You could expect a lot of words from Byun Baekhyun but questioning the reason of his absence in your fucking list was not one of them.

“There is—” you bite your lower lip to stop yourself, you were on the verge of confessing that there was no list, you just tried to poke his ego, but thank God, you still had a piece of sanity to hold on. “I do not understand. Why do you care my list?”

Do I look like I fucking know? Baekhyun wanted to shake your cage, he wished nothing but screaming at you with all power he had in his lungs. He had no idea why he was mad at you, but he was out of rage and the only reason was you.

“Because I am curious.” he leaned his elbows onto his knees, cocking one eyebrow to you. “And what I hate most is being ignorant to a case.”

“I know.” you spoke without thinking, your mind was delving into the current problem you had in order to find a balanced answer, so you did not realize what you exactly said.

Unfortunately for you, Byun Baekhyun did not become your biggest rival by being blind or deaf.

His lips slightly curled upwards.

But the gentleman he could be, he did not corner you for the time being.

“So?”

It did not mean he would not try to push you in order to get what he wanted.

“Is there a rule saying that every human being has to be interested in you?”

You were not aware of it, but your voice was cracking, and your breathing became heavier, quickened and there was a sheen of sweet on your forehead.

To your dismay, Byun Baekhyun did not unconsciously mark you as his girl without studying you to the bits.

“Humanity is a different topic.” he widely smiled. “I wonder about you, sweetheart.”

Your breath stuck in your lungs because of the endearment, even though you were aware of his teasing of you.

“You are not my type, Byun.” you dead serious.

“Ah, your type is Chanyeol, right?” he smirked, turning his head to the tall brunette who indulged himself into the guitar. “Should we alert him to your interest in him?”

“Goddamn, no!” you hissed at him. What kind of trouble he was aiming to knit on your head? “Do you know the definition of privacy? You are invading personal boundaries, dumbass.”

“I do not think so.” Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder. “If you like Chanyeol, Chanyeol has the right of be aware of your interest.”

“Okey, even a scoundrel like you cannot be crossing the limit of respect like this.” you moved to stand up, giving the most dangerous look to Baekhyun. “I do not have to lis-

“Hey, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun called him with a high-pitched voice. Chanyeol lifted his head, distracted by the unexpected scream of Baekhyun.

“What?”

“Nothing!” your hand immediately tugged onto Baekhyun’s knee, squeezing it tightly in order to warn him. “You are playing so good, keep going!”

Chanyeol laughed at your words.

“You do not have to scream like that, Goddamnit.”

“Tell it to your friend.” you rolled your eyes back, fuming with anger but covering your face pretty well. You turned to Baekhyun, your eyes telling him that he was in serious danger if he was not going to shut his fucking mouth up.

Baekhyun did not care your silent warning, but your hand on his knee was a real distraction for him.

“I know that he is not your type.” he murmured, watching your hand, small, pale, and soft, Baekhyun did not want to confess but he wanted to latch your fingers to his. “Is it Kyungsoo?”

“Do I interrogate your preferences of girls, damn?” you literally gritted between your teeth. “Leave it.”

“I have no intention.” Baekhyun turned to Kyungsoo, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s ask if you are Kyungsoo’s type.”

“What the fuck are you, cupid?!” you grunted, and your hands moved without your consent. You grasped Baekhyun’s jawline, your fingertips were brushing his ears. “I said, leave it.”

“If you want to shut my mouth,” Baekhyun beamed, ignoring the fact that your touch meant for a lot than he could expect, he was going to think about it later. “Tell me why I am not in your list.”

“No one can desire someone like you!” you exploded. “An arrogant, dandy, selfish boy who does not know nothing but bringing trouble to others. That’s why you can never be in my list, even I have to choose between you and an octopus. For the records, I hate octopus, but I would go for it, if it means the other option is you.”

“Oh, you hurt me.” Baekhyun’s eyes glimmered with the sparks of unnamed feelings. He leaned forward, enough you to feel his breath fanning your lips. “You know what, sweetheart? You are so aggressive only when you have a secret which have to stay only in your head.”

“W-what?”

“I am definitely in that list.” Baekhyun claimed it with confidence, but it was just the appearance. Inside him, his heart was definitely shuttering, cracking into pieces, he had no control over himself, he could not understand his sudden behaviours. “I am in your list, if there is a list.”

Your eyes widened, and pupils blown up.

“Jesus.” you snorted. “When you lost your fucking mind?”

“You are a pretty bad liar.” Baekhyun was making assumptions out of his ass in order to get a reaction from you, he was not fucking sure if he was in the list or not, but everything he said actually rang the true bells.

“And you are a lunatic.” your intense eyes pinned him down, and the frowning lips caught your attention, but you forced to came back to your senses as soon as possible. “You will never be anything more than a lunatic.”

You attempted to stand up, but he was incredibly swift to catch your wrist, pressing you back to the armchair.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” he held your wrist for his dear life, caging you and to your disappointment, coming closer to your face, causing your ability of speaking to be faded immediately.

His godfuckingdamnit lips.

“You have been having doubts on me since the day we met, your driving force is giving me hard time.” his breathing was fanning your cheekbones. "Confess now, why are you pissed at me all the time?”

“Hell, you do talk like you are so different. Aren’t you the one who always finds a way to be trouble for me?” you raised one eyebrow, letting him to realize the game was reserved for two people. “If it means liking someone, since when you have been fallen in love over heels with me?”

“You have no idea how much I want to place your heels over my shoulders.”

Your chin was dropped, his words had you turning into a mummy who was trying to register into his remarkable sentence without a single brain cell.

You had to come up with the best answer you could give. You had to find the best response to him, and it had to be a perfect balance of sharpness, cockiness, and matureness as it had to be said with the resting bitch face.

And you heard your own voice.

“Ha?”

“You heard what I said.” Baekhyun intensively gazed at you, the proximity between your bodies had your body quivering and trembling at the same time and his fucking knee slightly, almost insensibly pushed your legs apart.

“You are really nonsensical, Baekhyun.” you inhaled, doing your best in order to ignore all the jolts all over your body, numbing your mind but also setting the skin on fire. Every time you said his name, Baekhyun felt something turning in his lower stomach. “What the fuck you want from me?”

“You did not name me in your list.” You could not believe your fucking eyes, more importantly, you could not believe you were still listening his gibberish like a kindergarten kiddo. “But, I am better than everyone else here.”

His voice dropped the slightest, making you shiver.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?”

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.30 “On the Flip-Side”

Authors note: Wow. It is over. The final chapter. I have no words. (Spoiler alert: I'm lying. I have plenty of words. I could talk for an eternity if i was allowed.) I've been building this story and its characters in my head for literally years, and it all comes to an end with this. I want to give a very very huge thanks to the whump community: for so long I felt like I was going crazy because I was obsessing over this really beautiful and tragic and honestly personally healing idea and I felt like it was some dirty secret that would never see the light of day. Thank you for giving me a place to share this, thank you for welcoming these characters I hold so so dearly and appreciating them as much as I do. (any and all love I recieved on any of my work makes me seriously elated and I go back and read through every comment, reblog, and tag every day because it makes me so happy to see my little imaginary people and stories making others feel something, it's truly so incredible and I am so grateful.) ANYWAY, onto the pain lolol! This chapter is as graphic as it is long (15k words, like 27 pages on docs, buckle up!) and in the interest of not giving away the ending, I want to be a little vague in the content warning. However, it's important to me that people are consuming this media with as much safety as possible, so I do want to reiterate that this is an 18+ story, and that there are very heavy and disturbing topics and situations described in detail throughout it. This chapter specifically dives into Elias's trauma around dying and includes a major character death (among other things), so please please read with caution. Much love. -Crow <3

Cw: Therapy, tics/tourrettes, ptsd/trauma recovery, photo/video whump, discussion of leaked whumpy content, past torture, past noncon, vague discussion of self harm, panic attack(s), insomnia whump, nightmares, drugs/alcohol use, blood/gore/violence (graphic), intimate/possesive whumper, derealization, knives, discussion of guns, discussion of murder, character death (GRAPHIC), head trauma, blood loss, police mention, ambulance/hospital setting, medical whump, discussion of foster care/parental issues, discussion of scars, fluff (but only a little, as a treat) (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Speaking to his therapist doesn’t make Elias feel much better. He tells Angela about the party and Sophie Anders, he tells her that he would be perfectly content never having to step foot outside the cabin again, knowing that so many people, including those he sees as friends, have now seen him in that horrendously vulnerable way:  tied up and mutilated and begging for reprieve. He tells her that he’s embarrassed, he tells her he’s scared of everyone now, especially after seeing some of the off-putting, lewd comments about him on some of Sophie’s videos where she includes the evidence she had bragged to him about. Elias admits that he feels like a hideous, less-than-human, piece of shit again, and he has ever since he heard Sophie dramatically warn her viewers about the “graphic and disturbing content” he was the star of. He does not tell her that, after he watched a few of Sophie’s videos, he had found people giving out the website that all of these pictures and videos were originally posted to, and he spent hours looking through everything he could find about himself. He also avoids telling her that he feels betrayed, he was stupid enough to believe that August viewed all of his polaroids, film camera footage, and even what he had on his phone, in the same intimate way Elias did. It was sick, sure, but it was just between the two of them, and that had made it a little easier to swallow at some point. He says nothing about how disgusted he is in himself for even thinking that way before finding it all online.

Angela, as she always has been, is full of helpful advice and encouraging words, but Elias finds himself unconvinced when she promises that this does not erase the progress he’s made. It’s hard to believe her when, in the three days between the party and finally getting to talk to her, he’s only gotten about 8 hours of sleep around his worsening nightmares, apart from coming to her office he hasn’t been able to leave the house, and he’s been getting high so often he has a steady migraine and spends most of his time distant and zoned out. And that’s just what he’s willing to be honest about, he neglects to tell her that he is constantly thinking about blood, how the images of him hurting just won’t get out of his head, how he’s so anxious he’ll hurt himself that he can’t even eat. 

He also lies to her, right to her face, about how he knows that August won’t still come after him, when he mentions that. He didn’t expect it to lead to a discussion, it was just a passing comment he’d made, something like, “I don’t know why I’m so afraid again when I don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Angela pauses when she hears that, she reaches up and adjusts the loose cardigan around her shoulders, fixes the silver chain she wears. Elias’s own throat itches at the sight of the jewelry. He thought he was over that feeling, the feeling of wanting to peel himself out of his skin at the mere thought of something looping around his throat, hanging there, maybe squeezing, maybe strangling, and yet, even watching his therapist adjust her own harmless necklace makes him wrap his arms protectively around his torso and start tapping his foot.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore?” She repeats, tilting her head forward so she can look at him over the rim of her glasses. “Tell me what that’s all about.”

Elias has been to therapy before. He has talked to therapists and psychiatrists and social workers more than all of the friends he’s ever had. He knows, and Angela reminded him of this during their first session, that as long as no one has been or is in danger, everything they talk about stays in this room, hovering over the fuzzy orange carpet in between them and remaining secretively tucked away in her notes. And because of that, he can’t tell Angela that, as far as Elias knows, August is probably dead in a shitty motel in LA. He doesn’t know what Angela would consider ‘danger’, but he’s pretty sure admitting to having committed a murder (two now, but he hadn’t told her about Sawyer, either) would be enough to send her sprinting to report all of their sessions to the police. So instead, Elias lies to her.

“Last time I saw him, I think I heard sirens-fucking shit - as we were leaving.” He rubs his eyes tiredly, takes a deep breath. “I like to imagine that the cops really got him, you know? I..I guess it just helps to believe that…that he’s not gonna find me this time.” He looks away from her, glances out the window to his left. He finds comfort in the sturdy evergreens just outside. For the first time all session, he is wholly honest with her. “I just want to believe I finally got away. For good. I want to believe that it’s over.”

“That’s understandable, I can see why that would make you less worried.” She writes something down, Elias has always hated these people finding anything noteworthy about him, jotting down whatever they’re finding wrong with him, he hates it even more when Angela looks over the notes and sighs to herself. “You know you can’t base your life around him forever though, right?”

“What…?” Elias mumbles. “I don’t do that. I hardly…I usually don’t even really th-think of him anymore.” He lies again, because he does think about August. Elias never truthfully stopped being afraid of him or remembering what he did to him, he just learned how to live his life anyway, despite all the memories and the fear. 

“You can think about him, Elias. Thinking of him is inevitable. I just want you to know that you should heal and live your life according to you. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, you have to heal regardless.” She takes in his posture, how he’s practically guarding himself, how tense his shoulders are, and she sighs again. Elias wishes she would stop sighing at him like this is all stressing her out, doesn’t she know how hard it was to let Tyson drive him here? Doesn’t she know that she’s supposed to be making him feel better, and her being stressed out is making the entire ordeal so much worse for him? “Look, there’s a possibility that you'll never see him again. You could be right about him being in prison, and you could potentially live your life completely free of him.”

Elias glances at the door to her office, he knows Tyson is in the waiting room just down the hall, in fact he had promised Elias when he was called back that he would be in the same place when Elias was finished. He suddenly feels incredibly uneasy about being away from him, he wants this appointment to be over already. He wishes he didn’t come in the first place. 

“There’s also the possibility that-”

“Don’t.” Elias stops her, shaking his head. “Don’t say th-that he’ll come back.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying, Elias. There’s a chance that he will be a part of your life in one way or another for a long time. This whole situation proves that. It’s important that you don’t use his presence, or lack of presence, as a baseline for your healing.”

Elias is silent at that, he won’t even look at Angela anymore, and he cringes when she sighs again. If he wasn’t so tired, and if he was being completely honest today, he might tell her that she wouldn’t say that if she really knew August. He might tell her that August is an insidious parasite that buried himself into every crevice of Elias’s brain, that he will never be able to fully move past the training and the torture and the manipulation. Maybe then she would understand what Elias is coming to find out: healing is just not something he can achieve, it’s all about survival now.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Yeah.” He mutters. “Can…can we be done now? Please? I-I’m tired, I wanna go back home.”

Angela huffs, she checks her watch, and then she nods at Elias. “Sure. I’ll see you next week, right?”

Elias nods as he stands up, he leaves her office like it’s on fire.

Tyson isn’t in the waiting room when Elias turns the corner, and the already disheartening anxiety he has from talking about August swells quickly to an unbearable panic. There were tears in his eyes from the time his hand was on the doorknob of Angela’s office, and they threaten to fall when Elias finds a waiting room full of unfamiliar faces. A few of them look up at him, glance away or allow their stares to linger a little longer. He wonders if any of the people here have seen his videos, if any of them have heard him beg before. Elias starts ticcing, and knowing that Tyson would make that a little easier by just being around makes the fact that he’s not that much worse. Before he can embarrass himself further, he heads for the door, stumbling out of the building in a flurry of tears and curses. 

Tyson’s car hasn’t moved, and Elias practically sprints across the asphalt parking lot to get to it. It’s empty, Tyson isn’t waiting for him in the driver's seat, and a desperate jiggle of the handle proves that the doors are still locked. Without warning, everything seems to suddenly crash down on top of him; he’s so god damn sleep deprived he can’t even tell if this is happening, he doesn’t know when he last had a proper meal, he’s disgusting, he’s all over the internet, he has so many scars he wants to crawl out of his skin and start over fresh, he killed August, he’s a monster, Tyson is gone, Tyson is gone, Tyson is gone… He tries desperately to convince himself that there’s no way August came back and got his hands on Tyson, but after hearing his name and thinking about the last time he saw him, how much pain he was in, how much pain Elias put him in, paranoia jolts through every centimeter of his skin. Elias starts to cry, covering his face and sobbing into the sleeves of Tyson’s borrowed hoodie. Trying to inhale through the cloth doesn’t help the breathlessness from the anxiety, and the realization sparks an overwhelming urge to suffocate himself with the sleeves, right there in the parking lot of his therapist's office. He almost finds humor in the idea, but not enough to stop him from crying.

“Eli, hey,” he looks up to see Tyson crossing the parking lot towards him, phone in hand, “I didn’t realize you finished, why did you not stay the whole hour-?”

“Where the fuck were y-you!?” Elias shouts at him, stepping away from the car to meet him in the middle of the lot. 

Tyson flinches at his outburst, shakes his head to himself. He points down at the phone in his hand as if that holds the entire explanation. “I…had to answer a phone call, are you ok-?”

“You said you wo-would be there! I was worried, you fucking said you would be - fuck! - you said-”

Tyson steps toward him, he tucks his phone into his pocket as he does. “I know, you finished earlier than I thought, it wasn’t-“

“No! You promised! You fucking promised, you s-said that you would b-be waiting for me in there!” Tyson is silent now, staring down at Elias’s tear stained, angry face. “You can’t do that to m-me, Tyson. I-I looked so dumb in there. You don’t understand how bad I…you can’t just fucking-” 

“You’re right, Eli. You’re right, I’m sorry.” Tyson reaches out a hand, hovering over his shoulder like he’s waiting for permission to touch him. “I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” 

With a weak sniffle, Elias leans into Tyson’s hand, immediately grounded by the familiar tender way Tyson’s fingers massage into his shoulder, over his collarbone. The anger melts away with the simple touch, with the realization that Tyson is ok, that he’s here, that the nightmare isn’t starting all over again. Elias falls forward, right against his chest, burying his face in his clothes and looping his arms around his waist. 

