#and knuckles 'i have lived here my entire life and know everything there is to know about this place. its hidrocity'

[fictionalsweethearts]

WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN | VI X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Life was sweeter when you were together, but it was never as bitter as it is now. A year has passed, and you have contacted your former lover to meet someone else's baby, but which Vi strangely feels as her own. Will it be possible to collect the pieces of the floor and build a second chance?

Contains: arcane!vi, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of arguments and dialogues, arcane universe, secret lovers, romance, unplanned pregnancy, soft Vi

Word count: 4,205

Note: This fic was born from this bot which gave me juicy material to use here, part of the story arises from it, all credits to the creator!

Also, english is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Vi played with her fingers, thundered her knuckles as she made her way through the neat streets of Piltover. She didn't like to frequent that part of the bridge, she felt like a tourist without money; unwelcomed. She never developed empathy for the pilties until she fell in love with one, and everything began to fall apart, from her prejudices to her plans. The address was only a couple of blocks away, Violet took a breath and forced herself to gather courage, approaching the door of a narrow house with white walls.

"Get a grip, goddamn." Whispered Vi under her breath, before rising her fist to knock.

The preamble to that moment was not easy, far from it, they were years of emotional ups and downs and social dramas that put in check a relationship that struggled to stay together. You were from Piltover, daughter of an investor whose life was simple in many ways except in love.

You were confrontational ever since you was a kid, questioning the world around you ever since the first moment you put two thoughts together. As soon as you turned seventeen, you sought to question the segregating ideas of the upper part, studying the history and past of Piltover and Zaun. You longed to understand why those above thought they were important and those below wasn't. You soon understood that there was nothing to understand, it was a cruel system that justified itself as long as there were people who supported it. And you didn't.

Little by little you dared to arouse your father's anger and visit Zaun, to soak up the underground culture, the social aspects that reigned in a sector where organized crime proliferated massively. You heard of Shimmer factories, brothels, bars and fight clubs, as well as an entire area destined for shimmer addicts, who lost their reason and their possessions because of that drug and lived wandering for a few coins to get one more dose. It was in such a place, plagued by hopelessness and danger, that you met her. Violet.

She was a charming woman from the first moment, her tall bearing and her tattoos and scars were not enough to intimidate you, rather, they invited you to know more about her. Vi showed you the other side of Zaun, the side where there were families and children, people who with the scarce resources they possessed, were able to deliver hopeful nuances to Undercity. People with aspirations, people who knew there was something beyond a crude bridge that separated two nations. People like her who still believed, even if it was minimally possible, that Zaun was a cradle for love. Love. You didn't know what it was to love until Vi slipped into you mind and heart and settled as a recurring thought and a longing desire.

It was strange, Vi meant not only a risk to know that she was a woman, but a double risk to know that she was from Zaun. But you couldn't stop, no. Not when Vi showed you the nuances of a romance, the hurried and slow kisses, the intimate and banal conversations, the taste of a cup of tea and a neat whiskey, the sad and happy tears, having sex and making love. You could not stop even though your father was at home waiting for you, with an express agreement with the Barton family that in spring a wedding would be held where you would be the bride and the eldest son of the Bartons, Connor, would be the groom.

It was months, even years of intermittent encounters and sad kisses. You put the ring away every time you entered Vi's apartment and she appeased the aroma of alcohol with air spray and hid her cuts with band aids and ointments. Both were handling frustration in their own way, you sneaking to Zaun while your husband was in a business trip and Vi earning a living in the Pit. She was very angry, every pore of her body was filled with rage at the thought that the woman she chose to love was in Piltover satisfying a man who would never know what you are, what you want, what you need. No one would be able to love you like her, and it was a pain that had settled in her chest and was released in waves of anger that in every fight assured her a crushing victory. Or else, assured her of a resounding loss that would led her to the nearest bar, to endless drunkenness and crying in the solitude of her apartment.

The clock was moving mercilessly, days, weeks, months and years of waiting and destructive routines passed, fleeting visits, unrealistic promises and painful silences. Of longer and longer absences that only led Vi to madness and you to depression. Both were losing yourselves to a forbidden love, but you two refused to let go. Until the clock stopped, for both, the day you showed up at your lover's apartment and confessed.

"I'm pregnant." You said. Followed by a silence so deafening that you believed that Vi had not heard you. But she did, and her reaction was the last stab that you needed to understand that both are hurting each other more than anything else.

Vi had frozen upon hearing the words, her entire world crashing down around her.

She couldn't move, barely seemed to breathe, her mind racing through a myriad of emotions—Confusion, disbelief, hurt, anger... despair. It was as if her heart had shattered—the fragile hope she had stubbornly clung to torn away mercilessly.

"Why...?" Her voice was a low, strangled whisper. "Why did you...?"

"I swear I tried to prevent this." You insisted, watching Vi stand up from the bed, pacing around as a caged animal.

"Tried...?" Vi's tone was harsh, bitterness seeping through her words.

She whirled around to face her, eyes flashing. "You tried," she repeated, the word heavy with mockery. "And you failed."

Vi's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white. She took a step closer, the space between them feeling like a chasm. "How could you let this... this... " She gestured vaguely at your stomach. "Happen?"

"Just happened." you stated. "And I'm not happy either."

Vi scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Not happy?" she repeated coldly. "Oh, I can see that." Sarcasm dripped from her words, heavy and biting. "That's just great. Wonderful. You're not happy, but you're going to go ahead and have the baby anyway."

"What do you expect?" You inquired, slightly offended.

"I don't know, maybe a little loyalty?" Vi snapped. "Or maybe a little respect?" she continued, her voice rising. "You're married. And now, you're going to have a child. With him."

Vi's voice trembled slightly with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "Where does that leave me, huh?"

"It wasn't planned, Vi." You stood up. "I swear to you it's easier said than done. Saving face is the only way to let our thing still happen, and I cannot just..." you sighed sharply. "...evade him."

"You're married, and now you're going to have a family with your husband, but you still want me to stick around?"

Vi's voice was harsh, but there was a raw edge of pain beneath her words. "It's not fair. It's not fair to either of us."

"I know it's not!" You couldn't help but let your tone crack in frustration. "But I can't go back, I can't."

Vi shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her. "Of course, you can't," she said sardonically. "You're stuck in too deep. You made your bed, and now you have to lie on it."

She ran a hand through her hair, her frustration mounting. "So where does that leave me, huh? I'm your dirty little secret, forever on the side, watching you build a life with someone else."

"I'm not asking you to stick around." You said, as Vi walked over the counter to pour herself a drink. "I'm just asking you to understand..."

"Understand what, exactly?" Vi snapped, downing the drink in one gulp. "I don't want to be your comfort, your escape. I don't want to be the one you go to when you can't deal with your goddamn husband!"

She slammed the glass on the counter, making you step back when it broke. You gasped, watching the pieces in Vi's palm. She snapped out of her heated stance. She looked down at her hand, a trickle of blood staining her palm as she winced. "Damn," she muttered, the pain breaking her from her anger.

The sight of her bloodied hand seemed to jar her, the gravity of her words—spoken with anger and hurt and too much force—suddenly hitting her. She looked up at you, her expression a mixture of guilt and pain.

"Hey, lemme see..." you mumbled, gingerly walking closer as Vi put the hand under the stream of water. You feared to arouse her anger further. But Vi remained silent, her mind full with thoughts too complex and painful to keep talking them out.

You carefully removed the glass fragments under the water stream as the bleeding began to decrease. Vi could not stop looking at you, thinking that for a few months your belly would house someone else's son and become the last obstacle to finally give up this relationship. By God, how she loved you, but this amount of love could not be equated to the pain that settled in the chest night after night. She was destroying herself to you. And had to accept and deal with it.

The pain in her hand had faded to a dull throb, but the ache in her heart was still keenly present. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet, almost resigned. "I can't do this, Cupcake." she whispered.

You put your hands off, your eyes threatening to tear up. "I know, Vi." You whispered . "And I'm not asking you to do so..."

She reached out, her bandaged hand finding a resting place on your knee. "Then I guess I have my answer," she mumbled, her voice thick with a mix of resignation and sadness.

Your lips trembled, looking down in an attempt to contain your own tears. But you couldn't. You cried silently, tears falling on Vi's hand over your knee. For a moment, she sat there frozen, unsure of what to say. But then, she found herself leaning forward, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Stop crying," Vi said gruffly, her voice filled with more emotion than she wanted to admit. "You’re going to make me cry too."

"I'm so sorry." You whispered into the embrace. "I'm sorry I failed us."

"Shhh..." Vi whispered, her grip tightening around you. "It's not your fault. We both knew this was coming."

You felt your heart shattering. What do you mean this is the end? That's it? Over?

"We knew how this would end," she whispered. "I just didn't think it would hurt this much."

And it hurt, how it hurt. No punch or sip of whiskey could have hurt so much, no cry could have calmed a heart that claimed relief. Nothing, absolutely nothing had hurt as much as before. Because this pain was new, and it burned like an open wound, every memory like a pinch of salt on the tender and sensitive flesh. Vi fell into darkness and you resigned yourself to the whims of a pregnancy and a marriage without love.

They were slow and fast months at the same time, Vi remained drunk and asleep for so long that she barely remembered the last time she took a shower or ate a decent meal. Her life depended on the fights and alcohol, on the deafening noise of the music that silenced her thoughts, on the outbursts of anger on the punching bag—hollowed and hanging in her room after having hit it with such impetus that her knuckles bled—,on the girls who approached her and she did not deny because she fantasized that, after a session of bland and empty sex, the woman lying next to her in bed was you. Only to discover the next morning that she was alone, sore, cold and sad, and feeling such hangover that reminded her how cruel it was to feel discarded. Vi lived in a hangover after years of being drunk in your affection. And she struggled to find sobriety.

Until the alcohol didn't taste as sweet as before, nor did the fights awaken in her a numbing adrenaline. The punching bag had already ripped, her knuckles healed and she hadn't brought a girl to bed for months. Suddenly the pain stopped, or maybe, she got used to it to the point that it didn't bother her anymore. However, Vi for the first time woke up without thinking 'why?' And she just got up to drink a glass of water and wash her face instead of having a bottle of beer for breakfast.

Vi needed thirteen months to stand up, you needed thirteen months to gather the courage to write her a letter. It was not a letter of forgiveness, nor of love, it was an express request. "I'd like you to meet her, Vi. It's so beautiful that it reminds me of you."

And Violet thought she was silly for having given in so easily, for having put on her jacket and ascended to Piltover to knock on the door of an apartment a couple of streets from the market.

You had changed, your hair was longer, your perfume felt warmer. But you were as beautiful as the day you said goodbye. You hugged her, thanking her for coming and invited her to come in. It had barely been a year but it felt decades since the last time your hands brushed.

"Connor..." you sighed, taking a sip of the cup of tea. Samara was still sleeping in her crib, Vi had accepted a cup of tea and cookies and sat awkwardly on the couch of your living room. "He was expecting a boy, and I denied him a second child until the end. The divorce was quick."

Vi listened, sipping her tea quietly.

"So, you're divorced now," Vi said, breaking the silence. Her voice was careful, neither judgmental nor encouraging.

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing." You scoffed.

"No, that’s not what I meant," Vi said quickly, holding up a hand in defense. "I’m just trying to process... everything."

She paused, her gaze flickering to the baby's nursery room across the hallway.

"You got what you wanted," Vi continued, her voice quieter now. "You're free. And..." She looked back at you. "I'm still here."

Your eyes softened, the guilt settling on her chest all over again. "How have you been?"

Vi shrugged, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "Surviving," she replied simply. "Work keeps me busy. And I..." She paused, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice, "I stay away from relationships."

You put the cup down, leaning against the counter as Vi placed her forearms on her knees. You addressed the easiest matter. "What do you do for work?"

"Security," she said. "Bouncer, security, bodyguard... take your pick. I keep an eye on things, make sure people behave."

She shrugged again, trying to downplay it. "It's just a job. Keeps the bills paid."

You nodded, taking a sip. "I'm glad you quitted stealing."

Vi let out a low chuckle. "You’re glad? Stealing was good money."

She saw the disapproving look in your eyes and smirked. "I’m kidding, calm down," she said, holding up her bandaged hand in a mock peace gesture.

You tilted your head, knowing the second matter was awkward but your curiosity was bigger. "So, no relationships?"

Vi's gaze darkened slightly. "No relationships," she confirmed, her voice flat. "I told you. I stay away from it. I'm not like you," she said, her tone almost accusatory. "I can't just..."

She broke off, sighing. "I can't just move on, Cupcake," she admitted, looking back at you with a mixture of hurt and anger.

If she only knew you couldn't move on either. If she only knew the amount of nights you breastfed Samara on your own, laying on her bed and wishing the empty space beside you would be filled with Vi's presence.

"It's been a year." You mumbled.

"Yeah, a year," she echoed, her voice quiet.

She looked down at her empty cup, fiddling with it idly. "You've moved on," she stated, not entirely a question, but the edge of hope in her tone was undeniable.

It was in that tense silence that many words could have been said. You didn't have the courage to apologize now, much less the right to ask for a second chance. You made your bed and now you must lie on it.

Violet sighed, in the distance the jingling of a clock was heard. "I have to wake up Samara." You said. "It's time for her dinner."

"Yeah, of course." She replied, her voice a little strained. “I should get going anyway." She stood up, setting the empty cup on the counter.

"Hey, no." You placed a soft hand on her forearm. "I told you I wanted you to meet her, didn't I?"

Vi paused, her eyes finding themselves locked with yours once again. She wanted to resist, her mind telling her that staying was not a good idea. But the touch of your soft hand was like a physical plea, anchoring her to this moment.

"Alright," she finally relented, her voice quiet. "I’ll stay a little longer."

They entered the room in silence. The sun snew through the curtains and filled the room with a warm halo, provided with yellow walls and a carpet carefully embroidered in brown and green tones. In the center was the crib, to which they approached carefully. Vi felt her heart in her throat, as if the situation she was in did not correspond her.

Vi looked at the creature sleeping on her crib, just a being of a few kilos wrapped in a onesie, breathing calmly. The woman had to look again to see that Samara's hair was pink.

She looked at you, her eyebrow raised in a silent question. "Pink hair?" She inquired, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing the baby.

"I don't know where it came from." You whispered. "Connor was pretty sure the baby was someone else's..."

You ran a finger over the baby's pink hair "She's as pretty as you."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she quipped, trying not to show the effect those words had on her. "Does..." She paused, her voice quieter now. "Does she have a godfather?"

"Uh, not really. Mom comes to visit her from time to time." You shrugged. "It's me and her the most of the time."

"Must be quiet... lonely."

The words escaped Vi's lips before she could stop them, the image of you alone in this house with the baby stirring a feeling of protectiveness in her.

She cleared her throat. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I don't know why I said that."

"Don't worry, it is lonely..." you agreed. Vi studied the baby, just about three months old, her little hands fisted next to her head, breathing quietly in a peaceful slumber. "Do you wanna hold her?"

Vi's eyes widened slightly at the offer. "Hold her?" She repeated, her voice betraying a hint of nerves. "I don't... I mean, I've never held a baby before," she admitted quietly. "I might drop her or something."

"You won't." You chuckled. "C'mon, you'll like it."

As the baby was placed in her arms, Vi felt her heart skip a beat. Instinctively, she cradled the small bundle close to her chest, her arms finding their place around the tiny form.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at the baby's face. Samara's small limbs squirmed slightly, her tiny fists clenching and unclenching.

"Wow," Vi whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and surprise. "She's... lighter than I imagined."

"But she has quite the appetite..."

"I can believe that," She couldn't help the strange feeling that settled over her. Holding this tiny being—your baby—was surreal, almost like a piece of her that she never got to have. But she pushed that feeling aside, focusing on the small face before her.

"I don't think I'm doing it right," she said, her brow furrowing as she held Samara a bit tighter.

"She's quiet, your doing fine." You said, as the baby whimpered softly.

"Yeah, for now," Vi quipped, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "But if she starts crying, you're taking her back." Samara's tiny face scrunched up for a moment as if about to cry, but then relaxed again, nuzzling against Vi's chest.

You were drinking this scene as if it came straight out your dreams. And it was. Samara was quiet and comfy between Vi's arms, and she looked at the baby with such nervousness and tenderness that for a moment she believed Samara was hers. Yours and hers.

"She likes you..." you whispered, barely containing the tears that begun pooling on your eyes.

Vi's eyes flickered from the baby to you, noticing the tears gathering.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked, her tone gentler now. She shifted the baby in her arms, one hand still supporting her head.

"I couldn't move on neither, Vi." You confessed then. "Not in the slightest."

Vi felt her heart skip. “Neither?” She echoed, her voice raspy, as if the truth hit her with force.

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?” Vi asked, her voice quivering slightly.

A tear rolled down your cheek, you wiped it off quickly. "Cause I miss you, every day."

Vi's gaze darkened. "You... you can't say things like that, Cupcake," Vi said, her words tinged with pain. "Not to me."

She carefully placed Samara back into the crib, her arms feeling strangely cold without the weight of the baby against her chest.

"I'm sorry." You wiped your tears, knowing you had no right to claim Vi back. No when you broke apart because of you. "I know, I'm sorry..."

Vi moved away from the crib, her fists closing with the urge of wanting to wipe the tears off your cheeks. She felt silly for having given in, for having come to your apartment and allowing the pain to return as latent as before. She had to break the cycle or subjugate herself to it.

Samara whined on her crib, noticing the absence of Vi's warmth, to which you went to her and took her in your arms carefully, whispering to her to calm down.

"You... you two should have some time," Vi managed to say, her voice strained.

She looked at the baby in your arms, her heart tugging at the sight. That baby is supposed to be mine.

"I..." She swallowed, the lump in her throat making her voice hoarse. "I should go."

"Violet." You said, turning towards the woman on the threshold. "Thank you for coming."

You held Samara in your arms, her pink hair couldn't help but give Vi a chill. Why did someone else's creature feel so her own? She was beginning to torture herself with the scene, with her own thoughts. The woman let out a sigh and looked at you. No... not that look.

"This isn't fair." she said, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Her voice trembled as she struggled against the myriad of emotions that threatened to spill out.

She crossed the distance between them, standing a few feet apart from you and the baby. The urge to reach out, to run her fingertips across the baby's pink hair, was nearly overwhelming.

"I know it's not, Vi." You said. "But I don't have any right to ask you to stay."

Vi's resolve crumbled, she took a step closer.

"Fuck, I can't..." she mumbled, her voice cracking. "I can't do this. Not when you look at me like that and hold her like that."

"Then stop looking."

"No."

"Violet."

"Please."

You reached the back of her neck with some urgency, pulling her towards you to kiss her as you wanted so long ago. You regretted it as soon as your lips brushed, but Violet gave in as much as you.

She melted against the kiss, a soft whimper escaping her throat as she clung to you, being careful enough to not press on Samara. The pain, the longing, the regret, it all poured into that kiss. When you finally broke apart, Vi was left breathless, her heart thudding in her chest. She pressed her forehead against your, her eyes closed. She felt your breath against her lips and then... a tiny hand on her cheek. Samara was cooing, reaching out for this woman that she sensed, her mother loved deeply.

Vi let out a soft gasp, her eyes flickered open to see the baby. "Is she..." Her voice wavered, a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Can you stay for dinner?" You asked, almost pleading her.

Your question involved much more, it was a fearful and silent request, risky but necessary. You were afraid, but Vi took Samara's fist in her hands and nodded.

"Yeah. I can stay for dinner."

[fettiowi]

Thinking about wanting Shadow and Knuckles to interact again. What if Shadow goes to angel island and Knuckles leads him to Hidrocity and they have the famous hidrocity argument

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"You must feel betrayed," the villain said quietly. It wasn't quite a whisper but the hero was already used to their rather calm nature. It didn't help them at all, though. The acid feeling in their throat wouldn't disappear and neither would the horrible, horrible guilt.

