#and probably pretend i was so much cooler than for being like a year older lol. or wait no. two. right

[fappellmoan]

proof we were fated to know each other. how was miranda I was supposed to go but she cancelled the concert bc she sprained her ankle or some shit

😭😭😭 oh literally that’s sooo…. first of all come on miranda 🙄 i don’t remember how my mom got the tickets but it ended up being me her and my sister. and i remember going to a little italian restaurant afterward like it was a special night. sorry not to brag 😳 and ik my one cousin was there as well (of course this was a huge event for young girls) and stood outside to meet her and got a high five apparently. said the classic (im never washing my hand!) and high fived me so i had like meeting cooties idfk. anyway<3 literally we should’ve been chillin 😭😭

[pixiefelixie]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CIAO: chapter 1

do read the series masterlist warnings before proceeding!!

pairing: idol!hyunjin x actress!reader warnings: 17k words (geez..), ex-flings to lovers, EXTREMELY slice of life, fake dating au, angst, fluff, swearing, slow (fast?) burn, predatory behavior (sangwoo), terminal illness (suho), mentions of drug-dealing, references to past sexual intercourse important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

first chapter’s finally here 🥹💗 thank you SO much for being excited when i announced this series, it genuinely means the world to me. this chapter is definitely more of a slow build (relationships and everything that leads to the fake dating) but just hold my hand and hang in there 🫶

death doesn’t always come all at once. sometimes, it creeps in slowly—so slowly you don’t even notice it at first. like a dimming lightbulb flickering in intervals, a dying battery that still clings to life. you pretend you don’t see the way it fades. because acknowledging it means admitting that soon, there will be nothing left.

hyunjin swallowed down that thought as he stepped through the entrance of the building, the automatic doors gliding shut behind him. the security guard at the front barely spared him a glance—he’s been here enough times for them to recognize him now. three visits in a week. not enough for a pattern, but enough to make him feel like a ghost haunting the same place over and over again.

he adjusted his mask, pulling his cap lower as he made his way to the elevators. the hallway was quiet, the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside. he pressed the button. the doors slid open.

hyunjin stepped inside, watching the numbers climb as he ascended. the mirrored walls reflected the exhaustion on his face, the tension in his shoulders. he ignored it. instead, he exhaled a quiet breath and closed his eyes, counting the seconds until the doors opened again.

when they did, he was greeted by a familiar sight—the luxury apartment that still didn’t feel as grand as it should. the space was vast, sleek, polished. but it was empty in the ways that matter.

and in the center of it all, sprawled on the couch with a lazy smirk, was suho.

“you look like shit,” suho said, blunt as ever.

“wow, thanks,” hyunjin muttered.

“i mean it. you need sleep. and probably therapy.”

hyunjin sighed and leaned back against the couch. “yeah, well. my schedule is full.”

“make room,” suho said, then smirked. “or i’ll haunt you when i die.”

hyunjin pretended to kick him, stopping just short of his shin. “shut up.”

suho just laughed, like none of this was real. like they weren’t sitting in the middle of a countdown neither of them could stop.

hyunjin wished he could pretend as easily. 

suho had been his friend long before he ever knew what an idol trainee was, before his life turned into an endless cycle of rehearsals, cameras, and exhaustion. elementary school, back when suho was just a cocky little brat who thought he was better than hyunjin because he was three months older. and boy, did he milk that fact for all it was worth.

“i was born first, which means i’m smarter, stronger, and infinitely cooler than you,” suho had declared at age eight, shoving a lollipop into his mouth like some kind of smug kingpin.

suho smoked too early, drank too much, partied too hard. and yet, somehow, hyunjin always found himself trailing after him, grumbling about suho’s bad habits but never leaving his side. because for all their differences, they were the same where it mattered. they would wrestle like ten-year-olds one second and then fall asleep tangled up on the couch the next, no questions asked.

hyunjin had always thought of suho as a shooting star—reckless, brilliant, burning too fast but impossible to look away from. suho always knew how to slip out of trouble, even in the most desperate situations—whether it meant sweet-talking his way out or, when all else failed, making a mad dash and vaulting over a fence like his life depended on it. 

and hyunjin was just the kid running after him, watching in awe, trying to keep up but never quite catching hold. because suho was untouchable like that.

unruly, magnetic, bigger than life.

but now, sitting here in this too-clean apartment, hyunjin wasn’t watching a shooting star anymore. he was watching a candle flicker, its light softer, weaker—still warm, still bright, but undeniably fading.

and hyunjin didn’t know what scared him more: the fact that suho was dying, or the fact that, for the first time ever, he couldn’t outrun it.

suho reached for the iv stand beside him, nudging it toward the corner where the couches met to make space for hyunjin. the faint rattle of the wheels echoed through the quiet apartment. hyunjin lowered himself onto the cushions beside him, exhaling as he pulled down his mask and tossed his head back against the couch.

almost instantly, a tiny ball of energy launched itself at his feet. suho’s chihuahua. the dog’s paws scrabbled at hyunjin’s legs, tail wagging furiously.

a small chuckle escaped hyunjin, his eyes creasing at the corners as he reached down, ruffling the soft fur. he let the dog’s excited licks soak into his skin, a warm distraction from the cold pit in his stomach.

“your parents are doing me a huge favor by taking him in,” suho murmured, voice quieter now. “make sure you thank them for me.”

hyunjin’s fingers stilled against the dog’s fur. he swallowed, the weight of those words pressing against his ribs. “…of course.”

suho shifted beside him, reaching over to scratch between his dog’s ears. their hands bumped together lightly. the touch was brief, but it was enough for hyunjin’s gaze to flicker down—to the bruised skin stretched over suho’s knuckles, to the thin tube buried deep in his hand.

“you know, he likes you more than me,” suho chuckled once the chihuahua disregarded him.

hyunjin smirked. “everyone likes me more than you.”

suho rolled his eyes, but hyunjin barely noticed—his gaze had drifted to the little dog in his arms, memories creeping in.

they had decided to get long-haired chihuahuas in high school—one of the rare times hyunjin had given suho an idea instead of the other way around. hyunjin had already had kkomi, his tiny black shadow, his comfort through everything. and when she was gone, he had never cried so hard.

a few months later, when suho had wanted a dog, bokki came along—named after suho’s favorite street food, with a funny meaning in japanese that suho was always proud of. at the same adoption center, hyunjin got kkami. their dogs had been just like them: always fighting, always in each other’s space.

soon, suho’s dog would live with kkami.

and hyunjin wasn’t ready for what that meant.

“i wonder what the little guy will think when i’m gone,” suho whispered.

the air thinned. hyunjin’s throat tightened as a lump he hadn’t even noticed lodged itself deeper. and just like that, the pain returned.

not the kind that came from overworking in the practice room, from sore muscles and exhaustion that could be stretched out and shaken off. this was different. this was the ache that settled in his stomach every day, the nausea that made food taste like cardboard, the weight on his chest that kept him staring at the ceiling long after the world had fallen asleep.

the kind of pain that never left.

suho leaned back against the couch, exhaling sharply as if the weight of his own words had stolen his breath. then, as if flipping a switch, he smirked.

“maybe i should leave him something in my will,” he mused, scratching behind the chihuahua’s ear. “like my rolex collection. or my stock shares. what do you think, hwang?”

hyunjin’s jaw tensed. he knew suho did this on purpose—used humor like a shield, like a wall neither of them was allowed to climb over. but tonight, it wasn’t working. not when his breathing sounded just a little more labored than the last time hyunjin visited.

hyunjin felt it creeping up again—that familiar sting, the slow, suffocating tightness in his throat. it always came before or after he visited suho, never during. he had learned to time it, to swallow it down in the elevator or let it drown him in the silence of his own apartment. but today, it was here. right in front of him.

his vision blurred at the edges, chest tightening like someone had wrapped a fist around his ribs and squeezed.

suho must have noticed because his smirk dropped instantly. “hey, hey—hyunjin,” he said, voice sharp despite its rasp. “none of that.”

hyunjin blinked rapidly, willing the tears back, but it was useless. his body had already betrayed him, his shoulders trembling under the weight of something he didn’t know how to hold.

suho groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “god, you’re so embarrassing. crying before i even flatline? have some dignity, man.”

hyunjin let out a choked, watery laugh, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. “you’re—” his voice broke. he inhaled shakily. “you’re such a dick.”

suho grinned. “i know. that’s why you love me.”

hyunjin didn’t respond. couldn’t. because yeah, he did. and it fucking hurt.

suho leaned his head back against the couch, exhaling slowly. his fingers drummed absentmindedly against his thigh, and for a moment, the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the machine.

his voice cracked as he finally spoke, barely above a whisper. “how are you… okay with this?”

there was a long silence, the kind that settled in a room when words felt too heavy, too real. hyunjin’s chest felt hollow, the questions stuck in his throat, unanswered. he wanted to scream, to shake suho, to force him to feel what he was feeling.

“i do what i can to make it hurt less.” suho murmured, his voice quieter than usual, but steady. “i tell myself this was all well expected, well deserved.”

suho tilted his head slightly, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling. 

“i mean, think about it. i made money off people destroying themselves. gave them poison, didn’t care as long as the cash kept coming.” suho chuckled darkly. “now my own body’s turning on me. call it karma, a punishment, whatever you want. makes sense, doesn’t it?”

hyunjin’s chest tightened all over again, but this time, it wasn’t from grief—it was anger.

“that’s so stupid,” he snapped. “you really believe that?”

suho’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “it makes me feel better. i’d rather think i earned this than accepting life’s just that cruel.”

hyunjin shook his head, eyes fierce. “you didn’t earn this. i don’t care what you did. it’s not fair.”

suho exhaled slowly, studying him. “i get why you see it that way. you’re a good person, hyunjin. you want things to make sense in a way that doesn’t hurt more than it already does.”

“and you think you’re not a good person?”

suho shrugged, shifting slightly. “good people don’t deal drugs for a living.”

hyunjin couldn’t believe what was coming out of suho’s mouth. hyunjin had always believed suho was the best person he knew. good people took care of others, took care of dogs, made sure no one was left alone. that was suho.

he swallowed hard, but the words kept coming, like a dam breaking open. “you’ve been there for me. you’ve always been there, suho. you’re not some... some monster because of the mistakes you made.” his voice cracked, but he kept going. “i’ve known you long enough to know that for sure.”

suho stared at him, something unreadable passing through his eyes. then, a small smirk. “that’s sweet,” he said. “almost makes me want to believe it.”

“then believe it.”

suho went quiet for a beat before laughing softly. “damn, you’re getting good at these motivational speeches.”

hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “shut up.”

suho grinned. “seriously. ever thought about ditching the idol thing and giving ted talks on how to gaslight your dying friends?”

hyunjin shoved his shoulder. “oh my god.”

suho snickered, then softened. “thanks, hyunjin,” he murmured.

hyunjin blinked, confused. “for what?”

“for arguing with me.”

and in that moment, hyunjin realized just how much that simple thank you meant. fighting, even if it was just over the dumbest things—was how they both kept showing up for each other. it was how they made sure they cared. they didn’t need the grand speeches or perfect gestures. they never had. maybe that was what love really was, in its rawest form. 

hyunjin loved suho. he just didn’t know how to deal with it, not when it felt like time was running out, and not when everything was so damn unfair.

hyunjin exhaled. “anytime.”

admiration doesn’t always feel safe. sometimes, it’s the most terrifying thing in the world.

it starts subtly—so subtly that you convince yourself it isn’t real. a hand lingering just a second too long. a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. the way he says your name like it belongs to him.

everyone loves him. they call him charming, a legend, someone you should be grateful to work with. they praise his experience, his talent, his ability to make every scene feel real.

maybe that’s why no one notices when he blurs the lines.

the bright lights glared down, hot against your skin, but the chill running down your spine has nothing to do with temperature.

you sat at the sleek office desk, hands folded neatly in front of you, the perfect image of the polished, ambitious character you play. across from you, he leaned back in his chair, oozing effortless confidence, the same one he’s used for years to charm everyone in his path.

“you’re avoiding me,” he said, voice smooth.

“i’ve been busy, il-seong.”

“i didn’t realize you were so busy that you couldn’t spare a minute for me,” he continued, lacing his voice with an undertone of clear disappointment. 

“cut!” the director’s voice rang out, sharp and impatient. you barely had time to exhale before he was waving a hand in frustration. “sangwoo, great work. you’re making it feel so natural.”

sangwoo shot you a smile, like he knew what was coming next.

the director sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “y/n, loosen up. you’re too stiff.”

your throat tightened. you nodded. 

"y/n, shake it off. we’ll run it again when you’re not acting like a mannequin." the director finally said, waving a hand dismissively.

you nodded again, throat dry.

as soon as you stepped off set, you made a beeline for the bathroom. the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you gripped the edges of the sink, breathing hard. the cool porcelain felt solid beneath your fingers, grounding you, but it did nothing to stop the nausea creeping up your throat.

you looked up.

the mirror reflected someone who wasn’t you. your costume—sleek, professional, pristine—felt like a second skin you couldn’t shed. your lipstick was still perfect, your hair in place, but you felt grimy, like something sticky clung to your skin no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

you turned on the faucet and let cold water run over your wrists, hoping it would wash the feeling away. it didn’t.

a sharp creak from the door made your stomach drop.

you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

sangwoo.

he leaned against the doorway like he belonged there, like this was his space too. his lips curled into that familiar smirk, the one that made everyone melt on camera—but off-screen, it made your pulse hammer in your throat.