“I was so scared.” He mumbles, voice muffled through Tyson’s thick jacket. Tyson envelops him entirely, presses his lips into Elias’s admittedly knotted and messy hair. “I thought…Angela said that Aug…I was just scared that maybe he-”

“No, baby, I’m right here. That’s all over now, alright?” He pulls off of Elias, takes his face in his hands and swipes at a tear sliding down his cheek. “I am right here with you, and I am safe and so are you, and all of that shit is over.”

“I’m sorry,” Elias whines, and Tyson chuckles wryly at the apology.

“What for this time?” He jokes. Elias scoffs, shakes his head a little. 

“Ye-yelling at you. And…and like, cussing you out in public…” he shuffles away from Tyson, and there’s no sense of being trapped or pressure to stay suffocatingly close, his arms fall easily to his sides and he stays where he is. “That was mean.”

Tyson shrugs, fishes his keys out of his pocket. “It wasn’t ‘mean’, I told you I would wait for you and I didn’t,” he unlocks the doors, “you’re allowed to be mad at me.” He steps around Elias, opens the passenger door for him, and offers up a reassuring grin as he timidly gets into the car. 

Tyson doesn’t ask Elias to explain anything once they’re on the road, he flicks on the stereo to the CD that’s already loaded up, turning it to a track he knows Elias likes. He offers an open palm that Elias can choose to lace his fingers into, and he chooses to without hesitation. He doesn’t scold Elias for chewing at his nails anxiously as he watches the trees pass out the window. The entire song plays out, and in the few seconds of silence it takes for the next one to start, Elias looks over and mumbles out a soft, “Hey, Ty?”

“Yes, love?” He answers just a little over-eagerly. Sometimes, when Tyson does something like that, it only reminds Elias of his optimism, his good natured view on almost everything, and it makes him feel like he’s ruining Tyson’s life just by being around him.

“U-um…I just want to make sure that…well, I found a lot of pictures and v-videos of myself. Like, a lot. And I just want to…I just don’t want you to think differently of me i-if you see any of them.” He looks up to see Tyson’s jaw clenched hard, his stare focused on the road ahead of him. 

“Why do you think I would think differently of you?” He says timidly, he’s avoiding looking at him now, Elias can tell, but he can’t quite decipher why. 

“Cause they…cause in some of them it seems like I’m…” 

“You like that, don’t you Bunny? You can scream and cry all you want, I know just how you like it.”

“It’s j-just that, u-um..” He tries shaking his head to get August’s voice to go away, it doesn’t do much to help. He can still practically feel his lips against his ear, telling him that he was doing well taking a punishment, or that he was behaving beautifully by not fighting August tooth and nail. He hadn’t thought of it at the time, but now his submission feels like betrayal to Tyson, and he hates himself for it. He almost can’t choke out his next few sentences around his building tears. “I d-didn’t like it, Tyson. I- fuck! - I was just trying to s-survive. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know that, baby,” Tyson’s voice is soft to try to counter the hysteria creeping back into Elias’s demeanor, “I could never hold anything that he did against you. I know August, I’ve..I’ve seen him…you were protecting yourself, Eli. N-nobody else did so you were doing it the only way you knew how, I could never blame you for that.”

“Pl-please just, don’t watch any of them, ok?” Elias gives Tyson’s hand a quick squeeze, followed by a more desperate one after Tyson doesn't respond to him. He’s still staring straight ahead with his shoulders tense and his hand gripping the wheel tightly. “Ty…? Promise me you won’t watch them, please. I do-don’t want you to see me like that-”

“Elias I have to tell you something but I think it might make everything…I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I should have been honest about this a long time ago but you were already dealing with so much and.. And I didn’t want to make it worse, so I just never said anything-”

“What are you talking about?” Elias breathes, his stomach is in knots again from the nervous tone Tyson has picked up. 

“The first time you…a little bit after he first took you, I started getting texts from this unmarked number…”

Elias pulls his hand away from Tyson’s, his chest tight. “No, Ty.”

“I couldn’t even watch them at first, I was so…I was just so fucking angry that I couldn’t do anything to save you, and he was dangling you hurting right in front of my face like he knew that I couldn’t. But then, it was…it was the only way I could know you weren’t dead, Eli. Those videos were the only reason I knew that you were alive, and then I hated myself for being…relieved that he sent them. I’m so sorry, I should have been honest about that.”

The music seems taunting, now, no longer comforting, and Elias feels dread washing over him with every passing second. This entire time, Tyson had the mental image of whatever horrible home-made torture porn August had sent him tucked away in the back of his mind. This whole time, he knew what Elias sounded like when he was hurting, when he was begging, when he was performing. More than a few times, when he was in the most grueling part of recovery, Elias had found comfort in the knowledge that the stuff he felt guilty over was null when it came to Tyson, because he only had to know what Elias chose to share with him, and now none of that mattered because, from the very beginning, Elias’s pain, and the shameful things he did to try easing it, had been broadcasted for everyone to see. 

Elias pulls his knees up to his chest, feels the seat belt digging into the side of his neck as he leans forward to hide his face as best as he can. He remembers Angela telling him that the progress he’s made is still there, that it didn’t just go away because of this one event, but he can’t feel it at all anymore. Everything is bad again, just like before, when life was so unbearably painful and he felt so much suffocating guilt he practically made August strangle him to death. Tyson reaches out to grab at Elias’s shoulder, he’s immediately brushed off. 

“Don’t f-fucking touch me.” He whimpers from the crook of his elbow. 

“I’m sorry, Eli. I’m really…” He sighs heavily, clears his throat. “I’m really sorry.” 

When they get home, Elias goes straight for the pot sitting out on the coffee table. Tyson almost wants to stop him, tell him that they both know smoking isn’t going to help and they should actually talk through this situation at some point, but he feels guilty when he gets a look at Elias’s tear stained, sheet pale face, his shaking hands as he loads up a bowl. So instead, he follows him out to the porch and stands a good distance away from him, watching the smoke curl around his head. He tries not to be jealous of the drugs, of the comfort Elias is finding them. 

“Do you know what I think of you?” He asks. Elias winces at the question, glances over at Tyson for only a split second before turning his gaze back to the trees. 

“What do you mean?”

“You said you didn’t want me to think differently of you. I just wondered if you knew what I think of you in the first place. I don’t know that I’ve ever told you, fully.” Elias is silent now, it doesn’t stop Tyson from stepping closer to him and continuing on. “I think that you are the strongest person I have ever met-”

“Tyson-”

“No, please listen to me. I really need you to hear this.” He waits, as if he’s giving Elias another chance to protest, is pleased when he keeps his mouth shut and looks up at him. “I think that it’s incredible how much compassion you still have, even though you’ve spent your entire life being hurt by others. I really admire that about you, I think if I had to go through even half of what you did it would make me angry and mean and bitter and I think it’s amazing that you’ve come out of all of this a kind person. I think you are naturally talented in everything you do, you are more authentically yourself than anyone I’ve ever known. I truly think that you are capable of overcoming anything, I think that you simply existing makes me want to be a better person, and I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way.” He sees tears in Elias’s eyes again, his face is flushed and it looks like he might collapse soon, with the evidence of sleeplessness etched into every detail of his face. “Elias I am in love with you and I am in love with the way your brain works and I am in love with the way you see the world and I am in love with the…the way you always steal my clothes and never give them back. That’s what I think of you. That doesn’t change just because of some stupid fucking videos.”

Elias seems stunned for a good few seconds, forgetting briefly about the glass pipe in his hand, and he searches Tyson’s face with his hazed over, exhausted eyes. Then, he grins. It’s small and has a slight sadness to it, but it isn’t tears, and it isn’t a panic attack, so Tyson takes it as a good sign. He takes a deep, shuttering inhale and sets the pipe down on the banister carefully. Every movement is shaky and with an inkling of stiffness. His shoes scuff against the wooden deck as he steps toward Tyson slowly. 

“That’s…that’s because of you, Ty.” His voice is just a hoarse mumble, and Tyson steps forward to hear better. Elias tenses up further at the movement, so Tyson keeps his hands pointedly at his sides. “I was angry. I-god, I hated everyone. I was pissed off at everyone and everything, a-and myself, and then you…you made me wanna be good. You made me good a-and forgiving and nice. And not, not just mean and angry all the time. I’m not angry anymore.”

“I’m so happy to hear that, Eli-”

“I’m so fucking scared, though.” His voice hitches and wavers, and now the tears building up in his eyes are threatening to fall, blurring his vision. “I think I-I’m really broken, Tyson. I thought I could be better and pretend…I’m so scared all the time and I - fuck! - I’m so tired. I’m so tired of being scared. And now, and now it’s…I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Now, Tyson can’t hold himself off any longer. Elias is right on the edge of crying again, Tyson isn’t sure how the tears aren’t already streaming down his face, so he steps forward and draws his boyfriends shivering, incredibly unstable, body up into his arms, squeezing him like he can put him all back together, if he tries hard enough. The pressure makes Elias positively melt, his legs all but collapse and he has to hold onto Tyson’s shirt just to keep himself upright. It’s something he didn’t realize he’d needed the last few days; the videos had shoved him face first back into the belief that all touch equated to pain, and that was only exacerbated by not sleeping and keeping himself inebriated all the time. But now that he’s close enough to hear Tyson’s heartbeat and all he can feel is the security of the tight embrace, he remembers that this kind of touch is relief, it’s safety. 

“I’m sorry I can’t take all this away, Elias.” Tyson mutters into his hair, starting to drag his hand up and down over Elias’s arm. “It kills me that you’re in so much pain and I can’t stop it. I would do anything if I could just…ugh, I’m so sorry, my love.”

“Ta-take me to bed, Ty.” Elias says, now he sounds so far away, the comfort of being in Tyson’s arms reminds him how tired he is and it’s suddenly so much harder to keep his eyes open than it was when he was running only on his anxiety. “I wanna…I’m tired, Ty, I’m so tired, please-” Before he can continue on, he’s being scooped up against Tyson’s chest, carried back inside, and finally set down on the forgivingly soft mattress he and Tyson share. Tyson lays with him, right on top of the blankets, both of their shoes are still on, and massages at his arms and back until he’s subdued and relaxed enough to sleep. 

Tyson has to slip out of bed before the sun is up, his phone goes off incessantly until he pulls himself out from underneath Elias and leaves the room briefly to answer it.  When he comes back, Elias is miraculously still out cold, and Tyson is incredibly careful when he crawls on top of him and kisses him awake. He apologizes for waking him, he brushes his unruly hair out of his face, he kisses his cheek. When he tells Elias that he has to go into work for a few hours and asks if he’ll be ok alone, he’s surprised when his half-asleep boyfriend nods and mutters something like “S’ok, go, you can go.” 

“I’ll be back before you even know it.” He kisses at Elias’s knuckles, at his temple. “Hey, try to get some sun today, yeah? You’re looking kind of pale, my little ghost.” 

That remark rings through Elias’s head the rest of the morning. His little ghost. It shouldn’t be enough to bother him, but he finds himself fixated on it with everything he does. As he makes his coffee and tries to shake off the leftover grime of panic riddled sleep, he can see the blue of his veins sitting just under his skin, he can remember how it felt when they were almost empty. He remembers France, which seems like an entirely different life now, looking at himself in the mirror, feeling like he was dead, like he was just a ghost trapped with August. He tries to make himself breakfast, but he feels sick imagining eating anything, because hadn’t he died so long ago? Hadn’t he dropped through the floor of the mostly empty house August took him to, hadn’t he fallen through every circle of hell all at once? He’s so far past the point of food, now. The day that August strangled him, he survived, more or less. The details of his rescue were unknown to him until he had to hear the audio Sophie had gotten a hold of, with August’s desperate banter with the dispatcher, and learned he’d given him CPR until police got there. (When Sophie and her Fiance were discussing this, she mentioned how out of character this was of August, based on his history with every other victim. According to her, after the few crimes August had suffered briefly in prison for, he had never expressed regret for any of his actions, never alluded to remorse over the pain he’d caused. She described it as “either a miracle stroke of empathy for this kid he’d been torturing, or his most convincing performance to date.”) Still, though he didn’t stay dead, he believed some fraction of him was gone and wouldn’t come back; he felt it the second he opened his eyes in the hospital room, and it had cemented itself into his brain while he was in France and August made it his mission to slowly destroy Elias. He was just dead, he would tell himself, he was just dead and nothing was real so it didn’t actually matter, and August couldn’t hurt him that way.

Is Tyson starting to see him that way, too?

That’s ultimately what prompts Elias to leave the house, even though it fills him with so much dread his skin itches the entire time he’s getting ready. It’s sunnier than it has been the last few weeks, the sky has a surprising lack of dense, dark clouds, so Elias throws on Tyson’s much too big green jacket hung up by the door and leaves to soak up some of the rare sunshine. He doesn’t bring the dogs, it’s only reasonable to take them all at once when Tyson is here and can help, otherwise he just feels unfair only bringing one. He takes a trail that goes behind the cabin and keeps a good distance from the road, the same trail that Tyson dragged him to with the promise of a joint to smoke and safety among the trees. It’s also where they had often  let the dogs off leash and watched them chase each other and play with the nature around them. Elias, for just a split second, feels better. The woods are empty and he is alone with all of these pleasant memories; there is no one around that might’ve seen him naked and bloody and begging, there is no pain in these woods, and as he looks at the relentlessly thriving plants around him, he feels like he might just be alright. 

But, that split second of relief and tranquility and even hope comes crashing down around him, following the intolerable pattern his life is apparently subject to. He does not get to feel good, or safe, or calm, at least not for more than a few seconds at a time. Because just when he tears his eyes away from the overgrown trail and realizes he doesn’t recognize the woods around him anymore, he also sees August. 

At first, he thinks he might just be really losing his mind. He thinks that maybe seeing the videos and effectively reliving everything that happened has made him go a little crazy and start seeing faces where there are none. He’s frozen, staring wide eyed as he tries to force himself back to reality and make August disappear. But then August is lifting his hand, waving and smiling because he sees Elias too. Elias decides that it doesn’t matter if August is really there or not, because he’s already resolved himself to never see him or speak to him again. He doesn’t stick around to try and find out how August found him, or how he knew to wait in the woods for him, or how he’s even alive at all.

Elias starts running. 

He can hardly feel anything at all, the forest floor a blur under foot as he sprints away from August, as fast as his legs can take him and then faster. He doesn’t remember which way home is, he doesn’t know exactly where he’s running to, he just knows he refuses to let August get close enough to even speak to him, let alone touch him. He regrets not bringing at least one of the dogs with him, and then he regrets going on a walk at all. He thought it would be safe, since it was one of the first places outside of the cabin that he’d actually felt somewhat free of fear, when he first got here. Then he realizes that maybe nowhere is safe, and maybe it never will be and never was. Maybe, before he was even born, some higher power that he never really believed in decided that he was destined for a life of fear, pain, and constantly running. He finds himself wishing that it would all just end already, he’s so tired of fighting against tidal waves of agony and never getting enough time to fix himself in between them. As he thinks it, whatever higher power is controlling his life finds its sense of humor and sticks a fallen tree in his path, covered in enough undergrowth and moss to be practically invisible. He goes flying, hits the ground so hard he can’t see or breathe for a few seconds. His head smacks against something solid with a resounding crack. Even through the stars in his vision and the blinding pain at the edge of his skull, his adrenaline pushes on and he clumsily staggers to his feet again, tries to keep running. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fast!” August is exclaiming, how did he get so close so quickly without Elias noticing? He grabs onto his arm tightly and starts pulling him along behind him, and while Elias tries to shake off the dizziness and the lightheadedness from the fall, he can only stumble and try hopelessly to pull his arm away. “Why didn’t you try getting away from me more, before? You probably would’ve been able to once or twice, you little track star.”

Once the fogginess of hitting his head clears enough for Elias to get a glimpse of August’s hand fitting comfortably around his arm, wrinkling the fabric of the borrowed jacket, he feels like this is one of his nightmares. There’s no way August is here, he looks so displaced among the trees and flowers and moss. Seeing his own personal boogeyman in one of the places that helped him heal, in a place that has become borderline sacred to him, feels like his universe being ripped to shreds. “Y…you can’t, mmm…” another bout of dizziness slams into him, he can feel blood sliding down his temple but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it yet, “You can’t be here…” he finally slurs out. 

August responds with a laugh, it seems distorted and daunting to Elias, especially with the symphony of birds around them. He’s definitely in a nightmare, he shakes his head hard to try and wake himself up. “Yeah, I bet you thought you were outta the woods, huh?” He laughs again, then looks irritated that Elias is too disoriented and scared to appreciate his joke. It only lasts a second, though, and then he reconciles whatever he has in place of feelings and looks instead just vaguely concerned. “Fucking clumsy idiot,” he scolds playfully, stops dragging Elias for a second to inspect the gash on his face, “you should be more careful, you know? Now I have to figure out how to fix you up before…” he trails off, reaching up and tracing his thumb down Elias’s face, following the stream of blood sliding over his cheekbone, now. He draws his hand toward himself to inspect the red on his fingertip and when Elias has to see his blood back on August’s hand, he starts sobbing instantaneously. 

“Stop, stop,” he heaves, “enough, I want to wake up no-now…” he isn’t even trying to pry himself out of August’s hold anymore, his entire person radiates exhaustion as he sways, almost drunkenly, looking down at his shoes. His shoes, next to August’s shoes, which are stained with old, rusty blood.  “This isn’t happening, this can’t be -fucking cock!-..I killed y-you. This isn’t real, this is not real-!“ 

“Wait,” August interjects, voice dripping in amusement, “aw, you think this is just another nightmare? God, you’ve kind of lost your shit without me, Bunny.”