"I failed, didn't I?" they asked. They could barely breathe. Their hands were shaking.

"This isn't the end of the world," the villain said. They sat down on the kitchen chair. "How is your arm?"

The hero looked down at the cast and despite the pain seeping through it, they couldn't really care enough to take any medication. On most days, when their mind bore their rawest desires once they woke up, they wished to wake up somewhere else. They wished all of this was a bad dream, a reality they could escape eventually. But it wasn't. It really wasn't.

"It wasn't a clean break," the hero said. "I didn't expect it to be one."

They were begging for the villain's comfort. Both of them knew it. Crawling to their enemy in the middle of the night wasn't the only humiliating thing.

No, rather that the villain was the last person there was to crawl to - that was even worse.

"I am scared," the hero admitted. They were vulnerable already. And they figured this life was over anyway. This superhero life.

"I know," the villain answered. Their eyes were on the hero but they were gentle, they were pitiful. "But what has happened to you is not your fault. And what they did to you wasn't either."

What had happened to the hero had been simple. Abuse over years from their superior. It had been an open secret that the hero would end up in the hospital wing several times when the superhero's patience would be short-lived. For whatever reason, the hero had always been their favorite target and the hero suspected it had something to do with their resilience.

But what they had done to the hero...The hero suspected the villain wasn't referring to the superhero but someone else entirely. That was the whole reason why the hero was here in the villain's kitchen in the first place.

The hero sat down on another chair and combed with their healthy hand through their hair. For a few moments, they held their own face in their hand, longing for some comfort, even if it was their own hand.

"I must have been quite the unpleasant person in my previous life to deserve this," the hero joked but the villain didn't smile. They leaned forward.

"Your sidekick didn't betray you because you weren't good enough," the villain said. "They believe the lies the superhero tells them. They believe the fairytales and the bedtime stories. They believe there are easy solutions to complex problems. They believe that you have to become just as evil to defeat the bad guys."

"I failed them, then. I tried everything I could to-"

"No. You didn't fail them," the villain said. "The superhero is more powerful than you are. They are more influential."

"But I should have taught my sidekick to-"

"No." The hero was surprised by the sharpness of the villain's voice. Their nemesis took in a breath and tried to collect themselves. "Listen. You're not flawless. No one is. But you are closer to it than any of the rest of us. You tried everything you could. But what on earth are you supposed to do when you are getting beaten up by your own boss all the time?! You never got the chance to teach your sidekick anything."

The hero didn't say anything to that. Deep down, they knew the villain was right about that last part. But the guilt devoured them like a cancer.

"Aren't you angry?" the villain asked. The hero could see how their nemesis was clenching their jaw. Their knuckles were as white as snow.

"No...I'm - God - I don't know." It was so frustrating the hero wanted to cry. Mostly, they were indeed scared. Scared of being in this city, scared of seeing the superhero, scared of going outside.

But anger? The hero doubted they had any strength left for that emotion.

"I just want all of this to be over," the hero said. "I can't fight anymore. But my sidekick..."

Suddenly, the villain stood up from their chair and walked up to the hero.

"Alright," they said gently. "Let's run away together."

"What?"

The villain offered their hand and the hero took it, clearly confused. The villain helped them stand up.

"If it's too much heartbreak and if it's too much pain, we should start over. We can leave the city. We can leave the country. If you want to fight back, I'll fight beside you. It is your decision."

"Why are you...?" The villain avoided their gaze. Instead, they stared at the hero's hand they were still holding.

"Let's clean you up," the villain said. The hero's own blood was still sticking to their fingers. They hadn't noticed. "And think about my offer."

[jollyhunter]

Beau!Dean x hunter!reader - The Broken Circle

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡

Characters: (mostly) Beau Arlen / (flashbacks, for now) Dean Winchester x hunter!reader, also Denise and Cassie AU: "Supernatural" x "Big Sky" crossover, set after S15 of SPN

One Shot (???)

Warnings: - Major MC death mentioned (end of SPN spoiler), implied panic attack, angst and just buckets of tears (I'm coping with a certain someone's death here) - No use of Y/N - English is not my native language

Words: ~4,050

Setup: "Winchester" - That's the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It's your deceased husband's name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You've got a new sheriff.

And he's the same man you thought you'd never see again.

The Broken Circle

Cold.

In one word, that's your last memory of when you gingerly cupped Dean’s face. How your tender fingers caressed his bruised cheeks and wiped away the dirt from his battered skin. Shakily combed out the rubble from his damp brown hair and scrubbed the dry blood off his fingers.

The last time you squeezed Dean's lifeless hand before it slipped from your trembling fingers. Cold and busted lips scraped against yours when you gently kissed him goodbye for the last time in this life.

...Or so you hoped. Who knew what heaven had in stock for you two.

You just wished you could have been there, in that damn barn. Been with him in his last minutes. Could have held his hand next to Sam. Could have told him how much you loved him. Reassure him that you'd give up the hunting life like you both had planned. That you'd try and live a good life for him... and that you were sure you'd see each other again.

But instead you had to take leave of Dean's lifeless body. Hollow. Drained of everything that made him the man you loved and had planned to spend the rest of your life with.

Dean gave his life for so many innocent people – hell, for the entire world. But he never got to have his own life. Never got to live it the way he wished to.

It just seemed so damn unfair. You had so much planned for your future. Have yourself some rug rats, a dog maybe, a house, a garden with those ridiculous white picket fences. You’d live a cherry pie life once you’d leave the hunting life behind you.

Or so you liked to picture it in your heads. On those rare, peaceful nights where you'd rest in each others arms like an old couple. His fingers combing your hair while your thumb carefully stroked his battered knuckles. Whispers of daring dreams filling the silence.

But reality was cold. Bloody. Like an animal put down. With a last effort, put to rest on his bed in the bunker by Sam and you.

This image will haunt you for the rest of your life, you know it. It already did for the past 5 years. If only you could have —

"Winchester?"

You blink rapidly, your mind thrown off for a moment when you snap out of your spiraling thoughts.

Denise waves with a paper in front of you to get your attention back. "She was mutilated. And it wasn't a bear. Her heart had been cut out."

"Jesus," Cassie breathes with a look of shock and disgust, shifting uncomfortably next to you.

"Yeah," Denise's face grimaces into a painful one. Her eyes are darting from Cassie, down to the report and back up to your still slightly absent gaze. "What do you make of it, Winchester?"

"Sounds like a werewolf." Damn it. The words slipped your lips before you could fully snap out of your memories. “I mean, sounds like a bit far-fetched but I’ll let Sheriff Tubbs know.” You force a wry smile when you grab the piece of paper from Denise’s hands, ready to head out of this messed up conversation.

“Sheriff Arlen,” Cassie calls after you and you stop in your tracks to look back at them with arched eyebrows.

“Sheriff who?” You inquire with a puzzled look. How the hell could you have missed this much in just one month off duty?

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” Cassie repeats and Denise quickly adds with a teasing hum, “And his ass is just- mmmh-” she makes a chef’s kiss hand gesture while Cassie rolls her eyes with an amused chuckle.

You let out a huff in mock-annoyance but can’t help the faint grin on your face. Maybe, one day you’d dare to befriend them. Maybe, whenever you’d feel ready for letting people into your life again. But not today.

Ready to pick up your work at the police department, your eyes immediately land on the new name on what used to be Sheriff Tubbs office. ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’ is written in an arched, golden text across the door’s glass.

You raise a sceptical eyebrow at the name. “Beau” you spit out the name under your breath, already feeling a distaste for this new sheriff.

In your defence, it wasn’t personal. It is just in your nature to feel sceptical towards anything new, especially people. Perhaps you gave up your hunting life. But any hunter will tell you between a swig of whiskey and a loaded shotgun that you’ll never lose your hunter instincts, no matter how hard you try. That’s not how it works. You don’t end this business by walking out the door.

It ends you.

In some way you were like trained bloodhounds. Always one chase away of your next kill. Unable to ignore the smell of blood. You were painfully aware of that fact. You could never live a fully normal life without the occasional hunch or a nervous look over your shoulder.

But you’d learned to accept it and make the best of it.

Here you can still help people. Save people. And once in a while nudge the sheriff into the right direction when you suspected something more than a suicide. Or you’d discreetly plant anti-possession charms on people when you had a hunch that demons were involved in a case.

Yet Sam believes you had retired fully from hunting like he did. And you liked to belief so, too. But on some days you weren’t so sure whether you even wanted to.

In some twisted way, hunting will always connect you with Dean. And at the same time it pains you, like a slow poison. Because you know it’s what he hated and never wanted for you.

And what took him from you.

It is a walk on a tight rope, really.

With a little huff of defiance you push the door to the sheriff’s office open. Your eyes dart around the empty room as you lean slightly forward, “Sheriff Arlen?”

Nothing. Oh well. With a quick glance over your shoulder you decide to take the chance and just drop off the report. You step inside, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper as your mind is instinctively drawn back to the case. I’ll have to look into this… bloody werewolf —

“Ah, Deputy Winchester, ain’t it?”

You freeze in mid motion.

And so does time. The paper slowly slides from between your trembling fingers and flutters to the floor. The unmistakable voice jolting through your mind and body like a lightning bolt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your mind and body paralysed.

The world holds its breath.

This is impossible.

“...Winchester, innit?” he repeats as he steps into the office and casually walks up to you, a wide smile spread across his face.

It can’t – NO.

You don’t dare to turn around.

Not that your body would be capable of any movement anyway. Every muscle is tense, your spine’s gone completely rigid. And your heart’s hammering against your ribs like it’ll crack your chest open from the inside.

You stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Headlights of a ‘67 Chevy Impala called Baby.

It has to be my imagination.

“Ya got somethin’ for me there? Oh-” You feel his elbow briefly brush your side as he bends down to pick up the paper next to your foot.

You don’t move an inch and stare ahead.

He straightens up again and steps around you to place it down on his desk. When he finally moves into your view and turns around to face you with his warm smile – your heart stops.

Emerald green eyes look back at you. Deep and sparkling green oceans. Alive.

Your brain freezes. Your mind scrambling for an explanation but failing to come up with anything.

This can’t be.

After a moment of tense silence, the tremors of your bottom lip make way for what your mind refuses to believe in.

“Dean?”

His name slips you in a mere breathless murmur. Afraid that whatever this is, will shatter the moment you dare to breath again.

Beau raises a brow. “Dean?”

He repeats the name with such nonchalance, such valuelessness, like it’s just some random clerk who he’s got no business with. As if that name didn’t mean the world to you once. Still would. Still does.

But the way his name dropped from his lips…

It clogs your airways. And the question mark at the end was him ramming a dagger into your heart and twisting it, without him even realising.

“Uh, no ain’t that.” He gently shakes his head and his lips melt into a cheeky smile as if that would make his next words any less painful.

“I’m Beau.”

Silence. Once again you feel like the air’s sucked out of your lungs. Like someone had pushed you off a cliff.

Someone who is an imposter of your deceased husband.

Beau. Your jaw clenches. And the name bounces off your mind. Your initial reaction being immediate rejection. No, you’re not... Beau.

Your eyes flicker across the man in front of you.

He might look quite… changed. He’s got a beard, neatly trimmed even. His hair is longer and… soft. Gone was the rugged and calloused man you loved. But it is still him. His eyes with their hidden secrets lingering behind those intense glinting, emerald green pools. His bow legs you’d recognize out of a hundred. His voice, his features, his – everything. Everything on him seems much softer but still… in your eyes, it’s Dean. No doubt.

“Why are ya lookin’ like you saw a ghost?” Beau questions with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

His voice snaps you out of your intense gaze. Your mouth opens, but no words make it past your quivering lips. All words drowned out in a flood of a million questions. Your focus drifts off, your eyes darting around the office like you’re expecting Gabriel to pop up any second and laugh at you.

But the room stays reduced to the two of you.

You feel like you’re on a tipping point.

Hands clenched, one subtly moves back to your hidden silver dagger – you do what you were trained to do in situations like these; Your mind grips for the lifeline and kicks into hunter mode. You rattle off the list of possible monsters; Shapeshifter? Ghoul? Am I dreaming? Is it some sick game of a trickster God? —

“Darlin’? You alright?” he asks, his voice now more concerned. You look terrified. As pale as a sheet, the blood drained from your face. Close to a panic attack, he guesses by your rapid breaths. Beau reaches out with his hand, gently patting your arm to get your attention. “Hey… Easy, just breathe.”

At his touch you jolt and finally snap out of your state of shock. The hand hovering over the concealed weapon falters. His worried eyes lock with yours.

The life-line snaps. Your mind tips over. Enough to make your stomach twist and turn, about to throw up. With only one shared look, everything’s back; The pain, the poignant grief, the cold skin under your fingertips, Dean’s lifeless expression, emerald eyes gone dull, the stench of decay, of old blood and dirt and his burning flesh and-- it all crashes down on you. All the emotions and memories you had buried in the depths of your mind, now laid open.

Fresh and hungry. Slowly swallowing you whole. Again.

“I- I don’t feel so… good – sorry,” you sputter, your hand clutching your chest in an effort to keep it together. The same second you spin around on your heels and storm out of the office without looking back once.

Beau. His mere presence was suffocating.

You remember the moment you and Sam cleaned up Dean’s lifeless body. How your fingers brushed against a folded paper, carefully tucked away in his jacket’s inside pocket.

Sam’s face had contorted the moment you pulled it out. Clearly, he had known what secret the paper held and before you got to question his knowing look, he suddenly got up. While walking out, he said he’d give you some time alone with his brother.

Once you unfolded the notepaper halfway, your breath stopped. Your eyes slowly shifted from one scribbled word to the next, each of them hitting harder than the next, each of them taking more of your breath. You swallowed past the lump in your throat when the realization of what you’d been holding in your hand slowly set in.

They were notes of Dean. Notes for your upcoming anniversary in two weeks.

You unfolded the rest of it and your eyes widened. The paper began to crumple in your shaking hands while wet stains swallowed some of his jotted down keywords. When your burning eyes reached the last four words, it had felt like whatever was left of your broken heart had just been ripped out entirely.

The raw emotions rolled down your cheeks, your tears mixing with his last unspoken words…

“Will you marry me?”

Beau was left back staring at the slammed door in bewilderment and a little stunned. After a moment, he sighs and pushes off the desk to follow after you.

“Winchester!” He calls down the corridor, watching you stumble out the front door into the outside. He jogs after you, slightly panting, while his eyes dart around the parking lot in search for you.

The rain crashes down on him the moment he steps outside. His head briefly tilts up to face the grey sky with an annoyed groan. The raindrops are pattering against his creased forehead, running down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his beard.

But then he hears a muffled sniffle next to him. Strands of his soaked hair fall into his face when he whirls his head around, spotting you leaned against the wall.

“No- no – it can’t be you – Damn it – it can’t…” you mutter under your rapid breaths, somehow trying to fight your scrunched up, stinging eyes with words of common sense. Your chest feels constricted. Your heart’s hammering in your ears and your breath’s clipped, feeling like you might faint any moment of lack of oxygen.

Leaning back against the wet wall for some support, your mind’s on the brink of a breakdown. There’s no explanation for this. This can’t be happening.

Beau suddenly appears in front of you and before you get to react, he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch but don’t pull away. His hand feels heavy against your soaked jacket, grounding, gentle – but casual, like you would with a stranger. You are strangers.

“Hey, hey take it easy. You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack. You’ll be okay.” He says as he crouches down to your level. He glances over your trembling body and how your eyes try to avoid his, your expression like you’d just witnessed a murder in slow-motion.

“Look at me, deep breaths.” Beau speaks in a firmer, yet gentle tone, trying to break through your panicked state.

When you refuse to look up, he tilts his head down to meet your eyes behind some soaked stray hair that sticks to your skin. He pushes them out of your face, his intense gaze searching your contorted face for some form of hint for what’s got you so spooked.

He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. While his soothing words just keep coming, his voice now a lower whisper as he’s desperately trying to understand what is going on in that head of yours, “Hey, c’mon… talk to me, Winchester…”

Your eyes are burning from the tears that have been building up until now. Eyelashes heavy and clumped together by the droplets of the rain. And his intense eyes staring into yours, the very same eyes you fell in love with over 10 years ago, do nothing to ease your pain.

You try to tear your gaze away from his, but find yourself caught in them. It’s like you’re staring into a beautiful forest after years of living in a desert. They pull you in, and you feel like you are right back where you’d always longed to be. Home.

But a home that isn’t yours any more. The soul behind those eyes looks familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You thought you’d never see those eyes again – but those very same eyes hold no memory of you.

The same question keeps repeating in your head, ripping at your heart and soul like a Hellhound.

Dean… is this you?

His voice cuts through your thoughts like a soft knife. “Take deep breaths darlin’, it’s oka-”

“Please- just-” you cut him short, a painful, shaky breath rippling through your voice, “Just stop talking.” Beau’s voice is like a dagger to your heart, twisting it whenever he speaks up. Mocking your memories with that uncanny tone of his.

I’m just tired. You hear Dean’s voice in your head and just like him, you wished you didn’t feel a damn thing.

Beau raises a brow and tilts his head forward, studying your face. For a moment he opens his mouth about to speak again, but when he sees you flinch, he forces himself to shut it closed.

His jaw’s clenched from fighting the urge to talk and feeling a bit overwhelmed with the entire situation. Not knowing where to go with himself or what to do without making things worse. He isn’t sure what it is, but something about you tugs at his heart in a way he can’t quite understand. But he quickly dismisses it, for now.

His eyes snap up to the sky when the rain starts to increase. Heavy drops splatter off the both of you, coaxing a single tear to let go of the corner of your eye. It was like the sky cried for you. Eyes that parched exactly 5 years ago.

Without a word he moves closer, gently wrapping his free arm around your waist. But you stop him before his palm touches your side. Your hand's shaking as it clings to his wrist like a lifeline.

Beau’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on it. His expression grows pensive and his eyebrows slightly furrow, watching your trembling form. Your chest's heaving heavily, like you’re struggling for air. And your eyes are out of focus, like they're reliving some nightmare.

He suddenly feels a strong protectiveness - decides to hold himself back, though, afraid he might make things worse. But it pains him terribly to see you this way, even if he might not know you, yet.

You don’t say anything. Unable to form the right words as nothing could express the storm of contradicting emotions you are trapped in. The wavering grip on his arm is clenching and unclenching subtly as if unsure whether you want to push him away or pull him in.

“Sorry,” you finally croak between shuddering breaths, unsure what you were even apologizing for, “I’m sorry…”

Why were you apologizing? A strange feeling settles in his guts, one of this being a lot bigger than he could comprehend.

Next moment you know, you’re pulled into a tight hug. Both his arms wrapping around you to pull you close and hold you together.

At first you stiffen. Standing there like a fragile, shaking tree. Your arms pressed against your sides, unable to comprehend any more what is happening.

But he keeps you in his embrace, murmuring soothing words, muffled by your hair and the heavy rain. You lift your head slightly, just enough for your wavering eyes to meet his again.

That’s when the realization hits you. He looks so whole. So unbroken. His skin and his hair was smooth and tender beneath that thin layer of rain. He lacks any form of scar, any edges or any memory of the horrors you and he had faced and committed. Your heart twists; This isn’t what a scarred hunter looks like. And at the same time you feel your heart sink at the next conclusion… Beau would have been Dean’s idea of a perfect life, without ever having been born into the hunting business.

And it makes you wonder whether he was granted that alternate life.

Beau feels your trembling body against him and how your gaze is searching his face for something he doesn't know. Why are you looking at him like that? A lump forms in his throat. His hand gently caresses your back in a circle motion, while his other keeps stroking your hair.

“It’s alright, s’okay. You’re okay.” Beau says in a soothing, comforting tone and he tugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest against him.

Your wet hair falls into your face once more when your head drops to his chest. You both stay still, the only sound being the pitter-patter from the raindrops against the hood of his truck and the puddles around you. Your ragged breath’s nearly drowned out by the rain. The world seems to have shrunk to the beat of his heart softly thudding against your ear.