“you okay?” he asked, voice laced with something that wasn’t quite concern.

you swallowed hard. “i’m fine.”

he hummed, stepping closer. not enough to touch, but enough that the space between you shrank, enough that his cologne curled around you, thick and suffocating.

“i know it’s hard, playing this kind of role,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “all that tension, all those emotions. it can feel… real.”

your nails dug into your palm.

sangwoo’s gaze flickered to your lips, lingering just a second too long before meeting your eyes again. “you should let me help you loosen up.” his lips curved into an innocent smile.

the words slithered down your spine, cold.

you forced a breath, forced yourself to stand tall even as every instinct screamed at you to run.

his fingers tapped against the sink beside you—just a small sound, barely there, but it made your pulse jump. “we should run lines later. in private,” he mused. “after all, chemistry isn’t something you can just fake.”

the words slithered into your ears, slick and unwelcome.

you wanted to throw up.

sangwoo let the silence stretch, watching you, waiting, drinking in the way your breath came a little sharper, the way your shoulders tensed. he liked this—pushing, pressing, testing just how much he could get away with.

he exhaled through his nose, amused. “i bet if you just relaxed a little, you’d—”

“don’t,” you said, voice quiet but firm.

sangwoo’s smile didn’t falter. if anything, it stretched wider, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. like he was enjoying this.

his tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip as he let out a soft chuckle. “don’t?” he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. as if it amused him. 

he knew he’d gotten to you. and he liked it.

just then, the door creaked open.

sangwoo moved fast—so fast it made your head spin. his smirk vanished, replaced by something softer, something concerned. in an instant, his entire posture shifted, all casual arrogance melting into the perfect image of a supportive co-star.

"hey," he murmured, voice gentle now, warm and understanding. his hand landed on your arm. “i know it can be overwhelming."

you barely had time to react before the crew member stepped inside.

"everything okay?"

sangwoo turned to them, his expression all worry. "yeah, y/n just needed a second." he shot you a reassuring smile, like he was the one steadying you. like he wasn’t the reason your stomach was twisted in knots.

the crew member nodded, glancing at you. "need more time?"

your mouth was dry. you wanted to scream, to tell them to look closer, to see past the performance. but too bad sangwoo was an actor. and a darn good one at that.

so you forced a smile, even as your pulse pounded in your ears. your response was one that you gave way too many times. 

"no, i’m fine."

when hyunjin woke up, his body felt like lead, heavy and unmoving, as if the mattress had swallowed him whole overnight. his mouth was dry, his tongue rough against the roof of his mouth like sandpaper. he swallowed, but it didn’t help. his throat ached, tight and parched, like he’d been breathing in dust for hours.

the blinds were cracked just enough for a sliver of morning light to creep through, but even that felt dull. muted grey. cold. it stretched across the floor, reached toward his desk, but failed to bring any real warmth.

he knew what he needed when the world felt washed out. 

with a groan, he forced himself to move, peeling away from the bed like his limbs were made of stone. his feet hit the floor, cold against his skin, but he barely felt it. his hoodie from last night lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, and he grabbed it, pulling it over his head as he trudged toward his desk.

he sniffed, rubbing his nose as he sat down. the chair creaked, the sound almost too loud in the stillness.

he needed color.

his fingers hovered over his sketchbook before flipping to a blank page. he reached for his pencils—he didn’t feel like dealing with paint, not today. 

he started with blue, pressing the tip against the paper in rough, uneven strokes. then red. then yellow. the colors bled into each other, but instead of vibrancy, they just looked… dull. off. like someone had sucked the life out of them before they even reached the page.

he frowned. his grip on the pencil tightened as he tried again, layering color over color, but nothing looked right. the shading felt flat. the lines looked wrong. it was stiff, lifeless.

his chest squeezed, frustration curling hot in his throat.

hyunjin exhaled sharply and dropped the pencil, running a hand across his head before gripping the back of his neck. he stared at the half-colored page in front of him, a mess of shapes and lines that failed to form anything meaningful. his fingers twitched, the urge to crumple the paper into his palm almost unbearable, but he let out another slow breath instead.

with another sigh, he let the pencil clatter against the desk and wiped his fingers on his sweatpants. when he leaned over to grab his phone from the nightstand, the screen lit up instantly, illuminating his face in the dim room.

and then—a flood.

[12 missed calls]

[50+ unread messages]

a sharp pull in his stomach.

his thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before he clicked on felix’s name. out of everyone, felix felt the safest. the least likely to send him into a full-blown paragraph before he was even awake enough to process it.

the chat opened instantly.

[8 am] felix 🐥:

i don’t know if you’ve seen it yet, but i figured you should.

i’m here, okay? whatever happens.

below his messages was a link to a social media app. hyunjin’s throat went even drier than before.

he hesitated, fingers tightening around his phone before finally tapping it.

the app loaded sluggishly, his wi-fi dragging just enough to prolong the dread curling in his chest. and then, the post filled his screen.

three pictures.

all of him.

different nights, but the same place—right outside suho’s building.

hyunjin’s stomach turned to stone. he recognized each one instantly. the first was from last week. the second, three days ago. the most recent, just last night—his cap tilted low, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

the pictures alone were bad enough. but beneath them, a long blog-style post stretched down the screen.

his eyes darted over it, catching pieces in a haze.

“i walk along this path every night on my way home from work. it’s usually quiet, just office workers or the occasional resident.”

“the first time i saw him, i wasn’t sure. hwang hyunjin? from stray kids? leaving that luxury apartment building? but then it happened again. and again.”

“i wasn’t going to say anything at first. i needed more proof, more pattern. no one goes to the same high-end building this often without a reason.”

“private clubs exist in places like that. so do exclusive parties. you know what i mean.”

“thoughts?”

the last word made his skin prickle.

his lips parted, but no sound came out. his fingers were ice cold, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles ached.

it wasn’t just speculation anymore. this was the kind of post that spiraled. the kind people latched onto, twisting into something bigger, uglier.

and it was working.

his breath came shallow, heart hammering against his ribs as he scrolled back to his notifications.

chan’s messages. the company chat.

he swallowed hard and opened chan’s first.

[6:50 am] chan hyung 🐺: 

call me asap

it’s already everywhere

people are eating this shit up

we’ll fix this, don’t panic ok??

his stomach churned, a slow, sickly twist, like the moment right before a rollercoaster drop—except this wasn’t thrilling. it was just nausea.

they didn’t know about suho. they didn’t know about the sterile hospital-grade scent clinging to his apartment, the way he laughed a little softer these days—like he was already halfway gone. they didn’t know how hyunjin had to pretend everything was fine because suho hated pity. they didn’t know that every visit felt heavier than the last.

they didn’t know anything.

and yet, here they were. guessing. assuming. branding him guilty of something he hadn’t even done.

then—something snapped.

he shot up from his chair, heart slamming against his ribs. his hands moved before he could think, grabbing the glass jar he used to rinse his paintbrushes. his breath came sharp through his teeth, and then—

crash.

the jar shattered against the wall, splintering into a thousand jagged pieces. water seeped into the cracks of the floor, staining the base of the wall in slow, creeping lines.

his chest heaved. his hands clenched into his hair. he barely felt the sting in his palm from a stray shard. he’d have to clean it later. he’d have to deal with the mess. but right now—

a knock.

“hyunjin? what the hell was that?”

changbin.

the voice was steady, but hyunjin could hear the concern behind it. a beat passed, then the sound of careful footsteps just outside the door.

“you good?”

hyunjin dragged a shaky hand across his hair, blinking at the mess. his chest heaved, his pulse still erratic. fuck. he let his head fall back, swallowing hard before forcing something—anything—out of his throat.

“…yeah.”

his voice was hoarse, unconvincing. he knew changbin wouldn’t buy it.

another pause.

“…i’m coming in.”

the door creaked open, and changbin stepped inside.

his eyes flicked around the room—first to hyunjin, then to the shattered glass by the wall, the water bleeding into the floorboards, the mess of art supplies strewn across the desk.

changbin’s jaw tightened. “holy shit.”

hyunjin’s mind was just as much of a wreck as his room. shattered thoughts, seeping panic, a mess he couldn’t shove back into place no matter how hard he tried. his head felt like it had been cracked open, thoughts spilling out in incoherent colors, smearing together into something ugly.

changbin’s voice came out quieter this time, but sharp. “what the hell is wrong with you?”

hyunjin’s fingers twitched. he could feel the tension rolling off changbin in waves, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. he stared instead at the paint-stained floor, at the streaks of color on his ruined sketchbook. 

“you gonna answer me, or should i just assume you’ve lost your mind?” changbin pressed, his patience wearing thin.

a slow inhale. hyunjin dragged a hand down his face before finally speaking, voice low, scratchy. “just leave it.”

changbin scoffed. “leave it? you trashed your room, you’re breaking shit, and you want me to just—” he cut himself off with a harsh exhale, gripping the bridge of his nose.

but then, instead of continuing, he sighed and walked past him, stepping carefully over the broken glass. changbin crouched down, grabbing a rag from hyunjin’s desk, and started wiping up the water without a word.

hyunjin swallowed, his throat dry again. 

changbin wrung out the rag, water dripping into the trash can with quiet splashes. his movements were slow, deliberate, like he was choosing his words as carefully as he was cleaning up hyunjin’s mess.

“you’ve been all over the place these past few days,” he said finally, voice steady but laced with something firm.

hyunjin inhaled through his nose, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. he knew. he knew, but hearing it out loud made something sharp press against his ribs.

“i know,” he muttered.

changbin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “no, i don’t think you do.” he glanced up then, meeting hyunjin’s eyes with a look that wasn’t quite anger but wasn’t soft either. “you’ve been like this for a while. before the scandal. before this whole mess. you think no one noticed?”

hyunjin stayed silent. the words pressed against his ribs, heavy and unrelenting, but he didn’t push them out. didn’t defend himself. didn’t argue. what was there to say?

changbin sighed, shifting slightly against the desk. “we’ve noticed everything.”

hyunjin’s breath hitched. just for a second. just enough for changbin to catch it. he finally looked up, and changbin met his gaze head-on. 

“you know you can talk to us, right? about suho.” changbin’s voice was quieter now. “you can talk to me.”

hyunjin swallowed. his throat still felt raw, his chest too tight, but something in changbin’s words settled in the space between them. but thankfully, he didn’t push.

instead, changbin stood up, brushing his hands against his sweats before jerking his chin toward the door. “come on. we’ll go to the company together.”

hyunjin hesitated.

“hyunjin.”

something about the way changbin said his name, like he wasn’t giving him a choice, made him sigh.

“yeah.” hyunjin pushed himself up, shaking out his hoodie. “let me change first.”

changbin nodded once, waiting outside the door. not leaving. not giving him space to back out. hyunjin exhaled, turning toward his closet. it didn’t matter what he wore. it wouldn’t change the fact that he was about to walk into hell.

you tipped the last capsule into your palm, the plastic bottle cool against your fingers.

the water on your kitchen counter had gone room temperature, but you took a sip anyway, swallowing the pills one after the other. collagen. iron. some herbal mix that promised better sleep. things for your skin, for your body, for your health.

the dim glow from the streetlights barely cut through your curtains, painting the walls in streaks of cold orange. the apartment was silent, too silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the other room. you should have left the tv on. should have played some music.

the doorbell rang, its chime cutting through the thick silence like a blade.

you froze.

for a second, you wondered if you’d imagined it, if your mind was playing tricks on you in the quiet. but then it rang again, longer this time, pressing, insistent.

a strange pulse ran through your body. no one ever visited this late.

pushing yourself up, you padded toward the door, fingers stiff as you reached for the security monitor. the screen flickered to life, grainy in the dim hallway lighting, and your stomach dropped.

a man stood there, head tilted slightly, his face obscured by a black mask. he held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, stark against the dark hoodie he was wearing.

you swallowed. hard.

you knew who it was.

even with the mask, even with the hood—there was no mistaking him.

your heart thumped against your ribs as your fingers hovered over the lock. your pulse screamed at you to leave it alone, to pretend you weren’t home, to wait until he gave up and left. but you knew he wouldn’t.

with a slow inhale, you unlocked the door and pulled it open. sangwoo’s eyes met yours over the mask, then he pulled it down, revealing a familiar smile.

your voice came out quieter than you intended. “how do you know where i live?”

he let out a small chuckle, casual, like you’d just asked something silly. “some of the crew members told me. they were thrilled to hear we were connecting off set.”

that didn’t make you feel any better. if anything, it made the discomfort sink deeper into your bones.

you didn’t move.

his smile faltered just slightly, his fingers tightening around the bouquet.

you stepped aside, the movement stiff, unnatural. “uh…come in.”

he handed you the flowers as he stepped in, eyes flickering around your apartment. “beautiful home you’ve got here, y/n.”

“thanks,” you murmured, fingers tightening around the bouquet.

you turned away, heading toward the kitchen. the flowers smelled sweet, too sweet, almost suffocating as you pulled a vase from the cabinet. the water ran cold over your fingers as you filled it, the sound echoing in the too-quiet space.

sangwoo moved leisurely, his presence filling the room like he belonged there. “you live alone?”

you hesitated, then nodded. “yeah.”

you focused on trimming the stems, placing each flower into the vase carefully, precisely. your hands were steady, but your chest felt tight.

“must get lonely.”

the scissors in your hand stilled.