Elias looks up at him through his tears, through his sobbing, and his lip curls like he might yell at him. Really yell at him, because he wants to, not because  he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t though, he only breaks down all over again in a fit of rasping cries. August huffs like he’s satisfied, because why wouldn’t he be? All of his sadistic work stuck, Elias can’t turn off the part of his brain that August infected, the part that makes him obedient. He starts to pull Elias again, leading him through the foliage. Only this time, Elias is more present. 

“Le-let go!” Elias cries, digging his feet into the ground as much as he can. But the world is still spinning around him slightly, and even the smallest tug from August knocks him off balance again and he can’t help but be pulled along. “Let go, fucker!”

August scoffs at that, turning only briefly to look at Elias with an amused smile. “I’m gonna ignore that for right now. You’re mouthy today, huh? Did I catch you in one of your moods?”

Elias feels temporarily clear headed when August smiles at him like that, like he knows exactly what he’s going to do later to make Elias pay for being “mouthy”, like he’s going to enjoy it. Like he can hardly even wait. Elias remembers August’s basement, and the way his hands feel around his throat, and how he would do unspeakable things to him just because he “sounded pretty” when he was hurting. Elias is not going to go back to any of that without a fight, he decides. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” He shouts, he throws himself against August, enough to make him stumble back a few steps and lose his grip on his arm. It doesn’t give Elias enough time to run, but when August is closing in on him and grabbing at him again, he’s met with thrashing limbs and violent cries of “don’t touch me! Get away from me, piece of shit! Get the fuck off of me, you mother fucker!” 

August is tolerant of it all with his unwavering grip, for the most part, until Elias drives his elbow hard into his ribs in one of his escape attempts, and then he’s pissed. He doesn’t give Elias time to prepare before punching him in the jaw, and before he can even right himself, August has him pinned against a tree, forearm planted steadily against his chest to trap him. Elias gives a few fruitless attempts at fighting his way out of it, pushing hard at August’s chest and squirming away from him. That is, until he catches sight of the gleaming knife August is pulling out of his pocket, and then his panic sets in tenfold. He freezes up, can’t even look at August anymore. 

“Shut the fuck up now, you hear me?” His face is so close to Elias’s, and he doesn’t have to speak loudly to get his point across, Elias flinches in his grip. He can hardly feel the scar on the back of his tongue anymore, but the memory is still painfully present. He’d somewhat accepted long ago that, when it came to August, if he didn’t mind his tongue he might as well lose it. “You and I are going back to my car, and you’re going to be quiet or I will fuck your pretty face up. Right here and now.”

“No,” Elias whispers, voice small and broken and horrified, “no, I’m n-not going with you, August.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t fuckin’ ask your opinion-”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Now, there’s some sort of edge creeping back into his words, a tiny sliver of the bravery he had a moment ago, before August punched it out of him. “I…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t -fuck!- I can’t take another second of being around you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” August shakes his head in disdain, “you hit your head pretty hard back there-”

“No, August, you’re not listening, I cannot fucking do this again.” His eyes are closed, a preemptive measure in case August decides to slap him around for this. Surprisingly, though, August stays right where he is, pinning Elias to the tree and staring at him with a mixed look of white hot anger and confusion. “You have to let me go. You…please let me go, August.”

August lets out a short, almost cynical laugh at that. “Let you go?” His voice is shaking now, Elias tries to swallow back the fear that he’s gone too far, that he’s made August too angry and now he’s really going to pay. When he gets up the courage to look up at him, August is shaking his head to himself. “You just don’t get it, do you? That’s not going to happen, Bunny, you’re fucking stupid if…You really think after everything I did for you that this would end by me letting you go?! After all the money I spent, the fucking people I killed for you…no, baby, that’s not how this goes.”

“Stop it, please-”

“You’re mine, what don’t you understand about that?!” He shouts. His breathing is ragged, face totally deranged. Something has snapped, he’s horrifying, he’s fucking insane, is what he is. And yet, he’s also tangibly desperate. Embarrassingly so, and in a way that makes Elias disgusted in him. For just a brief moment, Elias sees him as pathetic instead of frighteting, especially when he says; “We… we have to be together. Why don’t you see that?”

“August.” Elias hisses out, looking him right in his eyes, glaring, no, snarling, and practically spitting the next sentence: “I hate your fucking guts. I mean that. I hate everything about you. Being around you makes me fucking sick and I want you to rot in hell.”

August is stunned into silence, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Elias speak so steadily, so pointedly, before. Especially at the end, in France, he was all stutters and barely stifled obscenities. His brain was so broken and twisted by August’s cruel hands and vile manipulation, he was constantly second guessing and focusing hard on not getting himself in trouble. Hearing him speak so fluently just to say that he hates August is painful, but it’s also incredibly astonishing, and August only gapes at him in bewilderment.

“Did you fucking hear me?!” Elias snaps, starting to struggle against his grip again. “I hate you! Let me go! I ne-never wanna see you again!”

“Fine.” August breathes, follows it with a light scoff. Elias doesn’t stop trying to get away from him still, the bark of the tree he’s pressed against is scratching hard into his back, but it’s nothing compared to how much it hurts to be so close to August. “Just know that this is all your fault then.” There’s something like defeat in his voice now, and Elias would take it as his own victory, if August wasn’t still so close to him. 

Elias doesn’t even make a sound when August plunges the knife into him, his eyes only go wide and he finally grows still, disbelief scribbled across his face. At first, he’s not even sure he feels it, until August is driving it deeper, twisting it, and Elias takes in a sharp, shuddering gasp, then he’s letting out a disgruntled whine, hardly audible. He goes weak in the knees before his mind fully registers the pain, August has to shift his hold on him and push him harder against the tree to keep him up, effectively forcing the blade further into him. Then, it slams into him all at once, a fire tearing through his insides and a mind shattering aching, right under his lungs. This is no nightmare, this is painfully real. He grits his teeth around an agonized sob and is ashamed in himself when he takes in fistfuls of August’s shirt and pulls, as if he can yank himself away from the pain with a little leverage, as if that’s not only making August step closer with barely concealed satisfaction on his face. 

In less than the blink of an eye, August slips into another mask, he’s now wearing a depressed frown as he looks down to see blood slowly seeping out of the wound and onto his hand, just a little at a time, since he hasn’t removed the knife yet. “Oh no, my sweet Elias,” he mutters, he can tell by Elias’s reaction of eyes blown huge, overflowing with tears, and a twitching of his eyebrows into a pathetic, sad frown, that hearing his actual name on August’s tongue is sending his head spiraling in a different way, “look at what you made me do.” 

“I…ha, oh god…” he swallows weakly, tips his head back until it rests against the tree. His eyes are misty with tears, he’s shaking all over in a way that feels different from fear, in a way that’s so primally ingrained he can’t help but wonder if his body already knows that it’s going to die. “God, shit-“

“Shh, darling. It’s ok, it’s all over now.”

“No no no no no,” he whimpers. He doesn’t really process that it’s too late to beg, the knife is handle-deep inside of him, there’s no undoing it now. Still though, he stifles a weak sob and looks back at August, shaking his head desperately. “Please, I d-don’t want to die, August. Don’t do this, please stop…”

“I’m sorry, baby,” August says, and he sort of sounds like he really means it this time around. To add to his pretend remorse, he stoops forward and kisses Elias innocently on the cheek. His voice is wavering slightly when he whispers into Elias’s ear, “I really didn’t want it to end this way. But you didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?”

The knife being pulled out of his body is far more painful than it was going in, and Elias can’t help the anguished scream he lets out. He doubles over in pain, and when August finally steps away from him he barely avoids falling right to the ground. He presses his hands against the sticky warmth of the stab wound, soaked through his shirt already, and he sobs out at the insane throbbing even just touching it brings. His lungs feel heavy, like they’re filled with slowly drying cement, and his breathing comes in labored wheezes and broken moans of pain.

“You… you really fucking stabbed m…me?” 

He looks up at August, vision blurring and pulsing around the edges, he can feel that something is wrong, and his first thought is that he has to find Tyson, because Tyson always knows how to help. Only, before he can think about moving from his spot halfway propped up against the tree, he notices that August has now turned the knife on himself, pressing it right to his throat. He doesn’t look scared, or sad, or even happy. For once, August doesn’t look like he’s pretending, he looks just as empty and unforgiving as he really is. Elias can barely hear himself shrieking “stop it August don’t!!” past the onsetting shock over the gruesome scene playing out in front of him and the confusing haze of his own blood loss. 

August drops to the ground with a heavy thud. Elias becomes very aware of the birds chirping in the branches above him, maybe if only to distract himself from the bloody leaves and sticks and flowers under August. One of them he recognizes as a blue jay, he only knows because of the one that built a nest in the trees outside the cabin. He tries to focus on the familiar shrill call of the bird as he stumbles forward, twigs crack underneath his unsteady feet as he ambles away from the bloody scene. All he has to do is find the road, and then he can get someone to help him and he can find Tyson and it can all really be over. But more than that, Elias just doesn’t want to die in the same place as August. Elias tries not to think about how it’s starting to really look that way, that he’ll only get a few yards from August and he’ll die right on the forest floor and he’ll never see Tyson, his dogs, his friends, or the art covered walls of his house again. He sobs out something like a cry for help, and is answered by only birds. 

He’s got practically no energy when he finds the hill of the ditch that separates the woods from the road, and he can hear his own pained grunts and sobs echo back to him as he digs his hands into moss and leaf scattered earth to climb it. The blood on his hands makes everything he touches stick to them, so he doesn’t try to press them back against the wound once he finds himself upright on the side of the road. He wants so badly to lay down, the dark asphalt under him looks inviting, almost pillow-soft, but it seems like even sprawling out on the street would take too much energy out of him, so he merely stays swaying and staring at the spot where the white paint meets the black street. He realizes he really misses Tyson, and he can’t remember if he kissed him goodbye that morning, or if he told him he loved him. The mere thought of Tyson drives him forward, the direction he’s going isn’t important, he just needs to find Tyson. Or help, he reminds himself, he needs to find help. A tic throws him off balance, he has to catch himself on the post of a nearby road sign. When he notices the dirty, bloody handprint he leaves behind, he almost vomits right there on the asphalt. His labored breathing sounds far louder in his ears than it really is, he almost doesn’t hear the car approaching quickly behind him. He shuffles away from the sound of tires screeching to a halt against the asphalt, wobbles in place as he tries to get his thoughts together. This car stopping means help, it means potential safety, it means he has a better chance of surviving this than he thought. In that moment, though, he finds the line connecting his thoughts and his voice is entirely severed, he can’t even get out a measly “help” anymore between his weak weeping. The car door opens, and Elias attempts to blink away the black splotches dancing across his vision. He starts to cry harder upon seeing them, realizes that the last time he saw them he died moments later, and he whines helplessly at the all too familiar dread building in his stomach. There is blood on the white line of the road now, and blood on his shoes.

“Elias?” He can’t tell if the voice is in his head or if the person really knows who he is, and he can’t seem to force himself to look up from his shoes, there is so much blood on them he knows that if he survives this, he’ll have to throw them out entirely. There’s no amount of bleach that could undo this mess. He looks up when he hears the slamming of a second door, and it sort of starts to feel like some bizzare nightmare again when he sees Chris and Rayne standing there, taking in Elias’s disheveled, breathless state with their own degrees of concern. “What are you doing all the way out here-?”

“Oh my god, is that blood?!” Rayne cries out, starting off in a sprint around the back of the car towards Elias’s trembling frame. He flinches away from them, still on edge from having to endure August. “Shit, Elias, you…that’s a lot of blood, what happened?”

“U-um…I…ugh, I think I’m dyin’, Rayne…” he hears a shuffling of bushes behind him, swiveling around a little too quickly to make sure August didn’t follow him. Rayne gets close enough to grab at his upper arms, and that small bit of stability and comfort is all it takes for him to finally collapse, right into Rayne’s chest. They barely stop him from hitting the ground fully, cradling him against their body, despite the blood soaking them both. 

Rayne only holds him for a second before pulling away from him, carefully splaying him out and peeling his shirt up to get a better look at the source of all this warm, sticky red all over the now pale and shivering boy. Upon seeing the gaping hole under the center of his ribcage, they suck in a horrified gasp and start taking off their jacket to press against the wound. “Holy shit, Chris you gotta call the cops right now-”

“No, no,” Elias is slurring, forgetting momentarily that calling the cops and getting help was his plan in the first place, he tries to wave his hand to get Chris’s attention, it falls hopelessly to the asphalt, “I want…I want to talk to Tyson, p-please, I just want to hear his voice…”

Chris doesn’t listen, or can’t hear him, he’s already climbing back into the cab of his truck to retrieve his phone. Rayne presses the layered cloth of their jacket against his abdomen, really adding pressure, and Elias wails with more conviction than he thought he had energy for. 

“I’m sorry, Eli,” Rayne tells him, “it’s gonna be ok, help is coming. I just need you to take some deep breaths for me, yeah? Can you do that?”

Elias tries to listen and get in a deep breath, but is cut off by a few pained coughs and groans. He reflexively grabs onto Rayne’s sleeve, biting down so hard to muffle his sobbing that he feels his teeth might crack. “Oh god Elias, who the fuck did this to you?” Rayne mutters, almost to themselves, then looks over their shoulder to find Chris. He’s climbing down from the truck with the phone pressed to his ear, then he’s jogging back to meet them on the side of the road. “Is someone coming? Tell ‘em to hurry.” Their voice is more urgent, despite how low they’re speaking to try not to frighten Elias more.

“He…he’s dead.” Elias whispers abruptly, both of them frown at him, Chris turns away to say something discreetly into the phone, and Rayne starts to brush Elias’s hair tenderly away from his face with the hand they aren’t using to stop him from bleeding out. They avoid the gash on his forehead from the faceplant that got him caught in the first place. “He did it right in f-front of me… he…how co-could he do that….?”  

“Hush, Elias,” Rayne says softly, “it’s alright. You’re safe with us, ok? We’re gonna make sure you get help, I promise. Don’t think about all that other shit right now.”

“I don’t want to die-”

“Don’t say that!” They snap at him. “What did I just tell you, Eli? Chris and I are gonna help you. You are not dying.” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Rayne looks off into the trees, hazel eyes calculating and overflowing with worry. Finally, they fall back down onto Elias and they force a small smile. “Hey, someone brought a pigeon to work today.” Elias is just dizzy enough from the blood loss and possible concussion that he grins, his eyes flutter a little. 

“A pigeon? Wa…was it a pet?”

“No,” Rayne starts to laugh softly, and they think maybe they can hear sirens distantly and they allow themselves to exhale just a smidge,“no, her dog caught it. Her little cocker spaniel. Tried to play with it, she said.”

Elias hums something like a chuckle, he seems to be relaxing a great deal. Either that or he’s just succumbing to the injury, joining August in the darkness. Rayne becomes desperate to keep him aware, focused on something until the ambulance arrives. 

“Do you remember that cartoon movie that has the cocker spaniel in it?” They rush out. “I’ve been trying to remember the name of it all day but it’s just…I can’t think of it.”

“Um.” Elias closes his eyes, and Rayne feels their heart stop for a second, but then he’s opening them again, looking up at the clouds. “Nah, I don’t think I know th-that one.”

“Oh, well, one of us will think of it later.” They definitely hear the sirens now, and they look up to see Chris watching on with a slightly green paleness under his beard. “Anyway…the uh…the pigeon is fine,” they look back down to see Elias has closed his eyes again, and they feel his breathing slowing under their hands. “The pigeon is fine, Elias. We named him Phillip, Chris thought you would think that was funny. Isn’t…Isn’t that funny, Eli?”

“Eli?”

“Holy fuck Rayne tell me he’s still-” There’s a sharp edge to Chris’s voice now, and Elias wants to sarcastically tell him to chill out, but he feels so far away from his body, from this entire situation, he can’t get any words out. The sirens are getting closer, Elias wishes he was present enough to find relief in the dissonant wailing of the approaching ambulance. 

“I-I think he just passed out. He’s still breathing.” Elias remembers to breathe, his inhale is slightly jittery and broken under the jacket and the crushing pressure Rayne is using to try and stop the blood fleeing his body. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god this isn’t fucking happening.” 

Even though he didn’t choose any of this, even though it all still feels slightly unreal, and even though he is dying, Elias feels guilty. Humiliated, even. How disgusting of him, to burden his friends with this, to make them audience to the final act of August’s shit show. He would apologize, if he could remember how to speak, and if he wasn’t suddenly so cold it makes him breathless. 

“Relax, Chris. That isn’t helping…..Eli, stay with me, bud. Just hang in there for a little bit longer.”

There’s a moment after Rayne says that, unless it’s longer than a moment and Elias is just losing his sense of time in his state, where everything morphs into nothing. The road under him disappears, he’s floating aimlessly, he can’t hear Chris panicking or Rayne reassuring him, he can’t even see the backs of his eyelids anymore. Didn’t he hear sirens a moment ago? He worries that help isn’t coming anymore, after all, and the slight hope he had of surviving this fades to nothing. 

Elias is nothing. Again.

Elias is dead. Again. 