And that breaks the dam. Tears it down as the floods of emotions search their way out. Your shoulders rise and buckle against his chest. The tears finally break free, streaming down your face, mixing with the rain soaking your clothings. Your body wracked with sobs – raw, desperate, painful. Liberating.

You begin to shake uncontrollably, the sobs growing more and more powerful. They start to rack through every fibre of your body. Your legs grow unsteady beneath you, daring to crumble from the weight of every emotion you had buried in the past 5 years released and unloading all at once.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll stay right here as long as ya need me to. C’mere…” He reassures you, and pulls you even closer. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, his facial hair brushing against your scalp and his warm breath wafting down at you. “Just let it out… you’re gonna be okay… you’re not alone, ‘kay?”

You clutch at his jacket tightly, holding onto him like you’re drowning. Like you’re afraid he might be a dream after all. Might disappear from your grasp at any moment. Everything spills out of you, incoherent words bubbling from your wet lips. “Y-y-you’re alive- you’re alive- a-alive- I missed you so much, Dean- so so much-”

Beau can’t exactly make out the words that are tumbling from your mouth, but he can feel you shaking against him terribly. He quickly takes his big jacket off to drape it over you, to try and keep the rain and cold off you.

His heart tightens at the sight of your curled-up body, clinging to him while shivering badly and breaking apart in his arms. He slowly begins to speak again, a hint of an encouraging smile on his face, “Hey, ‘m gonna pick ya up. Ya ain’t gonna stand that cold and rain. Ya’ll get sick.” He then places his arms on your back and under your thighs, before lifting you up off the ground in one smooth motion.

He holds you close against his chest, wrapping his jacket over you for extra warmth. The rain patters against the concrete floor while his boots splash through the puddles, carrying you over to his truck.

You don’t protest as your body was giving in at this point. Like a run down shed in a storm.

Your fingers slowly going numb from the death grip, the wet and cold. You choke on your sobs while the tears keep rolling down your reddened cheeks.

But from joy.

You don’t know whether he is Dean or not. Whether this is real or you finally lost it.

But in this very moment you didn’t care.

You let yourself drift back to the happiest place in your mind. One you hadn’t dared to visit for many years. Locked up and keys buried along your husband. Deep down in your broken heart.

When you close your eyes and press the side of your face against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding. When he speaks, you hear Dean’s voice above you, soft and peaceful.

And you feel his body through the drenched pieces of clothings between you.

He feels warm. Warm.

A/N: it was meant to be a drabble IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE

I'M NOT CRYIN'- OKAY FINE I'm still coping with his death - I haven't even watched it since I'm still catching up with the seasons. GAWD I HTE THIS - I JUST NEEDED CLOSURE DAMN IT

Anyway, I just had to get this story off my chest before next year. I don’t know yet whether it deserves more parts but do let me know if you think so!

Tags:

@aylacavebear

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: like Staind said in that one song, it's been a while.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd brings you down the flight of stairs, his arm through yours as you teeter in the heels. You’ve never been one for anything besides flats or sneakers. You’re getting acquainted to the painful arch of your feet and it’s doing little for your agitation. 

While this man might be entirely too direct at times, he can be just as vague. You still have no idea why you’re dressed like some dainty rose. Whatever delusion he’s living in, it’s not the fairytale he believes it is. 

Savoury aromas waft in the air and draw your nose towards the kitchen. You glance at Lloyd curiously. He puts his hand over yours and winks. You quickly turn your head straight. 

“Don’t worry, jelly bean, I got everything sorted. Can’t have you sweating up a storm in the kitchen. Private chef,” he clicks his tongue, “besides, our guests won’t settle for anything less.” 

You arch a brow but don’t ask. As much as you want to know who he’s expecting, you dread finding out. You highly doubt it’s good company. 

He takes you into the living room. A large chandelier dangles from the high ceiling, the long crystals casting marbled pale light around the space. The tall windows peer out onto the green lawn, dim in the rising evening hue. The ornaments are just as sleek and precise as every other room. Polished marble and spotless porcelain. 

As you take in the curved couch and round ottoman, Lloyd shifts your hand from the crook of his arm and tugs you to face him. He raises your knuckles high and kisses them. You blanch and resist the urge to pull away. His mustache tickles your skin. 

“Baby, you look spectacular,” he purrs, “did I mention that dress hugs your ass in all the right ways.” 

You bite down and nearly snatch your arm away. No. Don’t rile him. Tolerance will keep you safe.  

“You didn’t,” you murmur as he clings to your hand and places it against the chest of his jacket. He wraps you up in his arms as if he means to dance with you. 

“Well, shit, it really does,” his hands crawl down your sides and he scoops your ass up in his large hands, forcing a squeak from you as you press against his chest. “How about an extra dessert tonight?” He winks. “I bet it’s sweet, huh?” 

He leans in, nuzzling your forehead as he growls. You shudder, but he might mistake it for excitement. His nose brushes yours but his lips stop short of yours as a chime interrupts him. He freezes and reluctantly draws away. 

“Wait here,” he smirks and flutters his fingers longingly as he struts away. 

You blow out through your lips and swivel to glance around. It’s a nice place but you miss your apartment. You miss being alone. You miss when you didn’t know this man. 

You mash your hands together and wring them. You hear voices. A man and a woman. Great. This is really strange. You don’t understand what exactly he’s up to. Is he not afraid you’ll start begging for help? Somehow you don’t think that would do you much good. 

“She’s in here,” Lloyd’s voice carries through ahead of him, “mom, dad, my lady,” he waves towards you. 

You stand frozen to the floor. Uh. Mom? Dad? Oh gosh, it’s a family dinner. You blink and slowly step forward as Lloyd waves you closer. 

“My mother, Delores, and father, Lawrence,” he introduces the two other figures. 

The woman is tall and blond and statuesque. You feel even smaller in her presence. She looks down her long nose, her irises blue as ice, and her lips a soft shade of rose. Her hair is so icy, you can’t tell if it’s blonde or silver. 

The man is as tall as Lloyd, a little broader, and wears a cerulean jacket over black. His hair is streaked with the same sandy shade as his son, mingled with shocks of white. He tilts his head as he measures you, his eyes narrowing. 

“Hm,” that’s all you get. You feel much the same. 

“We’ve come all this way, tell me supper is ready,” the woman, Delores, tuts. “Crab cakes, right, honey?” 

She looks at her son and he frowns. His mustache makes the expression even more theatrical. You hate to disappoint but what did he expect? I mean, look at you. 

“And I appreciate you coming,” Lloyd says, sounding unlike you’ve ever heard him in your short acquaintance. Something about it is disingenuous, for as honest as that man can be. “We’re super excited to have you.” 

“Have you had those windows looked at?” The man stops to scope the ceiling to floor panes, “impractical things.” 

Lloyd’s shoulders square. You can’t see his face but you’re certain he’s not happy. You don’t see anything wrong with the place. It’s a bit over the top, too sleek, too shiny, but it’s not horrid. Most people can’t afford anything like it. People like you in your boxy apartment. 

“This way,” Lloyd says and waves them towards another doorway.  

He takes them across the entryway and you follow behind. The dining room has high ceilings and an overly long table. You can’t imagine anyone would ever need that many seats. 

Lawrence sneers with disapproval as Lloyd pulls out a chair for his mother. Delores primps herself as she sits, popping a compact out of her purse to touch up her lipstick. You stare from the doorway, drawn forward as your host clears his throat and eases another chair away from the table. 

You near and sit. His parents have even you on eggshells. You can tell they won’t be much help to you. You’ve got more than enough with their son. 

“I’ll just go check on dinner and you can get to know each other,” Lloyd declares as he claps his hands. 

You wince as his mother snaps the mirror shut and puts it away. She looks you up and down as you keep a dull stare. His father examines the butter knife as if searching for any speck of filth. 

“So, dear,” Delores begins. “Aren’t you a quaint one?” 

You scrunch your nose up. Quaint? You’re not a house. 

“Quiet, aren’t you?” She chuckles, “well, what do you do then? How’d he find you?” 

“Probably one of those websites again,” Lawrence grumbles and curls his lips. “Women these days, they’ll jump at a dollar sign.” 

You shake your head and tilt it. You’re not a mean person. You wouldn’t consider yourself malicious at all but he annoys you. And her. Their judgement reminds you of your schoolyard bullies. 

“I do data entry,” you answer, ignoring the snipe. “We met... uh...” you frown and look at the table.  

We met when your son stalked me and starved me out of my apartment. Yeah, you don’t think that’s going to get more than another condescending trill from her and indifferent grunt from him. You pick at your nail, the movement catching her eye, and you pull your hands apart and hide them behind the table. 

“We met...” 

“At the cafe,” Lloyd strides in and approaches the chair next to you, standing behind it, “supper will be out shortly.” He sits and grabs your hand, bringing it onto the tabletop, “you know, I saw her from across the coffee shop. Just waiting. I was just taken by her. Her effortless beauty--” 

“Effortless indeed,” Delores comments. 

You flick your lashes and glance over at your abductor. How is he preferable in this moment? You blink and turn your dull gaze ahead, staring through the blonde. You don't do well with confrontation, you're more the type for avoidance.

Lloyd quiets and brings his other hand up, chewing his fingertips before ripping them away from his mouth. He keeps his grip on you with his other and sighs. He looks up and shrugs. 

The silence doesn’t last long as several bodies enter and lay out plates in front of each seat. A man in a black jacket and chef’s cap emerges and announces the appetizer; crab cakes with black truffle crostini. You stare at the food. It doesn’t look very tasty; it’s too curated. 

“Mm, crab,” Delores sings as she picks up her cutlery, “how delightful.” 

“Yes, see, I remembered,” Lloyd utters. 

“All this flash,” Lawrence clucks as he lifts his fork, “you know, there’s more too life than show. Your fancy car, the house, your women...” 

“Dad,” Lloyd goes rigid, “she’s not just another woman. I wouldn’t bring you here if--” 

“Oh, no? The last one, I recall, was wearing a bright red thong. How do you think I know that?” The older man snips. 

“She’s not like that,” Lloyd rebuffs. “I told you, she’s different. She’s the one.” 

“Well, she definitely doesn’t talk as much as the last one,” Delores remarks tritely. “And Lawr,” she nudges her husband with her elbow, “she does have a certain allure. She definitely is... different.” 

Your brows nearly meet in the middle. You close your eyes to hide the roll. You exhale through your nose. You don’t care about these people. You don’t even want to be here. So, why try? 

That's it. Don't try. You don't need to impress any of them. You're not going to dance for them like they want you to. They aren't your parents and your own parents don't earn enough of your concern. You don't care about them and you definitely don't care about the man beside you.

Defence is the best offence, right? You're not going for an outright attack, that won't work. It's about repulsion.

You wiggle free of Lloyd’s grasp and surpass the cutlery to pick up the crostini with your fingers. You shove the whole cracker in your mouth and chew without caution. You hum and nod as you swallow it down. Maybe if you can disgust his parents enough, they’ll make him get rid of you. It’s not much of plan but more than you had before. 

“Oh my,” Delores hovers her cutlery over the crab cake and gapes at you. 

“Mm, oh my, good,” you speak through a full mouth. 

“Uh, right, mom,” Lloyd raises his voice, “did you try the wine?” 

“The wine,” you say through another mouthful, “mmm.” 

You slurp messily. Your heart is racing and your skin is tingly. You don’t talk in front of strangers often. Always mindful of every single action. You never want to draw attention. Never step out of line but now, you’re toeing every one. It’s embarrassing. 

“Lloyd,” Delores breathes. 

“Honey,” Lloyd touches your shoulder, “let’s slow down.” 

“I’m starving,” you argue and nearly choke, coughing into your hand. 

“We still have several courses,” he lowers his voice, “please, jelly bean, don’t do that.” 

“Do we have any more of this stuff,” you hold up the second crostini. 

“Please,” he begs and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing. 

You smile, food in your teeth, and show it to the table. You’re going to barf, not just from the soft cheese but your humiliation. Hold it together, just a little longer. 

“She definitely is... something,” Lawrence says and sends his wife a look of disgust. 

You clear your plate as quickly as you can. The food is like rocks in your stomach. You’re not used to eating that much, not to mention, that sort of fare. It’s rich to the point of too much. 

You wiggle your nail between your teeth and pick at them until Lloyd grabs your hand. You flutter your lashes in his direction. You really think you might throw up. Not only because of the fishy taste in your mouth. 

Before you can think of your next move, the plates are cleared away and replaced with the next course. An entree of filet mignon and seasonal vegetables, as announced by the chef. You imagine it’s similar to what they serve in those fine restaurants you could never afford. 

“Fine cut,” Lawrence offers as he turns over the steak with his knife and fork. 

You saw through your own and look at the middle, “ew, is it supposed to be this colour?” 

The table is quiet as you poke at the steak with your knife. You push it to the edge of the plate and make a face. You poke at the roasted potatoes instead.  

“Rare,” Lawrence sniffs, “I’ll take the chef’s name.” 

“Can he make cheeseburgers?” You ask. 

“Jelly bean,” Lloyd hisses, “what’s going on? What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you shrug and look at your plate and huff, “fine.” 

Like a bratty kid you pout. You pick up the steak with your hand and gnaw on it, making it into an effort. Lloyd reaches over and takes it from you, putting it back on your plate. 

“Stop, please,” he begs. 

You shrug and wipe your hands on your dress. He latches onto your hand, gripping it tight until your joints hurt. You wince as he stands, still clinging to you. 

“I was meaning to wait until dessert but... she’s had a long day. She’s not feeling herself,” he reaches into his jacket with his other hand and turns. He looks down at you and clears his throat, lowering himself to his knee. His blue eyes meet your grimace. Oh, god. “Jelly bean, sweetheart,” he pulls out the velvet box and your stomach lurches, “will you--” 

You bend over your lap as you lose all control. You spew onto the floor, the sick splashing onto your feet and Lloyd’s pants. You cup your mouth as you puff, bile staining your tongue. You groan and stay folded over your knees. 

“Oh, Lloyd, you can’t mean to marry that?” Delores sneers. 

“Truly, son, you brought us here for... her? Really?” 

Lloyd looks at you and his forehead lines. He shakes his head and opens the ring box, picking the ring from the cushion, and grabs your hand. He shoves the row of large diamonds onto your finger. You stare at the sparkle in horror as you slowly sit up and he stands. 

“We are getting married,” he insists, “and I didn’t bring you here for your blessing. I only brought you to let you know.” 

“Married?” You and Delores echo in fraught unison. 

“Yes!” Lloyd stomps his foot, nearly stepping in the puke. “You can’t stop me, she can’t stop me,” he jabs his finger in the air, “no one can stop me!” 

“Settle down, boy,” Lawrence says. 

“Come on, baby,” Lloyd snatches your wrist and pulls you to your feet, “let me get you cleaned up.” He winks and wiggles his tongue out at you and his parents groan.  He curls his arm around you and lowers his voice to a whisper, "I got something else for you to choke on."

Well, that didn’t work. 

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 11

Series Masterlist

➪in which clay makes it up to you after you found that now destroyed picture of him and sam, and you confess to what happened after he left jess’.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4.7K FOLLOWERS

Today was one of the rare days that Clay got to work with his mom, and of course she was able to tell that something was wrong as soon as he entered the room. 

When he tried to wave it off, she pressured him into going home early and resting - assuming it was something to do with his heart, which was a lot better than her finding out the real reason why he wasn’t his usual self. There was no way he could tell her that he was miserable because he fucked things up with you again.  

He knew you would be there when he got home, and he was almost nervous to face you after this morning. He had the full intention to apologize to you and explain further, but you completely shut him out, and he understood why. 

If you needed space, he’d give you it, but it wouldn’t make him feel any less like an asshole for having Sam’s picture in his drawer, even if he forgot about it entirely before you found it. 

Clay was scared that you’d stop babysitting Joey, and they’d be alone again. You had filled in most of the hole Sam left, which was surprising in itself since you hadn’t been in his life for too long. 

Since he was coming home a bit early today, he was hoping he would be able to talk to you for a bit longer. His mom wouldn’t be back until later tonight, and Clay was planning on explaining things to you when Joey goes to bed. If you even decided to stay that long and let him. 

He got home at around six thirty, and he was up the stairs within seconds when he heard yours and Joey’s mixed laughs coming from the kitchen. The sound was one he wanted to hear all the time, and that just further proved how badly he needed to fix things between you and him. Because Joey loved you. And Clay…well, he really liked you and didn’t want things to end because of Sam. 

Clay entered the kitchen and met your eye almost immediately, and he was forced to watch your smile fade as you set Joey down. He runs over to Clay with a big grin and a laugh as he picks him up, greeting him in the way Clay loved. “Hi, daddy,”

“Hi, buddy,” he said back, kissing the top of his son’s head before looking back at you. “Y/n.”

You seemed to have been frozen before and when he said your name, you quickly straightened up and put down the spoon you were holding. “You’re back early,” you observe and hesitantly make your way over to him and Joey. “I thought you’d be gone another few hours. I was going to clean.”

Clay shook his head and set Joey down. “Don’t worry about it,” he waved you off as Joey grabbed his hand. He looked tired, and Clay knew he needed to go to sleep. So with pleading eyes he said, “I’m going to go get him ready for bed. But I want to talk to you about…everything. Will you stay? Please?”

You bite down on your bottom lip and reach out to run your knuckles along Joey’s cheek. “Yeah,” you answer quietly, meeting Clay’s eyes again. “I’ll stay.”

A sigh of relief left his mouth and he was quickly taking Joey upstairs and getting him ready for bed. Once he was tucked under his covers and holding his teddy bear, Clay leaned down and kissed the top of Joey’s head. “I love you, Joe,” he whispered, then turned and made his way back to you. 

You were sitting on the couch, your leg bouncing a bit as you picked at your nails, and Clay passed by the living room and continued on to the kitchen, where he grabbed a diet coke from the fridge before heading back to you. “Here,” he murmured and held it out to you.

The smile you gave him as you took it had his heart skipping a beat, and he quickly sat next to you. “You know, I got mad at my coworker today,” you say quietly as you run the tip of your index finger along the cold can. “Like, really mad.”

Clay’s lips turned upwards at your choice of a conversation starter and he leaned back on the couch. “You got mad?” He asked with a teasing tone that made your smile grow a bit. “Why?”

You bite down on your lip and lean back as well, looking over at him with a blush coating your face. “Because he’s an ass,” you answer simply, making Clay let out a surprised laugh. “He was. It was right after you left. His name is Miles, and he started saying all this stuff after you were gone and not there to defend yourself, and even if you were there, I know you still wouldn’t defend yourself because you are far too sweet to stand up to someone you don’t know, but I’m not.”

He held back a laugh at that since he knew you were probably right. Clay couldn’t even stand up to his mom or Sam when she was still around, and he knew there was a small chance that he’d actually stick up for himself to a total stranger. 

You, on the other hand…he’d stand up for you, just like how you supposedly did for him. 

“So when you left, I was reading through your texts that I stupidly didn’t answer and then he just had to say something. He said that you were probably some rich guy who’s stuck up and only came to Jess’ to pity poor people like him and I,” you rambled and Clay couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and grabbing your hand. Thankfully you allowed him to and laced your fingers with his. “I went off on him. I was practically yelling at him and telling him to shut up in front of all the customers and on my first day of working there. You and I weren’t even on good terms and I was still acting like we were and I probably totally embarrassed myself in front of everyone there, including my new boss.”

You were beginning to sound a bit breathless, so you stopped and waited for a few beats, and Clay didn’t say a word. 

“But I didn’t care, because he was being an ass and I needed to say something to him about it because,” you stopped yourself short and Clay thought for a split second that you were going to say those three words that had been swirling around in his head for a few days now. It was too early, right? You didn’t feel that way, right? “I like you so much. You’re so sweet and kind and caring and the best dad to Joey. I couldn’t stand hearing him say all these horrible things about you when he doesn’t even know you.”