“you know,” he murmured, “i never really thought about it before, but… someone like you, living alone—it’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?”

you blinked, your fingers tightening around the scissors. “like me?”

sangwoo smiled, slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. “yeah.” he leaned against the counter, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. “i mean, you’re…” he exhaled, shaking his head slightly, like he was searching for the right words. “you’re soft, y/n.”

your stomach turned. “soft.”

he hummed in confirmation. “you know. gentle. fragile, even.” his gaze flickered down, tracing the curve of your wrist as you held the scissors. “delicate hands. pretty face.” a small pause, then a light chuckle. “the kind of person people just… gravitate toward. the kind of person who should be careful.”

you carefully snipped another stem, the sharp sound of the blades cutting through the silence. 

sangwoo exhaled a soft chuckle. “you trust people too much, y/n. you never know who might be thinking about walking right through that door when you least expect it.”

your fingers twitched. the scissors pressed into your palm.

you swallowed. “is that supposed to be a joke?”

he tilted his head, watching you. “do you think it is?”

sangwoo took a step forward. the soft sound of his shoes against the floor felt deafening in the silence. closer. slow, deliberate steps. he wasn’t in a hurry—like he already knew how this would end.

you held your ground, barely.

“sangwoo,” you said, forcing your voice to stay even. 

he reached out, fingertips barely grazing your wrist, featherlight. your heartbeat thumped in your ears, drowning out every rational thought. sangwoo’s fingers lingered, just barely touching your wrist. a ghost of a touch, like he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push.

“you always this tense.” he asked, head tilting slightly. “maybe you’re just nervous because we’re alone.”

you exhaled, forcing yourself to focus on anything but his fingers on your skin. the scissors in your other hand. the steady drip of the faucet behind you. the cold air seeping in from the slightly open window.

“i’m not nervous,” you muttered.

he chuckled, low and knowing. “then why do you look like you’re waiting to stab me with those scissors?”

your jaw clenched.

he was enjoying this. pushing, pressing, inching closer and closer just to watch you react.

you could feel his breath now, warm against your cheek, his presence sinking into your space like oil spreading over water.

“why?” he mused. 

you swallowed. “sangwoo—”

“you’re acting like i’m some kind of threat.”

“sangwoo,” you said, voice steady now. you needed to think of something to get yourself out of this suffocating situation. urgently. “i’m seeing someone.”

silence.

his expression didn’t change drastically. but you saw it—the slightest twitch of his eye. the smallest shift in his posture.

“really?” he leaned back slightly. “since when?”

your grip on the scissors didn’t ease, even as you forced your expression to stay neutral. “a few weeks,” you said, voice even.

sangwoo let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head like you’d just told him something funny. “a few weeks?” he dragged out the words, eyes glinting with amusement. “that’s funny. you never mentioned seeing anyone before.”

you didn’t respond.

he let out another short laugh, shaking his head. “y/n, the flowers were just a friendly gesture. that’s all. no need to get so defensive and worked up.”

worked up. like you were being ridiculous. like he hadn’t spent the past ten minutes making your skin crawl. you said nothing. just placed the scissors down, carefully, deliberately, like you weren’t afraid. like your heart wasn’t still pounding in your chest.

sangwoo smiled, taking a step back toward the door. “i’ll see you on monday, yeah?” he gave you one last look. “maybe have your boyfriend stop by some time on set.”

the words sent ice down your spine.

a test. a warning. 

he held your gaze for a beat longer, then turned on his heel, slipping his hands into his pockets as he strolled out of your apartment.

you didn’t catch the way his face dropped the second he turned away.

the scent of expensive cleaning products lingered in the air, faint but noticeable. suho’s cleaners had been here earlier—probably scrubbing every surface until it gleamed.

they were in his bedroom now. hyunjin sat beside him, his foot tapping against the hardwood floor, restless. suho was lying there, thinner than before, dark circles smudged beneath his eyes.

hyunjin sighed, dragging a hand down his face as his phone buzzed again. he barely needed to check—he already knew what it would say.

“the company’s pissed at me for coming here.” 

suho huffed a laugh, but it came out more like a breath. “yeah? what else is new?”

“no, like really pissed. they already are, ever since this morning,” hyunjin muttered. “because i told them i wanted to release a statement telling the truth.”

suho finally turned his head fully to look at him, brow lifting slightly. “the truth?”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened. “that i was coming here to see you. but they refused”

suho stared at him for a long second before scoffing. “just leave out the drug dealer part.”

hyunjin let out a bitter chuckle. “you think i didn’t try that?” he leaned back, pressing his fingers into his temple. “i could’ve said ‘i’ve been visiting my sick friend.’ that’s it. just that. and they still shot it down immediately.”

suho didn’t look surprised. “why?”

hyunjin inhaled sharply through his nose. “you know how the public is. either they don’t believe it or they dig and find all your personal stuff.” hyunjin muttered. “an exec said there was no way to spin it in my favor.

suho let out a slow breath, leaning his head back against the couch. “so what’s your plan?”

hyunjin didn’t answer right away. because that was the problem—he didn’t have one. the company would handle it, sure, but what the hell could they even do? he’d been seen too many times. the evidence was too clear. it wasn’t just some baseless rumor that would die in a week.

he dropped his hands, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know.”

suho exhaled, tilting his head toward hyunjin with a lazy smirk. “then you need a story.”

hyunjin rolled his eyes. “no shit.”

“i mean a real one.” suho stretched out his legs, looking entirely unbothered despite the mess hyunjin’s life had just become. “something that makes sense.”

hyunjin sighed. “like what?”

suho hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. then, with a knowing glint in his eyes, he said, “tell them you were visiting someone else.”

hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “who?”

suho shrugged. “i don’t know. you got options. a girlfriend, maybe?” he grinned. “turn it into a scandal people actually like.”

hyunjin scoffed, sitting up. “that’s a horrible idea.”

suho laughed, shaking his head. “come on, think about it. this building’s got a lot of good people. doctors, actors, idols, trust fund kids—hell, there’s probably an old chaebol heir rotting away in here somewhere. pick one. say you’ve been sneaking around because you’re dating someone.”

hyunjin gave him a flat look. “that’s literally the worst thing i could do.”

suho held up his hands, still smirking. “alright, alright. just a suggestion.”

hyunjin slumped back into the chair in deep thought. 

suho tilted his head, then snapped his fingers. “what about charity work?”

hyunjin blinked. “what?”

“yeah. say you’ve been working with some outreach program,” suho said. “something private. helping underprivileged kids or some shit. people eat that up. they’ll think you were hiding it out of humility.”

hyunjin hesitated. it wasn’t the worst idea. but it also wasn’t something he could pull off overnight.

suho grinned at the look on his face. “what? better than saying you’re dating some woman, isn’t it?”

hyunjin exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “i don’t know… it still sounds fake.”

suho shrugged. “everything in your industry is fake. just make it believable.” he coughed into his sleeve, his smirk dimming slightly. “besides, your company’s probably already spinning something. if you don’t pick someone, they will.”

hyunjin dragged a hand down his face, suddenly exhausted. “i’ll figure something out.”

suho studied him for a moment, then sighed, shifting to lean against the headboard. “well, whatever you do, make sure you do it fast. you know how these things go—one day it’s just rumors, the next your face is on every damn news site.”

hyunjin knew. too well.

his phone buzzed again, another message from the company. he ignored it, staring at the screen like it had personally wronged him.

fake dating was stupid.

charity work was unrealistic.

and yet, somehow, those were his best options.

the restaurant was the kind that smelled like overpriced coffee and imported truffle oil, with white marble tables and floor-to-ceiling windows that let the morning sun spill in just right. you stepped inside the private room, adjusting your sunglasses, scanning the room until your eyes landed on her. you slid into the cushioned seat across from mina, who was already stirring her iced americano, gold bracelets clinking.

“finally,” she sighed dramatically. “i was starting to think you stood me up.”

the waitress took your orders—something light, fancy, and overpriced—before disappearing with a polite smile.

she sighed dramatically. “i’ve been dying to catch up. you’ve been, like, impossible to reach lately.”

you grinned, resting your chin in your hand. “you say that like i’m not literally one call away.”

she snorted, flipping the page. “oh, please. you’ve been busier than the president. it’s, ‘let’s do brunch!’ and then radio silence for a week.”

you laughed, bumping your knee against hers under the table. “i missed you too.”

the conversation flowed effortlessly, slipping into the usual rhythm of playful teasing and casual updates. she told you about the disaster of a date she went on last weekend—some guy who spent the entire dinner talking about his "investment portfolio". you winced, shaking your head.

“brutal,” you muttered.

“right? i should’ve left halfway through, but then i thought, ‘no, let me be mature about this.’” she sighed dramatically. “never again.”

but eventually, the small talk lost its charm. 

mina leaned forward, eyes sharp with curiosity, stirring her drink lazily. “okay, enough of this. i’m bored.”

you raised a brow, amused. “what?”

“did you hear about hwang hyunjin?”

you blinked, the name slamming into you like a brick to the back of the head. your brain lagged for a second, trying to process it. hwang hyunjin.

then the name hit you like a slap.

you hadn't heard it in ages—hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t let yourself think about it. not since milan fashion week. not since that night in the dimly lit hotel room, the balcony doors cracked open just enough to let the cool italian air slip in. 

the second the memory hit, you inhaled sharply—too sharply—almost choking on your water. you grabbed your napkin, dabbing at your mouth as mina burst into laughter, smacking the table.

“oh my god,” she cackled. “i love you.”

you swallowed, composing yourself as best as you could. “i forgot about him,” you said, waving a dismissive hand.

mina raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh.” she tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “so, does that mean you haven’t seen the news?”

that made you pause. you set your glass down. “what news?”

mina lowered her voice, making it sound like she was sharing some juicy gossip. “well, people are saying he’s been—how do i put this—spending time with some, uh, questionable company. like, prostitutes, you know? it’s all over the internet.” she practically grinned, waiting for your reaction.

you felt your stomach drop. “goodness,” was all you could manage to say. the thought of anyone—especially someone you’d been around—being connected to something like that was just… disturbing.

mina continued, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “and you may ask why this is all so important to you. but get this—it’s all happening in the building you live in.”

you let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “you’re joking.”

mina just raised a brow.

“no, really.” you exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “prostitutes? underground clubs? in my building?” you huffed a dry laugh. “damn, and here i was thinking the wildest thing happening there was my neighbor blasting trot music at 2 am.”

mina stayed serious. “i just wanna check—have you, you know, seen anything weird?”

you rolled your eyes, still half-smiling. “what, like a stripper pole in the lobby? no. nothing like that.”

mina shrugged, sipping her drink. “well, you never know.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “mina, i really don’t think it’s true. these kinds of rumors get blown way out of proportion. he’s an idol. people love making up the most insane stuff about them.”

mina tilted her head, her smirk widening like she’d just caught you slipping. “okay, okay. but just because he’s your ex-fling doesn’t mean you have to be defensive about it.”

you nearly choked on air this time. “i’m not—mina, please.”

she laughed, waving a hand. “i’m just saying! you sound kinda invested.”

you gave her a look. “i’m invested because you’re telling me my building is apparently hosting a mob-run escort service, not because i once made out with the guy.”

mina leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “well… more than just that.”

you groaned. “ugh, please don’t remind me.”

she gasped, clutching her chest like you’d personally offended her. “you don’t just hook up with hwang hyunjin and pretend it didn’t happen.” mina wiggled her eyebrows. “which reminds me—your fucking co-star is kang sangwoo. y/n, do you realize how disgustingly lucky you are right now?”

mina didn’t notice the way your shoulders tensed once you heard his name. how you suddenly felt like your throat was closing up.

you forced a laugh, picking at the napkin in your lap.

“i mean, come on. first hyunjin, now kang sangwoo? the man beloved by this entire nation?” she let out a dramatic sigh. “some girls just have it all.”

you shook your head immediately. “it’s not like that with sangwoo.”

mina scoffed, propping her chin in her hand. “oh, please. you’re basically with him five days a week. come on, y/n.”

you exhaled, trying not to let your frustration show. “yeah, for work. it’s not like we’re hanging out in our free time.”

she smirked, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her glass. “still. that’s a lot of time for things to, you know… develop.”

you just nodded, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to answer properly.

she sighed dramatically, flopping back into her chair. 

“god, if i had your problems…”

the conference room was suffocatingly silent now, the last echoes of shuffling papers and closing doors fading into nothing. hyunjin sat slouched in his chair, fingers digging into his temples, exhaustion pressing against his skull. the meeting had been hell—hour-long discussions, half-baked solutions, and a constant reminder that his name was currently the worst thing on the internet.

chan hadn’t left.

hyunjin could feel his stare, heavy and unwavering, but he didn’t look up. he didn’t want to. not when he already knew what was coming.

“hyunjin.”

his shoulders stiffened. he exhaled sharply, finally glancing up. “what?”

chan frowned. “i know this is a lot, but—”

“don’t.” hyunjin rubbed at his jaw, eyes on the table. 

a pause. chan laced his fingers together, resting them on the table. “i just want you to talk to me.”

silence.

chan ran a hand through his hair, biting down on whatever response he wanted to throw back. instead, he just exhaled. “you’ve been shutting us out.” chan’s voice softened, barely above a murmur. “we’re losing you, hyunjin.”

hyunjin stared at the table. his jaw clenched.

“...you know that, right?” 

hyunjin didn’t move. he didn’t speak.