Then, the moment passes. The first thing that comes back to him is his hearing, even though everything is muffled and muted by a distant ringing. There are voices nearby, and a dissonant beeping that’s vaguely familiar but Elias can’t process why. Then, as if he’s being forced back into his body, the pain sinks in. First in his stomach, so deep inside of him that he’s instantly nauseous and can’t focus on anything else. After that his skull feels like it’s splitting right in half inch by inch, and that’s when he hears himself let out a feeble groan. He’s confused, because if he died again, why is he in so much pain? He doesn’t think it was like this the last time, last time he was so relieved to be free of pain and seeing Tyson again, for whatever reason, so why did it stick around this time?

“It’s ok, baby,” he hears, close to his face like Tyson is there with him, right on cue, “I know it hurts, but you’re ok now. You’re ok.”

“Ty?” He chokes out, his voice hoarse and rasping. He tries to open his eyes, but something is keeping him weighed down and barely conscious enough to even move.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. I’m right here my love-”

“I d-don’t understand…it hurts still, wh-why…ugh…” he starts to cry softly, before he even really feels like he wants to cry. Fingertips brush against his cheekbone and he’s even more perplexed  at that, because last time Tyson didn’t touch him, didn’t even try to. “Am I not de…dead, yet?”

Though it’s making him far more confused, he finds relief in the gentle hand petting through his hair. “No, Elias.” Tyson breathes after a long time, his own voice is watery and shaking, and if Elias wasn’t under a million pounds of water and only partly present, he would throw himself into Tyson’s arms so they could comfort each other. “You’re not dead. Y-you’re alright, they saved you. You’re not gonna die, ok?”

“...what? Really?”

Now, Tyson laughs softly, with his own degree of disbelief. Elias starts to gain a little more awareness, he feels the stiff mattress under him, the sort of scratchy blankets he’s under. He also feels something resting in each nostril, he realizes distantly that  he’s probably hooked up on oxygen. Finally, he’s able to peel his eyes open, but he has to immediately squeeze them shut again after the horrendously bright fluorescent lights assault him. 

“God, Eli, I’m so glad you’re here.” Tyson breaks down, even though seconds ago he was chuckling at Elias, and it almost hurts more than the stitched up stab wound when Elias looks up at him just to see his face tear stained and distressed. He’s still in his scrubs, but the chair he’s pulled away from the wall to be right next to the bed has a blanket draped messily across the back, and there are a few of the hospital's bland coffee cups discarded on the bedside table like he’s been there for awhile. “Th-they called me from the ambulance and I…fuck, Elias, can’t take almost losing you anymore. I’m gonna go actually insane if I have to see you halfway to death in a hospital bed one more fucking time-” He’s cut off by a soft tapping at the cracked door, he yanks his hands away from Elias as he jumps at the small sound. Then he’s writhing a little, wrinkling his face up as his breathing stifles. 

The nurse that pops into the room looks immediately surprised to see Elias conscious, and she proves that further by glancing at Tyson and exclaiming, “he’s awake! When did he wake up?” 

“Uh…” Tyson huffs, wipes the tears from his face. “Just now. I was gonna come get you, he’s in a lot of pain, so…”

“Oh no!” Even as she says it her voice is chipper, and she crosses the room carefully to the sink, begins to scrub soap into her hands with practiced ease. “I’ll get some more of those delicious painkillers as soon as I’m done checking your vitals, sound good, Elias?”

Elias looks up at her, this all feels a little too similar to the first time he woke up after dying, and he feels too frightened to answer. She finishes rinsing her hands off, but she doesn’t try to approach him after they’re dried. He imagines her touching the places where his body is ablaze with agony, and it makes him sick all over again.

How badly does it hurt, scale of one to ten?

How dead do you feel right now, scale of one to ten?

 “I…” he trails off, glancing at the little screen that’s displaying his heart rate, flinches again when he hears Tyson shifting to be close to him. “Are you su-sure I’m alive?” He whispers to Tyson, and he is taken aback when the question makes Tyson go stiff suddenly. “S-sorry, I just kinda feel-fuck!-” the jolt of ticcing makes him hiss and curl into himself, and Tyson immediately has a gentle hand back against Elias’s temple, his thumb tracing tenderly at his hairline.

“Shhh, baby, it’s ok. I promise, you’re alive, you’re right here with me. And hey, look, I gotta show you something-” he uses his free hand to reach for his phone, leans even closer to show Elias his screen, the picture of all three of the dogs sleeping on his side of the bed. “Chris sent me that this morning. They miss you, isn’t that so fuckin’ cute?” He’s doing his best now to keep his tone light, like the nurse that just walked in, but Elias can’t seem to find comfort in it. He ignores the attempted distraction without missing a beat.

“So…so is August really g–gone, then?” He knows the answer already, he was there when it happened after all, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the dread that comes when Tyson throws the nurse a desperate frown.

“Yes, Eli, he is. He…he can’t hurt you anymore. ” He’s watching Elias’s face carefully, waiting for his reaction with bated breath and stiff shoulders. When all that he gets is a measly nod and a suddenly far-off, blank stare, he grows even more uneasy. 

The nurse must be able to sense the doom blossoming in Elias’s head, because she pointedly pulls on a pair of gloves and steps half a foot closer. “I feel bad, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Joanne.”

Elias still doesn’t look completely present, but he whispers out a soft “Hi, Joanne,” with as much politeness as he can muster. 

“Is it ok if I check some things? I want to get rid of your pain as soon as possible but my boss doesn’t let me hand out drugs without the proper paperwork.” She smiles brightly when he nods at her, and she’s nice enough to try to explain every procedure and the reasoning behind it, even though he seems to be majorly checked out still. He doesn’t complain about the pain anymore, even though Tyson can see the very evident anguish on his face when Joanne changes the bandages on his stomach and cleans dried blood from around the stitches. The jagged, stitched up line is much bigger than the stab wound initially was, Elias wonders how much internal damage August dealt him. She puts new gauze and tape over the soon to be new scar among countless others, promises that she will change the dressings on his head that he hadn’t noticed in a bit, and then she leaves to get the promised painkillers. 

More times than Elias is willing to admit, he had imagined something like this. In his head, in the sick, shameful fantasies he sometimes got, August would die by Elias’s hand. Elias had thought about giving him a taste of  his own poision-laced medicine by chaining him up and torturing him until his body gave up on him, and he had pictured stealing August’s gun and shooting him in his sleep so he could escape, and when he shot him in the motel in California, that had briefly turned into a reality. All of those times, he thought that killing August meant justice or revenge for himself, he thought that it would bring him peace to know that he couldn’t be hurt again by the person who had torn his life apart in every way he could think of. But now, with August actually gone, and Elias somehow miraculously still alive, all he can think about is a bleak conversation he’d had with August pretty early on in France.

“Do you ever imagine your own funeral?” August asked. Elias felt like it was a trap, he knew that August liked to talk about upsetting shit like that just to send Elias spiraling. That time, though, he sounded somewhat genuine, and he’d been drinking a lot that day, so maybe he was just feeling somber. Or whatever was the closest thing to somber he could feel. 

“What a-are you talking about?” He was not ridiculed or immediately punished for asking, and he remembered it registering that August might not be planning on using this as an excuse to shove Elias further off the deep end.

“Do you ever picture what your own funeral would be like? Like, what kind of flowers would be set up? Would they play that shitty organ music or the music that you actually enjoyed?” He paused, took a short swig, and looked away from Elias and out the living room window toward the beach. “Does anyone actually show up, and do the people who do show up cry their eyes out? You know, that kind of thing.”

“Uh…y-yeah, I guess I have a few t…a few times.” He was on the floor during this conversation, because when August got drunk and pretended to be vulnerable he also liked to make Elias kneel in front of him and stroke at his hair and stick his fingers in his mouth and otherwise torment him in any little way he could think of. “Do…Do you?”

August hummed, switched the elegant glass of whiskey from one hand to the other so he could rake his fingertips through Elias’s hair. He was gentle, and Elias pushed further into his touch to try and keep him that way. “When my dad died, I was in charge of his funeral. I spent…I spent so much god damn money and time on that stupid fucking thing.” Elias flinched minutely with every curse, but surprisingly August’s touch didn’t grow harsh to match his tone. “I even got these huge bouquets of a bunch of different flowers for the piece of shit, you should’ve seen them, they were probably taller than you.” He smiled warmly down at Elias and used the backs of his knuckles to stroke lovingly down his face before returning to his hair. 

“Th-that’s not really saying much…” Elias breathed, instinctively trying to comfort August with humor because of the incredibly touchy subject he was diving into. August had mentioned his fathers death only once before, glazed right over it like he was just telling Elias that the sky was blue and the grass was green. And in that moment he was drunkenly spilling his guts out about it and he almost sounded vaguely bummed out, so Elias pushed all the past torture and lies and other life ruining atrocities to the back of his mind and started trying to make the sadistic monster feel better. 

It worked, August looked incredibly amused at Elias’s joke, he even laughed after a second. “That’s funny, sweetheart.” He took in the flustered, confused stare on Elias’s face at that, very clearly loving that he was discomposed by something that sounded just vaguely like praise. Then he sighed, looked into the brassy liquid he insisted on consuming every waking second, lately. “Anyway, no one showed up. I spent almost a month planning and organizing and setting shit up, and I was the only one there. How fucking shitty is that? And after sitting in a funeral parlor with my dead dad for, like, an hour, I just left. I went and chainsmoked some cigarettes in my car and I watched them clear out the parlor for the next poor fuck and…and I watched them drag those gigantic fucking bouquets all the way out to the dumpster. They didn’t even keep them to use for someone else or donate them, they just threw them away.”

Elias didn’t know what to say for a long time, but August didn’t seem to be expecting him to speak, still lost in thought staring at his booze. It was the closest to human August had seemed in a long time, and that’s probably what prompted Elias to press his forehead against August’s thigh and nuzzle against him and say: “that’s horrible, August. I’m so s-sorry.” 

“Aw, thank you, Bunny, but it isn’t horrible. It’s…it’s cause and effect, that’s all. He’s the reason no one but me showed up.” By then, August wasn’t restraining himself with his affection, he massaged his free hand into Elias’s shoulders and the back of his neck without inhibition. Elias couldn’t tell if it was a product of the alcohol, Elias’s behavior, the nature of the conversation, or a mixture of all three that was making him so nice, but in that moment he was praying that it lasted forever. “But, anyways, yeah, I do imagine my own funeral. It’s going to be even lonelier than my fathers. I don’t think it’ll even count as a funeral, it would be more like the bouquets getting tossed into the dumpster.”

“Don’t say that,” Elias muttered disdainfully, “th-that’s not true.” 

“Yeah it is. I’m an asshole but I’m not an idiot, I’ve done all that I can to guarantee that no one will show.” 

Elias looked up at him, he was shocked at the pained expression August was wearing. “I… I would show up. If you ever…I don’t wanna think about- shit- about that, but I would show up.” 

August smiled brightly at that, he hooked his finger in Elias’s collar and pulled him up off the floor, yanked him into his lap. When Elias winced and softly whined, August smiled and lit up just a little. His eyes scanned up and down the younger man's battered body with devouring intensity, and Elias felt like he should stop egging him on before it led to what it always did and he was hurting even worse. 

“You wouldn’t.” He tested. 

“I would, A-August.” He paused, trying to read August’s face to figure out how he was going to react. He seemed to like the vague degree of humor Elias had used a moment ago, so he tried that again. “Even if it w-was just a dumpster funeral.” 

August chuckled, looped his arms all the way around Elias and drew him close, pressing his mouth against his neck just under his jaw. When he spoke against his skin, Elias shivered. “Would you cry?”

“Of course I would, you kno-know me. I’d cry like a little bitch.” 

That must’ve been the perfect mixture of self-deprecation, humor, and stroking August’s ego, because he consumed Elias immediately after. Right on the couch, he took off the few clothes Elias was wearing and used him and the idea of him crying over his death to get off. By the end of it, Elias had no idea if he was telling the truth or just trying to make August feel better. He also had no idea why he would do either of those things for this hurricane of a person, the thing that ruined his life in ways that Elias could never imagine or even fully understand yet. He hated himself, just like he always did after doing anything that August enjoyed, and he hated August for being so confusing and hurtful, and he hated Tyson for not saving him yet. 

August does not have a funeral. At least, if he does, Elias is left blissfully unaware of it. He stays in the hospital for another three weeks; he can hardly move around, even with help, as he recovers from surgery and the short coma he supposedly fell into from blood loss and his concussion. But beyond that he finds himself in so much mental anguish he doesn’t feel safe leaving. Paranoia drives him insane the first week, and after that he still won’t allow anyone but Tyson and the near constant flow of nurses and doctors in the room, even Chris and Rayne have to wait until he’s released to even see him. 

Tyson is, unsurprisingly, the only comfort in the dark and gloomy hospital. He only leaves him for minutes at a time, but is otherwise adamant about staying right at his bedside, calming him down when he wakes up screaming, or holding his hand while he gets his incredibly sensitive wounds cleaned and bandaged. He also manages to find a pad of paper and some colored pencils and spends a majority of the time drawing with him, keeping him distracted from the terror he had to suffer through. It doesn’t work every time, but Elias will admit that it’s nice to at least keep his hands busy. Tyson notices that Elias doesn’t ever use the red shades, and Elias notices that the next time they draw together, all of the reddish hues have been removed from the box. Elias doesn’t know why that makes him lose his cool, why he ends up sobbing in Tyson’s arms about how grateful he is, but some part of him realizes that the simple gesture is proof that Tyson really does love him, it’s enough to finally, finally extinguish any doubts that still played in Elias’s broken mind even after all this time. Tyson loves him, he loves him enough to notice the familiar color bothering him, he loves him enough to carefully remove the ones that might be close to upsetting, he loves him enough to not even mention that he did it. It’s strange, because compared to everything that Tyson has done for Elias, taking three or four pencils out of a box is nothing, and yet Elias feels like he might implode from the small act. 

Eventually, Elias is well enough to go back to the cabin, and Tyson surprises him with something resembling a welcome home party, only much smaller and not as intense as Elias imagined something like that would be. 

Chris and Rayne are there, and they both spend the first few minutes pouring their hearts out about how happy they are that he’s ok, how much they were worried about him. Rayne tells him that the only reason they even came across him in the first place was because Chris had grown worried after the mess that transpired from the party, and begged Rayne to drive out to the cabin with him to check on Elias. Later, Chris really drives that home by profusely apologizing over the last time they saw each other, promising that he deleted Elias’s picture from his phone immediately after he left and never even thought about searching for more. He sounds the most caring and genuine he ever has when he pulls Elias into an almost too-tight bear hug and tells him, “you’re like a little brother to me, I would never hurt you like that on purpose.”

Tyson’s mom, Kathy, and his father, William, also come, along with their four other children. Tyson has talked endlessly about his siblings, and getting to finally meet them (despite the sort of bizarre undertones) is nice. He meets Tyson’s older sister Sierra, who is a bubbly engineer, and she blows Elias away with just how smart she is. She also gets giddy and teary eyed when she talks about her girlfriend, and she shows Elias the ring she’s planning on proposing with, makes him feel special when she tells him no one else knows yet and to keep it a secret. Reagan is Tyson’s older brother, and though he’s not incredibly talkative, he does seem to share the same artistic passion his brother has, and he compliments Elias on his paintings and his photography. At one point he tries to convince Elias to take an expensive digital camera that he recently got but will never use, tells him it’s a gift, but eventually backs down when Elias shows him his cracked phone screen and jokes that the camera will likely suffer the same fate. Tyson’s two youngest siblings are far younger than the other three; when Kathy was introducing them, she made a joke about Tyson moving out causing her and William to get bored, so they popped out two more kids to keep them busy. Carter is a seven year old boy who wrestles with the dogs until they get tired and still has the energy to do laps around the living room and kitchen for about an hour after. He is also obsessed with Elias’s hair, he tries to separate the blond and the blue down to each individual strand, he laughs lightheartedly every time Elias tics and ruins his progress. Meredith is the youngest at only five, and she proudly shows Elias all of the beads woven delicately into her hair, she stomps her feet with excitement when Elias tells her how much he likes the ones shaped like butterflies because those are her favorites too! At the end of the night, before her parents take her home to get much needed sleep, she sits on the couch with Elias and traces her little fingers over his tattoo. She asks innocently about how he got all of his scars, and he finds himself speechless. Eventually he tells her that it was just an accident, he tells her sometimes people get hurt and you can see where it happened for a long time after. She nods her head in understanding, and then she peppers a few tiny kisses against his skin, over the scars. 

“Does that feel better, now?” She asks him after. “When I get hurt, Mama kisses it and it feels better.”

“Y-yeah, it does,” he tells her, and he isn’t lying even a fraction, “thank you, Mer. You should b…be a doctor, I think you might have secret healing powers.”

“Like Ty?” She asks through a stifled yawn.

Elias glances across the room to see Tyson and his father talking quietly, and it’s almost as if Tyson can sense his boyfriends eyes on him, he smiles brightly when he sees Elias and Meredith sitting together. For the first time possibly ever, Elias’s heart feels full. He doesn’t feel any subconscious urge to search for an escape or a distraction or something to numb him; he is perfectly content in this room with all of the people he cares about, holding eye contact with the love of his life from a distance but with an underlying sense of warmth and closeness. Knowing it’s all because of Tyson makes him feel gooey and weak at the knees, he never thought he’d meet anyone who would care enough about him to do even half of what Tyson has for him. He’s eternally grateful that someone so kind decided to take him in, show him that the world is not all sharp edges and misery but instead complicated beauty and life changing sunsets. Tyson gave him a sanctuary when he needed it most, and showed him that his feelings mattered, and showed him that he could be loved as he is, even if what he is constantly changes, and now is giving Elias something he has always ached to have: a family. 