Clay smiled and felt his body heat up at the way you defended him from the coworker he’d seen eyeing you up the entire time he was visiting you at Jess’. “I don’t know what to say,” he laughed, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “No one has ever publicly defended me like that before.”

“Yeah, well,” you laughed, too, but he could tell that you were starting to feel a bit embarrassed. “Maybe it was stupid of me to risk doing that on my first day, but…I just didn’t care.”

Clay’s brows furrowed in concern. “You didn’t get fired, did you?”

“No, no, I just…I told Jess that the hot guy that came in before Miles and I’s argument was my…boyfriend, and how we weren’t doing great at the moment, and she understood for the most part,” you answer with a forced smile. “It just can’t happen again.”

Clay nodded and then when he was sure you were done, he knew it was his turn. “That picture you found, the one in my drawer? Well, it’s in about a hundred pieces right now,”

Your eyes widened and you sat up, setting your drink aside. “You ripped it up? Clay, that was your wedding photo. That day was supposed to be a good memory to hold onto,”

He just shook his head and squeezed your hand. “It’s over,” he whispered. “What Sam and I had…it’s not even a good memory anymore. That picture? It doesn’t mean anything at all to me anymore, and that’s why it’s in pieces in the garbage.”

You press your lips together in a way that told him you were holding back a smile, and he fought one off himself as he continued,

“Sam is just the person who helped give me Joey. That’s all she is to me,” he promised and watched as you nodded. “She doesn’t mean anything, and she hasn’t for a long time. You on the other hand…you’re…”

He stopped talking as he didn’t know where he was going with that. You meant so much to him and to Joey, he honestly didn’t know where he would be right now without you. But it was still so soon, and he promised he wouldn’t rush things with you. It worked so well for him last time. 

“I’m what?” You pressed, leaning closer to him and reaching up to lightly grip his shoulder. 

“You’re everything she’s not,” he replied, sitting up straight. “I mean, Joey is practically obsessed with you already. You’re all he talks about when you’re not here, and he’s attached to you when you are here. He’s like his dad in that way.”

The smile you give him at that could only be described as fucking beautiful, and then you were carefully crawling on top of him and straddling his lap. 

Clay reached up to smooth out your hair. “You’re who I want to be with. And I’m sorry you saw that picture. I thought I had gotten rid of it a while ago,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing behind your ear. “I don’t ever go in that drawer, so I promise, I really had no idea-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his mouth that was pretty effective in getting him to forget about what he was about to say. “Clay,” you mumble when you pull away, kissing the corner of his mouth quickly afterwards. “Stop making yourself feel bad with excuses. I already forgave you.”

Clay smiled, then you were kissing him again. “I missed you yesterday,” he confessed against your lips. “I really wanted to take you out on our second date.”

You whined and pulled away. “Don’t remind me,” you whispered, dropping your head onto his shoulder, your fingers tangling in his hair afterwards. “I feel guilty about that. You were so cute before I found that stupid fucking picture.”

“I’m not now?” He teased and you pulled back to give him a pointed look. “Sorry.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Clay,” you mumbled, running the tips of your fingers along his jaw. “Maybe I overreacted. But I hated seeing you with her, even if it was through a photo.”

“You didn’t overreact,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss the side of your neck. “That photo shouldn’t have been in there. I promise, you won’t find any more around. She’s out of our lives.”

“Okay,” you trail off, gently massaging the back of his neck. “I missed you, too. Can we spend a day together soon? Or did I blow the one chance we had?”

Clay laughed, already knowing when the next time you and he would be alone together could be, but he decided to keep it from you for just a bit longer. “We’ll have another chance,” he promised and watched as you nodded then looked down at his lips. Without another word being spoken, you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips barely brushing against his as if you were testing it out. It reminded him of the first kiss you shared, and the memory had him grabbing hold of your hips and pressing you tight against his chest. 

The feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair felt concerningly good, and Clay realized that it had been a while since he felt this comfortable with a woman. Sam did a number on him and he had only let himself indulge in a few meaningless conversations with women before he decided he just wasn’t ready to move on yet. 

That was before, now he was pretty much all in with you. 

You adjusted yourself so you were straddling his lap, your hips pressed to his in a way that had him holding back a groan of want. He would let you decide how far this goes, even if it left him with a killer boner afterwards. “Is this okay?” You asked sweetly, pulling away just enough to be able to look him in the eye. 

“Yeah,” came his strained reply as he leaned his head back on the top of the couch. “It’s okay. More than okay.”

You press your lips together, sliding your hands back down to his shoulders. “It’s not too much?” You asked quieter this time, and he adored the way you were so concerned about doing something that could potentially trigger his heart rate to spike. 

Clay shook his head, bending his legs more so his thighs were a bit firmer. Your lips part in a silent gasp, and it took a lot out of him to not kiss you again as he said, “It’s not too much, baby,”

He knew that nickname did things to you. He caught the way you reacted to it the first time he called you it, and he made a mental note that you clearly liked it. “Oh, God,” you groaned, leaning in and dropping your head to his shoulder. “Clay.”

Ever since the first time he had heard the sweet sounds you make when you get like this, Clay had been determined to coax them out of you more often. It was impossible to not get riled up when your soft moans filled the quiet living room, and it was hard not to notice the fact that he usually spends most of his time in here with you. 

The memory of his first kiss with you flashed through his mind, and he groaned at where that kiss led to. You on top of him, your hands tangled in his hair and your hips dragging against his in a way that should not feel so good. But it was you, and Clay was beginning to think that everything with you felt good. 

Your lips brushing against his in a barely-there kiss got him out of his head and he held onto your waist a bit tighter, leaning up to kiss you properly. You returned it, pulling on his hair as you shifted your body back and forth on his lap. “Do we..” You trailed off, massaging the spot on his head where you had tugged on his hair. “We have time?” You hesitantly asked, slowing down the drag of your hips. 

“I got sent home early,” he laughed breathlessly, watching as a smile formed on your lips. “My mother wouldn’t put up with my pouting.” 

You laugh, shifting so you were higher up on his lap and pressing your chest to his. “This pout,” you murmur, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the hand of your other came up to caress the side of his face. “It does something to me.” Your index finger traces the outline of his lips as you begin rubbing yourself against him again. 

“At least it works on you,” he teased and you bit down on your lip, leaning in to press a deep kiss to his mouth. 

“So,” you dragged the word out. 

“So,” he echoed, guiding the slow roll of your body. “We have more than enough time.”

You smile at him, picking up the pace again. “Feels so good, Clay,” you whimper, wrapping your arm tighter around him and dropping your head to his shoulder. “Just like how it felt upstairs in the hall.”

Clay groaned, bucking his hips upwards and making a surprised moan leave your mouth. “You sounded so pretty,” he reminisced, bunching up your shirt. “Tasted so good.”

“Oh, my God,” you moaned loudly, moving a bit erratically now. “It’s too much.”

“Are you gonna come?” He asked under his breath, unable to speak any louder than that in fear he’d give away just how much of an effect you have on him. 

You nod quickly, bunching his shirt in your hands. “Are you?”

Clay leaned back against the top of the couch again, gazing up at you with a lazy smile. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you answer instantly. “With me? Please?”

Clay grunted, in a bit of disbelief at how sweet you sounded when asking for something so dirty. He was sure he’d give you anything you wanted if you asked him like how you just did. “Come, baby,” he requested in a raspy voice, and you squeezed your eyes shut as your body shook on top of his. 

He came with you, making a real mess in his boxers that he honestly didn’t care about. It’d been a long time since he was intimate with someone, but you made him feel better than he had ever felt. He was sure it was because it was with you, the girl he’s been so into since the minute he met you. 

Your body stilled on top of his, your fingers trailing through his hair as you came down from your high. “How?” You asked breathlessly, pulling away from his shoulder to be able to look him in the eye. “How do you make it feel so good every time?” 

Clay laughed, smoothing out your messy hair and ruffled shirt before pressing a kiss to your swollen lips. “Maybe I’ll let you find that out next time,”

With that promise, you grinned at him and pulled him down so he is laying on top of you and your arms are wound tightly around him.

-

Next up...some time alone..

Thank you for reading this extremely late chapter !

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - Zuko x fem!reader (pt.7)

Summary: reactions from team avatar when they find out your ozais assassin

warning: mentions of scars, not very happy gaang, mean katara!, angst

masterlist: here!

most previous part: here! (all other parts can be found in my masterlist!)

authors note! hello!! idk if anyone will be reading this but if you are welcome!! i haven't posted to this series in YEARS so please forgive me as I'm very rusty at writing but please enjoy!

Unified screams erupted upon Appa. “YOU’RE WHAT!”

“Aang what have you done! You literally let a murderer on Appa! She’s going to kill all of us! Katara was right, and I can’t believe I ignored her.”

“I KNEW IT! Quickly Aang, land Appa and let’s get her off!”

Unable to take it anymore, Toph lost her cool. “Can you knuckle heads shut up! I highly doubt that she will kill us, why the hell would she listen to you guys fighting all the time when she could end her misery by taking you out.”

Reality hitting Sokka and Katara, they finally piped down, allowing Toph to continue.

“Look, what you said is highly questionable. I’m not saying that I trust you, but you’re going to have to give us more information than that or else I’ll throw you off myself. Got it?”

You sighed. At least someone in the group had more sense. “Yeah, of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well for starters a name would be great. Oh and maybe, I don’t know, how and why you’re the Fire Lords Assassin?!”

You almost wanted to pull Katara’s braid for the irritating look of satisfaction on her face. “Right okay… well my name is y/n. uhhh and I was forced to become his assassin when he caught me after I broke into the palace three years ago.”

“That’s it?! Nuh uh lady. I know he’s the Fire Lord and had done some awful things but why would he do that to a child?! You’re either lying or somethings still missing.”

There was a lot to weigh up. To suddenly reveal everything about you would be too much and would get you thrown off Appa anyway. Yet to reveal nothing wouldn’t let you gain enough trust to even last a day. Leaving you to share the one thing you knew so little about yourself that you didn’t care if they knew and hopefully enough of a miserable, pitying tale that they’d let you off the hook for the time being.

“My parents aren’t in my life, they never were. I don’t know who they were or why they did it. All I had was my trainer, Zemin. In his time, he was the most notorious Assassin in the entire Fire Nation and when he retired, he never took on any students to carry on his legacy - if you could even call it that. Every other trainer was ecstatic because this meant that their students would earn the most bounties. Until there was me. I don’t know why he took me in… he just said that he found me as in infant and regretfully took me from an islands rocky shore maybe to sell me off somewhere. I suppose he realised he could make even more money from me if he trained me until I could pay off debt for him raising me. I did the one thing assassins could do, kill. All the money I ever earned from each bounty went straight to him. Luckily enough, I learned quickly, and I got to my final payment when I was 13, then he would have set me free.”

Horrified, Aang couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was nothing like this in the Air Temples growing up. “Luckily enough?! How in any universe is that lucky!”

“Most assassins in the Fire Nation, and others, are stuck paying off their guardians or trainers well into their adulthood. Because of… certain tactics and advantages, I became quite popular if you could put it that way and most of the people, I had to take care of were…” Halting, you knew that if you verbally said some lives are worth more than others, Aang would probably go into cardiac arrest.

“Well, some had more people wanting them gone so the bounty was higher.”

“How does this have anything to do with you working for the fire lord! I don’t see why Zemin would let you go if you were doing so much for him.”

Your strength was fading. You hated yourself for how much you scretly enjoyed having people around that weren’t as idealistic as those in the Fire Nation.  “He didn’t. I got an anonymous mission to take out a high general in the palace. So high, that it was going to be enough for me to finish my debt.” After not being met with screams you felt reassured to continue…. they seem to be taking this well…

You took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “On my way out, I got caught in the middle of an Agni Kai. The fire lord wasn’t too pleased I killed one of his generals or interfered with punishing his son. Yet somehow in his psychopathic mind he saw it as an opportunity to pledge my allegiance to him.”

The silence amongst the group was short lived.

“YOU MEAN ZUKO?”

“YOU KILLED SOMEONE.”

“AND YOU ACCEPTED?”

You scrunched your face. Maybe this was a bad idea to tell them. But it was too late to go back. “Yes, it was Prince Zuko in the Agni Kai, that’s how he got his scar. Yes, Aang I did kill the general, but to be fair I haven’t killed anyone since then… And Katara if you were being tortured every day for 8 months, I’m sure you would wear down too.”

The waterbender was unsatisfied with your answer. “Unbelievable! Of course, you did! Everyone has a choice in this world, and you chose the fire lord. You’re nothing but a coward.”

“My life was on the line! You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh please, y/n. I do. I know everything! Sure, you were raised to assassinate others, but you can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know what you were doing when you were standing before Ozai. I would have stayed in a life of suffering than go with him.” Shaking her head, she pierces you with a disgusted look, “You’re no better than Ozai. No better than Azula.”

As Appa continued to glide through the ever-ending expanse of the sky, it seemed nothing could break the suffocating tension that encompassed everyone upon his saddle.

Toph was the only one to speak up. “Didn’t you hear her Katara? She hasn’t killed anyone since then! She’s surviving. If you ask me… she’s braver than any of us, you never know what could have happened to her if she got caught not actually killing her targets!”

Irritated Katara only grumbled, turning away while leaving the two boys to think about how they felt about you. Despite giving them answers, they still had so many questions.

It was undeniably clear that Katara has made her mind up about you, and you were sure everyone else was the same despite the earth benders attempts at comforting you. Hence, as you sat there across from the four of them, you were the first to break eye contact, turning your head to the side as you searched for something to focus on out there in the sky. Bird, a cloud, anything. You didn’t have the heart, the courage, to argue against what she said.

Unknown to you, Aang shuffled closer to you scared that his angry friend might hear him going towards you. His words only just loud enough to hear above the wind he whispered to you… “Its okay y/n. I don’t really understand what you’ve done or what you’ve been through but when youre ready.. you can tell us.

That was the first time your heart ignited a comforting warmth.

As Appas soft paws skilfully landing on the hard earth, you felt your heart drop inside you. What do I do now? Mind racing through all the possibilities, Toph seemed to have decided what to do before you could even stand.

“Hey! Come with me.”

Jumping off Appas saddle you landed on your feet with such a skilled silence, Toph had to sense your heartbeat to even realise you were next to her. Setting off towards where she’d set up her sleeping area, it was best you stuck closely behind.

“Don’t think about what Katara said, she doesn’t get it.”

“How so?”

Stalling in her tracks, she turned her unseeing gaze towards you. “She doesn’t know what its like to be born into a life that you don’t want. And she definitely doesn’t know how hard it can be trying to escape it.”

Unsure with how to reply, humming in understanding was the best you could come up with.

“Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I know you most certainly don’t need me, but I’ve got your back.”

The next day had gone by agonizingly slow. With Toph trying to teach Aang earth bending you were left to your own devices since Katara decided to tag along. Although you found yourself tailing Sokka as he went his own way looking for food unaware of your silent giggles seeing him get stuck in the ground.

“...big things eat smaller things. Nothing personal. But this time, it didn’t work out that way…I admit it, you’re cute…”

You decide to finally reveal yourself, tired of your lack of entertainment. “What are you doing down there Sokka?”

Letting out a girl like squeal, he’s horrified at getting caught in this position. “Nothing!”

“You look like you could use some help.”

“I don’t want help from you!” You dismiss it. Surely he has no other choice but to make himself acquainted with you.

“Yeah, right. It’s funny, you’re probably the third person that has ever said that to me. The second in about the span of 48 hours.” you cant help but divert your attention towards the cute animal annoying him. “Aweee look at this cutie!”

“Get away from it!”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I don’t want you to hurt it!”

“Please, I actually quite like animals. They’re a lot better than humans anyway.”

“I- well… fine! Just go away?”

You scoff, “Why’s that?”

“I don’t like you!”

“Hmm… is that so.”

“Yes, of course it is!”

You’re done feeling sorry for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t like me, or do you feel that way because of your sister?”

“I- well… argh! Fine! I don’t know.”

“Well… why don’t you talk to me and work it out for yourself? If you still dislike me so much I’ll leave you be and get someone to come help.”

A  silence fills the distance between the two of you.

He sighs, caving in, “So.. this Zemin guy. Did he REALLY not give you a choice?”

Looking up, you stare at the clear sky. “I learnt early on in my training that I didn’t have a choice or options in life other than what he wanted. Any exercise I rushed through, half assed, or tried to skip through when he wasn’t looking came with consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“The kind that keeps all of my clothing and bindings on so I don’t constantly get pitiful looks or too many questions.”

He scoffs, “prove it”

Staring at all your layers you sigh, “don’t say I never warned you.”

Peeling off all your layers one by one until your down to just your tank top and pants, you decide to take off your face mask last. Your eyes meeting Sokka’s, you notice him swallow thickly. But its you to break the ice first. “In all fairness, most of them are now from Ozai. The older they look… well I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.”

“b-but-“Fuck why did I have to make him uncomfortable.

Unable to take it any longer, you pull him out from the hole in the ground. “Its fine.”

You turn to walk away after helping him, but he grabs your scarred wrist, the feeling of the textured skin making him internally wince. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you expose yourself like that. Its horrible that you had to experience that… hell we look the same age!”

“Everyone is on different paths. Look, lets just forget about it..”

Sokka feels like he could bust into tears “No! you don’t understand. I’ve seen the effects of the fire nation… hell they took away my mum. I still remember it, sometimes I have weeks where I keep reliving it in my nightmares, only finding peace when im awake. Its like im being haunted. But- but you?! You have to face it whether you’re awake or asleep”.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can’t handle the intensity of his words. Theres nothing you can do. Nothing you can say. You hug him. You don’t remember the last time you held someone. It feels weird, almost wrong. But as he squeezes you back, tightening the embrace, you understand one thing. You have an understanding with the water tribe boy, despite how dark it may feel.

Hours pass by as you sit with sokka talking about useless topics until the other three join you once more. Feeling weariness in their gaze, you realise you forgot to put your layers back on. Now everyone can see your face and scars.

Only Aang has the courage to speak with you.

“Hey. Uhhh, y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I’m sorry for not speaking much with you since yesterday. I didn’t mean to, it was just a lot to process personally! Growing up with the Air Nomads, I was taught that killing is wrong and that under no circumstance should that be the answer. If I’m completely honest with you, I still stand by those teachings and to have someone who has… killed… so close to me and the people I care the most about is… unsettling.”

There it was. You knew despite how much he was trying; you knew he wouldn’t be able to see past what you did. What you are.

“I understand. I don’t blame you, or anyone for reacting the way they are, and I know what it feels like to want to protect those who mean something to you.” You glance at Sokka, remembering how he understood.

“Just… please understand that I’ve realised what I did was wrong and while I can’t change everything that I have done, I’m trying to move away from that way of life. I don’t want to be a killer anymore. I’m trying my best to fix it.”

“I know…. Its just-“

“You don’t trust me.”

“What?! NO! I mean…. I don’t know. You clearly have good inside of you but it’s hard to look past.”

“I get it. I’ll head off then, the world needs you Aang and I won’t be the one to stand it your way.”

“No! stop! Please! I know I said it’s hard for me to do, but I clearly see you trying your best. I know you won’t hurt me. I just… I suppose I need to open my eyes more. See you for who you are now, what you’re doing now.”

But what if you can’t? What if I’m still that person, no matter how much I try to shove it away. This is what I have been made to become?

“Okay.”

Letting out a nervous quiet laugh, he glances back to everyone. “okay well… lets eat!”

Zuko stares at the sky in the heavy downpour. “You always through everything you could at me. Well, I can take it. And now I can give it back!”

Lightning cacks in the sky before his eyes.

“Come on!”

“Strike me! You never held back before!”

Met with only the sound of the world around him, he feels helpless. Lost. Alone.

Screaming out, Zuko falls to his knees as the rain and guilt encompasses all of his senses.