“i just…” chan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “i want you back, hyunjin, we want you back.” his voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of something much heavier. 

hyunjin still didn’t speak, but something flickered in his eyes.

chan watched him, pressing his lips together before continuing. “i know it’s because of suho,” he admitted. “i know why you’re like this right now.” he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t prying. just stating a fact.

hyunjin’s jaw tensed.

chan sighed. “i get it. i do. if it were me…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “i don’t even know what i’d do. but, hyunjin, killing yourself over this?”

hyunjin’s fingers twitched. but he still didn’t look up.

chan exhaled again, softer this time. “ this isn’t sustainable. and i’m scared that one day, you’re gonna wake up and realize you have nothing left to give.”

hyunjin shut his eyes for a long moment. then, finally, he muttered, “i don’t know what to do.”

chan’s heart ached at how small his voice sounded.

“then let us help you,” he said gently. “you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

hyunjin didn’t say anything. but this time, he didn’t push chan away.

after a while of silence, a memory came to hyunjin, making him let out a short, dry chuckle, finally leaning back in his chair. “suho actually had an idea for me.” hyunjin exhaled, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “he said i should just tell people i was sneaking around because i’m dating someone. can you imagine? me, suddenly in a whole-ass relationship out of nowhere?”

chan didn’t laugh.

“like that wouldn’t explode in my face instantly.”

still, chan was silent.

the amusement in hyunjin’s face wavered. “what?”

chan was staring at him, lips pressed together. his fingers tapped lightly against the table, and there was something calculating in his eyes, something hyunjin didn’t like.

hyunjin sat up straighter. “oh, hell no.”

chan hummed, tilting his head. 

“no.”

“it’s not the worst idea.”

hyunjin gaped at him. “you have got to be kidding me.”

chan shrugged, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “you said it yourself. people already believe you’re sneaking around. what better reason than love?”

“don’t say it like that,” hyunjin muttered, disgusted.

chan ignored him, sitting up fully. “it would explain why you were seen there so often. and more importantly, it would push the scandal out of the narrative.”

hyunjin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “i hate that you’re actually thinking about this.”

chan grinned. “that’s because it’s a solid plan.”

hyunjin groaned, head dropping back against the chair. “you’re insane.”

“no, no—think about it.” chan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “if we came to an agreement with someone, you two could just hang tight for a while. keep up appearances, and then, when everything dies down, you break it off.”

hyunjin let out a slow breath through his nose. “you mean when suho dies and i no longer need a reason to visit him?”

silence.

chan stiffened. his expression went blank, but not in a way that suggested neutrality—it was the kind of blankness that came when someone didn’t know how to respond. his fingers, which had been lightly tapping the table moments ago, stilled completely.

hyunjin felt the shift immediately.

he shut his eyes, shaking his head once before exhaling. “that was—” he paused, then muttered, “that was a shitty thing to say. i’m sorry.”

chan swallowed and looked down. for a while, neither of them spoke. he exhaled slowly, rubbing his palm over his face. 

hyunjin didn’t respond. he just kept staring at his hands, fingers twitching slightly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“look,” chan said carefully. “i know you hate this. i know you don’t wanna fake some stupid relationship, but if it keeps you out of trouble, buys you time—” he hesitated. “wouldn’t that be worth it?”

hyunjin shook his head, leaning back. “this is insane.”

“what’s insane is letting this whole thing get worse when we have an out.”

hyunjin sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “even if i agreed—which, by the way, i haven’t—who the hell would even do it?”

chan hesitated. “do you have anyone in mind?”

hyunjin scoffed. “oh, yeah, loads. my phone’s just bursting with women waiting for me to ask them to fake date me.”

chan stared.

hyunjin sighed. “no, chan. i don’t have anyone in mind.”

chan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “look, if you really wanna go in that direction, i actually think it’d be a good idea.”

hyunjin shot him a dry look. “a good idea?”

chan nodded, completely serious. “you need a solution. this is one. if we do it right, it actually helps you.”

hyunjin exhaled, rubbing his temples. “we’re lying to the whole world. it’s fake dating, hyung.”

“and?” chan shrugged. “it’s not like you actually have to like the person. we just need to put a name and face to the label”

hyunjin muttered something under his breath and leaned forward, elbows on the table.

chan tapped his fingers against the wood. “once you’ve made your decision, we bring it up in the next meeting. boom—there’s your solution. we can figure out the who part later.”

hyunjin looked at him, unamused. “boom?”

chan ignored him. “this isn’t a bad move, hyun.”

hyunjin sighed. he knew that. that was the worst part.

chan leaned forward. “so?”

hyunjin stared at the table, fingers drumming against it. 

“...i’ll think about it.”

the city at night was a dream—silver lights blinking against the dark sky, buildings glowing like constellations, streets humming with life but not too loud, just the perfect kind of alive.

as you neared your building, the familiar skyline framed itself perfectly against the deep indigo night. you flicked your blinker, turning smoothly onto the quieter street behind the building. the entrance to the underground garage came into view, between polished concrete walls. swiping your access card, you waited as the heavy gate hummed, slowly rolling upward.

the moment you slipped inside, the noise of the city softened, replaced by the low hum of overhead lights and the occasional drip of water somewhere in the distance. you drove through the near-empty space, your tires making a soft sound against the smooth pavement, before pulling into your reserved spot.

shutting off the engine, you sat there for a second, the warmth of the drive still clinging to you. the gym had let your body feel loose, the post-workout high still buzzing faintly in your limbs. you reached for your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before stepping out, the sound of your car door closing echoing faintly through the empty garage.

you made your way toward the elevators, the soft click of your sneakers against the smooth garage floor the only sound in the stillness. the overhead lights cast long, sharp-edged shadows, stretching and bending as you walked.

reaching out, you grabbed the cool metal handle of the elevator lobby door and pulled it open. the hinges gave a quiet creak as you stepped inside. the space was softly lit, washed in a muted golden glow that made everything feel just a little more intimate, a little more hushed.

and then you noticed you weren’t alone.

a man stood near the elevators, his hands tucked into the pockets of a sleek black coat. his cap was on backward, dark fabric disappearing into the studs of his blond hair. a mask rested just beneath his chin, exposing the sharp cut of his jawline.

tall. unmistakably so. his frame, his posture—something about him was too familiar.

the stranger shifted, finally looking up.

and the moment your eyes met, your breath caught.

because he wasn’t a stranger.

not at all.

“hyunjin?”

“y/n?”

hearing your name in his voice—slightly raspy, laced with surprise—was like flipping a switch.

the world around you blurred, folding into itself, swallowed by the rush of memory.

suddenly, the elevator lobby was gone. the scent of clean concrete replaced by something warmer—cologne, faint wine, the crisp linen of a hotel bed.

you weren’t standing in a garage late at night. you were in milan.

in a hotel room washed in golden lamplight, the air thick with heat, his hands gripping your skin like he couldn’t get enough. his lips dragging over your throat, breath ragged, voice desperate as he whispered your name against your skin. his body pressing into yours, fitting against you so perfectly it felt unreal.

you could still taste the liquor on your tongue, feel the dizzy warmth in your veins. everything had been hazy, edges softened by alcohol and adrenaline, by the way milan pulsed beneath you like a dream you never wanted to wake from.

a breath hitched in your throat.

and then it was gone.

the present snapped back into place, harsh and real. the elevator doors chimed softly behind you, but you couldn’t move.

hyunjin was looking at you now, eyes warm despite the obvious exhaustion shadowing his face. he looked different, but there was still something about him that was undeniably the same.

then, to your absolute horror, he smiled.

“wow,” he murmured, tilting his head. “didn’t think i’d run into you here.”

his voice was the same. beautiful, with that smooth cadence that always made everything he said feel effortless. he shifted his weight slightly, hands still tucked in his pockets, eyes scanning your face.

the hyunjin you met in milan had been wild and reckless, grinning against your skin like he had nothing to lose. this hyunjin was something else entirely. he was so tired—you could see it in the way his eyes drooped just a little, in the way his breath left him in something like a sigh. but he was still cute. still unfairly pretty.

and still standing in front of you, in your building, like the universe was playing some kind of joke.

the elevator doors slid open, but neither of you stepped in immediately.

you blinked at him, still trying to process the fact that he was even here, in your building, standing in front of you like a half-forgotten memory brought back to life.

“didn’t think i’d run into you either,” you finally said, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder.

hyunjin let out a soft chuckle, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. you huffed a small laugh as well, stepping into the elevator. he followed, moving with that same effortless grace he always had, but now, it was weighed down by something heavier. something quieter.

the doors shut behind you, sealing you both in.

“so…” hyunjin turned slightly toward you, hands still in his pockets as he pressed for suho’s floor, then silently gestured to you. “you live here?”

you glanced at him. “yeah. 30.”

he nodded once, pressing the button, only a few floors under suho’s. “nice place.”

you let out a breathy laugh. “i like it.”

another silence. the kind that felt full, not empty.

the elevator lurched into motion, the hum of it filling the silence between you.

you were still too stunned by the fact that he was here—by the way he looked, the way he sounded, the way he carried himself now—until your brain caught up with reality.

and then it hit you.

hyunjin. in your building.

hyunjin. the center of a scandal about sneaking around this exact place.

you blinked, your stomach dropping. oh, my god. you had literally just caught him red-handed.

“so,” he said casually, like he read your mind. “have you heard?”

you turned toward him fully, expression unreadable. “about you?”

he nodded once, tilting his head like he was gauging your reaction.

you hesitated, inhaling slowly before admitting, “i don’t wanna believe it. i mean, first of all, this building is the least likely for those sorts of things to happen.” you lowered your voice. “and second of all, i don’t think you’re that type of person, hyunjin.”

that made him smile a little—just a small, knowing curve of his lips. “don’t worry, the whole thing is bullshit.” he said. “i’ve been coming here to visit somebody, that’s why.”

your first thought was that he was here to visit a girlfriend.

you shifted your weight slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you leaned back against the cool elevator wall. “yeah, well… your type of fans get pretty worked up over dating,” you said, watching his reaction. “you're in a hard situation right now, then.”

hyunjin let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “oh, no, no,” he said quickly, lifting a hand. “i’m not dating.” he hesitated, glancing at you before scratching the back of his neck. “i’m visiting my friend. he’s, um… he’s very sick.”

your brows furrowed slightly, and you shifted your stance, watching him carefully. “oh,” you said softly. “i’m sorry.”

hyunjin shook his head, offering a small, tired smile. “it’s okay.”

“it must be a lot,” you said gently. “worrying about him while also dealing with… all of this.” you gestured vaguely, meaning the scandal.

hyunjin let out a quiet breath, something close to a laugh but not quite. “yeah,” he admitted, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. “tell me about it.”

the elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors slid open to your floor. you hesitated, glancing at hyunjin once more.

“for what it’s worth,” you said, voice soft, “i hope it gets better.”

hyunjin’s gaze lifted to yours.

“all of it.” you offered him a small smile, something reassuring. then, without thinking much about it, you reached out, fingers grazing his forearm in a light squeeze. “take care, okay?”

hyunjin didn’t move. he just watched as you stepped out.

the doors started to slide shut, and you expected that to be it. a strange, unexpected meeting with someone from your past. a memory to shake off by the time you reached your apartment.

but then, just before the doors could close completely, hyunjin moved.

his arm shot out, palm pressing against the door sensors. the panels jolted, beeping before sliding open again.

you turned back, surprised. the doors closed behind him, leaving him standing on your floor.

hyunjin exhaled before meeting your eyes.

“y/n,” he said, almost like it was something he hadn’t meant to say aloud. he hesitated, shifting his weight before finally sighing. “i don’t know when i’ll ever see you again.”

you blinked, caught completely off guard. “what?”

hyunjin let out a breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself either. then he laughed—just a little, under his breath, barely there. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “everything’s been... chaotic lately. it’s like i’m trying to hold everything together, but it just keeps slipping.”

you stared at him, your heart suddenly feeling too heavy in your chest. he was unraveling. right in front of you.

his voice dropped lower, raw with something you couldn’t place. “and now i’m here, standing in front of you, and i don’t even know why i stopped the elevator.”

you didn’t know either.

your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. hyunjin just looked at you, like he was waiting for something—like even he wasn’t sure what. then, hesitantly, he spoke again.

“i need help.”

your brows pulled together. his voice was quiet, careful, like he already expected you to say no.

“you don’t have to.” he added quickly, shaking his head. “i—i just need to ask.”

you swallowed. “what is it?”

hyunjin exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight like he was bracing himself. “i thought the idea was stupid at first,” he admitted, gaze flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. “but my friend—the one who’s sick—he brought it up.” 

a short, humorless laugh left his lips. 

“and then my bandmate actually thought it was a good idea…” he trailed off for a second, like he was trying to find the right words. “and then when you assumed i was dating someone. and it made me realize… maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing for people to believe”

you blinked.

your heart was beating too fast now, thoughts racing in a direction you weren’t sure you understood. “what do you need from me?”

hyunjin hesitated, glancing away for a brief moment before exhaling through his nose. “something to get people off my back. a distraction.” his voice was quieter now, almost careful. “something that makes all of this… easier.”

your heart skipped.

hyunjin was talking about fake dating.

“hyunjin… me?” your voice came out softer than you expected, laced with hesitation.

“i know,” he said quickly, nodding like he was already expecting you to refuse. “it’s crazy. i completely understand if this doesn’t work for you.” he let out a breath, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “i just—i need something to steer this in another direction. and if that’s not you, that’s okay.”

the idea was crazy.

it had been years since you last saw hyunjin. years since milan, since that night, since the two of you were anything more than strangers passing through each other’s lives. fake dating him now—while he was knee-deep in a scandal, while you had your own career to protect—was out of the question.

you swallowed, shaking your head slightly. “i’m sorry,” you said, voice gentle. “i just… i don’t think i can.”

hyunjin nodded immediately, offering a small, easy smile—like he was making sure you knew he wasn’t upset. “it’s okay,” he assured you, waving a hand. 