“Yeah,” he finally answers Meredith, “yeah, just like Ty. Maybe h-he gave you some of his magic.”

Meredith giggles, but she doesn’t disagree with him. Elias thinks that, as young as she is, even she can tell just how much Tyson has changed his life for the better. 

It’s late when everyone leaves and Tyson and Elias are finally alone again, and they begin to tidy up the aftermath of having so many people over. Tyson stands in the kitchen, elbow deep in dish water. He can hear Elias in the living room collecting dishes, ticcing the entire time. Tyson listens to the soft clicking and humming and occasional curses, but in between that he’s murmuring compliments to the dogs, and he doesn’t sound bothered. After debating himself for a solid minute, Tyson decides to go check on him, because he did just go through something horrendous (again) and that was a lot of people to be around after isolating himself with Tyson for so long. Besides, he knows Elias’s tics flare up when he’s anxious or stressed, and for the past year and a half that’s nearly all that he’s been. It feels…habitual, now, call and response. He dries his hands off, and on his way out of the kitchen catches sight of an old vinyl his dad gifted him before he left, and he grabs it last minute. 

Elias perks up as soon as he notices Tyson in the same room as him, smiles in a way that Tyson can’t quite read, can’t tell if it’s disingenuous or not. He watches Tyson as he makes his way to the new-age record player they haven’t used yet. Elias sets the dishes he was gathering onto the coffee table and joins Tyson, observing how carefully he pulls the vinyl out of its sleeve and sets it on the turntable. 

“Wh…where did you get that?” He asks softly. 

“It was my dads,” Tyson explains, “he told me to count it as a housewarming gift.” He turns and looks at Elias as the soft crackling of the record spinning rings out through the speakers. He’s jittery, but his face seems serene, unbothered. 

When the music starts, Elias finds himself leaning against Tyson, watching the record spin and breathing in the slight static of the piano. After a few measures, recognition falls over his face and he gasps, snapping his head up toward Tyson. It was the song Tyson had played for him so long ago, before everything was ripped apart and they were left in the ruins. That seems like a dream now, the people in the memory who danced in each other's arms are strangers. Everything is entirely different now, and yet, when Tyson smiles down at him with his dark brown eyes shining and his face glowing with visible adoration, it feels like nothing has changed at all. 

“This is…thi-this is the…” Elias stammers, his hands are flailing again, Tyson still can’t tell if he’s picking up on hints of anxiety or not. 

“Yeah, baby,” he interrupts, this time around he’s the one to pull Elias close, starts swaying with him ever so slightly, “you remembered.”

Elias giggles, gets as close to Tyson as he can while tipping his head back to still see him. “Of course I- fuck!- of course I remember. Wow, it sounds even prettier like this.”

The dogs are exhausted from rough housing with Carter, but they offer a few interested glances at the two as they dance in front of the speakers. Tyson wonders if they’ve ever seen him and Elias this close, it feels like it’s been ages since they were able to melt into each other completely, with no outside distractions or worries. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now he feels a sense of togetherness that was muted for so long, he can’t tell if it had been him holding back, or Elias, or maybe both of them, but now neither of them are. They’re close, swaying in each other's arms, there’s no timid self-restraint or averting eyes or tension. 

“The first time I showed you this song was the day I realized I was in love with you.” Tyson mutters it like it’s a very intimate, personal secret, despite them being alone. Elias blushes and smiles again, Tyson is so relieved to see him smiling so much, given what just happened to him. “I wish I would’ve told you that right when I knew. I regret keeping it a secret for so long.” He leaves out the part where most of that regret stemmed from losing Elias, from having to carry the knowledge that Elias almost died without knowing how loved he was. 

“That’s ok, I d-didn’t tell you right when I knew, so we’re even.” There’s amusement in his tone, he trails his hand over Tyson’s shoulder and caresses the back of his neck, plays with his hair. Then, as if he can tell what Tyson is going to ask before he opens his mouth, he says “It was the night I came over without asking, and it was…it was late and you were-” he cuts himself off with a soft laugh, shakes his head to himself. “Man, you were so stoned when you opened the door. Like, Cheech and Chong level stoned, Ty. And you didn’t get mad at me for just showing up, you didn’t even ask me why I was there. You just…” as he trails off, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to put himself back into the memory. Tyson can’t stop himself from tracing his fingertips over Elias’s cheek gently, he’s too beautiful for Tyson to keep his hands to himself. Elias leans into it, and then he looks back up at Tyson and sighs wistfully.

“You just smiled at me. This big, lopsided smile that ma-ow, shit- that made my lungs hurt, and then you said ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day.’ I don’t think you even said hi. And when you said that I…I realized that I didn’t want anyone else in the world, I just wanted you. I just wanted to keep hearing you say that you think about me.”

“I don’t think I ever stop thinking about you.” Tyson chuckles. Elias wrinkles his nose up as he smiles, tugs at Tyson’s hair playfully.

“Yeah, well, as creepy as that sounds, the feeling is…very mutual.” He pauses, directs his gaze to the floor for a second, eyes shining with tears when he looks back up. Tyson frowns at him, but before he can really react or say anything, Elias is speaking again. “I want to thank you, Ty. I-I know you always say that I don’t have to, but I…you have changed my life. I feel like I’m whole, like I’m not s-so empty anymore. And that’s all because of you. U-um…tonight was really…meaningful, for me. Your family is incredible.”

Tyson breathes a sigh of relief, wipes away the tears streaming down Elias cheeks. “You’re alright, then? I was a little worried about having so many people over…”

Despite the tears on his face and the wavering in his voice, Elias laughs and nods his head. “I th-think this is the happiest I’ve been in…” he sighs, sniffles just a little. “In a long time.”

With that, Tyson leans in and presses his forehead to Elias’s, pulls his body closer. “Can I kiss you, Eli?” He whispers. Even as he’s asking, Elias is leaning forward, lips slightly parted, eyes screwed shut, breathing hitched and bothered. It’s invitation enough, but Tyson waits for an answer before closing the space between them. 

“Please, Tyson…” Elias finally mutters, and as soon as his name falls from Elias’s lips, Tyson is kissing him like they used to be fused together and Tyson’s trying to absorb him again. There is nothing between them but clothes and the music floating from the record player still, and Elias can’t remember the last time Tyson touched him so unafraid, but it feels like finding water in the desert. Which is how Elias kisses him, like he’s been wandering around a vast sea of sand and his throat is parched and his muscles are weak and Tyson is a forgiving, ice cold waterfall that Elias can’t ever drink enough of. Just like everything has been since Elias woke up in the hospital, the kiss is different. It’s not anything that he’s ever experienced, with the closeness that doesn’t hurt and the innocence of a tongue trailing across his lip without trying to intrude behind it, with the occasional smiles and breathless giggles that they don’t let interrupt them for long, with the eyes closed tight out of trust and not fear, and Elias doesn’t hate himself and Elias feels desirable because he’s Elias not because he’s a toy to be used. And it all feels earth-shatteringly perfect. 

[obsessedwvampbois]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐋 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

Oh boy so this is gonna make people really mad. I have listened to a total of 52 songs from the Diabolik Lovers franchise (that I could find) and ranked them for the hell of it. For this ranking I will be including all character songs, openings (both anime and game) along with the remixes. I will not be counting solo versions of songs (eg. Gin no bara), soundtrack bgm or the endings themes.

My ranking is based on these things:

how well does the song fit the character/s or game, both in lyrics and aesthetic

the overall production and performance of the song

is the song a bop? would I willingly listen to it again?

Couple of disclaimers: I do not speak Japanese so I will be crediting the translations of each song as I go through them along with any think pieces / essays that I come across. If there is any song I missed, please let me know and I’ll slot it into the rankings, its hard to find one source that has all the songs recorded. Finally, just a reminder because I know I'm gonna make someone mad, this is my list! If you don't like it make your own or ignore mine, I'm only one person and my opinion is not final!

With that in mind, my rankings are below the cut

*Least Best*

These are the songs I will probably never listen to again. I have a few gripes with them that I'll talk about in my explanation.

52. 誓いのカンパネラ (Chikai no Campanella)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is just super underwhelming overall. The guitar is my favourite thing about the song but that's it. There is so much build up for a boring chorus. The lyrics don't have much for me either.

51. 血戦のDies irae (Kessen no Dies irae)

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

On the opposite end, this song is so overwhelming. There are so many elements to follow and its hard to keep up. This is the first time I'll bring it up but the volume of the voices is so quiet compared to the backing track, its frustrating. The lyrics is what brings it up a notch as it talks about the day of wrath (dies irae) as the day the founders take over. I was also low key hoping to hear some version of the dies irae song hidden in the background but I couldn't hear any.

50. S.O.S-ΑtoΩ-

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

This song just feels so forgettable, I just feel like there isn't much to comment on. There are some interesting lyrics sprinkled out like comparing literal self mutilation to abstinence. Also the actual delivery of 'S ah O ah S ah', I can't take it seriously.

49. Dystopia

Kino

~translation~

This had an interesting start because I hadn't heard anything similar for DL but then after a few lines the tone change was just a nope for me. Again, Kino's voice is super quiet and the constant barrage of all these instruments that don't really gel together its confusing. Overall, it didn't leave much of an impression and I couldn't really visualised DL in the song.

48. 吸愛ラビリンス (Kyūai Labyrinth)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

Praise for the saxophone! Props to that because it shines here and is really the only memorable thing besides that final line of the chorus. The song does give the vibe of the Vandead Carnival with its more playful energy though. The lyrics feel really typical, like there are so many times I read lyrics about drinking blood before I get bored.

47. 極限(UNLIMITED) BLOOD -Remix ver.-

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation w/ original ver.~

I don't think I really need to hear EDM/dubstep and Diabolik Lovers again thanks. It feels super dated and the vocoded singing is a little much for my taste. Good source material and the stripped back vocals at some points is quite nice.

46. 愛しきPain (Itoshiki Pein)

Subaru

~translation~

First off please never let me see Subaru near a fedora again thanks. Overall I felt bored with this song, like its nice, but that it. There are similar sounding songs that just hit home similar themes a lot stronger later on. The best part of this song is the spoken word but it feels weird for Subaru to be singing such a slow song.

45. Luv Apple Juice

Ruki & Azusa

~translation~

Yes, I am counting Ruki's spoken word, its my list. Lyrics are a must read with references to Adam, Eve and Eden throughout. Again, the voices are super quiet and with how fast paced the instrumentals are its annoying. The tempo also backfires because these are two of the more 'chill' characters. The last complaint is that the speed of Ruki's speaking compared to Azusa's singing just isn't right.

44. DIE IS CAST

Kou & Yuma

~translation~

This has to be my least favourite opening to a song, the staccato is just really grating to me. The way I'd describe the chorus is loud, the same note over and over again isn't appealing. The lyrics are an interesting read but nothing feels super important. The highlight of the song is the pre-chorus, thanks production!

43. カレイドナイト (Kaleido Night)

Kanato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is just generic, like overall. The sound, the lyrics, the production. There just wasn't must for me to listen to without zoning out.

*Average*

These songs don't leave too much of a lasting impression on me, but I still enjoy them.

42. 苺の罪 (Ichigo no Tsumi) (strawberry sin)

Reiji

~translation~

First of the generic rock songs! I couldn't really find much in the lyrics of note I think the actual performance of the song is my favourite element here.

41. 真夜中の饗宴( MIDNIGHT PLEASURE) -Remix ver.

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation w/ original~

One the best part of the original is that opening section with the steps, it creates some nice anticipation for the coming song. The chorus this time round feels a little low energy after the hype of the pre-chorus. After watching the actual opening with the remix, I kind of wish they had the voice over, the song is so chill the last chorus could have it to make it feel more grandiose.

40. ZERO

Subaru

~translation~

Second generic rock song, this time it actually suits Subaru's brand! The lyrics do have some hints to Subaru as a character which is better. My sustaining thought is that this sounds like an off brand Arcadia.

39. Bloody★Mayim★Mayim

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

This has to have one of the strongest hooks for DL. For how many people sing in the song, it's easy to keep track of and the chemistry between them all is in sync. The main issue is that it feels like its missing some element to make it shine, the lyrics aren't in-depth too which brings it down another peg. The bridge/interlude is the best part though as I can visualise some mini story within the song here.

38. ADDICTED (2) PHANTOM

Ayato

~translation~

This song would be so much higher if I felt like it was more memorable cuz the lyrics here really shine. My interpretation is that this is Ayato questioning where his love stops and his sadistic nature to satiate his desires begin, can he separate the two? He both loves and despises the idea of draining his s/o dry. Another gripe with the song is that its not quite Ayato's aesthetic sonically.

37. Kindan no 666 (Three Six)

Kou & Azusa

~translation~

What puts this song so low is the majority of the instrumental, it takes a backseat here when I feel there could be more added. Props to percussion, drums are great though. After watching the MB opening so many times its hard to not see DL. Lyrics match with this one line here describing Kou in a nutshell:

"Sin spread from mouth to mouth, saying 'I’ll be gentle' pulls the trigger on a casual disaster!"

36. Iolite (アイオライト )

Shu

~translation~

I don't know why the producers associate electro-pop with Shu, I can't really see it much. I think they should have gone full glitch-pop instead considering how the song does a deep dive into his mind and thought process. Again, I think the voice is also quiet here but the instrumentals have some great moments, especially the strings.

35. 常夜KNOW UNDERSKIN

Sakamaki

~translation~

Well this gives Sakamaki vibes, nice guitar! Again, I like how it isn't overwhelming despite the amount of people involved. Lyrics aren't super impactful but super catchy.

34. 冷たい血 (Tsumetai Chi)

Ruki

~translation~

You have to read the lyrics while reading this, please! Its surprisingly wholesome and emotional overall. Again, there is the issue of the voice being way to quiet as the instrumentals swallow him whole after the second clock tick. The delivery is really well timed and production does a great job adding elements that works with the lyrics. There is a subtle echo to the voice that feels super enchanting as he comes to terms with the fact that he has fallen in love. Biggest drawback obviously is that this is just spoken word.

33. KISS♥MARK

Shu

~translation~

This song delves into the more perverse side of Shu, but we haven't really reached the level of Laito (we'll get there). The phone feels a little out of character but it suits that narrative. The straight cut out of music for the intermission was a bit abrasive but the transition back to music makes me forget about that with how slick it is. At least its better than a generic rock song.

32. カモフラージュ (Camouflage)

Shu & Laito

~translation~

What a great match up for subject matter, my interpretation is a denial and inability to accept oneself, ultimately using a mask to hide. So please look up the lyrics for some gems. However, after the 'against the blood' nothing really hit that same point sonically, furthermore its not the most aesthetically fitting for the two characters.

*Great*

These songs I actively enjoy, think about and do listen to occasionally and would recommend you check it out too.

31. >REDRUM<-

Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is full of anagrams in the lyrics, I mean look at the song title. Its super catchy and is hard to forget about. The bridge is the weakest part of this song but it is made up by the distortion of vocals after the final chorus.

30. Fanatic of Night

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

Well time to party, talk about a bop and a half! Its just so fun, even though its to exactly DL to me, but that's Lunatic Parade for you. Shout out to the guitarist and percussion once again.

29. Bad Howling

Shu, Ayato & Kou

~translation~

This is super catchy, its nice to hear Kou in the opening song this time round, it spices things up. Theres some really nice elements played with the vocals as they sing over one another that is really well balanced. The biggest peg down is that I don't get super DL vibes and the lyrics aren't the deepest.

28. I.M.I.T.A.T.I.O.N. G.A.M.E

Kino

~translation~

Overall this song is a little generic and doesn't sound like DL but! There is a lot to love here too. Starting off with the performance, I really like the vibrato in his voice and the decent of notes at the end of the chorus is just, yes. It a nice hook and the lyrics are pretty good too. My only other complaint is that the drums mask some smaller elements in the background of the song which would have been nice to hear more in the forefront.

27. 極限(UNLIMITED) BLOOD

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This is where the rankings get pretty hard cuz I wish this was higher but oh well. the dramatic shift from the opening piano to the song is so abrupt but it gets you pumped. The intermission does a good job of changing things up without cutting tension. The lyrics themselves seem to be from the view of the Adam project during more blood and the unquenchable thirst they get in the story.

26. アルカディア (Arcadia)

Ayato

~translation~

Immediately I get Ayato vibes from this song and the rapping does help too with a nice flow that isn't too jarring from the rest of the song. These lyrics are basically Addicted2Phantom on steroids, I can't see anyone else other than Ayato in them.

25. Kekkyoku Night

Ayato

~translation~

Don't know why but the guitar melody just seems like I had heard it before but I can't put my finger on it. The bass is super slick here and I really enjoy it. The vocal distortion at the start of the verse sets a scene for him to hunt down this person and its a narrative choice. The main issue is that I wish there was a little more pizzaz to the chorus.