His voice scratchy from screaming, he can hardly croak out… “You never held back from her."

taglist: ​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @slythergirlimagines ​​​ @whiskeywinter89​​ @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins​ ​ ​ @calciumcow @ilovespideyyy @callums-keith @nnon-it-up @blackhood5sos @chewymoustachio @tiffy119 @reclusive-chicken-nugget @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​​ @simpinforsukka​ ​ ​ @sokkassuki​ @spearbatty @kaylove12

[user211201]

Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Seven Days to Fall Again | Saturday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary: Life is meaningless without you. Who knew a broken heart could be shattered twice? Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 3.2k ~ (sorry I took forever to update) Warnings: Explicit language, angst, mentions of an accident and death (nothing too crazy) a/n: Hope you guys like this one! I wasn't sure how I would go about including the whole funeral thing in the mix but I think I did alright lol Lemme know what you think! Start from the beginning

After finishing my shower last night I didn't even bother drying my hair or putting clothes on. All I could manage to do is barely make it to my bed and once my head hit the pillow the sobbing just wouldn't stop. 

I don't know how long I laid there, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing until my head was pounding and I couldn't push any more tears out. Something about last night shattered the fantasy of being able to move on with my life and feel happy without him when the truth is I don't think I can. 

Even though this whole week has been nothing but him barging into my life and always doing something to make things more difficult it's as if deep down I was happy he was still trying, happy that he wasn't gonna give up on us. 

I love him. I love him so much that being with him was the only thing that ever mattered. 

I wanted him to want me just as much as I wanted him but with how our lives have been recently I just felt like I was just there. Just another person that he interacted with and nothing more. It hurt to have him come home and have nothing to say to me, no time to do anything and not even an ounce of energy to spend on me. 

He my boyfriend for fucks sake! We should be spending time together and eating together and laughing and smiling together. Why have simple things like that disappeared almost entirely? 

I love him, I love everything about him but if it's come to this point that I have to question myself day after day if I'm the one who has done something wrong, done something to make him treat me like this...then I don't think we're meant to be together. 

Relationships are about trusting and loving each other and being able to give them your love. But he hasn't shown me that he loves me at all with the way he's been acting and he hasn't given me the opportunity to show him my love either. 

I just don't understand!

Reaching out for my phone I jump at the feeling of it vibrating right away, showing me that I have an incoming call.

After taking a quick glance to check the caller ID it's already got me on edge. "Hello?" I say groggily but am cut off by the sounds of heavy breathing and hospital noises in the background. 

"Y/n, y/n please you have to come quick he-" "Okay slow down take a deep breath and tell me what's going on" I coach Jimin when I hear the panic in his voice. He takes a big gulp of air and lets it out before continuing with a shaky voice. "It's Jungkook" he says and my heart stops. 

"W-what do you mean it's Jungkook? What happened?" I say, throwing the covers off of me and running around my room, grabbing clothes and franticly throwing them on. "I don't know I just, they said that there was an accident and they brought him here but there was so much blood and-" "Did he make it?" I question and I'm met with silence on the other end. "Damnit Jimin is Jungkook okay?" I shout, shaking and gripping onto the phone until my knuckles have gone pale. 

"He-he didn't make it. They said it was too late that there was nothing they could do..." he says but my arm drops and with it takes Jimin's voice. My breathing picking up as it starts to sink in. 

"Oh God what have I done?" I whisper to myself, my whole body shaking and my vision getting blurry with the tears that are bound to never stop. 

"Y/n! Y/n answer me! I'm coming over" I can hear him shouting at me from the other side and I pick it back up and let out a silent 'okay' and hang up the phone before my knees give out and I fall to the ground. 

"If I wouldn't have let him go, if I would've just asked him to stay he would-" I say aloud but cut myself off with a sob and rest my head on my bed, the sheets muffling the sounds of my screams. I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for this, I shouldn't have been so hard on him I should've just heard him out...

~~~~

Once I feel as if my sobs have died down I take that as an opportunity to get a glass of water but before I'm able to get there I hear a panicked knock on the door. I rush to open it and grasp onto him as tight as I can and not daring to let go. 

"Shhh, shh I know" Jimin comforts me, rubbing my back as he walks in, still holding onto me and guiding us both over to the couch. "Jimin h-he was here last night and I just let him walk away and I-" "Hey, don't do that, you couldn't have known that this was going to happen" he says, holding me tighter in his embrace, telling me not to go there. 

"Do his parent's know?" I ask after I've calmed down again, pulling away and sitting up to face him. "Yeah they do and they're on their way already. They're having the funeral today" he says while pushing the tear dampened strands of hair out of my face.

"Today? They can't have it today! What about the rest of his family?" I question, surprised that a funeral could even be put together so quickly. "They want to have a small intimate gathering for now and then tell everyone later. It's just too painful and they want it done quietly" he says and I nod my head, respecting his parent's wishes. 

"What time does it start?" I question, wiping away the tears that keep falling. "At five" he say, cringing at the time constraint we've been left with. "Jimin that's two hours" I say, shocked that they would be able to even be emotionally capable of setting everything up so quickly. 

"I know but this was the only spot they had available" he says and I nod my head, not bothering to ask for more details since nothing else really matters right now. "Will you take me to the funeral?" I ask, knowing for a fact that I wouldn't be able to make it there on my own. 

"Of course" he replies placing a hand on my shoulder and giving me a sad smile. "I'm gonna go home real quick and change and then I'll come back for you" he explains, placing a quick kiss on my forehead and heading out the door. I sit there and let a few more tears fall before pulling myself together and getting up to get ready. 

I don't bother putting on any makeup since there's no reason to. My boyfriend is gone and I'm not going to hide the sadness that I feel or cover up the gaping hole in my chest that once held my heart. The heart that always belonged to him and will forever stay with him. 

How could I have been so stupid? I should've made him stay. Maybe then things would be different. 

~~~~

As Jimin and I walk into the little chapel they're holding the funeral in I first lay my eyes on Mrs. Jeon who is putting up a stronger front than I thought she would. It probably hasn't hit her yet, the fact that her youngest son has been taken from her. 

Mr. Jeon is the one that notices us and comes over immediately and gives me the warmest hug I've ever received. "I'm so sorry" is all I can manage to choke out, not being able to hide my tears as I feel them start to form again, my vision going glossy. 

"Me too" he responds and leads me over to Mrs. Jeon who pulls me in close right when she sees me and that's when I lose it. "I know, it's gonna be okay. Don't worry love it's gonna be alright" she says while stroking my head, trying her best to calm me down. I choke back the sobs as much as I can but no matter how hard I try, the tears never stop. 

After a few more moments with them Jimin escorts us to our seats, just one row back from the front and I notice that I don't recognize the people in front of us, or anyone else for that matter. I brush it off and take a tissue out of the box that's placed in front of me and take deep shaky breaths in and out, finally quieting down as soon as the officiant walks up to the podium.

"Who is that?" I whisper to Jimin, taking in the gorgeous woman who is presiding over the ceremony. "Not sure but she's beautiful" Jimin says, while checking her out. I elbow him in the side and he holds back a groan in pain from the contact. 

"Not the time nor the place for that Jimin" I scold and he apologizes quietly before we continue to listen to the ceremony and as soon as she opens up the floor for people to come up and say some things that we remember about Jungkook we all watch in horror as the lid to the coffin opens and out comes a perfectly healthy Jungkook. 

We all just sit there stunned, not knowing what to do in this situation so Jungkook decides to break the silence. "Thank you so much everyone for coming. I'm sorry to have sprung this on all of you but your dedication has truly moved me" he says while climbing out of the coffin. 

"Y/n" he says, everyone now turning towards me and watching my every movement. "Please don't hate me for this but I just hoped that in doing this you would see how much we both love each other still and how I truly cannot live without you" he says while everyone sighs, acting as though this is somehow romantic. 

"Please will you give me another chance?" he asks, holding his hand out to me and I'm still frozen, flabbergasted that he would go this far. 

Jimin pokes me in the side to bring me back to reality and whispers a quick "Say yes" in my ear, encouraging me to take his hand. I take a deep breath and stand up, smiling at him sweetly and his eyes light up, waiting for that answer he's desperately been hoping for. 

"Go to hell" I growl and walk down the aisle, storming out of the place, not bothering to look back even as a commotion starts to settle in.             

"Y/n wait!" I hear Jungkook call after me, grabbing my wrist to keep me from getting to far but I rip it out of his grasp and turn around to face him. 

"You know I cried for you. I cried so hard I didn't know if I would ever stop. I cried for you last night and I cried even harder when I found out. I blamed myself for your death. I told myself 'If I just would've made him stay then he would still be here' I woke up thinking about how much I really love you and how I wanted to be with you again and then I get the call and it rips my heart out. I never would've forgiven myself" I shout at him, utterly heartbroken by this. 

"You know, something like this might've worked for your little actor friends but this is probably the worst thing you could've ever done to me. Jungkook I thought you died! You let me believe that you were dead and made me feel guilty about letting you go. Don't you see how fucking sick and twisted this is?" I continue, letting out angry tears as my voice gets louder and louder. 

"Y/n I'm sorry it was never supposed to be like this I jus-" "You just what? Huh? Wanted to see how broken I would've been without you? Wanted me to see how I don't want to live without you? Well you got your wish! Mission accomplished" I scoff, turning to leave and he stays frozen in place, this time letting me go. 

Jimin chases after me, begging to let him give me a ride home which I agree to because honestly I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Leaving behind that fucked up charade he pulled and made everyone play into. 

~~~~

"He never meant to hurt you you know?" Jimin says once he pulls up to my apartment complex. "Well he sure as hell has a funny way of showing it" I scoff, reaching for the handle to open the door. "He just doesn't want to lose you. I know he's been trying but he doesn't know what else to do" Jimin continues, leaving me leaning back into my seat again, knowing that he won't be letting me leave that easily.

"So his solution was to scar me for life?" I say, cocking an eyebrow at him and he turns away, guilt written all over his face. "Was everyone in on it except for me?" I question and he cringes before nodding his head slowly. "Great, just great" I mumble, opening the car door and slamming it behind me. 

"Just hear him out, please" is Jimin's last sentiment but I don't give him an answer as I turn and make my way to my apartment. If he thinks he's getting another chance after he's pulled a stunt like that then he's even more delusional than I thought he was. 

~~~~

Clearing my head is proving to be a lot more difficult especially when Jungkook's been blowing up my phone ever since I left. I don't understand how he could possibly think pulling a prank like that would make me want to take him back. He's just grasping at straws at this point but I guess I'm partially to blame since I really didn't give him a chance to say his piece. 

If I give him a chance now he's gonna think shit like that works on me but maybe I should just scold him and make it clear that that's not gonna get him anywhere with me. I groan and throw my head into my hands, sitting on the couch and stressing about what my next move should be and when I hear his all too familiar knocks on the door I know that I've run out of time. 

"Come in" I call out, full well knowing he still has his key on him and so I'm met with the sound of him unlocking the door before closing and locking it behind him, making his way into the apartment and onto the couch as carefully as he can. Doing whatever he can to keep me from blowing up on him. 

"Why would you do something like that to me" I say quietly after we've sat in silence, close to tear again with all the events of today and last night running through my mind all over again. "I'm so sorry Noona I just, well I didn't know what to do. After last night I was going insane. I was running out of ideas and so I stupidly thought of this plan at like three am and... I guess you know the rest of it" he trails off, full on admitting to his stupidity. 

"Anything decided at three am is probably a bad idea" I scoff, now understanding his mindset. He nods before hanging his head in shame, continuing to realize how idiotic this whole train wreck was. "What I did was stupid and insensitive and traumatizing and I apologize. I had no intention of hurting you" he says, placing his hand on top of my knee in an effort to show sincerity. 

"I know you didn't" I mumble, getting up from the couch and walking out onto my balcony, gazing up at the night sky. I take a few deep breaths to clear my head and calm my nerves before bothering to say anything else. 

As soon as I open my mouth though I'm met with two strong arms wrapping around my waist from behind and a head balanced on top of mine. "I'm so sorry Noona" he whispers, voice cracking, almost as if he was crying which from a few moments later after feeling a tear drop fall on my head I come to realize that he actually is. 

I turn around in his hold wordlessly and grasp onto him, holding him as close as I possibly can while we both cry, needing each other to really be able to heal. "Can we please talk now?" he asks and I nod my head into his chest before letting go and taking his hand while guiding us both over to the couch. 

"I just want you to know that I've thought a lot about what you said about me not being here or spending time with you and I've started to realize that I really have been distant. I haven't been taking time to appreciate you or love you so I just want to apologize for that. After what you said I started to realize that your love languages might be physical touch and quality time and I have fallen short on both sides. Now that I've realized that I'll pay closer attention to making sure your needs are met because I never want you to feel unloved by me. Ever" he says, squeezing the hand that he's still holding before continuing. 

"I know I've been busy on set with these last few episodes being filmed but that's still no excuse for not being here and I know that. I just have such a work minded attitude that I forget about the rest of my life sometimes and I know that a lot of that falls on you. If you give me the chance I really want to change and love you right this time. The way you deserve to be loved because if I could I would devote all of my time and attention to you. Every hour, every minute, every second because I never want to lose you. I don't want to give up on us" he says and I look up from my lap to see where our hands are connected when I feel a teardrop fall on them. 

"What can I do? What can I change to make it right? I'll do anything just please, don't leave me" he says. I look up at him and see a brilliant galaxy in his eyes, glassed over with crystal clear tears and my heart just breaks at the sight of him. 

I didn't realize until now just how hurt he might've been by this breakup too. I never wanted to acknowledge how heartbroken he looked every time I rejected him because I was too focused on me and my feelings. 

"Baby I'm sorry" I let out through choked sobs before pulling him in and resting my forehead against his. "I'm sorry I didn't even think about how this might've been hurting you too and I just, I want us to be together. I won't leave you Jungkook I promise" I sob and he pulls me in closer and smashes his lips against mine, kissing away our sorrow and pain and frustration and everything in between. Mending the shattered pieces of our hearts and making them one. 

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[ruinofchimera]

Hi, I really like your posts, just out of curiosity, what do you think about Sirius Black?

Your curiosity could very well unintentionally land me in a Flynn Rider situation—cornered with a dozen sharp knives pointed at my throat, and for that, I’m more than ready to kiss you on both cheeks, anon. My recklessness be damned; let’s unfold this matter.

Sirius is an entitled arse, no two ways about it. He’s got that privileged, arrogant swagger of someone who’s always had things handed to him, even if he spent half his life rejecting it. He’s all rough edges and volatile intensity, the kind of man who’s survived more by luck and sheer defiance than by any real plan or sense of caution. Characters like him, they’ve got a way of sinking their claws in me, whether I want to or not. Because here’s the thing: Sirius’s short appearances in the books pack more emotional depth than some characters got in entire arcs. In just a few scenes, I saw a man constantly wrestling with his own worst instincts, fiercely loyal but destructively so, and trapped in a past he cannot—will not—let go of.

But let’s get something clear from the outset: I refuse to acknowledge the fever dream version of Sirius that certain corners of the internet have conjured up. You know, the one where he’s some delicate, ethereal twink who twirls his hair and faints at the sight of Lupin. What even is that? That’s not Sirius Black—that’s like trying to shove a feral dog into a tea party dress. It’s laughable, but more than that, it’s a betrayal of who he really is.

His bite, his bike, his relentless defiance—it’s not a costume or an aesthetic; it’s who he is, deep down to his bones. That raw, untamed energy, that edge—it’s woven into the very marrow of his bones. The Sirius Black from the books exuded raw masculinity. He was all bruised knuckles and fiery glares, a man who looked like he could break you in half but might settle for a well-placed punch instead. Unpolished, angry, and unapologetic to his last breath. Stripping all that away to turn him into some hysterical femboy with fluttering lashes doesn’t just miss the point—it actively distorts the very essence of the character.

So, no, I won’t acknowledge this fanon revisionism—or more accurately, fanon distortion. That’s not Sirius Black. And with that out of the way, we can return to the real Sirius Black—the one built from book flesh and bones, the man we actually know.

What intrigues me about Sirius is that he’s constantly at war with himself. The guy stormed out of his aristocratic, silk-sheeted home and straight into the muck and grime of rebellion. And rebellion is a funny thing—it’s loud, it’s violent, but it’s not always about breaking free; sometimes it’s just a different way to cage yourself. He chose to reject his family’s ideals, but the methods, the temperament, the sheer ferocity—that stayed with him. In his desperate attempt to be their opposite, he becomes just as volatile, just as dangerous. He’s trying to kill the part of himself that was shaped by his family, and yet, you can see it, can’t you? That same cruel streak, the same hunger for superiority. Only now it’s turned against anyone who dares remind him of where he comes from. It’s a brutal thing to watch, someone trying so hard to break the chains, only to forge new ones from their own fury.

Then there’s Severus Snape. If there’s anyone who can drag Sirius’s demons out into the open and force them to dance, it’s him. Sirius looks at Snape and sees everything he despises, everything he’s spent his life trying to drown, smother, burn out—the shadows of his family’s poison. Snape is like a living relic of the Black family’s cursed bloodline, a walking monument to what Sirius could have been, should have been, if he’d just bent the knee and stayed in line like a good Black boy. There’s no escaping it. Snape is a mirror that shows Sirius all the worst parts of himself, twisted into something cold, bitter, and unrelenting.

And Severus? Every time Snape looks at Sirius, it’s like staring into a mirror reflecting everything he’s ever wanted but never had. There’s that deep, gnawing resentment—the kind that comes from watching someone like Sirius, a privileged boy born into power and status, toss it all aside like it meant nothing. Sirius had everything Severus spent his entire life yearning for: a sense of belonging, the kind of respect that comes with a name, the freedom to be reckless without consequence. To see someone carelessly discard what he, Severus, would have fought tooth and nail to possess—it’s like being taunted by the very life he’s always dreamed of, but could never reach. Every time their paths cross, it’s not just personal hatred fueling that rivalry—it’s the bitterness of watching someone waste a treasure Snape has been denied his whole life.

They despise each other because, at their core, they’re fighting the same battle. They both want to escape their pasts, their pain, but they’re both trapped by it. Observing their dynamic is like watching two men rage against the same storm from opposite directions, and both of them lose in the end.

For all of Sirius’s darkness, there’s one light that never flickers: his absolute, unwavering loyalty to James Potter. James wasn’t just a friend—he was the family Sirius chose for himself, the anchor Sirius wrapped his entire identity around. Black would’ve followed James into the jaws of hell without a second thought, no questions asked, no hesitation. Sirius’s rebellion wasn’t just against his family’s twisted values; it was a revolt in the name of the bond he shared with James, a bond stronger than blood.

So when he finally clawed his way out of Azkaban, broken and ragged, it wasn’t just freedom he sought—it was the ghost of the only person he’d ever truly cared about. James was dead, but in Sirius’s mind, that bond was still alive, and he clung to it like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. But the world had moved on, and Sirius—stubborn, proud Sirius—hadn’t. He was trapped in the past, unable to let go of the life he had lost. He smothered Harry with his expectations and projected James’s image onto him. In Sirius’s eyes, he wasn’t just mourning James—he was still trying to save him. Still trying to fight a battle that had ended long ago. Shackled to a memory, a ghost, Sirius was living on borrowed time. His desperate need to relive those days with James blinded him to the truth—that Harry wasn’t James, and the past couldn’t be resurrected. And in the end, Sirius’s death wasn’t a tragic loss; it was inevitable. A man like him, still fighting ghosts, still raging against a world that had moved on without him, was always destined to fall. His death wasn’t the end of a life—it was the final note in a song that had been playing since the day he lost James Potter.

As I said, Sirius Black’s depth far exceeds the number of pages he’s given. He’s the kind of character who burns bright and brief, leaving just enough of a mark to haunt you long after he’s gone. His short appearances were cut off far too soon, but twisted enough to make me take notice. And I’m nothing if not an admirer of the twisted. He’s the kind of man who’s always teetering on the edge of something dangerous, dragging his demons behind him like shadows that never quite leave his side. For all his flaws—his recklessness, his impulsiveness, his Peter Pan syndrome—he makes me feel something—whether it’s anger, sympathy, or that strange, grudging admiration you have for someone who keeps charging headlong into the storm, even when it’s bound to destroy him. The kind of character that makes me want to punch him square in the face and then buy him a drink right after. That’s a rare kind of magic, if you ask me.