“but…” you started, and his eyes flicked back to yours instantly. you hesitated, the words sitting strange on your tongue. “maybe i could find someone else. in this building.”

his brows rose, not in shock exactly, but something close—like hope trying to disguise itself as confusion. “what?”

you shrugged, arms crossing over your chest, more out of self-preservation than defensiveness. “i mean… it’s a big place. lots of people. actors, influencers, whatever trust fund kid lives above me who walks like he’s stomping grapes.” you glanced at him. “if all you need is a name and a face to make this go away…”

he blinked. “you’d… do that?”

“i said i’d help,” you said simply. “just not by throwing myself into the middle of a press storm. but maybe i could talk to someone. convince them to play along. someone who doesn’t have as much riding on their image as i do.”

hyunjin went quiet for a moment, jaw flexing like he was trying to figure out how to respond without sounding ungrateful.

“that’d mean a lot,” he said finally, voice softer now. “i know this is already too much to ask.”

you shook your head before speaking. “give me your phone.”

hyunjin blinked, reaching into his pocket and handing it over unlocked. 

you quickly typed in your number, saving it under just your name, before handing it back. “i’ll do what i can,” you said simply, meeting his eyes.

hyunjin stared at the screen for a second, lips parting slightly before he looked back at you. something flickered behind his gaze—something unreadable, something deep. then, just barely, he smiled.

and in that moment, you realized how much this meant to him.

“thank you, y/n,”

hyunjin had been on your mind ever since that night.

at first, you told yourself it was just because of the shock—running into him after all these years, hearing his voice again, watching him stand in front of you, so vulnerable. but it wasn’t just that. it was what he’d said. it was what he needed. and it was what you needed, too.

because sangwoo was still a problem.

you remembered that night in your apartment, when he had dropped you off uninvited, standing too close, speaking too softly, looking at you like he already had what he wanted. you had panicked. and in that moment, out of pure fear and self-defense, you had told him you had a boyfriend.

you hadn’t.

but if you had hyunjin… maybe it wouldn’t have been a total lie.

so you thought about it. really thought about it.

would it be that bad?

you weren’t hated by the public. you had never been caught in a controversy, never had to deal with antis tearing you apart online. hyunjin’s fans were passionate, yes, but maybe… maybe they wouldn’t be so bad. maybe they’d even be nice.

and maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as crazy as it first seemed.

and that was why your fingers were hovering over your phone screen, your thumb grazing the call button for hyunjin.

you were sitting in the makeup chair between filming, the soft hum of conversation around you barely registering in your ears. your reflection in the mirror stared back at you—calm, composed—but inside, your mind was racing.

was this really the right move? would hyunjin even say yes?

you exhaled, lips pressing together as your hand tensed slightly around your phone. you just needed to do it. just press call. just—

“y/n.”

your heart stilled. you immediately locked your phone and lowered it onto your lap just as sangwoo stepped into view.

you noticed it immediately—the way he didn’t lean in too close, didn’t lower his voice to that sickly sweet tone that always made your skin crawl. he was keeping his distance, standing a respectful length away, his hands tucked casually in his pockets.

it was strange. 

you swallowed. “hi, sangwoo.”

for a second, you could only blink at him, waiting for the usual discomfort to creep in. but instead of anything suggestive, he just cleared his throat and gestured with his hand.

“about the next scene,” he started, his voice even, professional. “i was thinking—when you turn toward the window, maybe hold that beat a little longer before delivering your line? just for effect. it gives the moment more weight.”

sangwoo was a good actor with good feedback—you could never deny that—but he had never been this straightforward before. no unnecessary comments, no lingering stares, just an actual note on the scene.

you nodded, still a little cautious. “yeah, i can do that.”

and then, just like that, he walked off. you stared after him, your brain struggling to process whatever the hell that just was.

as soon as sangwoo disappeared past the set doors, it clicked.

your lips parted slightly in realization, a quiet breath leaving you as the pieces fell into place. it was because of what you told him that night in your apartment.

that you were taken.

that you were seeing someone.

your fingers curled around your phone, mind replaying the way he had backed off that night, the way he had barely even looked at you just now. the way he had spoken to you like a coworker—like a normal human being, without any of the usual tension or veiled insinuations.

it had to be that.

something about the idea of you being with someone had gotten to him, had actually made him keep his distance.

and god, you loved it.

you weren’t naïve enough to believe he had given up completely, but for now, this was enough. it was proof that the idea of a boyfriend had worked.

your fingers tapped against the back of your phone, mind racing.

if sangwoo was buying this whole boyfriend thing, then maybe… maybe you could take it further.

and just like that, an idea hit you.

your agency’s private event was nearing. a semi-exclusive event—actors, directors, executives, all gathering under one roof for an evening of networking and performances. 

and sangwoo would be there.

you knew it, because he never missed a chance to be seen, to shake hands, to remind everyone in the industry that he was the kang sangwoo.

what better place to show him?

your grip on your phone tightened, your thumb barely brushing over hyunjin’s name. this wasn’t about just scaring sangwoo off for the night—this was about cementing the idea in his head. if you showed up with someone—if it looked convincing—then maybe, just maybe, he’d finally stop pushing the boundaries with you.

your thumb hovered over hyunjin’s contact again.

he needed someone. you needed someone.

and for the first time, the idea of fake dating didn’t seem like such a bad one after all.

that night, you curled up on your couch, legs tucked under you, fingers resting lightly against your phone screen. the city lights outside cast a dim glow through your windows, flickering softly against the walls.

you were gonna do it.

after an entire day of thinking—of weighing every single risk, every possible consequence—you’d made up your mind.

your thumb hovered over hyunjin’s contact for only a second before you pressed down, bringing the phone to your ear.

it rang once. twice.

you bit your lip, heart pounding.

then—

“hello?”

his voice was smooth, low, like honey warmed over. a little breathless, like he hadn’t expected your call but was already settling into it. you could hear the faint rustling of fabric, the soft click of something being set down.

you inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sound normal. “hi, hyunjin. are you in the building?”

there was a pause. then the quiet rustling of movement, like he was getting comfortable. “not tonight, sorry,” he murmured. “what’s up? you wanna talk?”

you exhaled slowly. “i’ve been thinking about it. what you asked me the other night.”

another pause. 

“mhm.”

your lips parted slightly, nervousness creeping up your throat. “i couldn’t find you someone to help you,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

silence.

hyunjin didn’t respond, but you could feel him listening. waiting.

so you swallowed, pushed past the last bit of doubt, and finally said it.

“but i could.”

hyunjin was quiet for a moment, and for a second, you almost thought you’d imagined the whole conversation. 

“yeah? you could?”

his voice was soft, tired, but there was something else underneath it. hope. a quiet, careful kind of hope.

you swallowed. “yeah.”

a breath left him, barely audible through the speaker. “y/n,” he said slowly, “you don’t have to. i mean it.” his tone was gentle, careful. “don’t feel pressured. you know that, right?”

you nodded instinctively, even though he couldn’t see you.

“i mean, you’ve got your own life. your career. i don’t want to—” he exhaled, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair, brows furrowed in thought. “i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

you took a breath, steadying yourself. “i know, hyunjin. but i have my reasons too.”

he was quiet, letting you continue.

“if we do this… i might need something as well,” you admitted, gripping the edge of your couch. 

he spoke again almost immediately. “y/n, i would do anything to give back to you.”

your breath caught. your eyes widened slightly, your stomach tightening at his words. the way he said it sent something warm rushing through you.

his voice softened, barely a whisper, as if to coax you. “tell me, y/n.”

you hesitated, nerves fluttering in your chest. you were suddenly aware of how much you were about to share with him—something raw, something you'd never told anyone before. his words, though, made you trust him in a way you hadn’t expected.

“you felt comfortable enough to tell me about... everything," you began, your voice quiet and unsure, "so i think it’s time i tell you something too.”

there was a pause on the other end. he didn’t interrupt, just waited.

you swallowed hard, the weight of what you were about to say pressing against your chest. “but, you need to promise me something first. you have to keep this quiet, hyunjin. i’ve never told anyone before.”

his response was immediate, earnest. “i promise, y/n. whatever it is, i’ll keep it between us.”

your heart beat faster, a lump forming in your throat. you could feel the words struggling to come out, the truth, the vulnerability that would finally be shared with someone else. 

“there’s someone on set,” you started, voice wavering. “a coworker and i...”

the words caught in your throat. you hadn’t even realized how much you needed to say this out loud to someone until now.

“i’ve been dealing with him for a while now," you took a deep breath and tried again. “and the worst part is, no one sees it. everything thinks it’s just normal workplace tension, but it’s not. not for me."

hyunjin stayed silent on the other end, giving you the space to speak, but you could feel him listening intently, like every word mattered.

"he doesn’t do anything... bad enough to report. not in a way that’s obvious to everyone. it’s the little things and that’s what makes it so hard to deal with."

you took a shaky breath, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried to keep your composure.

“and i—” you paused, swallowing hard. “i’m lying to him right now, hyunjin. to keep him away. i told him i’m seeing someone. and for now, it seems to be working, but...” you trailed off, unsure if you could say it aloud. “i don’t know how long it’ll last before he figures out i’m not.”

“so you need me.” it wasn’t a question, but a statement. hyunjin’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

you nodded slowly, trying to keep your thoughts straight. "yeah,”

“listen, i’ve got you, okay?” he said, his voice unwavering. “if you want me to talk to someone, i can. whatever you need, y/n.”

you paused for a moment before speaking again. “well, there's an event coming up, and he'll be there. just me showing up with someone might be enough to get him off my back."

“of course,” hyunjin responded. 

you let out a small breath, looking down. “i know my situation isn’t as serious as yours. my career’s safe, with or without your help. i could still help you, though—without expecting anything in return.”

hyunjin was quiet for a moment. then his voice came through, soft but strong, cutting through the doubt that was building inside you. “no, y/n. this is serious. it’s personal, and it matters. your peace of mind matters. what you’re dealing with is important too.” there was a sharpness to his words, a protective edge. “don’t diminish it, okay? ”

you didn’t know what to say to that, but hearing him say it felt like the weight of everything had been lifted just a little bit. you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words until now.

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting his words sink in. “thank you, hyunjin,” you whispered, feeling the warmth of his reassurance settle in your chest.

there was a pause before he spoke again, his voice quiet but sincere. “no,” he said softly, “thank you. for helping me, for trusting me with this.”

you took a deep breath, the nerves creeping back in. “so... are we doing this?” you asked, your voice hopeful.

hyunjin let out a light laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. “i guess so,” he replied, his voice more relaxed now. “i’ll bring it up when i meet with my company again.”

there was a slight pause before he added, his tone turning more serious, “you should really tell your company about your coworker, y/n. even if you think it won’t help, it might. you deserve to be heard.”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, silently agreeing with him. the weight of the situation felt a little less heavy.

you let out a quiet breath, rolling your lips together as you mulled over his words. “i’ll think about it,” you murmured. it wasn’t a promise, but it was something.

hyunjin hummed in response, and you could hear the faint smile in his voice. “that’s all i ask.”

for a moment, there was nothing but the soft hum of the city outside your window, the warmth of his presence lingering through the phone. then, out of nowhere, he let out a small chuckle—low, amused.

your brows furrowed. “what?”

his laughter deepened slightly, rich and familiar, like he was suddenly remembering something fond. “nothing,” he said, but the teasing lilt in his voice betrayed him.

you narrowed your eyes, even though he couldn’t see you. “hyunjin.”

he exhaled through his nose, clearly holding back another laugh. “it’s just…” he trailed off for a second before finally saying it. “donatella’s gonna flip the fuck out.”

heat rushed to your face instantly. “stop, hyunjin.” you groaned. 

he just kept laughing, and despite yourself, despite the absolute chaos of both your lives, a giggle bubbled up in your chest. before you knew it, you were both laughing—really laughing—for the first time in what felt like forever. for just a second, you weren’t two people desperately trying to fix the mess around you—you were just hyunjin and y/n again.

and maybe, just maybe, this whole thing wouldn’t be so bad.

for something that was supposed to be a last resort, a desperate attempt to save his ass, the company sure took the fake dating idea and ran with it like it was their best plan since debuting him in the first place.

the meeting had barely started before someone clapped his hands together and went, “brilliant. let’s do it.” no hesitation. no deliberation.