24. Kaikan DEATH-TRUCTION

Kanato

~translation~

Spoilers but I have placed both a Kanato's songs pretty high up so this was a little bit of a let down after the other two. The main issues here is that I don't really get too much of Kanato in the song and the yelling before the chorus is a little much. This, to me, is a self reflection from Kanato which is a good switch up from his last two songs. Overall, the song is abrasive in a good way that isn't overwhelming and the 8-bit section is my fave.

23. 血濡れた密会 (BLOODY SABBATH)

Laito

~translation~

Oh boy, look these lyrics up for a good time. This song is about his hook up with a women with the song getting progressively darker as it goes on. Nice psycho reference but I don't know if it does much in the end. Really catchy hook and the escalation of the final chorus is just so good. Also I'm just going to leave this line from the song here:

“You wend all out with the rodeo girl play? So then, let’s grind!!!”

22. 幻日理論-Parhelion Logic

Ayato

~translation~

This song is meant to be kind of an open letter to Cordelia and my word these lyrics are haunting. It fits the vibe of Haunted Dark Bridal so well, super strong overall. I just wish there was a stronger performance vocally.

21. 暴言シンドローム (Seiron Syndrome)

Yuma

~translation~

Yuma, to me has some pretty good observation skills and its really highlighted here. The first line just hits the nail on the head in terms of how rough he is both in and out of the bedroom. This song is the best of the 'generic rock' with production being really smooth despite the high energy, it matches him really well. First line:

The pain of your sprained neck won’t subside

20. 蠱惑のParade (Kowaku no Parade)

Reiji & Kanato

~translation~

We got another catchy banger here! This song just screams 'the two of us are here to hunt you down and we won't stop till we get a taste.' I mean this song is super pleasing aesthetically and great lyrics to boot!

19. KILLYOU,AGAIN

Azusa

~translation~

The strings are an immediate attention grabber and its hold it throughout the whole song. Super catchy, and these lyrics are Azusa, especially this chorus. Id be interested to hear what people think about the second verse in particular cuz there's a lot to read into:

"In a worn out state of mind, no matter how many nights we question it... We’ve idealised too much."

18. SQueeze…

Subaru

~translation~

Okay before anything else, the squeeze at the start is goofy, I can't take it seriously. Anyway, I can't help but tap my foot to this song. Third times the charm, finally hitting Subaru's aesthetic to a T. The voice is a little quiet on the track but what takes over just sounds so good. The contrast of the bell and the guitar is just, yes thank you. The pre-chorus is a nice mix up to the status quo and these lyrics are great too.

17. 愛の檻 (Ai no Ori)

Ayato & Laito

~translation~

The opening is a nice tone setter for a haunting head bopper. These voices work together so well, just like how the sirens work with the strings. The singular violin during the bridge is great, praise to anyone who can do that my god. The string motif climaxes at the final chorus and it creates an awesome song!

16. 月蝕(Eclipse)

Kou, Yuma & Azusa

~translation~

Well we have a nice build up ballad here. The opening is a little out of place but I forget about it as it builds to this final chorus with the tempo getting faster and faster. The stripped back production also ends up aiding the song in the end with its punches and message. Speaking of which; I get the idea this is about watching some either currently or in retrospective how their personality changes after turning into a vampire; a loss of innocence. How fitting for the Mukami's.

“Despising the sunlight that filters through the blinds is only inevitable, I suppose”

*Faves*

This is what I think the best of the best is. It reflects the themes, ideas and characters of Diabolik Lovers in the best way possible. When people ask me what music from the franchise to listen to, I point to these songs.

15. Count off

Kino

~translation~

There is so much to talk about here, this is a mix of singing and spoken piece and it works so well for me. The delivery over this contagious beat I can't help but get hints of a k-pop vibe here. The movement to singing then vocoded voice are interesting and fun. The bridge switch up too is great, my only wish is that the choir hand a little more presence in the final chorus cuz its fun the first times round, it would be a nice call back.

14. A Certain Prophet's Fate [とある預言者の、運命 Toaru Yogensha no Unmei]

Reiji

~translation~

I can visualise a Nutella Kookie moodboard with this opening alone. To me, this is Reiji explain his views on women with allusions to Faust too, not the Ikemen version relax. there are some cool allusions to his mother in the lyrics too. The bass is so cool to listen out for and the guitar nodding to the chorus at the end is a nice way to end. I was just hoping for a little continuation to the opening like Reiji finding this person escaping on horseback.

13. CHAOS☆PARTY

Laito

~translation~

Aaaaaand another innuendo song from Laito, what a surprise! The jazzy, circus-pop vibes are super fun and catchy, I love it. It's like an upgraded version of Bloody Sabbath to me. The distortion on the guitar is also great to listen out for.

"Don’t decide where’s the critical point, grind as you feel it,

Till the moon oh, mockingly"

12. Mr.ButterflyMask

Reiji

~translation~

The opening may be cliche but it works so well, this is such a deep dive into Reiji's psyche; his mother, inferiority complex and village burning to name a few. The actual song is easy to remember which makes it even better here, the descending notes at the end of the chorus is a highlight.

"Burnt black, that awful land mark"

11. 真夜中の饗宴 (MIDNIGHT PLEASURE)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

The song to start it all, thank god it's such a highlight. I get so hyped from hearing the opening footsteps; mirroring the prologue with You stepping into the mansion for the first time. I feel so nostalgic for this and I'm hyped to play the game every time I hear this. The spoken section is the high point in terms of the HDB aesthetic but these lyrics maaaannn:

"With a scream that shatters the moon itself I’ll give you this extraordinary pain called “love”!"

10. Guilty×Guilty!!!

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

I'm gonna get crucified for putting this above midnight pleasure but my list and this is my fave game op. The only peg down is the lyrics but it makes up so much for the actual sound variation. The unnerving energy from this scifi-y noise, it screams danger with the Tsunami arrival. The variation between the two verses in robs what places it high and the bridge is excellent to boot.

9. Farewell Song

Shu

~translation~

If I had to make one song recommendation outside of DL with this list it is this song here. The lyrics and melody match up the same way and both are strong in their own right. Onto the song, these lyrics really shine wrangling with ideas and the thought process of depression; something that hits close to home for me. With the inclusion of the destructive nature vampires its truely impactful. The sound of the song aids these lyrics too while all sounding like Shu.

Without pause, the drops of a drizzle had begun to weep...

...Comforting the screams of the things you’ve touched"

8. Mr.SADISTIC NIGHT

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This is my favourite opening of all the games and anime and it is the most on theme with the DL franchise, not just the one game. The guitar rifts at the start are just sooooo iconic. The actual line "Mr Sadistic Night" is delivered so well too. I mean the song speaks for itself. I will make the observation though that this song is the epitome of kids unknowingly singing a song with dirty lyrics.

"If I’m so aroused by the snare of your enticing blood

Tonight, as I thrust deep into you, a lust for death awakens from within you!"

7. 悪魔的（Devil's）Spire!!!!

Kou

~translation~

This song is just Kou at his best, I can imagine him singing this at a concert as a debut single. It has all the elements of a catchy pop song with some sinister elements that just reflects his personality. Production has my praise here too. The song seems to be a friends with benefits situation Kou has as he recounts the tale. Also, more innuendos:

"In the deep red velvet sheets, Do you want to taste my forbidden syrup?"

6. Operation X

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

Haven't seen these guys in a while! You can tell production had fun adding all these medical sounds in the back like the sirens and heart monitor. The song itself is super catchy too, that bass just hits you at the core! The lyrics look like the Tsukinami's observation of You as she has become entangled with all these vampires and the situation just seems to spiral even more out of control.

"The risk spreads further the deeper you get involved...

...The more you give up, the more that guy mocks you"

5. GRATEFUL★DEAD★MARCH

Kanato

~translation~

Production had fun again, you can tell. It's more upbeat there is still a sinister vibe here. The constant switch ups within the song all flow so well. I feel genuine despair listening to this chorus, like Kanato is mocking or toying with me before going in for the kill. My only complaint is that the slowing down at the end is a bit of a mood killer.

4. 切断★舞踏会 (KIRISAKI CARNIVAL)

Kanato

~translation~

In terms of character aesthetic, this is sheer perfection. There is a narrative within this song that you need to look at the lyrics for the best experience. The sound effects act as a good way to heighten the story as they match the lyrics. One moment to note it both the chorus and pre-chorus as they act as the extreme ends on Kanato's personality and it creates a great dichotomy when placed together.

3. Q.E.D.

laito

~translation~

My favourite solo song, and the one I constantly visit the most. Laito is a complex character and this song does a self reflection in the best way possible.I would also recommend reading this great analysis by everything laito because I can't do a proper analysis justice. For the song itself, the piano is a great mood setter as it acts as if we are approaching Laito as he plays the piano about to go into one of his many monologues to himself. The intercut from the piano to the guitar is abrupt but it works so well as if there are crack in his facade showing through. The change back to the piano is great too and isn't distracting in any way. I also think this is such an emotional performance, like I can feel the sadness and despair along with almost a self deprecating humour to the delivery. Top notch stuff

2. 罠-If You’re Diablo- (Wana -If You’re Diablo-)

Mukami Brothers

~translation~

I want mention first off that the spoken word from Ruki is such an aid here, the pace is slower, more haunting and despair-inducing in tone. The speaking adds a nice break to the vocals. The chorus in particular packs such a punch its kind of nice to lie on the ground and just let the song envelop you. The lyrics give the impression that there is a mutually destructive relationship here with the Mukami's mentioning of betrayal yet they suck the blood of this person. There is also a feeling of hopelessness that the Mukami's know they can never achieve their goal of becoming Adam.

"I'd been resigned to become Adam since who-knows-when...

I continue to hate this fate, my prayers in zero"

1. Gin no Bara

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

And we're finally at the end! This song encapsulates everything that Diabolik Lovers is. Vocally, it's really catchy with such a somber vibe, because that's what DL is. It's a dark series but you can see that darkness with each backstory, the actions these characters take and just the overall hopelessness in this one song. The Sakamaki's all singing together packs such a punch too. There are so many gems in these lyrics, to literally acknowledging the pain and suffering their mothers' caused and coming to terms with the actions they have committed as they fall in love.

"The proof remains on your neck while you sleep quietly Even if an eternal curse awaits me beyond those overflowing tears

I now hold this love and pain in my chest"

*SHOUTOUTS*

I want to give a huge shout out to the following people. They have helped immensely with translation and just overall accessibility to the songs because they would be 1000 times more harder to find without them.

Silvermoon249 (Live Journal)

Asyqin98 Creator (YouTube)

S I s o v o l i (Youtube)

DIABOLIK LOVERS (YouTube)

Dialovers otaka (Tumblr)

Starlight voices (Tumblr)

Cannonette (Tumblr) @canonette

The Precious Sugar Chan (Tumblr)

One final note, I would recommend listening to these with headphones because the audio sometimes does that thing where it jumps from ear to ear and it creates the best effect to be more involved in the atmosphere.

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma. 

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters. 

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you. 

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why?  Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter. 

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager!  You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.  

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar -  just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?” 

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg​, look what you made me do. ;)

[beevean]

SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik​]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

[sarasa-cat]

Sometime this morning I was being amused by some arts and tech fluff piece in the NYT about how elder Gen Z are into distorted, wonky, unstaged selfies for Instagram— and this involves using the wide angle back camera on a phone so you cannot see the photo as you are taking it and some of them purposefully don’t even look at the photo til later leaving it as a lolsnort surprise. The whole point is to be stupid and contagious (oops wrong Gen) purposefully messy and anti-Instagram perfection.

And the comments on the article were all from older ppl — boomers I assume (bc I recognized some of the commenters handles and know something about some of them) and it was all WHAT THE FUCK ARE WRONG WITH KIDS THESE DAYS NO WONDer ThE WoRlD is In tHE ToILEt. Rrrgggg dumb kids so lazy and stupid!!!

(And contagious).

Anyhow I already knew about this from a few years back (why do I know these trends? Idk?) and when I first noted it I thought —

Okay, hold on here, bc I need to address all my millennial gen friends bc I really do love you so much and have since you all started coming of age and entering my adult (lol university) friends circle — I do have a bunch of my literal best friends in the millennial gen especially in that Xennial crew but also younger than that too —

I thought a few years ago— omfg thank god the gen Zeds (or Zees) are growing up to the point they have an effect on culture bc they (unsurprisingly!) remind me SO MUCH OF GEN X But with modern tech and late 20teens / early 2020s problems.

The humor in gen Z is totally a revamp of gen X humor. Which makes sense. gen Z are technically gen X’s kids.

Ppl can argue whether generation theory in sociology is bullshit or has something to say. Idk. I’m on the fence. But I do see societal swings of certain sorts: like, millennials were boomers revamped in many ways, which made gen X roll our eyes. What-ever.

I’m sure gen x was actually some sort of weird console video game playing revamp of (what the fuck came before boomers? Uh…)

Uhhh wikipedia?

The silent generation. Omfg they were named the SILENT generation in america. Shit you not. The leadership of the civil rights movement and the so called silent majority. From 1951 article in Time magazine:

“The most startling fact about the younger generation is its silence. With some rare exceptions, youth is nowhere near the rostrum. By comparison with the Flaming Youth of their fathers & mothers, today's younger generation is a still, small flame. It does not issue manifestoes, make speeches or carry posters. It has been called the "Silent Generation."”

Yeah, bc the parents of the boomers who came b4 them were called The Greatest Generation lol.

Seriously- that is what the press said about Gen X in the 90s- they are losers and slackers and blah blah blah do nothing lay abouts. Yeah, whatever. And then millennials came along and they were the Golden Children who would do everything right. Whatever.

So I am not surprised boomers are shitting on Gen Z while Gen X are eye rolling.

Anyhow- we need more messy shit and less of this staged aesthetic ffs. Yeah, even if messy is an aesthetic.

I just want to have less freaking expectations about the damn professional look that millennials created for women bc it is too time consuming and so entirely not my jam and I was SO PISSED OFF when it became an Expectation(tm).

(Don’t worry millennials- ur still many of my besties. 🌟)

——

Edited to add: despite my earlier post today about the news making me feel stupider, this made me smirk 😏- it’s the real news in america that is just fucking fuck)

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Everyday Heroes

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, an explosion, implied injury, depressed reader, minor character death, grief, and a bit of pining

Word Count: 3,364

Author’s Note: This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?

Summary: The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea. 

You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors. 

You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know. 

With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work. 

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion. 

The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen. 

But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came. 

It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.

But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near speechless. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation. 

“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. Gods, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well. 

“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.

After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile. 

Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours. 

“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.” 

“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?

“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly not on your side this morning after all.

“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter loves those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past. 

“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.” 

“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.” 

You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is. 

“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause for. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.

“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…” 

He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?

“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.” 

And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones. 

You didn’t even get his name. 

***

You didn’t see him again for a month. 

Not that you often thought about him or his dreamy eyes and ridiculously charming smile or his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat. 

Okay, maybe you did. 

Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again. 

And maybe you sometimes imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself. 

You felt silly for being that girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore. 

But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone. 

“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a week. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.” 

You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.” 

“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead. 

You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls. 

Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.

Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm. 

When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building immediately. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you go. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible. 

But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest. 

You don’t remember much about the explosion. 

You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors. 

But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing. 

You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with katanas strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a  stupid little crush on was a superhero. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-

“What the fuck?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled. 

His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight. 

“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning. 

You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious. 

“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.” 

The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all. 

***

It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte. 

You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. Were you just as bad as the rest of them? Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…

Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly not what you thought it was, had shaken you. 

You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight. 

“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”

You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off. 

“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.” 

Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall. 

You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while. 

You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.

Marcus Moreno, your own personal Superman. 

You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.

You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?

To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was magnificent. An everyday hero, indeed. 

He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months. 

Hope, you realized. 

“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.” 

As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you. 

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest

Marcus Moreno Taglist: @xjaywritesx​

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Prologue

plot: ehehe lemme leave this blank for now as this is only a prologue genre: fluff, crack, slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, angst at some point wc: 2.7k

[a/n]

I am reeling just from finishing this one because Tsukki is my boy (Kuroo ily too i swear)

Who writes 2.7k words of prologue? lol me

I’ll set up the masterlist when I’m done with the 1st Chapter.

Thank you so much @oii-sugasan​ and @haikyuu-is-for-lovers​ for the betaread! :)

Let me know if you wanna be tagged

Chapter 1 || masterlist

You aren’t just annoying. You’re a fucking menace. Every time he goes to the gym, your presence is like a plague. You're just a manager, but sometimes he thinks that you think you’re the assistant coach. There’s nothing he’d love more than to shower you with the nastiest, most off-handed comments, just to shut you up and wipe the cheery grin that taunts him every time he sees you. 

Seriously, you’re all over the place -- you talk to all members of the team as if you’re a player yourself, you nag everyone to take care of themselves outside training like you’re their older sister, you hand out self-gathered information on upcoming matches as soon as matchups are announced, you scamper around the gym tossing balls, assembling the net, doing whatever the hell you can get your hands on, all the while wearing those stupid shorts that distract the majority of the team, especially the new members. 

As his eyes follow you, you suddenly turn around to face him, breaking him from his reverie. Even when you’re halfway across the gymnasium, he can see the sharp playfulness that you always exude whenever you talk to him. 

“Tsukishima!” You wave at him with that disgustingly sweet grin. “If you’re done staring at my sexy back, you can start your blocking drills, okay?!” you shout with a voice loud enough for everyone else in the gym to hear.  Tsukishima feels multiple sets of eyes glance towards his direction and he ‘tsks’ in annoyance under his breath.