[balteus]

Elden Ring SOTE and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race

//j (spoilers ahead)

I'm gonna be honest initially my opinions on the story were pretty mixed, and while that still is the case in some respect, the overall story and its implications have grown on me and made me like certain characters (mohg, malenia, radahn) even more, and add a layer of tragedy to what we know about them from the base game. while i am aware the story overall was forced to bend by the gamedev crunch, I think FS did a good job with the time and resources they had available.

caveats of this post: obviously going to be colored by my own opinions and views I've held abt the story since abt march 2022: that being, Marika is a Nashandra parallel through and through, and Miquella is a benevolent but manipulative hypocrite - "Path to hell is paved with good intentions" the character. I'm aware there's plenty of discourse about the interpretations of these characters but just remember: I have never been wrong ever in my entire life <3

Malenia, despite her overall lack of appearance in the DLC, I personally feel the most about given certain... revelations.

Malenia is a character who has always lacked true agency, lived her life in a state of fighting against the inevitable and looking up for anything to alleviate her suffering and help her push through the sheer horror that was her fate. Very much a white-knuckle-gripping the dirt while drowining in her grave kind of character.

And so... SOTE reveals that Miquella was willing to sacrifice her. It reveals that for all his posturing, his leaving the golden order because of her, Miquella was fully willing to throw his own little sister who looked up to him as a lord and savior, to the wolves. He was willing for her to become the thing she hated most, was willing to order her to do it even, if it meant his plan would inch one step closer to fruition. In sending her to fight against Radahn and which consequently led to her bloom and ultimate decay. and it didn't even work. Malenia lived and fought and died never knowing that her ultimate mission was a failure, that in her blinding loyalty, much like her father's, she destroyed herself. The fearsome "Blade of Miquella" herself, and the dream of her healing she had once shared with her brother, was discarded as easily as a butter knife.

Radahn, on the other hand... man. Isn't it funny how upon being told that Miquella awaited him in his death, the man straight up refused to die for centuries? The entire Radahn festival becomes recontextualized once you realize that Radahn would rather let himself become a rotting, shambling, mindless corpse before he allowed himself to become a part of Miquella's plan. I know some people think he was willingly taking part in the vow - but remember, Radahn had to die for the vow to be fulfilled, as we learn - and knowing everything we do about him - would Radahn abandon the Redmanes, Sellia, the entire Caelid, the land he fought the stars over - would he let them be destroyed for Miquella? He gains absolutely nothing from that transaction.

I get discourse-y here but his death is anything but a warrior's one, if you take that to be the promise Miquella made to him in return. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, you could say that you're putting base game Radahn to rest, but with the context of the DLC, you're subjecting him to a fate worse than death.

Mohg. Not much to say abt him I'm just really happy Mohgposting is legal now <3 Free my man he did nothing wrong the blood cult was based and mohgpilled actually.

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 4

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Cassandra isn't speaking to Daisy and her work suffers but a call from her brother should make everything better, right?

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Cassandra wasn’t cooperating today and I knew better than to try and force it. Instead, I tried my hand at writing something overtly and didn’t make it a full page before scrapping the entire project. I’d had a few boyfriends before but none of them had given me the foot-popping, sparks-flying, kind of romance people wrote about. 

In a desperate attempt to get something done, I wrote a few paragraphs more of an abandoned project about a kid detective trying to solve the theft of a neighbor’s lawn gnome. It wasn’t my most inspired piece of work, one of the many reasons Jason had told me to drop it, but it felt good to write something. 

After completely throwing in the towel, I cleaned the apartment and made a double batch of M&M cookies, snacking on the chocolate candies as I went. Once the kitchen was cleaned again, I realized that I had made enough cookies to feed an army without an army to feed. 

Daisy: Movie night at our place with the daggers? 

Daisy: I may have stress baked

After an hour, Natasha responded affirmatively and I decided to run to the store for more snacks. While debating between Dorito flavors, my phone rang, Harvey’s picture flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Harv,” I greeted him, adding both bags of chips to my cart. “How are my girls?” 

“Driving me crazy as usual,” Harvey laughed and I felt a bit lighter inside. There had been a point in our childhoods where I felt resentful that Harvey could be so happy but my therapist and a healthy dose of prescriptions had helped me past that. “How’s life in California?” 

“Hot,” I joked. “The sun’s insufferable but it’s good to be living with Tasha again. She’s got some great friends that I bribed with cookies into accepting me as one of them.” 

“Of course you did, your cookies could broker world peace.” I chuckled, waiting for Harvey to cut to the chase as I continued to throw all the snack foods I could find into the cart including frozen pizzas and chicken wings. “August is coming to an end.” There it was. I sighed but stayed silent, “How are you doing, DeeDee?” 

“I’ve already scheduled the flowers to be sent to their graves and-” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“I’m fine, Harv. I’m keeping busy, trying not to think about it.” Something fell behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin, white-knuckling the cart. It was like a switch flipped, all of my nerves lighting on fire, the acute paranoia I’d worked so hard to rid myself of sprinting to the forefront of my mind. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as Harvey’s voice faded into a soft buzzing. Was someone watching me? No, no one was watching me. I tried to shake off the feeling, moving at a snail’s pace through the aisle. I looked down at my feet and I could have sworn I saw red despite the canvas being black. 

“Daisy?” I heard my name through the fog, “Daisy Louise? DeeDee, you’re okay. You’re okay, everything’s okay, DeeDee.” Harvey. Harvey was calling for me. Where was he? I had to get to him. “I’m okay, DeeDee. I’m safe.” The fog pulled away and I was on the floor of the frozen aisle, my phone beside me. 

“Harvey?” 

“I’m here, I’m alright, DeeDee.” He soothed, “Are you okay?” I grabbed the phone, tucking my head between my knees.

“I’m okay, Harv. I just…”

“I know, it’s okay. It’s normal but you should call Natasha and have her pick you up.” That was completely off of the table. I could handle this by myself, all I needed to do was get to my feet and everything would be okay. “I love you, DeeDee.”

“I love you too, Harvey.” I sat on the floor with my head in my hands for a few seconds after hanging up, evening out my breathing until I didn’t think I was going to pass out anymore. I struggled my way through checkout, my mind drifting and then snapping back to reality with everyone off-kilter sound I heard or thought I heard. But when my hands were shaking too hard to put the keys in the ignition, I put my pride inside and called Tasha. 

“Phoenix’s phone,” Coyote picked up and I nearly ended the call, “Daisy?” 

“Is Tasha there?” Fuck, I sounded like I had been crying. My voice wavered, full of emotion.

“She’s in the air, what’s wrong, Daisy?” Coyote was all business and I appreciated him for it.

“It’s fine, nevermind,” I even failed at convincing myself that things were fine. Coyote sighed then replied in a soft, quiet voice.

“Daisy, Nat told me that sometimes you have anxiety attacks. Is that what happened?” Damn it. Natasha had helped me through more than her fair share of them in college, it only made sense that she would tell someone important to her like Coyote.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I sighed, “I just, I’m at the grocery store and I don’t know if I should be driving home like this.” I heard Jake’s voice in the background and tensed, “Don’t tell Hangman.” Coyote chuckled,

“Yes, ma’am. Alright, there’s two ways this can go. I can ask Mav for permission to come get you or I can call Penny.” Neither option sounded preferable. “Penny’s going to ask a lot of questions because she’s a mom and then she’s going to tell Mav anyways. I will ask no questions because I’ve already got an idea of what’s going on.” 

“As long as Mav’s the only extra person in the loop,” I relented. “And Javy? Thanks.” 

Javy showed up in his flight suit not long after and I was distracted for a second by just how handsome he was. Natasha’s taste in men had gotten a lot better since college.

“Do you want to stop for food on the way back? Sugar will make you feel better after an adrenaline dump like that.” I nodded, thanking him again for showing up. “You’re part of the squad now, Daisy, no thanks necessary.” The sentiment warmed my heart, a soft smile appearing despite the embarrassing situation. 

“Can we get Wendy’s? It’s my favorite.” A spicy chicken nugget and a Dr. Pepper sounded amazing right now. Javy messed my hair like a big brother,

“Whatever you want.” After a few minutes of listening to the radio in silence, Javy glanced over at me. “So, what do you think of Hangman?” 

“What do you think of Tasha?” I shot back, not expecting him to answer but he took me by surprise.

“She’s one hell of a woman and a fantastic pilot.” Javy grinned like a lovesick idiot and I found myself smiling too, “I’m lucky she gives me the time of day if I’m being honest.” He glanced over at me again, still smiling and I rolled my eyes. “Your turn.” 

“Hangman’s a flirtatious ass,” Javy barked with laughter, pulling into the Wendy’s. “But Jake’s nice and he listens to me when I go on my rants about random shit. Like, I swear he probably listened to me talk about Sherlock Holmes for an hour the other night.” 

“Hour and a half,” Javy snickered, “We timed it.” I couldn’t even be mad, laughing with him.

“Not even Tasha would let me go on like that! So yeah, I think Jake’s pretty great.” I brushed my hair into my eyes to hide my blush, “Anyways, I’ll take a spicy number ten with a Dr. Pepper, please.” 

“Do you want a frosty too?” Yep. Natasha’s taste in men had definitely improved.

After cooing over me like a mother hen and calling Harvey to let him know I was okay, Natasha took Harvey to get his car. After taking a shower and finishing the large frosty Javy bought me even when I told him not to, I felt a lot better. Well enough to respond to the texts Jake had been sending me. 

Jake: Everything okay? 

Jake: Coyote told me to mind my business and that you were fine but I want to hear it from you

Jake: Phoenix also told to mind my business

Jake: Honey I need to hear it from you

Jake: If you don’t text me in ten minutes I’m coming over

I rolled my eyes but the butterflies in my stomach took flight, swirling in delight that Jake was concerned for me. 

Daisy: Listen to Javy, pretty boy. I’m fine

Jake: Too late

“If this boy isn’t careful, I’m going to fall in love with him,” I whispered to the empty kitchen, ripping open a packet of M&Ms. 

X

“Hey,” Daisy greeted me with a lazy smile, throwing back a palmful of M&Ms. Something was off about her but I couldn’t put my finger on it just yet. I was going to figure it out though, you could bet on that. 

“Hey, Wildflower. How are you feeling?” She rolled her eyes like she didn’t have a care in the world but her shoulders tensed. Coyote had been tight lipped over why he had left work early but with how both he and Phoenix were acting, I knew it had to be Daisy and that had spun me up into a twister of anxiety that eased a little seeing her.

“I told you I was fine, see?” She gestured down her body. Daisy was in cartoon pajama shorts that showed off her pale thighs and a tank top, her endless curves on display from top to bottom. I swallowed hard, my mind filled with thoughts of running my hands over her hips, spreading her knees, and eating Daisy for dessert on Phoenix’s counter. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“You look fine as hell, sweetheart,” Daisy blushed hard, her chest and cheeks burning red. “But you know it’s not your body I’m asking about.” I crossed the room, needing to put my hands on her even if I shouldn’t.

“Okay, Hangman,” She grumbled, using my callsign like she always did when I said something flirty. My hands landed softly on her hip and her cheek, forcing her to stay close and look at me. Daisy relaxed, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll be fine, Jake,” She whispered and I felt myself melt. This girl had no idea that I was putty in her hands.

“Of course you will be,” I promised, “Because I’m going to be right here by your side.” Daisy smiled, eyes still closed, nuzzling her cheek like a cat into my hand.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick again, Hangman.” God this girl. She didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth if it veered even the slightest bit away from platonic. I had my work cut out for me but when she opened her dark eyes and smiled at me like I hung the stars and the moon, I knew I was up to the task. “Do you want a cookie?” What I wanted was to kiss her forehead but a cookie would work for now. 

The rest of the daggers showed up a little bit later and while Daisy played the role of the perfect hostess, I pulled Coyote off to the side. 

“Should I be worried?” Coyote glanced over my shoulder to where Daisy was and then shrugged.

“I don’t think so, at least, not at the moment anyways.” My heart clenched, needing to know more but he shook his head before I could ask. “Nothing about this situation is my business to share, man. When she’s ready to tell, she’ll tell.” 

“We should watch a horror movie,” Bradley suggested, the loud agreement of the squad interrupting our conversation. Coyote patted me on the shoulder, heading for the kitchen. When she was ready to tell, she would tell me. I had to trust that that would be the case. Right? 

“Hangman, get some food before Bob eats it all!” Rooster shouted for my attention. Bob was blushing with a plate piled high with food, praising Daisy’s homemade mac and cheese so that’s what I scooped up first. I didn’t miss how Phoenix was hovering behind Daisy, watching her like a hawk. I said a little prayer, hoping that Daisy would find the right moment to tell me what was going on sooner rather than later.

With a plate full of snacks, we all scattered around the living room. Daisy came right to me with a blanket, a blush on her cheeks, not looking me in the eyes as she took a seat beside me. She was the one person without a plate of food and turned me down when I offered her some of my chips,

“I’m not hungry,” She whispered, bringing the blanket up to her chin. “Javy got me Wendy’s.” He was Javy to her now? I glanced over at my best friend, who was not so subtly making eyes at Phoenix while she and Rooster argued over what horror movie we were going to watch. Rooster won when he threatened to tell a story that had Phoenix slapping a hand over his mouth.

It ended up being about some demon who was influencing people to murder others but the special effects weren’t all that believable. I much preferred a 90s action flick or, when alone, a Hallmark movie on occasion. With every passing minute, Daisy inched closer to my side, the blanket moving higher up her face. Seizing the opportunity, I dropped my plate on the table and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. 

“Not a fan of horror?” I whisper, she shook her head, eyes locked on the screen as the possessed man picked up a hunting knife. 

“Murder,” She whispered back, her hand tentatively resting on my thigh.

“Aren’t you a crime novelist, sweetheart?” I teased, trying to ignore how good it felt to have her hands on me.

“That’s different,” Daisy insisted, jumping at something on screen but I wasn’t watching the movie anymore, my focus was solely on her. Daisy looked terrified. I shifted sideways and pulled her face into my chest, forcing her attention off of the movie and whatever it was that was scaring her so much. Her hand moved from my thigh to my chest, fingers digging into my shirt. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered into her hair, kissing her head. “It’s just a movie.” Daisy went limp in my hold and I pulled her sideways onto my lap, Bob looked and quickly looked away but it didn’t seem like anyone else noticed. Not that I would care if they did, if this was what Daisy needed, then it’s what I was going to do. I squeezed her thigh gently and began stroking my thumb back and forth, “I’ve got you.” 

“I know,” Daisy whispered into my shoulder. After a moment she added, “If I’m too heavy-” She stopped when I squeezed her thigh,

“You can sit on my lap whenever you want, Wildflower.” 

“My gentleman,” She sighed and I felt a glimmer of hope. She didn’t call me Hangman.

Next Chapter

[discotenny]

Oh no guys I’m obsessed with Ramuda again

Using the idea that ramuda doesn’t need to eat he just does it for enjoyment lolol. Also Ramuda basement Dice FIGHT ME !!!

Food oriented if you need the warning

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

Ramuda, leader of famous rap group Fling Posse.

Ramuda, popular fashion designer in the eclectic city of Shibuya.

Ramuda, notorious flirt who’s charisma never fails to gather a crowd.

Ramuda, currently struggling in your kitchen trying to make you breakfast in bed.

Truthfully, he’s never seen a fridge as full as yours. Despite having an entirely other person living in his studio, Ramuda and Dice tended to order in more than not (and that is when Ramuda decides he wants to eat). His fridge consisted of leftover take out, easy to microwave meals, and expensive pastries he splurged on when he felt like it.

Your fridge actually looked like it could sustain a human. And of course it did, you weren’t like Ramuda. You didn’t have the money to order out on a whim, you actually needed to eat in order to survive, and you actually had a home that felt like a home.

Ramuda couldn’t relate to any of that, at least not yet.

Nowadays, he’s slept over and your place more often than not. He’s found a place into your routine. Where’d you’d try and make something quick in the morning before you went off to work- where you went grocery shopping every Saturday even if you didn’t have an exact list to follow.

It’s Saturday morning and Ramuda wants to be a good partner- so he’s making you breakfast- if only to prove himself as a permanent part of your routine.

But GOODNESS he’s never cooked a second in his life.

Why is the egg splattering on the oiled pan? Is it supposed to? There’s smoke rising but there’s no flame.

Are you supposed to add oil to bacon? Why did the bacon also splash? Why does everything splash?! And WOW oil hurts and Ramuda knows he’s going to have to change.

Where do you keep your juice? He’s seen you drink a glass every morning. Wait… is that a juicer on your counter? Don’t tell him you make juice every morning too.

Your rice cooker is easy, it’s just like Gentaro taught him- from the trick of water to his second knuckle and washing the rice at least three times to ensure it’s clean. It’s probably the only relieving part about the process.

You wake up alone in your bed, stumbling through your apartment to hear the noises in your kitchen. You grab an umbrella from the hallway, holding it in such a way that you’re prepared to attack any possibly intruder.

You’re a little delirious from sleep- so when you see your lovely lovely boyfriend- absolutely freaking out over a pan of burnt bacon- holding a cutting board to his face as he flips a sunny side up egg- all to the tune of your rice cooker’s melody-

You can hardly believe it.

“Ramu-?” You mumble, letting go of the umbrella. He runs into your arms in a fearful cry.

“How do you do this every morning…” He buries his head into your neck. “I can’t… how am I gonna fit into your life?”

“Oh Ramu,” you coo, holding him with a smile as you try and reassure his fears. “Thank you, you know you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t know how to cook an egg…” He’s pouty, and goodness he’s adorable.

“Yeah, I can see,” you muse, “Here, let’s clean up and I can show you how~”

“Okay-“ he’s cut off by a tearful sniff he can’t contain, “-sweetie.”

“And this time, let’s not burn down my apartment.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

RAMUDAAAAAAAAAA

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter twelve

close to home | chapter twelve

plot: the reader goes through the motions of her daily life in the prison after the attack while hunting with Daryl

series masterlist Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,206 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading!

Daryl was frustrated the entire drive home. He white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire way home and immediately sent you to Hershel for a second opinion on your not needing stitching. He dropped off today’s game to the butchering team and then went to smoke a cigarette. His peace didn’t last long before Glenn found him to start prepping for the run today. 

He fisted his hand and took a long drag of the cigarette before putting it out and following Glenn to the run group. Today it would be a few people on a quick run to an army camp, and he was hoping to be back before sundown. He didn’t necessarily want to go on the run, but he didn’t have a choice either. 

Meanwhile, after you and your uncle shared a laugh over Daryl wanting him to check you for stitches, you found Maggie outside with Beth and Judith, eating lunch. You ruffled your youngest cousin's hair before grabbing your plate and sitting with them. It was your first actual meal of the day, and you were starving. 

“What happened to your arm?” Beth asked you. 

You glanced at it before taking a bit of your food. “Daryl and I got jumped while checking the hunting grounds. We’re fine. I got a small cut.”

“You okay?” Maggie asked. 

You nodded with a smile, “Didn’t even need stitches. What’s on the agenda after lunch today?” You asked.  

Maggie raised an eyebrow, and you didn’t need her to answer your question. You already knew. But she did anyway. “The fence.”

***

The new few hours were strenuous, and you and Maggie worked with a few others to work on one of the clusters. You spent a few hours working out there, only stopping for water. 

You thought of Daryl often; you wondered if the run was going well and if everything was okay. He seemed agitated the entire way home earlier, and you worried that it would cost him out there. You tried not to worry about your friend too much. You felt better knowing that Michonne was there to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. 