“you mean… that’s it?” hyunjin had asked, blinking across the table at the team of executives who were already drafting up pr statements like this was just another tuesday.

one of them looked up from his notes. “would you like it to be more difficult?”

well. no.

now everything was out. the plan was in motion. and the most ridiculous part? it was actually working.

for what?

for a scandal that wasn’t even his fault? for a rumor that had spiraled so far out of control that even he was starting to think maybe he had secret business with prostitutes?

but it didn’t matter anymore, when the hashtags switched overnight from #hyunjin to #hyunyn. creative, truly.

and now, instead of dealing with conspiracy theories about his alleged involvement in illegal activities, hyunjin’s biggest problem was that people were debating whether you two had secretly been together for months or weeks. ironically, some said since milan fashion week. others thought you two were secretly cousins (what did that even mean?).

frankly, he didn’t care.

because at the end of the day, the narrative had shifted, and he could finally breathe.

which was why he had just been able to spend the afternoon with suho without sneaking in through some underground garage like he was smuggling state secrets.

it almost felt too easy. and he had you to thank for that. 

hyunjin exhaled as he leaned against the elevator wall, watching the numbers drop. a few floors down. that was all it took to go from suho’s penthouse to your apartment.

he hadn’t talked to you much since everything blew up. you were on set when it happened, and the one short call you managed was mostly just: wow, that was fast. okay, i have to go, but we’ll talk later.

except “later” never really came, and now he felt kind of bad about it.

so here he was. standing outside your door, clutching a small bag with a necklace he wasn’t even sure you’d like. which, honestly, was his own fault. he had almost bought one from versace—one of those statement pieces with the huge, flashy charms. it felt right at the time. you were an ambassador for the brand, after all. it made sense.

but then, mid-purchase, his brain caught up.

you probably already had this. he could literally picture it—your jewelry drawer stacked with versace pieces you got for free while he was out here about gift you something that would be redundant at best and embarrassing at worst.

so, in a rare moment of good decision-making, he backtracked and went for something else. a van cleef & arpels necklace. dainty, understated. 

it felt more you.

…or at least, he hoped it did.

he didn’t know why he got a necklace. maybe as a thank you. maybe because he thought it’d suit you. maybe because he was a little in over his head with whatever this was, and buying pretty things for you felt… normal.

either way, it was too late to back out now.

hyunjin raised a hand and knocked. and then, because his brain worked after his body, he noticed the doorbell.

oh.

his hand hovered toward it before he realized how weird that was. what kind of psycho knocks and then rings the doorbell immediately after? 

so he just stood there, wondering if you heard him at all. or if you were even home. 

he was just about to start overthinking again when the door swung open, cutting off his spiral entirely.

“hi, hyunjin,” you greeted with a small smile.

and for a second, he just stared. because—god, you were so pretty. the kind of pretty that looked effortless, like you had just stepped out of a movie. which was a stupid thought because, well, you were literally an actress. of course, you looked like that.

still. it didn’t make it any less unfair.

“hi, y/n,” he said, clearing his throat a little, hoping he wasn’t visibly dazed.

you tilted your head slightly. “what are you doing here?” before he could answer, you stepped aside, gesturing him in. “come in.”

he did, stepping into your apartment as you closed the door behind him. the space was cozy, warmer than he expected, even though he didn’t know what exactly he had expected.

“i was just, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words. “visiting my friend again. and i figured i’d stop by.”

your lips curled slightly, amused. “yeah?”

“yeah.” he exhaled a small laugh. “i’ve actually been coming quite often now—thanks to you.”

“i’m glad it’s working out for you,” you said, leaning against the back of your couch as you watched him.

hyunjin studied you for a second before tilting his head. “how about you?”

he already knew the answer before you even spoke. he could see it. you looked lighter—your shoulders weren’t as tense, your smile wasn’t as forced. you were beaming so much more than the last time he saw you, and it was obvious. the change suited you.

and maybe you noticed the same about him, too.

you exhaled, shaking your head slightly as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. “it’s been… great. a lot better.”

hyunjin raised an eyebrow, wordlessly urging you to continue.

you smiled a little. “for a second, i thought i was starting to lose my edge. i almost lost my love for being on set. but now it’s good. i feel like i can actually breathe now.”

hyunjin nodded, his expression softening. he knew that feeling all too well.

“that’s great, y/n.” his voice was genuine, warm, and maybe even a little proud. “really.”

his eyes were softer than usual, and the way he was looking at you made your stomach do a little flip.

“i got you something.” he lifted it slightly before handing it over.

“what is it?” you asked, taking the bag and gently pulling out the box. your fingers brushed against the smooth material as you lifted the lid, and inside was something that made your breath catch.

it was a necklace—elegant and so you. the delicate chain had a small pendant that caught the light, the kind of subtle beauty that you would have picked out for yourself. you looked up at him, surprised. “hyunjin, you really didn’t have to…”

but he was already smiling. “i thought you’d like it.”

your fingers lightly traced the necklace, and your eyes caught his again. “i love it.”

his brain suddenly snapped into action—that’s your cue to put it on for her, you dumb nut. hyunjin cleared his throat, raising his hand in a small gesture. with a small smile, you pulled the necklace from the box and held it out to him.

his fingers brushed against yours as he took it—light, barely there, but enough to send something weird and electric shooting through his chest. he ignored it. he wasn’t about to turn this into some rom-com slow-motion moment.

…except that’s exactly what it felt like when you turned around, exposing the curve of your neck.

hyunjin swallowed, hard.

he carefully brought the necklace over your head, moving so gently you almost didn’t feel it. hyunjin’s fingers barely brushed against your skin as he adjusted the chain, careful, deliberate. he was close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, close enough that if you turned your head even slightly, you’d—nope. not going there.

his voice, low and smooth, broke through the charged silence. “so… when’s this event i’m going to?”

you swallowed, willing yourself to sound normal. “um. next week. friday night.”

he hummed, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck as he fastened the clasp. “dress code?”

your lips parted slightly, mind blank for a second before you forced out, “formal.”

hyunjin chuckled, the sound barely above a whisper but somehow sending a ripple through you. “good to know.”

the necklace was secured, but neither of you moved just yet.

your fingers curled around the edge of the counter, trying to focus on anything other than how close he still was. “you don’t have to stay the whole time. just showing up with me should be enough.”

hyunjin didn’t step back.

not yet.

“i don’t mind staying,” he murmured, his voice softer now, like he wasn’t just talking about the event anymore.

his hand lingered near your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he stayed just a little too close. and then—suddenly, like the thought had just hit him—he exhaled, like he was trying to shake something off.

“sorry, i’m just—” hyunjin stopped himself, his hand now resting on the back of his neck, fingers gripping at the studs of his hair like he was trying to physically ground himself.

your heart stuttered.

he had moved back, but the air between you was still thick, charged with something neither of you wanted to name. you turned your head slightly, eyes flickering up to meet his.

you swallowed. “it’s fine.”

fine? how could you tell yourself this was fine?

you should’ve wanted to step back. you should’ve felt that creeping discomfort, that instinct to put space between you the way you always did when sangwoo leaned in too close.

but with hyunjin, you didn’t move. you didn’t want to move.

your breath was still uneven, but not from fear. just from him. you didn’t know what to make of that. all you knew was that there was something about hyunjin—something that felt different, that felt safe.

hyunjin’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second—so fast, so fleeting, you might have imagined it. but you knew you didn’t. hyunjin didn’t move, but his eyes were asking something. and you answered. a small nod, barely there, but enough.

hyunjin’s hand was already moving before you could fully process it. it was slow, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, but you didn’t. his palm cupped your cheek, thumb grazing the soft skin beneath your eye. 

you could feel the air thinning between you two. and then, just as he leaned in, as the space between your lips and his vanished—

rrrring.

the shrill sound of his phone shattered everything.

hyunjin froze, lips barely an inch away from yours, his breath hitching before he pulled back, looking utterly frustrated. his hand quickly fell away from your face, and his lips twisted into a tight grimace.

he muttered, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “it’s my dorm mate.”

your chest tightened as you blinked, still in shock. what the hell just happened? you almost kissed the guy you swore you would never see again. the one-night stand that was supposed to be just that—one night. and your fake boyfriend who was meant to be fake.

hyunjin cleared his throat, pressing the phone to his ear. “hey, changbin.”

you tried not to look too relieved, even as your heart pounded.

“yeah, i’m at… y/n’s place,” he continued, avoiding your gaze. “just talking. about stuff.”

silence. you could practically feel changbin narrowing his eyes through the phone.

hyunjin scratched the back of his neck, finally glancing at you. “yeah, i’ll be over in a bit.”

another pause, then a clipped, “alright, take care.”

hyunjin exhaled, rubbing his forehead. he stood there, tense, like he’d been caught in something he wasn’t supposed to be part of. “sorry about that,” he muttered. “i have to go.”

you nodded, pretending the air between you wasn’t still charged.

hyunjin hesitated, then sighed. “i—look, i’m sorry. about this. about almost—” he stopped, shaking his head. “we probably need to set some boundaries. you’re… you know. and i’m… yeah. we’ll talk about it, okay?”

your lips pressed together, but you nodded again. “of course,” you repeated, even though neither of you were really sure what this was, or what those so-called boundaries even meant.

he stood there for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else. like maybe he was about to change his mind about leaving altogether. but then he straightened up, pushing a hand through his hair before muttering, “i’ll come pick you up tomorrow for the meeting.”

you stood up, moving on autopilot as you walked to the door and pulled it open for him. hyunjin hesitated for just a second, but then he gave you a small nod and stepped out.

the door clicked shut behind him.

silence.

you exhaled, slow and shaky, before leaning back against the door, your head lightly thudding against the wood. your fingers drifted up, brushing over the delicate pendant resting against your collarbone. 

what the hell just happened?

the wind tugged at your hair as you stood outside, waiting. you weren’t even sure why you were nervous—it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen hyunjin since the moment. it had been two days, a few texts exchanged here and there, but nothing significant. nothing that acknowledged that charged, almost-mistake hanging between you.

but then, a sleek black car rolled up in front of you, all polished edges and tinted windows, and your stomach did this stupid little flip. the door swung open, and there he was. hyunjin stepped out, in a black sweater that had been handcrafted by versace herself, and a pair of shades. he didn’t say anything at first, just opened the car door for you.

you blinked up at him. “oh, so we’re being all fancy now?”

he barely fought off a smirk, tilting his head toward the car like, get in already.

so you did, sliding into the backseat. before you could even get comfortable, he followed, shutting the door behind him. the car settled into a quiet hum as the driver pulled away.

hyunjin cleared his throat. “how’ve you been?”

“good,” you said, nodding like this wasn’t a little awkward. “busy with filming.”

he nodded back, and then his gaze dropped slightly, his lips curling up into a tiny, knowing smile.

you frowned. “what?”

he pointed lazily at your collarbone. “you’re still wearing it.”

you blinked, looking down—and oh. the four-leaf clover pendant sat against your collarbone, resting against your skin like it had never left.

you smiled, twirling it between your fingers. “i’m not allowed to have it on set, but i always put it on after.”

hyunjin didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you, his smile softening as he bit his lower lip. his whole expression warmed like the sun had just come out.

you shifted in your seat, trying to push down the nervous energy buzzing in your stomach. “so, should i be nervous about this?” you asked, your gaze flickering to the tinted windows as if the city outside could distract you from the fact that you were headed to a meeting with his company. 

hyunjin chuckled, leaning back a little in his seat. “no, don’t be. you’ll be fine. and i’ll be there the whole time.” 

he gave you a reassuring smile, but there was an extra twinkle in his eyes that made you wonder if he was being just a little bit too relaxed about all of this.

the meeting passed quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, the room was filled with the soft shuffle of papers and the clink of laptops being closed.

hyunjin immediately turned toward you with a grin, clearly pleased with how things had gone. “so, now that that’s over, how about a tour of the building?” he asked, his tone light but genuine. “i can show you where i spent most of my time while i was a teenager.”

you raised an eyebrow, curious. “alright, lead the way.”

hyunjin’s grin widened as he gestured for you to follow him, his steps light as he led you through the building. the halls were lined with sleek, modern design—clean lines, glass walls, and an almost intimidating level of organization. he seemed at ease in the space, walking with purpose as if he had done it a thousand times.

every so often, he would point out something—a particular room or area—and share little anecdotes about his time there.

“you know, back in the day, trainees used to hang around the hallways, hoping to bump into an idol passing by. i definitely did that way too many times.”

“have you seen it happen?” you teased.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking. “maybe once or twice. but i always knew when they were lurking around. i had my own tricks too.” he winked before leading you toward a door at the end of the hall.

“this is the room i spent most of my time in,” he said, swinging open the door to reveal a simple but spacious practice room. the lights flickered on automatically as he entered, casting the room in a soft glow.

you stepped inside, looking around. the mirrors lined the wall, the floor clear for dancing, and there was a large couch shoved in the corner. you moved toward the couch, sitting down with a small sigh. 

hyunjin stood there for a moment, watching you with a smile before he joined you. he sat down beside you, but his leg was just barely touching yours, and for some reason, it made the room feel even smaller.

he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a small grin on his face. “so, what do you think? not bad, right?”

you looked around again, the walls still covered in reminders of his hard work. "i like it," you said, smiling back at him. "it feels like the kind of space where countless dreams have been shaped."

hyunjin nodded, his eyes lighting up. "and what about you? what was it like trying to be an actress?"

“i’ve always known what i wanted. i started quite young actually,” you leaned back slightly, hands resting on your lap as you considered his question. "and it’s…different cause i mean, i don’t have to perform on stage or anything. but you’re always expected to bring the character to life, make it feel real."

he nodded, clearly interested. "so, you go off-script a lot?"

"all the time," you said, shrugging. "you can’t always stick to the lines. sometimes i have to adapt, improvise when the scene goes in a direction i didn’t expect."

hyunjin smiled. "that sounds pretty hard. i mean, we don’t get much room to improvise in the same way—everything’s planned out down to the smallest detail in a performance."

"yeah, it’s definitely different," you said, smiling softly. "but i like it.”

he nodded again, his gaze still on you, but this time, there was something else there—something like admiration. 

your heart skipped a beat, your chest tight with that familiar, fluttery feeling that seemed to hit you every time he got too close, every time his eyes stayed on you a little too long. you caught yourself thinking how ridiculously pretty he was, his lips too perfect. you hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath until you exhaled slowly, like your lungs couldn’t handle this much hyunjin in one go.

he was sitting next to you, his knee just barely touching yours, and every time he smiled, you felt a new pang in your chest. you could feel his gaze on you, the way his eyes were tracing the line of your lips like he was somehow as transfixed as you were.