He immediately walks away. He refuses to hear more of the unnecessary and untrue prattles directed at him by you.  

He hears footsteps follow him. Judging from its pace and heavy strides, he already knows its Kogane without even looking

“Oi, Tsukki. Do you like our manager?”

He doesn’t understand why Kogane is whispering when you’re half a court away from them. More than that, he doesn’t understand why Kogane assumes he likes you. For one, you were wrong: he wasn’t even staring at you. He was staring randomly at nothing while thinking  about how irritating you are and you just happened to be at his line of sight. 

“I don’t see anything to like about her,” he replies passively. 

“What? Why? She’s super helpful -- and pretty too.” Kogane, just like the rest of the team, believes so. Even Kyoutani is fond of you because of that one time you received his spike on full force. You rolled on your back from the sheer power of it but you were able to receive it perfectly, making the whole team go wild when you did, with him as the only exception as he found it inane. 

“If you think so, go confess or something then.” 

“You know we can’t!” Pink stains begin to surface on his teammate’s cheeks, obviously infatuated with you. Then again, this is not new to him. It was a basic reaction from anyone whose dick is more functional than their brain.  Maybe it’s because you’re the only female so close to everyone else. Honestly, he really doesn’t know. But one thing’s for sure. Kogane has 0 chances with you, and neither does every player of Sendai Frogs. 

He remembers the conceitedness you displayed even in your first year as a manager. You two became part of the team almost at the same time. He was two months in when the former manager introduced you to the team. As she finished introducing you, you whispered to her to add something. It went something like ‘oh, umm. y/n-chan also said that no one from the team can’t date her.’ Even the former manager looked at you weirdly but you were just there beaming as you bowed to everybody. 

They thought it was a joke, but when you became a full-pledged manager in less than six months, you announced it yourself. 

‘I know I’m kind of cute, but I won’t ever consider dating anyone from the team. Okay?’

You announce it with a sickening smile every time there are new members, reminding everyone else that you’re untouchable. 

It’s fucking atrocious, to him at least. Unlike the other players from his team, he’s not shallow enough to fancy you just because you’re not disgusting to look at, or that you did your managerial duties so exceedingly well.

He grits his teeth. He hates it. How can someone so chaotic as you be so effective in managing the team. What grinds him even more is that you go to the same university he does, and even there, your presence stinks. He once had a class with you only to find out that you’re not as dumb as you make yourself out to be. 

It’s infuriating. He can’t wait for the day you mess up -- only then would he finally get the chance to diss you. He’ll turn that shit-eating smile of yours upside down. 

--

Man, nothing boosts your mood better than bugging Tsukishima. When you felt his sinister stare boring at your back earlier, you just couldn’t waste the opportunity to say something about it. He just ignored you, but the scowl on his face was enough response to satisfy you. 

The truth is, you have nothing against Tsukishima. Yeah, he has a sharp tongue and a vile attitude, but hey, he’s a good team player. He doesn’t speak much, but he gets shit done in matches. Despite his foul personality, he’s actually manageable: he listens to you and he rarely shows up late. He’s not particularly motivating to look at, but he still does what’s asked of him. For some reason that you don’t know, he still hasn’t spat out his usual, rancid remarks towards you. You know he’s itching to, and honestly, you’re kind of curious of what he’ll throw your way. 

Still, for the last three years he kept his mouth shut even though he looks at you like you’re the most unpleasant being he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“Y/n!”

You jog towards the team coach, Coach Mira. “Yes, Coach?”

“Do you like Tsukishima?” she asks curiously. The question is funny to you but you hold back the laughter and smile instead.

You like Coach Mira a lot. She’s more like an older sister than a coach to you. You’re free to share a few laughs with her, and she values your input to the team. Maybe it’s because you’re both women drowned in a sea of male athletes that you sort of have that innate connection. 

“No, Coach. Why?”

“Cause you pay attention to him the most.”

“I don’t see what’s to like about him,” you veer your gaze towards his direction, watching his scowling face as he walks away, Koganegawa following closely behind him. You can’t hear them, but the sight is already amusing as it is. “I just like putting him in place whenever he’s being extra nasty,” you add. 

“If you say so, y/n. Honestly, I don’t really care if you go out with one of them.” 

You wave your hand back and forth like you’re swatting a fly. “No way, Coach. They’re like little boys I’m taking care of.”

She sweeps her gaze behind you, scanning all the players present in the court. “Can’t say they feel the same way though.” Then she looks at the same person you’re looking at. “Well, maybe except for Tsukishima.”

“That’s why I like messing around with him the most,” you admit with mirth as you watch Tsukishima get away from Kogane.

--

Everyone in the gymnasium is staring as they enter the arena. If there’s one thing opposing teams remember about the Sendai Frogs, it’s their female tandem of a stone-cold coach and a ‘hot,’ bubbly manager who walk side by side in front of the whole team, not the players.

It’s not really an issue for Tsukishima. He doesn’t really care. Shimizu had the same reputation back in high school. But you? You’re not Shimizu. You aren’t even close.

And you, being the chaotic mess that you are, you milked the attention. Whenever someone blatantly gapes at you,  you’d wave at them. You’d even entertain those who openly flirted with you. In retrospect, he should find it despicable. Rather finds it entertaining. So does the rest of the team.

When the Sendai Frogs reach their spot, a guy wearing a Tamaden Elephants jersey approaches you shamelessly. A brave (maybe a little bit foolish) act, considering you’re with the whole team.

“Hi!”

You turn around and greet him just as enthusiastically, maybe even more.

“I just want to say, great game from last season, he says as he scratches the back of his head. 

Liar. 

If the guy really wants to acknowledge the team’s play from last season, he’d approach one of the players. He also wouldn’t have that stupid blush on his awe-struck face. 

“Thank you! Great game indeed,” you return the compliment.

As soon as the guy starts fidgeting, Tsukishima can already guess what comes next: it’s either a date or your number.

“If you don’t mind, can I get your number?”

Tsukishima sneers at how predictable the scene is, and he can’t wait to see what comes next.

You beam at the guy. “Sure! It’s number 1.”

He still smiles even though he’s obviously dumb-founded. “Sorry, what?”

“My number, right? It’s 1. Cause we’re number 1 in the district,” You say with that fake innocence that isn’t really fooling anyone.

“...Uhh.”

“Go Sendai Frogs!” You cheer out of the blue and as if an automated response, the rest of the team, even Tsukishima (though lifelessly), answers.

“Sendai Frogs fight!”

The loud baritone of deep male voices drew the attention of other people in the area, brightening your face up even more as you focus on the guy in front of you again. He looks scandalized by what just happened. 

“How about you? What’s your number?” you ask, pushing the guy to a mental corner as Tsukishima and his team glares at him while waiting for how he’ll answer. An embarrassed blush replaces the previously infatuated one as he realizes that he shouldn’t have made the mistake of hitting on you. 

“I-I’m not really sure,” his voice loses any shred of confidence it once had.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” you feign sympathy. 

“Yeah.” The guy looks down. “Guess I’ll see you around,” he adds before retreating defeatedly.

“Bye! Nice to meet you,” you wave cordially. ‘Whoever you are, newbie elephant,’ you say to yourself as you watch the unfamiliar member of the Elephants go back to his team, a team you wiped the floor with last season.

Until now, you don’t understand why people still even bother. You welcomed the flirtations, but never really went out with anybody. You’re not really opposed to getting in a relationship, but like -- Gooood! They’re all so uninteresting. Rejecting them is more fun than the mere prospect of dating them.

You feel a familiar touch on your shoulder. 

“Good job boosting the team morale,” Coach Mari says in a volume that only you can hear as she pats you.

“Thanks, Coach!” You grin at her praise. 

You turn around to check your players and your eyes instantly land on Tsukishima who had just put on his white headphones and began scrolling at his phone. Around him, everyone else has already started stretching. 

You bounce your way to him, knowing that you’d instantly get his attention even without saying anything. But even with you ogling when you stopped in front of him, he still doesn’t budge.

“Tsukishima.”

No response.

‘Heh,’ you snicker internally. He never fails to amuse you when he tries to ignore you. 

“Tsu~ ki~ shi~ ma~” You bob your head sideways, popping at the opposing sides of his phone so he’ll notice you.

You don’t miss the minute twitch of his eyes as he drags his phone closer to him in an attempt to shut you out. 

Tsk tsk. He should know better by now that you're not the type to back away. 

You go beside him instead, tiptoeing so you can see what he’s so busy looking at. As soon as your arms touch his, he puts down his phone and irritatedly removes his headphones. 

He’s shooting daggers at you, making you giddy with excitement as he looks like he’s about to say something you. You hold his gaze with a raised eyebrow and subtle smirk that you couldn’t suppress. Did he get fed up already? Is he finally going to say something?

‘Do it. Do it. Do it,’ you chant in your head. 

He takes in a painful deep breath instead. “What?” The single word contains so much disdain that you want to cackle so bad. 

“Shouldn’t you be stretching?” you query.

“In a bit.”

You leisurely shake your head with disapproval. “I know you’re a lazy ass fucker sometimes,” you begin. “But you always help us win. You’re our meanest, tallest, best blocker.” Your gaze drops down to his ankles and travels up.

“So,” you continue, dropping your voice amusedly, “stretch those gorgeous, God-given, legs you have.” Your eyes linger on his thighs before landing up to his face to smile sweetly at him. “Will you?”

This is one of the moments you’re pretty sure he won’t dare talk back at you. Why? Because you’re one hundred percent right, and he knows that too. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it.

He glares at you for one second and walks towards the rest of the team to join them. 

--

Playing at the professional level, he always considers one match to be a big win already, even if it’s just the first match of the regular rounds. Ever since he became a starter for Sendai Frogs, he was not allowed to slack off even for one rally. He could take the lecture if it’s from Coach, but he couldn’t stomach it if it’s from you. 

Even before the match started, you were already on his grill, pestering him just because he wasn’t warming up yet. He was pissed the whole game and put extra effort than usual to make sure that you won’t have anything to say after. 

“Um, excuse me.” A girl from Red Rabbits blocks him on his way to the restroom. “Tsukishima, right?”

He can tell that she is trying her best to look nonchalant, but the familiar tint on her face is telling.

Tsukishima had never understood girls who approach him for anything remotely romantic. Does he look like he’s interested? It’s not that he’s not open to the idea of dating, but he finds it unpleasant when people go after him because they like how he plays. Worse, for some obtuse reason like him being ‘cute.’

“Yes. Why?”

She smiles at him bashfully with her arms crossed behind her. “I’m also a middle blocker. I was really inspired with how you read block so well. If it’s okay with you, can you teach me how you do it?”

Why would he do that? He’s already a senior college student who’s also a professional athlete. He has no reason to go out of his way to teach someone read blocking. Especially someone who’s already supposed to know it since (as she claims) she’s also a middle blocker. Judging from where they currently are, someone from Division 1 no less. 

“Sorry. I’m really busy,” he says bluntly. 

“Oh, okay. Sorry for bothering you.” She bows then takes off immediately. 

He watches as the girl from Red Rabbits scampers off as quickly as humanly possible. Did she really think he’d agree to it?

He is too occupied to notice the faint sound of footsteps behind him, and only when you speak does he notice your presence.

“Aww, poor girl going out of her way to ask you out.” 

He groans. Why are you even here? You’re supposed to be checking on the team since their match just ended.

You fall into step beside him as he brushes your comment off and continues heading for the rest rooms.

“I didn’t ask her to,” he calmly responds despite your irksome presence. 

“How are you going to get a girlfriend like that?” you ask exaggeratedly as if not getting in a relationship will lead to his ruin.

“I don’t need one.”

You gasp. “Damn, Tsukishima. Men your age are all about raging hormones. Where do you put all that raging testosterone?”

He purses his lips in a corner, his jaw tensing at your remark. Men his age? You talk as if you’re older when you’re in the same year he is.

Also, what the fuck?

Now you’re nagging about his personal life too? You’re already aggravating as the team manager. Now you’re even sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.

His blatant irritation must have shown in his face because you suddenly let out a giggle. “My bad, my bad. Don’t look so scary. Geez. Where you get action is none of my business. I just followed you to let you know that we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

You turn around, about to go back but stop before you make the first step. “Oh, and we have a meeting later. I did the stat sheets of the game and gave it to the coach already. Great blocking, Tsukishima!” You pat his shoulder twice with a proud smile, then saunter off back to the arena. 

Damn it. If only you aren’t so good at being a manager, he would actually be able to dislike you to the fullest. Not only that, he wouldn’t feel that silly, tiny contentment he felt upon hearing you.

Chapter 1 || masterlist

Taglist:(those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem​​ @akaashisslave @tsumurai​​  @babythotshq​​ 

[softyoongiionly]

Will You Make a Mess Now?

Jungkook’s never been touched before and, after a hectic end to his semester, he thinks he wants that to change...

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Virgin! Jungkook, established relationship au, college au, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: HELLO YES I MISSED YOU. Guys, I swear i’m working on updating my series (plural) but, I’ve been out of writing for a while and, I needed something to get me back in the groove. What better way than to continue to affirm that my love for Jungkook is unavoidable and, unstoppable. i love youuuuu. This is unedited for now, please forgive any mistakes, I was too excited. 

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ only please.

After 4 grueling months of relentless studying and lectures, you can finally say that your second to last semester of university is finally over.

Finals week is still at the entrance of your subconscious as its literally all you’ve been able to think about for quite some time. You haven’t been able to unwind or see your friends and, if you’re being honest, you don’t remember the last time you actually slept for more than four hours at a time.

The good news is…

All of that is now behind you.

The exams have been taken, the textbooks have been returned or re-sold, the mountain of instant meals have been cleared from your kitchen (for now) and, you are currently on the subway headed to celebrate with the only person in the world that could properly bring you out of your post-exam haze:

Your boyfriend, Jungkook.

Jungkook is a kinesiology major, whom you met in one of your labs nearly two years ago. The two of you were friends for a long time before you finally got up the courage to kiss him at a party 5 months ago. And by courage, you mean you had a little too much to drink and, Jungkook looked way too good in his university crew neck so, you awkwardly leaned in to kiss him and he, being the absolute angel he is, pecked you on the lips before explaining to you that he wouldn’t kiss you properly until you were sober.

The next day, you woke up in his bed, alone. Your first response was to panic but, upon slowly sitting up in his sheets, you find Jungkook curled up on the floor amongst a pile of blankets. After a few slightly uncomfortable conversations, the two of you arranged a date and, started…you know…falling in love

Or whatever…

Fun fact: Given the fact that you’ve only been with Jungkook for a few months, the two of you have yet to be intimate. Jungkook stated early on that he wanted to take things slowly and, of course you were more than ok with that.

He’s been more and more comfortable with heavier petting so to speak as of lately but, the farthest you’ve ever gone was having his hand down your panties, and your hand over the seam of his jeans. And you’re fine with the progression of your sex life with Jungkook but, he’s only ever made you cum before and, every time you try and return the favor he politely declines.

“It’s ok, I just wanted you to finish jagi…”

“I’m ok, don’t worry, it will go down soon. Do you feel good though? Did I do it right?”

“Soon baby, I promise, it’s just not the right time yet.”

Once again, you’d never push him into something he didn’t want to do but, you were slightly confused as to why he never wanted you to reciprocate. 

Jungkook is quite frankly the best boyfriend in the entire world. He’s all of the cheesy stuff and, more. Things have been progressing slowly but, you didn’t mind. Whatever you have with him, it feels real.

And to be completely honest, you miss him so much that it’s starting to really get to you.

20 minutes later and, you’re in front his place and sending a quick text to let him know you’ve arrived.

You: I’m outside

You: please save me, it’s freezing  :’’’(

Not even a full minute goes by before you hear the fumbling of the lock and, you quickly prepare yourself to latch onto your boyfriend like a freaking spidermonkey.

It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen him face to face so, you can imagine your confusion (and disappointment) when you’re met with the face of his older brother instead.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s dimpled smile is a sight for sore eyes but, it does nothing to wane your confusion, “Kook is passed out upstairs but, he told me earlier to be on the lookout for you in case he fell asleep, which he did.”

A smile is passed to Namjoon as he holds the door open for you, “Of course he did, thanks Joon, is it just you guys right now?”

Jungkook has six brothers and, they all live under the same roof, so the rent is split in seven equal parts.

It’s the only way for them to afford a house off campus.

“Nah Jin and Tae are upstairs too, everyone else is out.” He murmurs and, its then you notice the dark circles decorating the space beneath his eyes.

“Gotcha, are you excited to be done with finals? I feel like I could sleep for 15 years…” You jest, nudging him gently, knowing full well that Namjoon was feeling the same sense of exhaustion you were.

He chuckles and nods immediately, walking with you to the bottom of the stairs, eyes flitting eagerly towards his bedroom.

“That is literally my plan for the rest of the day. I have an adjustment on my project and, after I get that submitted, I’m falling asleep and not talking to anyone for at least 24 hours.” He declares, the seriousness in his tone causing you to giggle.

“I’ll make sure to thwart any of the guys that try to fuck with your beauty sleep…” You vow, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re one of the good ones Y/N…” He laughs, jerking his chin towards Jungkook’s door, “he’s missed you a lot.”

Namjoon’s response is unexpected and it warms you from the inside out.

“Yeah? Did he say something to you?”