When the sun started slipping behind the trees, and a decent amount of walkers were killed through the fence, you and Maggie called it quits for the night and went inside to wash up for dinner. Tora joined you in the bathroom quarters while you took advantage of running water and took your second shower of the day. You have to ration your soap, but it was worth it after the day you had. 

Once you were dried and in clean clothes, you and Maggie grabbed dinner and took it to the guard tower that isn’t used for watch to eat. 

“I got my period,” Maggie said once you settled. 

Your eyes widened, and you nodded, sipping a bit of water. “How do you feel about that?” She had told you a few days ago she and Glenn were going through a pregnancy scare. 

She shrugged and played around with her food. “Relieved a bit, I think. I know Glenn will be. But I think I’m a little disappointed, in a way.” When you raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. “I’m not sayin’ I wanna start trying or nothing, but what we have here, the prison… we can have lives here. I know it won’t be a perfect place, and it scares me to death, but aren’t we supposed to be fighting for a better world here?”

“I don’t know, Maggie,” You said, “I don’t know what the right thing is. I think you’re too young, though, I can tell you that. If I ain’t ready, you ain’t.” Your attempt to lighten her mood worked, and she laughed. 

“Trust me, I was thinking about that as well.”

You talked for a bit longer as you ate and then sat for a little while. When the sun fully set and nighttime fell, exhaustion finally hit you, and you two decided to head down and get some rest. Just as you were doing so, the run group returned. You followed Maggie to make sure everything went okay with the group. 

“We lost Zach,” Glenn told the two of you in hushed voices while everyone else unloaded the few things they did manage to grab. “The was a helicopter on the roof with a bunch of walkers…. It all came down…” Glenn trailed off. Maggie’s expression softened, and she told him she’d help him get cleaned up.

“Oh (Y/N), Daryl was there when it happened. He wants to be the one to tell Beth, but I think he’ll need checking on, too,” Glenn told you. 

Maggie told you she would check on Beth while you made sure Daryl was okay. By the time your conversation had finished, the run group was already gone and only a few watch groups were out. 

You let out a loud sigh and walked into your cell block, grabbing a few stored-away food items and some water for Daryl. You were ready for bed, but you wanted to check on your friend. 

The cell block was quiet. Most of your group were tucked away in their cells for the night. When you passed Carl’s cell, Tora was sitting on his lap while he read comic books. He didn’t notice you chuckle, and you walked away before he could. You did love the fact that she’d taken to him. The poor kid had gone through so much, and you knew how much a friend like a cat could help. 

The stairs were the worst part of your journey, and your legs ached when you reached the top. You had moved cell blocks once Rick accepted you as part of the group, and you had made the cell your own space. After having Tyreese help you remove the metal beds, you bribed Michonne into helping you find a full-size mattress. Sure, there was no frame, but you preferred it that way anyway. 

Daryl finally moved from the perch into a cell room and took the one next to yours. Sometimes if the block was quiet enough, you could hear him snoring. That was how you always knew if he was sleeping or not. 

You knocked on the wall next to the curtain that was his door, “Daryl, brought you dinner,” You said.

“Ain’ hungry,”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m coming in,”

Daryl muttered something under his breath, but you ignored whatever comment it was and walked in. He was sitting on his bed, sharpening his knife. Exhaustion was written across his face. 

“I heard about Zach,” You said, sitting at the end of the bed and giving him his food. “How are you holding up?”

He ignored you and continued sharpening his knife. You sighed and moved to stand up. As much as you wanted to make sure he was okay, you didn’t want to pressure him into talking about it. 

You left with a soft goodbye and went to your cell, where Tora was waiting. You smiled, quickly changed into sleeping clothes, and then curled up into bed with her.

[liliansun]

FTWS: FIRST ANNIVERSARY | L. DONGHYUCK

synopsis: You and Haechan have been fighting lately and even though they were small arguments, it all got thrown into the same melting pot. To add onto the stress, your ex boyfriend shows up unannounced and his arrival causes things to stir up even worse than what they were before. (Note: this is a pt 2, check out pt1 here)

pairing: boyfriend!haechan x oc ft. mystery ex bc 🤭

wc: 7.7k

genre: fluff, comedy, slice of life au, angst, all that jazz

warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of blood (just a small part where a wound is open but not anything graphic), lmk if I miss anything!

mentions of: 127, dream and wayv members, mention of aespa members

<3: did I write this all in one day—yea, do I regret it, no baby LMAO. also a special thanks to mako for getting me through these last few hours along w ash and briar for also just being some of the most amazing friends I could ask for. also thank YOU for giving all the love to fre trial wedding style and giving it 1k notes in just a little over a week, I hope this is just as good as the first and I love you all <33

Ever since you and Haechan started dating, it’s been interesting to say the least. He takes you on random dates throughout the city and almost always pays for each, you try to reason with him that you do have your own money to chip in, but he tells you chivalry isn’t dead and pays before you can get another word in. You know it’s sweet and he’s trying to be romantic, but somehow it also leads to small arguments. For example, the argument you’re both in as you pace the living room of your apartment happens to be based off the date you decided to cut short due to his lack of view from your standpoint.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad, I’m your boyfriend and I want to be able to do things for you.” Frustrated, Haechan watches as you walk around your living room, running his hands through his hair.

“That’s because you don’t let me do anything, you don’t let me pay, you don’t let me have much say into where we go or what we do and you treat me like a baby when in fact I’m older than you.” After listening to the reasons off on your hand, you stand with your hands on your hip. He rolls his eyes, moving his entire body in the motion. “By a couple months—why are we even bringing age up, this isn’t about who is what, this is about—I don’t even know what this is about anymore.” You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples to relax the migraine that was pounding against your skull.

Haechan moves across the room, grabbing both of your hands and bringing them to his lips. The soft kisses he places along your knuckles brings you back in as you meet his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for making you upset.” You can tell how genuine his words are by the look he’s giving you. “I won’t plan everything without your input anymore, I promise.” He continues kissing your hand, moving his kisses down to your wrist. The feeling of his soft lips on your skin let's open the cage to the butterflies that flutter inside your chest. “I forgive you hyuck.” He smiles against your skin, moving his lips from your wrist to your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grazing your fingers through the ends of his hair. As he pulls back from the short and sweet kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, taking in the moment while it lasts. “Are you staying over tonight?” You frown, shaking your head which is returned with a mirrored frown. “I got a meeting in the morning with Jungwoo and you know that he’ll chew my ass if I’m late by a second.”

“Why can’t you stay over then, I’ll get up and make you breakfast and even lay your clothes out for you.” Haechan moves his head into the crook of your neck, checking every box of his tactics to convince you to stay. You relish in the feeling of his worth, letting out what felt like the millionth sigh of the night. “That sounds like fun hyuckie, but last time you tried to make breakfast, you nearly burnt down your apartment.” He laughs against your shoulder, making you laugh in return by the tickling feeling of him giggling against your skin. “So does that mean I can stay over instead?” You pull back, eyeing Haechan as he gives you the same goofy smile he always has on. “Go home before I take my key back.”

Haechan continues laughing, pulling his keys from his front pocket. As he holds them up, you see the purple key with home written across the metal. “As if I’d ever let you take this back, this is my key to your heart baby and unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me.” Rolling your eyes, you turn him around and start to push him towards the door. “Yeah yeah, better be glad I still like your crazy ass.” Haechan opens your front door, turning around to face you as you wait for him to initiate the goodnight kiss. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s almost become a tradition for you two to kiss before the other returns back to their apartment. Even though you’re right across from each other, to you it seals in everything that the day has brought and leads to a better night.

Haechan leans down, kissing you so gently that you can barely feel that he’s there and those are your favorite type of kisses with him. All of them are probably your favorite, but this one in particular tops the cake. As he pulls away, you almost don’t wanna see him go, but you need all the rest you can get before work in the morning. “Goodnight y/n.” Haechan’s voice sounds so bittersweet, walking backward to his door as you give him a small wave. “Goodnight hyuck.” He smiles at the nickname, turning to open his door and disappearing behind it once it’s shut.

Closing your door, you make your way down the hall and climb into bed to settle for the night. Just as you start to get comfortable, you hear your phone go off with notifications. Deciding not to ruin your comfort, you neglect your unread notifications and opt for sleep. By the morning, you still don’t have the energy to check your phone and instead skip breakfast and head straight to the office to get the day over with. The moment you step into the building, you’re greeted with Jaehyun who was standing by the front desk chatting it up with Winter. You notice two coffees in his hand and to much surprise, one of them is your usual order.

When Jaehyun notices you, he makes his way over and hands you your cup. “You’re in a surprisingly good mood today.” You scowl at him as you take a sip of your drink. “Says the one who took the time to order me a drink, I’m not gonna pass out am I?” He gives you an uneasy smile before stepping into the elevator with you. The weird sense of deja vu comes over you, sending a chill down your spine. “You haven’t checked your phone by chance, have you?” Looking up from practically spacing out, you give Jaehyun a weird look. “No, why, did I miss something?” He looks at you almost surprised, shrugging as he gets off a few floors before your stop.

“Good luck y/n.” Just as you’re about to ask him what his mood was about, he practically rushes away from the elevator, leaving you confused. When you get off on your floor, you see Taeyong and Doyoung standing nearby. You wave at them when they look your way, getting a smile in return. Something in your stomach tells you that things are going wrong when they immediately turn their backs to you and start moving in the opposite direction. You try to push the feeling down, continuing down to your office. When Karina sees you, she pulls you aside almost immediately. “Girl what the hell have you been doing?” You look at Karina with the same confusion you’ve been giving everyone, wondering what the hell you missed in the last twelve hours.

You crouch down to her level, rubbing your arm where she had pulled you aside. “What am I doing, what the hell is going on, everyone is acting like I got the plague or something.” She scans your expression with her eyes, realizing that you haven’t figured out what you’re about to. She sighs, slumping forward before looking up at you. “Okay, I guess you didn’t get my texts last night which by the way were important so don’t freak out or anything, but Xiaojun is back.” At the mention of his name, you can practically feel the color from your face leave you. The mention of ex makes you feel sick and you have to hold onto Karina to keep you from falling on your ass.

A little backstory into Xiaojun and your relationship explains your reaction and why you visibly look ill. Before the two of you became a couple, Xiaojun was an exchange student who went to your high school in hopes to get into the journaling club and that’s where you two met. He was tall, had a pretty smile and even prettier voice. Naturally, you two got close and even started to hang out after school and outside of club hours. It sounds like a typical high school romance and from the surface, it was. Until it was time for him to go back home and you were both left heartbroken and frustrated on how to resolve the underlying feelings between the two of you.

Somehow, the world kept working in your favor and Xiaojun ended up moving back once he graduated from his school back in China. The two of you went to the same university and even both got into similar classes to spend the most time together. All things were going great up until your senior year when you both applied to the job you work now. Tension started to build as you both wanted to get a spot as an intern in hopes to kickstart your career as a journalist. You knew how bad Xiaojun wanted it, but you didn’t know if you were willing to give up your dreams for your boyfriend. Yes, you did plan and hope to marry him one day and even in the toughest times, you’d still find yourself wanting to grow old with him, but when you got the spot and he didn’t, everything started to fall apart.

Both you and Xiaojun would get into fights after you got back from working all day and unknown to you, he applied as well for an actual job to the company. When he ended up getting the job, you didn’t know how to feel, I mean yes you were happy, but he also went behind your back and didn’t tell you about it until he was accepted. After all was said and done, you stuck through it and eventually was offered a job as well and to you, this was a great idea. You’d be working with your boyfriend who you loved dearly and you’d both be doing the thing you love. All was found great for about three weeks until he was offered a job at the sister company over in China.

When he brought up the offer to you, of course you were heartbroken, but you weren’t going to let him leave his dream behind to stay here with you and this somehow added more fuel to the fire. He started accusing you of wanting to take his position and even went as far to say you fell out of love with him which was far from the truth. In the end, he took the position and left overnight after a heated argument that caused you both to split. It took you years to move on from the first love of your life and when you did, you met Haechan who has been the absolute best boyfriend you could ever ask for. Sometime in the beginning, you did find yourself comparing him to your ex, but Haechan could never compare to Xiaojun because he treated you so much better.

Karina’s hand on your shoulder brought you back in, the concerned look in her eyes making you feel even worse. Everyone knew the messy breakup that happened between you and Xiaojun and everyone was sympathetic for you when you started putting all your focus into working. “Uhm, how-I mean when like what—why is this even happening?” Your voice was shaky, taking deep breaths in to calm yourself. Maybe it was the nerves that shook at the mention of his name, causing a chain reaction of old memories and emotions to resurface or maybe it was the sheer pain in your chest that drops down to your stomach when thinking of seeing him in front of you again.

“He’s supposed to come in today, but I heard from Doyoung that he’ll be in by the end of the week, I just thought I’d tell you in advance to prep you.” Immediately, you pull her into a hug to which she returns and the two of you hold one another on the floor in the back space of the office. “Keep strong, remember you have Haechan and all will be well, he doesn’t have a hold over you anymore.” Her words soothe you and she feels you relax in her embrace. You close your eyes, mentally thanking every star in the night sky for bringing you an amazing friend like Karina.

“C’mon, let’s go to my office so I can tell you about Yangyang and the shit he did last night.” Both of you get up from the floor, sitting in her office while she works on some reports and spills every little detail from her date with your boyfriend’s best friend. You thought it’d be weird going on double dates with Yangyang and Karina, but seeing as they’re not actually dating (yet), it all just feels like one big hangout amongst friends. You confide in her about your small arguments with Haechan and she now isn’t too happy with the boy of mention. “Seems to me like he’s ready to take the next big step.” You give her a look, flipping through her paper files as she types away on the computer. “And that is?”

“Moving in together, duh.” You snicker, trying to find any hint of her comment being a joke. When looking up to find her staring at you, you realize she’s joking. “Oh, you’re serious?” She shakes her head, pulling the files from you and setting them on her desk. “So you mean to tell me you haven’t thought about moving in with him at all, not even once?” Shrugging, your face scrunches up at her disappointing sigh. “L/n Y/n, you seriously haven’t thought about moving in with your boyfriend of nearly a year?”

“Not necessarily, I mean I’ve thought about it a couple times, but the thought of it always gave me stomach pains.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t just his cooking?” Jaehyun’s voice was recognizable from literally anywhere, making you whip your head around to throw up a finger at him. He smiles, slapping your hand away as you turn back to Karina. “Girl, this man is putting all the signs in front of you and you can’t even see them, see this is why you’re fighting.” She folds her arms over her chest, leaning back into her chair. “We’re not fighting, we’re simply arguing over the littlest shit which actually makes no sense in the end and we end up making up.”

“I hate to break this little counseling session, but you’re about to be late for your meeting.” You gasp, looking down at your watch to see you have barely three minutes to make it across the building. Pushing Jaehyun aside, you sprint as fast as you can through the building and bust through the doors just in time. Out of breath with your hair sticking to the light sweat that broke out on your forehead, you’re leaned over trying to catch your breath as you prop your hands on your knees. “Glad you can make it miss y/n.” The sound of Jungwoo’s voice makes you swallow thick, wiping your forehead with your sleeve as you move to grab a seat.

You can practically feel everyone’s eyes on you as you sit down, embarrassed at your unprofessional entrance. You look around the room, noticing the seat next to Jungwoo was empty. You’re about to ask Doyoung, who was sitting beside you who it belonged to before the door opened and caught everyone’s attention. “Sorry for being late everyone, I was caught up in traffic.” The familiar voice sends an uneasy chill down your spine, making your throat go dry and refusing to look in his direction. “No problem Xiaojun, please take a seat and let the meeting begin.” Jungwoo welcomed him, motioning him to the empty spot that was right across from yours.

You could feel his eyes on you, making you feel sick on the stomach. Instead of looking his way, you focused on the projector screen and tried to remain visibly calm and unaffected by his presence, but it was starting to get hard to maintain.

For the rest of the day, you stayed pretty silent and dodged every question that was being asked. You could tell people were worried and tried to be there for you, but the overwhelming shock of seeing him after nearly three years was still so fresh on your unhealed wound. Even Karina tried to keep people away from you just to let you have some space and give you time to collect your thoughts, knowing later on you’d fill her in, which you did. You called her after you left work, telling how uncomfortable it was with him staring you down and how tense the meeting was and how Doyoung pulled you aside and apologized for his unexpected announcement. Doyoung mentioned specifically he’d chew Jungwoo out for not giving him right information about his whereabouts for your sake.

“I can’t believe that happened, that’s something from like a movie.” You sigh, sticking your key into your door and pushing it open, nearly dropping your phone as you scream. Haechan, who you assumed wanted to surprise you, was standing in your living room with a plate that was covered with a metal lid. Taken aback by your reaction, he too screams and unexpectedly drops the plate which ultimately lands on his foot, furthering his scream. You throw your phone aside after telling Karina you’d call her back, scrambling down to a very much in pain Haechan. “Are you okay hyuckie, how bad does it hurt?”

Haechan moved his hands away from his bruised looking foot. You noticed the cut that was bleeding, frowning as you graze your fingers near his wound. “I’m sorry baby, I ruined your dinner.” When you looked up to meet his eyes, you immediately wanted to cry. He looked so soft and sad, like a puppy that was kicked and it broke your heart to see him apologizing over something so small. Okay, maybe it was just the weight of stress from the day that tipped the tears in your eyes to start spilling mixed in with your overly sweet boyfriend in pain apologizing for something that felt like your fault.

After you cleaned his wound up and had him propped up on the couch with a pillow under his foot, you cleaned up the mess it made and took a well-needed shower after. When you got back, you saw Haechan asleep on your couch, looking too peaceful to wake up. Grabbing the blanket from your closet, you gently drape it over him. He stirs a little, blinking up at you with a smile. “Baby, why didn’t you wake me up?” You shake your head, crouching down to hold his hand as you place a soft kiss onto his cheek. “You looked too peaceful to be woken up, plus you need to rest your foot.” He sits up a little, pushing the blanket off as he tries to get off the couch. “I can still walk, I’m not on crushes.”

You shake your head, helping him up and instead of guiding him to the door, you guide him to your room. “Why aren’t we going to my apartment?” He questions, letting you help him into bed. He knows far too well he can walk on his own, he just finds it too cute that you wanna help him around. “You’re staying with me tonight, duh.” After climbing into bed, you snuggle up to him and rest your head on his chest. His arm that you’re laying against is playing with your hair as you relax under his touch. “Wanna talk about it, your day I mean.” If you had a list of all the things you loved about him, near the top would be his attentiveness and how he seems to always know when something is troubling you.

��Maybe in the morning.” He nods, satisfied and way too tired to pry it out of you. Instead, he kisses the crown of your head and closes his eyes. His thoughts are turning and the sleepiness lets his tongue become a little unfiltered before thinking of his own words. “You know, maybe we can do this more if we lived together.” You could hear your heart beating out of your chest, only hoping that he didn’t hear it as well. You decide not to say anything, opting to go to sleep instead.

When morning comes, Haechan was still asleep and damn did he look so cute. You slowly and as quietly as you can get out of bed, get ready for work and leave your apartment with Haechan in it. You did write him a note and left it on the counter for when he wakes up before rushing out the door and praying your day would be better than yesterday. You genuinely had hopes it would, that is until you actually got to work and ran into the one person you were hoping to avoid. Xiaojun was walking just as you were, waving to you as you with return a nod. Trying to rush to the elevator, you’re starting to think the universe genuinely did enjoy shitting on you as Xiaojun made it just in time in the same elevator with you.

“What floor?” Practically spacing out, you didn’t realize he was talking to you until he got closer to you and started waving his hand in front of you. “I’m sorry, what?” For some ungodly reason, he smiles at you and repeats his question. Your tongue goes dry as you tell him and he clicks on it. You want to crawl into a hole and let the earth swallow you up when you see he only clicked on your floor, meaning he too had to get off on that floor. The rest of the ride up was tense and uncomfortably quiet.