"what?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more flustered than you meant it to. 

he blinked, a slight shift in his expression before his lips curled into a small, sheepish smile. "nothing," he said, but his voice was too soft, too warm for it to feel like an empty response.

and then, it happened. the moment where it all clicked. hyunjin's eyes flickered down to your lips again, that damn glimmer in his eyes making your pulse spike. it was like a game at this point, a silent back-and-forth where he wasn’t backing down, and neither were you.

he’s asking for it.

the thought echoed in your brain before you even realized it was happening. your body moved before you could think, leaning in just the slightest inch... and there it was.

you kissed him.

his lips were so soft, so warm against yours, and you felt your heart race as he kissed you back instantly, as though he’d been waiting for that moment just as much as you had. hyunjin’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. 

everything in you craved more. you shouldn’t want this. you shouldn’t be here, in this moment, with him so close that you could practically feel every inch of his body against yours. but you did. and you couldn’t help it.

your hands moved on their own, sliding up his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. his fingers dug lightly into the small of your back, urging you even closer. it wasn’t okay, not by any standard. it was just him, and you, and the undeniable pull that seemed to have existed between you two since the very first second he stepped into your life.

your breath hitched as you finally pulled away, but he didn’t let go. his lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth, the soft brush of them against your skin as his breath mingled with yours.

“does this feel familiar to you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, the words almost a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. 

you could feel the question reverberating in your chest. italy. that night. the one you hadn’t been able to forget, the one that haunted the back of your mind every time you saw him. you swallowed hard, suddenly feeling too exposed.

he didn’t kiss you again. instead, his nose gently bumped against yours, his breath warm and soft against your lips. he was hovering there, touching but not pressing, and it was driving you mad. every time his lips ghosted over yours, it felt like an electric jolt, like he was pulling something out of you, some kind of desperation you’d been hiding deep down.

you closed your eyes for a second, trying to control your thoughts, but it was impossible. he was so close. you didn’t know how to pull back when everything inside you was pushing you closer to him.

your chest felt too tight, like you couldn’t get enough air, like you were drowning in him. the warmth of his body, the way his lips barely ghosted over yours—it was too much, he was too much. you wanted him so badly it was dizzying, overwhelming in a way that made your head spin.

but this wasn’t real. it wasn’t supposed to be real.

this was a fake relationship. a cover-up. you weren’t catching feelings. you weren’t.

one kiss couldn’t do that to you. it was just heat, just tension, just a mistake waiting to happen. and if you let yourself sink into it, if you let yourself forget the boundaries, you were going to screw everything up.

you forced yourself to swallow, to push down the lump rising in your throat, but it must have shown on your face because hyunjin suddenly pulled back just slightly, his eyes scanning yours.

“what’s wrong, y/n?” his voice was soft. his hands were still resting on you, still holding you close, but his grip had loosened, giving you space to breathe.

and that was the problem. you didn’t want space. but you needed it.

you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting your head against his shoulder. the moment you did, his body relaxed beneath you, and his hand came up, settling gently against your back.

he didn’t say anything. he didn’t move. he just held you there, warm and patient, his thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt in the smallest, most grounding motion.

and maybe you needed that more than you realized.

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 5: My God, He's...Unfashionable!

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After learning some troubling new facts about vampires, Henry sits around dissociating for 15 minutes before being interrupted by George, who's brought him a mysterious letter from one Sir Francis Varney. Varney is his neighbor, who recently moved into the neighborhood and wants to be friends, but apparently not enough to get the family's name right. Henry and George are introverts and don't want to be this guy's friend, so they resolve to ignore him and hope he goes away.

The full moon rises, and the brothers and Marchdale gather in Flora's room to keep watch while she sleeps. Marchdale suddenly remembers that he tore the vampire's clothes while chasing him the previous night, and pulls out the scrap of cloth. It looks (and smells) like part of a hundred-year-old coat. They all agree to simply pretend this little piece of evidence had never come up, until a few hours into their watch when Marchdale realizes that the scrap looks a lot like the outfit the guy in the portrait is wearing. This idea is so troubling to them that Henry and Marchdale immediately run across the hall to compare the two, and sure enough they match exactly. Henry mentions that, funnily enough, the man in the portrait was buried in his clothes.

Just then, they're interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the garden outside. They rush out with the intention of shooting the intruder, who they assume is the vampire, but it turns out to be Chillingworth. Chillingworth is a huge busybody, and couldn't resist lying in wait near the house to see if the supposed vampire would turn up. After reconvening briefly with George, Henry, Marchdale, and Chillingworth decide to conduct a sweep of the grounds. They climb up on top of the garden wall in order to have a better vantage point, and from there they spot a human figure lying under a tree. As they watch, the light of the moon falls upon the figure, and it begins to sit up and move.

Immediately, Marchdale shoots it, and it falls to the ground once more. The three of them run to investigate the figure, which gets up again and runs away from them, managing to evade them in the woods. All three of them remark that the figure appeared to be wearing hundred-year-old clothes. This cinches it for Henry, who is now completely convinced that the figure is his ancestor risen as a vampire. Chillingworth, on the other hand, stubbornly insists there's no such thing as vampires. Marchdale proposes that, to put the matter to rest, they go and visit the family crypt and investigate the tomb of Henry's ancestor for signs of disturbance.

We have word from Varney! He's sent Henry a letter, in which he calls him "Mr. Beaumont", which is hilarious and probably not intentional on the part of the author. Rymer is, as we will see, hopelessly bad at keeping his character names consistent. Varney lives in an estate called Ratford Abbey, which he moved into a few days ago and is located very close to the Bannerworth house.

Henry makes explicit for the first time the Bannerworths' dire financial situation, which has previously only been alluded to. The family was once wealthy, but successive generations of irresponsible Bannerworth men have depleted the family fortune, and now they are so poor that Henry fears they may not be able to keep their house much longer. Due to these circumstances, Henry doesn't want to make any new acquaintances. He is sure that Sir Francis Varney, being a gentleman, will pick up on this and not push the matter. Sure, Henry, let's go with that.

Like every girl I knew in middle school, the men in this book insist on doing everything in groups, and sure enough, Henry, George, and Marchdale all end up keeping watch in Flora's room. George insists on joining because his nerves will keep him up all night otherwise, and Marchdale insists because he, being older, has a cooler head than the other two. Immediately after making this assertion he tells them that if he catches the vampire tonight he's gonna wrassle it. The three of them reason that a three-person watch is not overkill because that way, if something distracting happens, they can send two people to investigate it and leave the third behind to keep watch. And boy, can these gentlemen get distracted. First they simply HAVE to go across the hall to compare Marchdale's cloth scrap with the painting (can it not wait until morning?), and then when Chillingworth makes his appearance they make a spur-of-the-moment decision to search the grounds of the house, on the grounds that Chillingworth thought he heard something on the other side of the garden wall.

Themes of denial and aversion continue to crop up. As evidence of the vampire mounts, the men continually remind each other not to do anything so rash as believe in the obvious conclusion:

"Say nothing of this relic of last night's work to any one." "Be assured I shall not. I am far from wishing to keep up in any one's mind proofs of that which I would fain, very fain refute."

Henry tells us that the ancestor in the portrait committed suicide. While never directly stated as such by the text, this is another hint; one folkloric belief is that death by suicide could lead to a person becoming a vampire.

Hearing a noise from outside, they assume the vampire has returned, and in doing so nearly shoot Chillingworth:

"Among the laurels. I will fire a random shot, and we may do some execution." "Hold!" said a voice from below; "don't do any such thing, I beg of you." "Why, that is Mr. Chillingworth's voice," cried Henry. "Yes, and it's Mr. Chillingworth's person, too," said the doctor, as he emerged from among some laurel bushes.

You know, it's funny that it never occurs to anyone that Chillingworth might be the vampire. So far the guy has been behaving very suspiciously.

Chillingworth says he heard something, so naturally a search of the grounds is in order. They return to Flora's room to tell George their plan. George agrees to stay behind, but not before arming himself with a sword, which he was keeping in his bedroom. I assume that sort of thing was more normal in the 18th century.

Chillingworth continues to be suspicious, or at the very least incredibly nosy:

"You are, no doubt, much surprised at finding me here," said the doctor; "but the fact is, I half made up my mind to come while I was here; but I had not thoroughly done so, therefore I said nothing to you about it."

They fetch a ladder from the garden, and use it to climb to the top of the wall Varney spent five minutes failing to climb the previous night. From this vantage point, they catch sight of a mysterious figure lying underneath a tree. Is the implication that he's been lying there all night?

The moon slowly rises higher in the sky, until the moonlight falls on the ground below the tree. As the light falls over the figure, they see him move, convulse, and then slowly begin to get to his feet - at which point Marchdale shoots him, laying him low again. Rude, Marchdale.

Of course, as Marchdale points out, they could stand around shooting him all night - so long as the moon shines on him, he'll keep getting up again. And get up he does, just in time to evade Chillingworth running at him. Off runs the vampire into the dark woods, where none of the three men dare give chase. Henry has been greatly shaken by all this, and finally sheds the air of forced denial which the men had all adopted. I would think this sensible if it led to him taking any action - stock up on garlic, perhaps? - but that's not how this book works. Believer or skeptic, all are equally incompetent. Case in point: Chillingworth, quite the opposite of Henry, stubbornly refutes the notion that what they just witnessed was in any way supernatural. Does he have an explanation, then, for what just happened?

"True; I saw a man lying down, and then I saw a man get up; he seemed then to be shot, but whether he was or not he only knows; and then I saw him walk off in a desperate hurry. Beyond that, I saw nothing."

You saw a man wearing hundred-year-old clothes, matching the appearance of the one who broke into the Bannerworth house last night, who in turn matches the appearance of their hundred-years-dead ancestor. At the very least you should suspect foul play of some kind.

Marchdale winds up being the voice of reason, as the only one of these dumbasses to come up with an actionable suggestion: hey, if we think this guy might be Vampire Runnagate Bannerworth, why don't we go check on him and see if his grave's been disturbed? The chapter ends there, with the three of them reconvening with George and telling him of their new plan, and all four of them committing to carry it out.

Next: The author stalls for time with an entire chapter of exposition.

[worldheadcanons]

hi okay claiming my title as England anon LOL and also recommending kofi for writing comms. also requesting general sfw and nsfw stalker eng hcs and dw im gonna yap in ur askbox a little so its not so vague 😭

okay so firstly like you’re sooo right abt him being like… old and pathetic. like hes this sad pathetic old guy grown man w an office job and he has the sickest crush. on a reader who’s out of his league. idk i love that dynamic soo much but like literally imagining him doing a bunch of old timey things to ‘court’ them like. sending heartfelt typed letters that are so. idk imagine like cringe but kind of endearing. he uses old british rock song lyrics talking abt his youth and the passions of love or whatever and reader is like Pause. How old is He. why was he rockin out w the Beatles

also idk i can imagine him trying to be hip and failing miserably. sorry this is nsfw but its making me giggle like him trying to be cool in bed but its ruined cuz he goes 😫 MY BACK but like idk it cracks my tf up i think its cute like omg my lil senior citizen…

anyways im like yapping TOO much rn but like yes pls more england content esp if hes like sopping wet and pathetic 😢 ik he def has a thing w control but i feel like ppl write him so often being like this suave sex master like. no thats arthur kirkland and hes a little cringe too ❤️ and you capture that so well w both him and also hiw u write Alfred being a lil cringe and desperate too like. thank you

i think the truth is that i’m just willing to write post twink death england and not a lot of people are /hj

honestly, i view him as experiencing a love meant for youth, like a teenage love. clammy hands, pretending to be cooler than you are, fake casualness, blushing, eyes darting everywhere because you want to look at the person you like but you don’t want to be caught, etc etc — he’s going through this fantastical, dreamy like crush and because he’s older it’s not like he can really be a kid about it, so he ends up pathetic and obsessed. it’s like the crush is too much for him to handle because it’s probably been years since he’s felt so young. reader makes him feel like an awkward 16 year old boy, lol.

also yeah he has a thing for control but i would barely apply that to the bedroom and more just like life. like, you should be home by this time and let me know if you’re not going to be, we should decorate our house this way (and if you don’t like it i guess we can compromise); stuff like that. i don’t see him as immature or naive with sex, he’s had practice for sure but he’s not some dommy daddy 😭😭 and definitely prefers to make love the best he can rather than have sex — there’s a difference! — especially with reader.

[rachelbethhines]

60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - McCoy 9th Review

Question Mark Pyjamas - Short Story

The Virgin Decalogs were kind of a precursor to the Short Trips of today. An anthology series that at first focused on Doctor Who, that then went on to feature the Expand Who Universe, and finally focusing on original works with no connection to the series.

This is because Vrigin lost the publishing license for Who after the TV movie. More on that later.

Question Mark Pyjamas is the final story in the second Decalog "Lost Property". The recurring theme of this anthology is all the random properties the Doctor acquires through out his travels... houses, land, condos, boats, hotels... ect.

It's an odd theme, but I haven't read the entire book yet so I can't tell you how well it works as a whole, but I can tell you that said theme is front and center within the short story I'm reviewing today.

A house the Doctor owns is stolen by a alien conman looking to set up a theme park on an asteroid. The Doctor and his companions are held hostage and forced to become a side show attraction for the park. They must quite literally 'play house' and pretend to be a 'normal' earth family for the constantly viewing audience.