You feel like you’re in middle school again, attempting to figure out if your crush likes you.

“He was whining about it the other day, he’s really into you.” Namjoon smirks, before sending a pointed look your way, “don’t tell him I told you that though, he’d kill me.”

The smile on your face probably looks a little ridiculous but, you don’t care, you’re only concern is getting up these stairs and into your boyfriend’s bed.

“I wouldn’t want to expose you for breaking the bro-code.” You return his smirk, passing him to ascend the staircase, “Get some rest, thank you for letting me in.”

“You got it. Have a good night.” Namjoon disappears behind his bedroom door rather quickly, eager to pass out and, you suddenly feel your heartrate increase as you grow closer to Jungkook’s room.

You really did miss him and, the urge to jump into his arms is stronger than you’d like to admit.

Especially given that you know he’s asleep and, you’d have to wait for him to wake up. And you would, cause you know, he deserves to sleep as long as he wants.

You’re not certain that you won’t fall asleep with him.

The door to his room is opened carefully and quietly and, shut just the same.

His bedroom is almost too dark due to the blackout curtains that hung over his windows; a birthday present from his brother Yoongi, they are his new favorite thing.

Jungkook must have shut them in a haste however because, there is a tiny sliver of light shining through which thankfully provides you with a clear path way to his bed.

Soft snores emit from the pillow closest to the windows and, all you can see is Jungkook’s mop of black hair peeking out from underneath his covers. The hum of his noise machine is a comforting sound and, paired with the woodsy vapors coming from his diffuser (a gift from Namjoon), you could feel the sleepiness beginning to tug at your body.

With your overnight bag placed on Jungkook’s gaming chair, you make your way to his bed and slowly peel the covers back.

Oh-

Despite the fact that it’s freezing outside, your boyfriend has unfortunately decided to sleep shirtless, his toned body clad only in his favorite grey sweatpants and, a pair of black socks.

He looks like a god but, you know, that’s totally fine and, not at all distracting.

His brows are furrowed in deep sleep, his cherry lips formed into a slight pout, snores still rumbling deep within his chest. One of his arms is bent at the elbow and, tucked firmly underneath his pillow, his other arm stretched out across the expanse of his bed.

Which of course, poses an issue for you since you don’t want to disturb his sleep but, you want nothing more than to snuggle up to him.

(forever)

Jungkook is a pretty heavy sleeper so, the likelihood of waking him is pretty slim and even if you do, you can at least take comfort in the fact that he’s expecting you.

So you slowly lift his arm, quickly tucking yourself into the warmth of his bed and, move the covers back to their original position. It isn’t super comfortable but, you’re afraid to move anymore in fear of waking him up.

Your hands absentmindedly trail over his forearms, admiring the warm, caramel undertones in his skin and, the veins which protrude gently underneath the surface.

His hand is still covered in the temporary tattoos he got nearly two months ago.

Being the Virgo that he is, Jungkook wanted to insure he liked the chosen designs before deciding to get the real thing. You certainly aren’t complaining but, you are secretly hoping he decides to keep them.

Jungkook and tattoos: a lethal combination.

You lay like this for awhile, admiring your boyfriend, listening to the various white noises echoing off the walls, enjoying the scent of his freshly washed sheets.

He washes his bedding once a week.

Sure enough, you feel your lids grow heavier and heavier, the temptation of sleep growing ever so slightly at the back of your mind.

However, Jungkook’s hand twitches at your side and, you feel movement beside you, causing your head to tilt in his direction.

You’re met with a sleepy smile and, a gaze so endearing, you might just die right then and there.

“You’re here…” He murmurs, voice raspy and decorated with sleep.

It doesn’t take you long to get closer to him, his free arm not leaving your body in order to hug you against his bare chest.

“I’m here…” You answer, a smile in your voice, pursing your lips to place kisses on  his skin.

Jungkook smiles properly now but, you don’t see it, your face tucked firmly into his neck.

He’s so happy you’re here.

His arm moves out from underneath his pillow to envelope you completely, shy lips pressing a few kisses to the top of your head as he shifts onto his back, taking you with him.

“Missed you..” He mumbles almost, coy and unsure but, genuine.

As he usually is.

A smile erupts on your mouth now, as you look up to face him and, for whatever reason you’re overcome with the need to feel his lips against yours. So you do just that and, secure your mouth to his, letting a deep breath out through your nose. His quick too, big hands sliding down your back to hold onto your hips.

“Missed you more” You whisper against his lips, a little breathless from the depth of the kiss you’ve just shared.

His nose wrinkles in disgust as he shakes his head, leaning in to kiss you again, “No…me…”

The childish nature of his response makes you giggle, accepting another kiss eagerly.

“If you missed me so much, why did you make Namjoon let me in hm?” You tease, still kissing at his mouth, one of your hands sliding over his ribcage.

He nibbles at your lip in retaliation, a slight smirk on his mouth, “Cause I was tired and, you were taking forever…”

Jungkook chuckles at his own whining and, you follow suit whilst shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’re only further proving my point, I rode the silver line to get here, just because it was faster and, I walked through the cold just so I could see your stupid face…”

By stupid, you mean beautiful but like, he doesn’t need to know that.

Jungkook laughs harder this time, its higher pitched and more genuine, his hands that are on your hips squeeze in retaliation.

“My face isn’t stupid….you’re stupid…” He chuckles, teasing you because, its one of his many ways of coping with how he feels for you.

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, your comeback dying in the back of your throat as your hand comes up to rest against his cheek.

The two of you can’t stop smiling and, giggling as you indulge one another, ignoring the clumsy way your lips connect.

“You look so beautiful like this…comfy…” He adds, his tone taking on a shyer tone as he nudges your nose, eyes half open, “I really did miss you jagiya…”

His words send emotion careening into your chest and, you can’t help the way your lips respond more eagerly against his.

“You make comfy look like a Calvin Klein campaign…” You retort before adding, “I missed you too. You’re staying home this winter too right?”

It’s a rarity for both of you stay on campus during winter break but, this year your families had decided to come to you.

He nods, eyes still soft as he tucks your hair behind your ear, lips pouted that you stopped kissing him for a moment, “Mhm…we’ll be here together…”

Jungkook has his moods like most people do but, there is a certain way he gets that you swear he reserves only for you. Being the youngest of seven boys, he’s used to being the source of a lot of banter and, teasing so, being with you is no exception but, recently he’s been getting softer and softer.

Sweeter and sweeter…

And you’re not complaining…

“We will.” You affirm, pecking his lips again, “we can go on all those dates we’ve been promising eachother.”

He nods, pulling the duvet up higher over the two of you, “Yeah, I have a lot of ideas but, I want to hear your ideas too…but I’m excited for mine…”

Another giggle leaves your lips at his almost jovial tone, his competiveness sneaking through a bit.

“I’m happy I get to spend the night with you more, you keep me warm.” You hum, delighting in the fact that Jungkook blushes at your statement.

“I keep you warm?” He checks, securing his teeth to his bottom lip, nibbling on it nervously.

With a nod of your head, you snuggle into his body, taking in the scent that was uniquely Jungkook: woodsy and clean, free of any harshness.

“So warm.” You whisper against his neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

Though, as gentle as the kiss was, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from immediately plumping up from within the confines of his sweatpants. His neck is his weak spot.

You don’t feel him yet but, you do notice a reaction from him: his head tilts back ever so slightly, feet rubbing together at the end of the bed. The teasing words stay trapped in your throat as you decide to push your luck and, kiss him there again, letting your lips linger longer than before.

He doesn’t stop you when you place a third kiss into the sweet spot on his neck, or a fourth or a fifth but, soon enough he feels his dick filling out the empty space in his sweat pants, the sensation of your lips beginning to get to him.

“Jagiya?” He croons into the darkness of the room whilst his heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands sort of fidgeting against your hips.

“Hm?” You hum, kissing up his neck towards his lips, “Are you ok?”

He isn’t, he’s hard and, there is four months of stress sitting on his shoulders that he is certain your lips will melt away but, he’s so nervous.

“Uh…I’m…” He stutters for the right words but, you already know what he’s trying to say because, you can feel him now, pressing into your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” You place a gentle kiss to his stuttering mouth, wanting to check with him before you continue.

“No…yes, shit I-“ He looks torn, glancing down towards his dick before looking back at you, “I don’t know jagi, I’m sorry…”

Immediately, you shake your head, pulling back to look at him, “Hey…hey it’s ok, you have nothing to be sorry for ok? We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. I should have asked you if it was ok to kiss you there…”

He shakes his head now, pulling you closer, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I want you to kiss me and…touch me, I just wish I wasn’t so…” He sighs, biting his lip, dark eyes flitting nervously around, “I’ve just never…let anyone make me cum before…”

You have to admit, this shocks you.

Jungkook was obviously a campus heartthrob, literally everyone had a crush on him, even the Dean and, while you didn’t think that made him into some kind of Casanova, you had been certain that he had some sexual experience before meeting you.

But clearly, you were wrong.

Reaching out to touch his cheek, you pull his gaze back to yours, “There’s nothing wrong with that babe. We all do things at our own pace. The two of us have all the time in the world, you can wait as long as you need to…”

His fingers curl slightly against your hips, shifting you until your sitting in his lap, causing you to ignore the way his length feels pressing into your core. A deep breath is needed but, it doesn’t last long because, Jungkook speaks again, surprising you.

“Noona I-“ He kisses you again, trying to focus on anything other than his throbbing dick, “I don’t want to wait anymore though…I’m just really nervous.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks but, you remain focused, allowing him to take all of the time he needs.

“That’s ok, it’s ok to be nervous.” You assure him gently, kissing between his eyes, “Can I ask what you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t know what it’s going to be like and, I don’t know…my hyungs say it feels amazing but, I don’t want to do the wrong thing or what if you use your mouth and, it tastes bad or something, fuck I sound really dumb, I swear…I’m ….”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling fondly into his skin as your hands come up to rub tenderly at his back.

“Slow down for me baby.” You whisper and, the words along with your touch are enough to calm him slightly, “you say you don’t want to wait right? So, what would you be comfortable with us doing right now? It doesn’t have to be all at once, we can take things slow.”

His fingers explore the skin on your hips, as he wears a nervous but eager expression, “I don’t want our first time to be…here or like…after all of this.  I don’t think I’m ready for the way you’ll make me feel, I can barely hang on when you’re sitting on me like this but, I…”

His eyes flit down to your center for a moment, as if the thought of being inside of you overwhelms him. He looks back up at you, lips swollen from all of the kiss, his timid expression tainted with lust.

“I wanna feel what it’s like to have someone touch me…I want you to touch me really bad.”

The world could be ending beyond Jungkook’s blackout curtains and, it still wouldn’t be enough to stop you from honoring his request.

Your finger tilts his chin towards your lips, “I want to touch you too. Can I touch you right now?”

He nods immediately, swallowing around a dry throat and an unsteady heartbeat. To soothe himself, he kisses you again before, nudging your nose playfully, trying to ease the tension he feels.

“Ok, I’m going to get behind you alright?”

Your response confuses him and, you can tell but, you know he’ll catch on soon enough. He leans forward, allowing you sit directly behind him, your legs on either side of his silhouette, your body encircling him with your warmth.

“Lean back against me…” You whisper in his ear, causing him to shiver as he obliges, his bare back now flush against your chest. “Comfy?’

He chuckles, his cheeks on fire at the position you’re both in but, he nods none the less, his hands moving to the outsides of his thighs and, then to tops of your knees, rubbing the skin there.

“Now, I want you to show me how you touch yourself ok? So I can see what you like and, then, whenever you’re ready, I’ll touch you.” You explain gently, kissing around the shell of his ear, your hands coming to brush over his hips.

Jungkook already feels like he could cum, he just can’t believe you’re about to touch him.

He has no idea what to expect.

“Ok…” He tilts his lips to mumble against your mouth, his tone boyish and jovial, “ You promise you won’t laugh right?”

At his question you giggle, kissing him and shaking your head, “Of course I’m not going to laugh babe, I’m here to make you feel good.”

He chuckles too, relishing in the way you make him feel: comfortable and comforted.

“OK, I’ll uh…I’ll start now…” He whispers, his shaky and quite frankly clammy hand leaves your knee and, slowly travels to the band of his sweatpants, tucking underneath for a moment before bringing his dick out from it’s confines.

It’s bigger than you anticipated and, as hot as any dick can be. Swollen and curving slightly at the reddened tip, it makes your mouth water; literally every inch of your boyfriend is beautiful.

Jungkook takes a shaky breath in through his nose as he encircles a hand around his length, squeezing tentatively right underneath the tip, the sensation makes his head spin.

He stays silent as he finds a rhythm his comfortable with and, you admire the way his toned stomach trembles with his own ministrations. You take note that he pays careful attention to his  frenulum, his thumb rubbing over it continuously as he strokes himself.

After a few moments, you start pressing kisses into his neck, allowing your hands to wander over his hips, tracing patterns into his skin.

“Jagi…I-“ He mutters before his words catch on the softest moan, the sound of course caused by you nibbling on his neck, “You’re making it so good for me…”

He sounds helpless, like he knows that you touching him is going to ruin him because, you touching on him whilst he jacks off is already fucking him up.

“Yeah? It feels good?” You reaffirm before sucking gently on his sweetspot, a motion that causes his hand to stall right underneath his tip, his head falling back against you.

“Mhm…” He hums and, if he wasn’t reigning it in, he would be whining but, he stops himself, trying to gain some sense, “Do you know how to touch me now?”

He’s starting to feel impatient, because he knows the way your hands feel on him now and, his dick is so hard he feels like he could burst.

You smirk fondly against his neck as you nod slowly, your hand trailing over his wrist which is still working on his length, “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” He answers immediately, letting his hand fall to the side, his eyes closing tightly as he prepares himself for your touch.

“Just relax for me ok? I’m going to make you feel so good.” You coo into his ear before slowly resuming the touch on Jungkooks length.

At the first squeeze of your hand, he’s quite certain he has never felt more pleasure in his entire life, as you slowly drag your fist up his aching dick, his mouth falls open in complete awe but, when you begin the same rhythm he had just performed on himself, Jungkook swears his going to melt into a puddle on the bed.

“Oh-“ He huffs, his eyes popping open to zero in on your hand because, watching you touch him is enough to fill up his spank bank for the rest of the year. “Oh my god…Noona…you’re touching me…”

He’s in disbelief. In 22 years, his never let anyone touch him like this before and, although he can’t believe he ever lived without it, he’s glad it was you who touched him first.

“Mhm…” You hum in his ear, kissing gently on the side of his face, “Does it feel good baby?”

As your thumb repeats his early movements, his brown eyes roll to the back of his head, his adams apple jumping around his throat as he swallows.

“I can’t…feel anything else but, your hand on my dick I-oh my fucking god…” He whimpers, his eyes popping open again to watch your pace increase.

His words surprise you, he’s never been so vulgar before and, now you know why but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hear more.

“Nothing else huh? Do you think you’re gonna cum for me baby?” You’re egging him on, wanting him to cum his brains out for you.

You gotta make a good first impression after all…

He nods, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his abs trembling even more so with your motions, his toes curling painfully against the sheets.

“Yeah…really soon…for you..” He gets out, not thinking clearly enough to form full sentences.

“Yeah? What if I went a little faster hm? Would that do the trick baby? Will you make a mess now?”

Oh he’s fuck now.

As your pace increases on him, you focus more attention on his throbbing tip, pulling and squeezing him to the point of no return. Jungkook feels nothing but, pleasure as he starts to rock his hips up into your touch.

“I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum…oh my god you’re so good…” He mutters before a whimper takes over his speech, eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back against you once more, “fuck….thank you Noona…god thank you so much…”

Those are his last words before his release comes, the sweltering pleasure consuming his entire being, starting up from his balls and, shooting up his length. Jungkook knows in his heart he’s never cum so hard in his life. Nothing could ever compare to the way you make him feel.

“There you go…let it out baby…” You whisper, kissing at his cheeks as you stroke him through his release.

Once his hips begin to twitch with sensitivity, you slow your pace on him, easing off his dick.

Jungkook’s breathing his erratic and, he feels drunk off of the pleasure he’s just received but, he knows for a fact that he came all over himself and, all over your hand.

You wait for him to open his eyes so, he can watch you lick his release from your fingers, taking time to show him the skills of yours he’s yet to experience.

“holy shit…” He mutters, eyes completely glazed over before leaning in and capturing your lips between his and, kissing you with everything he has.

You giggle against his lips before, squealing unceremoniously into the kiss as Jungkook turns quickly in your grip, falling back towards the foot of the bed and, taking you with him. He just chuckles, kissing you harder as he lets his hands run a little more freely over your body.

“I’m guessing you liked it?” You tease into the kiss before he leans back, his expression completely offended.

“Liked it? You’re guessing I liked it???” He blazes dubiously before, pinching your sides and, suddenly leaning into kiss all over your face, nibbling on your cheeks, “You almost made me cry…”

“You cry all the time…” You point out, pinching his side back, causing him to gasp in mock horror.

“Shut upppp…” He whines, smirking as he tucks his face into your neck, nibbling on the skin again and, while it seems innocent, soon enough Jungkook’s nibbling turns into kissing and, his playful touch on your hips turns to caressing.

“Noona?” His tone has shifted lower, it shoots straight down to your core.

“Yeah?” You breathe, eyes shut against the sensation of his lips.

“Will you make a mess now?”