Once the doors open, Xiaojun goes to say something and you can almost guess what he’s about to say before you run, literally run, out the elevator and run into your tiny office space and hide. As embarrassing as you probably look, you’re thankful you kept the conversation short and didn’t have to endure any more short talk with him. You pull your phone from your pocket as it starts buzzing, settling in your chair and logging into your computer. You immediately smile at the caller id, swiping right to answer and bring the phone to your ear. “Hi hyuckie.” You can practically hear his smile through the phone as he shifts around in the background. “Hi baby, i like the note you left me.” Smiling a little wider, you start to click open some unanswered emails.

“I’m glad you like it baby, I meant it too, especially the part about taking one of your toes if so much as lift a hand today.” He laughs, taking a bite of what you assume is the food you asked Yangyang to bring him for you. “Yeah yeah, don’t touch my money makers.” You snicker, holding the phone up with your shoulder as you start to reply to emails and sort through the ones that aren’t as urgent. “Anyway, have you thought of what I said last night?”

“Hm, last night?”

“Yeah, about moving in together and stuff.” The timing of his words and the email you just opened triggered a chain reaction to you feeling awfully sick. The email you received from Doyoung was his email that he got from Jungwoo, telling you that you’d have to work on a piece for an up and coming company with—you guessed it—your ex. “Baby? What’s wrong, you went super quiet.” You almost forgot you’re talking to Haechan, clearing your throat as you type a very infuriating reply to the email. “Uhm, sorry I just got distracted, can we maybe talk about this another time, I’m so sorry baby, but I just—I gotta take care of something real quick.”

You miss the defeated tone in Haechan’s voice when he bids you goodbye before hanging up the phone. As if on cue, Doyoung comes flying into your office, giving you the same sympathetic look he gave you just the day before. “Don’t do anything irrational before you send that email.” You push yourself back from your desk, swiveling your chair around to stare up at him furiously. “Are you kidding me, out of all the people in this building I just so happen to be paired up with him?”

“I know and I tried to fight Jungwoo on it, but he said what we were all thinking.” Doyoung threw his hands up in defense, trying to keep you from tearing him apart. “And that is?” You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for something logical, anything that’ll make you believe there’s nothing to quit you from going to Jungwoo yourself. “You’re the best we have and he’s also very talented, think about it y/n, if you both work on this together—not even together, just you working on the draft and him finalizing it, it’ll give you so much light.” You hated it, you hated how right he was and how sick it made you feel. You hated that you now were forced to have contact with him and you absolutely hated how Haechan would react.

Just as you’re about to tell Doyoung you didn’t care and that there was no way in hell you’d work with Xiaojun, the man himself peaks into your office as Doyoung is leaving. “Hey y/n, can we talk?” You look to Doyoung for help, but instead he waves you goodbye and disappears amongst the crowd of your coworkers. “Uh, sure?” He leans against your desk, picking at his nails as you can only assume he’s trying to find his words. “I assume you got the email and I just wanna say I’m excited to work with you again.” You feel way too many emotions at once and it’s all overwhelming. Thankfully, he doesn’t look at you directly and can’t tell how close you are to crying.

“In celebration of being back, we’re all going out tonight and I wanted to know if you’re coming or not.” You want to say no, you want to scream it from the top of the building and tell him to eat shit for coming back into your life as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t break you, but you pull it together and shrug. “I guess, if Karina goes of course, don’t wanna be with you alone somewhere.” The last part comes out completely by accident and it throws Xiaojun off. He smiles, taking his leave, leaving you to try and filter your thoughts.

The rest of the day goes by relatively normal and you made sure to text Haechan that you were found out with work friends for dinner. To much surprise, he didn’t ask why and told you to have fun. You told him you’d be back not too late and somehow that was the opposite of how the night ended. When you all left work, everyone immediately wanted to get dinner and have a good time. You on the other hand kept close to Karina even though she invited Yangyang. Karina made the promise to stay by you regardless of her state, but two shots into the night and she was off somewhere dancing on tables with her (soon to be)boyfriend cheering her on.

Awkward tension was surrounding you and Xiaojun as people kept congratulating you both on getting such a big story to cover and to be honest, it didn’t feel like a real celebration. By the end of the night, Karina had lost your keys somewhere between the bathroom and the bar she was clinging to. Xiaojun of course had to be the first to offer you a ride home with the drunk (not yet)couple in his backseat and although you wanted to call Haechan, you felt bad if you got him out the comfort of his bed at this ungodly hour. The drive on the other hand was a breeze since Karina and Yangyang kept spewing nonsense and directly talking shit about Xiaojun.

When you pulled up to your apartment, Xiaojun got out of the car as you did, watching you walk towards your building. Turning around due to the feeling of being watched, you saw him leaning against his door. “Why are you watching me, it’s uncomfortable.” He smiled, shaking his head as reopened his door. “Just making sure you get inside safely.” You chose the safest option and turned back around without a word and went up to your apartment. The only thing you wanted right now was to crawl into your bed after an amazingly hot shower and sleep your worries away, instead you were met with a very upset looking Haechan standing at your front door.

“Hi baby.” You mumble, pushing your door open and walking past him. “Who was that?” His question threw you off, turning to him to see him standing in your doorway with furrowed brows. “Who are you talking about?”

“Pretty boy making heart eyes at my girlfriend, the one whose car you got out of?” You could see the hurt written across his face, making you frown. “Baby, he was no one, don’t worry about him.” He scoffs, dropping his crossed arms to run his fingers through his hair. “He’s not one of your coworkers I’ve seen before, so please y/n, just tell me who the hell was that guy.” You’ve never seen him so upset before, his eyes were glossy and yet there was a lingering anger that you could see in his eyes. “He’s my ex boyfriend—I know it looks bad I know, but I can explain perfectly.”

He looks down at his feet, silently waiting for you to give your explanation. “He used to work at the came company, but he ended up moving back home to work at the sister company and we broke up—I promise you hyuck there’s nothing going on between us, he just dropped me off because Karina lost my keys and they all wanted to celebrate him coming back and I didn’t have a ride ho-“

“Why didn’t you call me?” It was all too much, your senses overwhelmed. Both of you were a mess, crying as you each tried to keep it together. “It’s late and you’re hurt and I didn-“

He scoffed, taking a step back and out your front door. “So you take a ride with your ex instead of calling your boyfriend..is he the reason you don’t wanna move in with me?” Shaking your head, you try to reach out for him in hopes he’d let you in, instead he shuts you out and takes another step back. “Please hyuck, I do wanna move in with you, I just can’t.” Everything was happening too fast, Haechan silently went back to his apartment leaving you falling to your knees in tears with your door wide open.

That night, you felt empty inside. It seemed dramatic, but you truly never had such a bad fight with Haechan before. Sure, you two would have small petty fights, but this one ripped your heart right out your chest and all you could think of was how he might leave you. The next morning, you laid in your bed, crying on the pillow Haechan used each time he stayed over. You had already told Doyoung you’d be working from home for the rest of the week, making up an excuse that you were sick and didn’t feel like coming into work and risking everyone else getting it as well. Of course Doyoung wished you a good recovery and told you he’d email you everything you needed.

As the day passed, you laid dormant in your bed while watching the sun rise and fall from its shine through your window. A knock on your front door caught your attention, immediately rushing up from your bed and running through your apartment to answer it. When you opened the door, you were hoping to be met with Haechan, instead you saw Karina holding a duffel bag. “Don’t just stand there, lemme in, it’s cold.” You stepped aside, sniffling as she entered your apartment. You could hear shuffling coming from down the hall, watching Yangyang come up and to Haechan’s door along with Renjun and Mark. They all gave you a sympathetic smile when seeing you nearly break down, knocking on Haechan’s door.

You stood there, waiting for it to open just to get a glimpse. You needed to see him, almost desperate to see him and you wanted nothing more to have him back in your arms. Mark picked his phone from his pocket, answering it and nodding before hanging up his call. “He said it’s unlocked.” Both boys nodded at the other before giving you one last look before they all disappeared into Haechan’s apartment. Karina gently guided you from your door, holding you when you turned into her arms and let it all go.

Not exactly how long you stood by your door crying into her shirt, but being the amazing friend she is, she held you as you let it all out. The stress from work, the stress and pain from being forced to be around Xiaojun and the stress and pain of worrying of losing Haechan was all too much and you finally let it all out. Once you had calmed down, both you and Karina settled in your bed and watched your favorite moves for the rest of the night till you got hungry. “Go shower and I’ll order food.” You could only nod, imagining how bad you smelt from wallowing in your bed all day.

As you got in the shower, Karina ordered your favorite take out and waited till it was delivered. She went to get it from the delivery man when she spotted Haechan coming up to his apartment. Not knowing if she should say hello or not, she paid for the food and stood awkwardly in your doorway. From the looks of it, he looked just as bad as you did. Hair unkept to, clothes inside out and mismatching and he overall looked heartbroken. She started to think he didn’t notice her, until he finally made eye contact. “How..is she?” She too felt her eyes start to sting thinking about you and how softly you tried to cry in the shower when she passed by.

“She’s not herself, but I got her.” He simply nodded, standing in front of his door for a minute. “Karina, did the food come?” Your voice caught both of their attentions, making Karina turn around and shut the door before she caught sight of him. When the door shut, Haechan silently cried as he entered his apartment, being brought into a group hug with the three boys.

A few weeks had passed since your fight with Haechan and both of you were avoiding each other, despite how much you wanted to talk to one another. When he was coming in from work, you’d be opening the door for Karina or leaving to go meet up with Xiaojun for work. I know, meeting with your ex when you and your boyfriend aren’t talking isn’t ideal, but Jungwoo got down your throat about your project and wanted a final draft soon. Karina kept telling you to man up and text him first, be the bigger person and to ‘get it over with’ so she doesn’t have to see you mope around.

In your defense—you tried to text him and every time you did you could see the three little bubbles indicating he was too trying to text you. You always chickened out, waiting for him to finish his text, only to be saddened when the bubbles disappear and your heart breaks all over again. As you’re sitting on your couch binging It’s Okay To Not Be Okay for the fifth time this week, you hear a knock on your door and don’t think much of it. When you get off the couch and finally open the door, to much surprise you don’t see who you expect. Usually when you hear a knock, it’s typically Karina and if she can’t come, she’ll send Yangyang in her place. You were even hoping it’d be Haechan, instead you were met with a very smiley Xiaojun.

You notice the flowers—your favorite flowers in his hand and a bag of what smells like your favorite food. The old you probably would’ve swooned at him standing in front of you, but the person you are now is completely taken aback by his unannounced arrival, more importantly how did he remember where you lived. “What do you want?” Now he looks taken aback, not expecting your reaction. “I uh, can I come in, it’s kinda cold out here.” You relax, leaning against your door frame with arms crossed over your chest. “No, now answer my question.” He takes in a deep breath, swallowing thickly while trying to avoid your gaze.

“Well, it’s our anniver—“

“Was our anniversary, past tense.”

“Yeah, was, um, but I thought you’d like to come out with me, but judging by your absence at work I decided to come to you instead.” Your deadpan expression should give away how you feel, but you almost forget who you’re dealing with. He was the same way when you two dated, completely oblivious to your feelings despite your body language giving it away. “Xiaojun, I’m sorry if you got some mixed signals by me being in your general presence, but I have a boyfriend actually and I’m not really into the douchebag type anymore, sorry.”

He scoffs, dropping his hand that was holding the flowers. “You could’ve just said no, you don’t have to make up having a boyfriend.” You’re not exactly sure how the universe managed to pull this off, but just as Xiaojun was finishing his sentence, Haechan was walking up to his door with Yangyang and Mark. “Actually, that’s my boyfriend right there, wave hi.” You point to Haechan who was confused seeing you and your ex staring at him. “Who, the one with blonde hair?” You visibly gag, shaking your head while Mark snickers at the very offended Yangyang. “Ew, no, the brunette, that’s the boyfriend, so sorry, bye bye now.” You give Xiaojun a little shove away from your door, pushing him a little further before going back into your apartment.

You almost miss the look Haechan is giving you, making your stomach turn upside down with butterflies that cry out for him. Something inside tells you to stay, to hope he comes over and scoops you up and kisses you to make up for each kiss he missed out, but you choose to hold it together and shut your door before you completely break down all over again.

Another long week passed with no word from Haechan and you’re starting to think he’s never going to talk to you again. By the end of the week, you’re fed up with it all. You’re over the silence from his end and the avoided eye contact in the hall when passing one another, you’re especially over spending your first year anniversary alone in bed in the morning. Thankfully it was a weekend and you didn’t have to go into work with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, opting to finally confront Haechan and sort through the shit show your relationship has come to.

Sometime between crying to old Taylor Swift songs and brushing your teeth, you go over what you want to say to him in case he breaks up with you and the thought leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that the brush cannot get rid of. You finish getting ready for the day, taking your time to eat breakfast in hopes that it all goes well. Karina had called earlier, trying to give you a pep-talk and hype you up, but she only added fuel to your nervousness. Deciding to stop stalling anymore, you leave your apartment and stand frozen in front of Haechan’s door. The butterflies in your stomach are beating against you, rushing around to be set free.

With a deep breath, you knock on his door and await in the background noise of the city. After some shuffling, you see Haechan swing the door open and you feel your knees giving in just by the sight of him. His hair has been trimmed, combed nicely and parted even with what you assume is styling gel. He was wearing some of his nicer clothes in his closet, no suit and tie, but more of his favorite jeans and a shirt that complements both his shirt and skin tone. He has his shoes on, as if he was about leave and part of you is terrified to know where he was going. “Go back home, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Now you’re a little taken aback by him, furrowing your brows as he immediately realizes how harsh that sounds. “No, no not like that—I mean I had things planned and I was supposed to come to you and it was supposed to be roman—“ As expected, you completely melt as he tries to explain and instead of staring at him like he’s an idiot—(he is but he’s your idiot)—you pull on his collar and take him into a very awaited kiss. Haechan is just as surprised as you are, hesitating a little before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his apartment to hold you closer.

The two of you share an intimate and very much missed kiss, holding one another until you’re both out of breath and pull back. “I missed you hyuck.” You couldn’t see the goofy boyish smile he had, his heart doing flips in his chest at the use of the nickname. “I missed you even more baby, I promise I’ll never go that long without you again, I mean it baby.” Letting out the breath of relief, you took this moment to re-familiarize yourself with Haechan. His touch was still the same, gentle yet firm when he held you. His lips were still as soft as ever, a little dry—but a few swipes of chapstick never hurt anyone.

“I think we should talk about this all, I really do—but I have a surprise first.” You look up at him, smiling as he grabs both of your hands and leads you out of his apartment. “Where are we going?” He shakes his head at you, wiggling his finger after making sure his door was locked. “It’s a surprise woman, don’t ask me questions I can’t answer.” You roll your eyes at him, sticking your tongue out to which he blows a kiss. Following him down to his car, you both get in and head out for whatever his surprise was. You start to look around, heading just a little further down in the city to an area that was somewhat familiar.

“Alright, we’re here.” Once he parked the car, both you and Haechan got out of the car and he took your hand into his. Giving his hand a squeeze, he returned the squeeze with a smile. “You look beautiful by the way, especially when you’re telling your ex off.” You snicker, rolling your eyes at him while following alongside. The two of you walk up to a cafe door, Haechan covering your eyes with one hand as he pulls the door open. “Okay, now take a couple steps forward—but be careful not to fall, I cannot afford to spend our first anniversary at the hospital.”

“And if I do, don’t judge me.” He only smiles, coming in behind you as he still holds his hands over your eyes. You can feel how close he’s gotten, his breath fanning your neck as he drops his hand and you finally take in everything. There were rose petals scattered all over the floor of the cafe that the two of you first met, all leading to the table you were seated that day and circling around it. On the table was your favorite dinner from a chain restaurant that you two ordered on your first official date and along the wall are polaroids you took at the reception of Johnny’s wedding.

Tears began to swell in your eyes, turning around to pull him close and peck small kisses all over his face. He holds your waist, taking in the affection he missed so much. “I know we have a lot to talk about and a lot of explaining to do for the distance between us these last few week, but right now I just want you to know I love you, I’m head over heels in love with you and I wouldn’t have asked for anyone else to want to spend my life with.”

“We’ll talk about that later, for now, I just wanna be with you.” Haechan didn’t have any problem with that, leading you over to the table where you two sat and ate and talked for hours. He told you about how the boys tried to cheer him up and even helped him rent the cafe out for the day—which was very expensive, he mentioned. You told him the full backstory about Xiaojun and Haechan fully understood why you didn’t want him around. Regardless of him being your ex, the two of you were just no good and created a bad environment for you to be in. For the rest of the night, you both danced around the cafe to music Haechan could sing on the spot and had the best night to end your perfectly imperfect first anniversary.

©︎𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐍., 2022

[thursdayinspace]

Y'know what? I was sitting in a funk, thinking thoughts, and I thought: y'know what'll get me outta this? Listening to a mutual talk about their passions, passionately.

So, tell me: top 3 Revival moments that aren't MSRy. I wanna know layers. I wanna know intrigue. I wanna be GRIPPED by your love for that series. >:DDDDDD

thank you for this dream assignment. okay. *cracks knuckles* let's begin. i don't know if these are my *top* 3, but they're the ones that come to mind immediately.

1.

I'll start with one that you may argue is still msr, but this very specific bit is not, so hear me out. I'm talking about Scully in "Plus One" coming to Mulder's room asking him to hold her. This is all about Scully and the lessons she has had to learn the hard way about using her words, and about taking that big risk of showing vulnerability. For me, we can go all the way back here to season 2, "Irresistible," where she is shaken up to the point of going for a counseling session where she talks about herself in the second person, and then admits she doesn't want Mulder to know how much the case is getting to her. That's not about Mulder specifically. That's about Scully wanting to prove herself to her brothers as a kid. That's about being a woman in a male-dominated field - both in science and the FBI. She knows her weakness can be used against her. So putting up a facade has become second nature to her. It is also important to note that she *does not* open up to Mulder at the end of "Irresistible." She has reached a breaking point. She still doesn't talk.

In "Plus One," she asks for help. Once again she is shaken up by a case to the point where she has trouble handling it. But she is able this time to admit it. And I'm sure that is a hard-earned skill. Yes, she can open up here and ask for help because it's Mulder. But that she's admitting *at all* that she is struggling, and not even that but *asking for support*? That's big. And that has something to do with their relationship, but also not. That's Scully having learned that being scared is okay. That's Scully being more settled in her own skin, more confident, knowing her own strength and therefore being able to drop her defenses occasionally.

2.

In "Ghouli," the scene where William is on that autopsy table and Scully, thinking he's dead, explains to him all about his adoption and how affected she was by it. It's an important moment because I always felt like they completely dropped the ball on that in season 9. She gave up her kid, after it had been her biggest wish to be a mom for so long, and then the next time we hear about it is when she talks about it with Mulder in his jail cell for one minute. In between, she seems completely unaffected by it. It comes up again in IWTB, which I really liked, but I always felt like they owed Scully a real *moment*. A real moment to live in that pain and acknowledge how that changed her life and how really fucking difficult it was. As heartbreaking as that moment is and as much as I tend to simply ignore the William storyline, I think it was important.

3.

This is not a moment per se, but you know I have to mention the sushi episode. "Rm9sbG93ZXJz." There, I even looked up the proper title. It's a lot of moments in that episode that make up the whole of it. I love the creepiness of it that's created through the complete absence of other people. It's isolation dialed up to maximum. That's obviously a social commentary, but to me it's also an X Files commentary, if you will. The whole show, it's been them against the world. Very little backup. Just the two crazies from the basement. And here, they're not just isolated from the rest of the world, but for all intents and purposes, the world seems actually *empty*. Even though this episode stands somehow outside of canon to an extent, to me it's a ~vibes~ summary of the entire og myth arc. They have no one. They can't trust anyone. Everything is against them and yet they keep fighting against an enemy that seems omnipresent and undefeatable. I will talk about this episode for days if I don't stop now, so I'll leave it at that.

oh man this was fun. thank you for the question!