I probably make the story sound way cooler than it actually is with that summary.

In reality the narrative has a very slow first half, an awkward middle, and doesn't really come together until the very end.

Part of the problem is that the Tardis crew just kind of stumbles onto the theme park and discovers the stolen house by shear coincidence. They then get captured by the villain when they try to confront him.

Rather than making the very comedic villain an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, it instead just makes our heroes look weak... especially Ace who is supposed to be combat hardened by this point.

Also they aren't forced to preform for a live audience, but are made to 'rehearse' for the villain who never shuts up.

The tension of the story is basically downgraded.

But that's alright, this is intended to be a lighthearted comedy piece.

Except it's not particularly funny.

A lot of the jokes fall flat for me. Mainly cause it only seems to have one joke.

Two foul mouthed, 'modern' women are forced to perform sanitized outdated stereotypes that they hate, and they won't shut up about how much they hate it, but quite literally won't do anything about it with out the Doctor's permission. Hardy, har, har...

Oh and the Doctor makes a weird, out of character, sex joke at some point.

Finally, I just hate how everyone is written through out most of it.

It's like I'm walking into middle of on going argument between a poly group that I have no context for.

Why is everyone in the tardis crew so rude and bitchy to each other at the beginning? What's up with all the awkward innuendoes between them? Why has Ace regressed as a character despite supposedly being older now?

Yeah that's the real disappointment here. I know the NAs had nothing to do with the Professor and Ace audios, but it's still disappointing to go from one story where she shows actual character development to another story where she's even more immature than she was on tv.

Like the character's main conflict in the story is that despite being in her 20s now, Ace is forced to play 'the child' for the attraction. Except she is childish.

She's rude, bratty, calls her own supposed friends names behind their backs, paranoid, self-centered and more concerned with 'having fun' then actually rescuing her friends.

The narrative makes a point to say that she's 'a woman now' and 'old before her time' but then has her behaving like a spoiled 13 year old.

But it's not all bad.

As I said, things pick up as we head towards then end. After Ace decides to remove the stick up her butt and help out, we get several cute scenes.

Ace escaping the house on a motorbike, driving through the amusement park with killer robots chasing after her, laughing all the way, is just unfiltered concentrated Who.

The Doctor and Benny cooking lunch together is adorable, and I love the pay off at the end regarding the roast.

And Benny's pure joy at getting to raid the Doctor's wine cellar full of antique alcohols from around the universe is perhaps the most realized the character has ever been to me.

Like counting this one, I've only read/heard three stories with Benny in total and the character never really clicked for me until this moment. Where she's cradling a wine bottle like a baby and cooing at it, going on and on about how much she's going to enjoy drinking it.

That's hilarious.

Hopefully that humor follows her into the Benny spin-off series which we'll be covering next.

[mauannacreates]

Flufftober August

Gosh, sorry for being late on this rendition of Flufftober by @flufftober month. I was working quite a bit on my later WIPs, and busy with real life stuff that this one kinda swpt by until last minute.

I have to admit, I quite enjoyed working on this one. Especially with exploring the dynamics between the characters here, I couldn't help but want to do it with Elaine and Marielle, and even did a quick sketch of the surroundings they could be at. So I hope you guys enjoy this one!

---

Elaine struts by, collecting all the things she could find. Weapons, armory and jewlerry. All the things she has found scattered on the floor. Well, so much for try to have a neat room. And when she twists around, she could see the girl who is no more than half her height, reaching to her hips. 

And mind you, she ain't a girl. 

"Lainy! Hi~!" the girl with her eyes barely showing under her pink domed head says, "Oh goodie, it's so nice to see you today!" 

"Do I even want to know how you got into my room?" 

"Nope." despite her sweet smile curving through her lips, something tells Elaine that would probably be the case that she has done something. And despite her small size the tentacles from her sides swirl around. Elaine tenses her lip. She's definitely a lot more dangerous than she's letting on. 

"so… What are we going to do today?" 

"what do you mean?" she gives a forced laugh as she narrows her eyes for the owl that should be there by now. "actually, where's Tynan?" 

"Oh, Ty? We're going to him now." she says "I thought that we can both go to him, like we're badass, sister style." 

Elaine gives a cackling laugh, "Marielle. You know I have more duties to do than to pretend to be your younger-" 

"actually older sister." she gives a stretched smile… Older…?

"How… How old are you?" 

"A hundred and fifty six years old." What the…!? "At least, it'd probably translate to… Twenty one cat years?" twenty one what..? Before Elaine could begin to understand it, she thrusts her hand to her fists. 

"Stop trying to be funny with me." Elaine says. 

"Oh, no, no. It's not me being funny to you at all. It's all seriousness." good grief. Even the way she's facing her with her mouth drooped doesn't make it any easier to say anything that she said is a joke. 

"You know… I'm twenty six, but that…" I stare at her. ”That doesn't make any sense."

"You know how you have cat lives…?" 

"You mean as in cat lives, right…?" 

"yeah, yeah." she says. "I have that sort of thing, but… Limitless." What the hell…?! 

"how in the hell is that possible…!?" Elaine says, and her mouth tenses, but then scrunches up.  

"I, uhh… regenerate…?” Why is she saying it like it’s the most obvious thing…? “It's complicated to explain, but after getting tired or really hurt, I just… Revive myself?" This is sounding more ridiculous by the minute. "I'm sure you'll see it one of these days!"

"I am going to pretend I never heard you say that." 

"Lainy~!" Marielle gives a chided laughter. She is probably the second weirdest– no scratch that, the weirdest Elaine has ever encountered. 

"Look, I don't really care how you revive yourself. Just…" She searches her, but then Elaine gives a sigh as she twists away from her. "Let's go and look for Tynan."

"Okay! Cue the music!" the music? What mus– 

'My, my, how the seasons go by

I get high, and I love to get low

So the hearts keep breakin', and the heads just roll

You know, that's how the story goes'

God, why does she have to sing? And… Where the hell is that music coming from…!? 

'One, two, three, they gonna run back to me

'Cause I'm the best baby that they never gotta keep

One, two, three, they gonna run back to me

They always wanna come, but they never wanna leave –'

"Marielle, stop!" Elaine says, and gosh, what is with her and laughing so much…? 

"Hey, I've got to have some backbeat music somewhere." her smile inches just that bit wider. "especially since I'm walking with my cooler and younger sister~!"

"Yeah, but…" Elaine takes a breath in. If she could only strangle that jellyfish…! But then, something's telling her it would be a mistake if she did that. So she takes a breath in. "We are at a palace. Not at a bar." Elaine says "and I am not your little sister!"

“I know.” She says, “I just like to make you laugh and allll stressed out.” Oh, what…!? So this jellyfish is really doing this on purpose…? She will–  “Just joking.” Marielle gives a soft smile, before her big round dress wavers to the side. “Let’s go Lainy. It’s a nice August day, and hey. It’s soon Spring… or Autumn...?” 

“It’s fall here.” And her pink dome stares up at her for what seems like a few seconds. Even as the other people are walking past the corridor. Who knows what she’s thinking. 

“I knew that.” No, she didn’t. She didn’t. But then she’s turning away…! “Lainy, we have to find Ty soon. We don’t want to keep him waiting.” Of course Marielle doesn’t. But then, Elaine herself didn’t want to keep Tynan waiting either.  

“Fine, but you better explain how you got into my room sooner or later.” and Marielle gives a laugh. Something is telling her she won’t get an answer. But it doesn’t matter. It’s different than with all those other people in Lanz’ castle. Serious, rigid and fine. Well, it ought to be time that Elaine herself did something different around here besides sitting still and acting like a princess the whole day.

[ibelieveinghost]

4/7/24

up-dates!!!

1st off!: got my visa!!! finally!!!!!! actually, i got it on Wednesday but never found the energy to write here haha. oh! i graduated on Friday too and somehow talked the school into refunding the rest of the tuition. so everything went great in the end.

but seriously. i haven't write in so long, and i'll try my best this morning(rainy Sunday vibes yay!) to cover as much as possible. ok moving on---

i've been drawing/sketching on and off, and it sorta feels like a habit. lighthearted efforts and ease, something i rarely experience w/ making art since...since high school.

i've been updating more consistently on my blogs/twitter now. i got some response. some. not as much as one'd wish haha. but honestly, i felt so grateful that people are liking my stuff.

on the other hand, the job hunting has been going... well it has been going! not a ton of jobs being posted out there since early March, and i'm starting to realize that i'm only pretending to be really wanting certain positions. i got so accustomed to idea of working as a researcher/scientist, but. man. wasn't that why i left school in the first place, that i fucking hate it despite pouring ~10 years of my life into it and seemed to be going somewhere. having bright prospects and all. now that i knew. well. i need a little more time to think and un-think, to not rush ahead, and be complete honest w/ myself. getting the visa means i got all the time i want. so again, all worked out in the best way possible.

oh yea! birthday coming up in couple weeks! woo hoo! been planning a little overnight trip somewhere! probably 軽井沢 or 伊豆高原. idk! haven't gone anywhere not Tokyo/Yokohama since early Jan, and traveling alone is totally my thing! actually, growing older is so much cooler than i'd thought when i was in my early 20s. but like. past me: imagining feeling more grounded, taking things less seriously, and being more in tune with urself.

ok! dumping some photos seem like a good way to continue:

(reverse chronological order)

(コメダ I literally come here everyday now lol)

(graduation cert came with a bear! + my lamys... i'm not collecting them! they're super easy to write to write with and i adore the bright neon colors that's it!)

( i went to the 4D special viewing of prisoner of Azkaban and man---it worked so well w/ the 4D format. i mean it is the rainy/icy snowy one of the 8, so a lot of spraying water on your face situations! i was wearing a wide grin the whole time i guess. it was so much fun. that being said, i def shed a few tears near the end when harry realized no one's coming to save the two of em, so he stepped out and did what he didn't even know he's capable of. a scene my younger self never managed to relate to. but it def resonates now.

i love this movie so much, probably my fav out of all of them. watched it at the theater w/ dad when i was probably in...middle school or younger?)

(awww)

(the day i got my visa)

(date w/ S!)

(dinner later that night, w/ the gang)

(us, acting a little stupidly ha + interesting cards i took from the bar)

(last Sunday)

(the komeda near ogikubo station, it went all orange that day + cute lil book i might come back and buy later)

(the night i last hang out w/ A)

damn we're reaching the 30 photo/post limit

so guess that's that! i'm coming back to wrap up this epic photo dump soon(later today)

it felt so nice to just recounting my life, sharing all the bits and pieces on one had ever asked for. to me, it's a cute and ultimately therapeutic thing to do. my future self must be thanking me for taking the time to record everything haha.

anyway! see ya soon!

[unlimitedhorsepower]

lol sure, thanks for asking @ensom-lillebror.

though the more i think about it the less special it is. while drawing this i realized his jacket is a really typical japanese souvenir jacket, shiny fabric and everything. i referenced some 80s souvenir jackets for changing it a little, wanted it to look kind of cheap but he loves it anyway.

underneath he is wearing a gundam logo t-shirt, which is his idea of a tasteful anime reference.

he also wears loose parachute pants, and the original fit of these was originally quite tight but i wanted to reference his looser pants and the later looser fit. parachute pants were very in style with young guys for a moment and he is really trying to be a little stylish but hes kinda late to the party, and maybe the pants are a bit loose on him because theyre a little ill-fitting, hence the belt.

the material is quite thin so its easy to tuck into socks for some extra security, like, thats how you make your pants tick-proof. its a reference to camping/outdoorsy activities and i think a reference to him also being somewhat practical, same with the sturdy boots.

he also has a couple of sentai and general japan-related pins on his jacket, which he considers a tasteful reference. i was thinking its in line with his "please notice me but dont notice me" dilemma, where he kinda hopes someone will ask him about his merch but not actually. he would like to talk about his interests but would also like to explode if someone actually asked him

last but not least, i gave him more of a mullet, classic 80s moment. its my headcanon that he can effortlessly change the cut and colour of his hair, and he probably is naturally dark-haired, but shapeshifts it into blonde to appear a a bit "cooler". i think sometimes he goes a bit daring and makes his hair appear dyed at the tips and sometimes when hes anxious his hair gets just a tiny bit longer and shadows his eyes better so he doesnt have to see.

i also adjusted his design otherwise a bit, i wanted to make him look younger than he is, which ties into his feelings of cringe around himself and how he hates himself a little bit and has anxiety and fares better when he pretends to be someone else

ryan goes "haha i thought you were 15 lmfao i was really surprised youre older than princess is. its crazy dude" and ivans entire year is ruined

ivans japan obsession is also just a weeaboo joke as far as i know but weeaboos werent yet a real thing in the 80s so he would just self-describe as an otaku...

i also thought it would be interesting if there was some other reason than just a joke for this, so i imagined him to have north asian indigenous heritage.

he is also embarrassed of his heritage and parents and especially of being a "rural" kid (i think he moved to sternbild for school. if i was ivan and my family was near i would live with them instead of alone in a funny NEET cave. bc every time i remember seeing his living quarters theyve been 100% japan-themed), because as far as he knows its not cool, whereas japan IS cool, his favourite media is from japan, so hes kind of substituting japan for his heritage. its safe and "cool" and he doesnt have to actually divulge anything real about himself. even if he kind of wishes someone would ask. but he would also die before he talked about any of it.

we dont see anything about his family in canon as far as i know besides them telling him like "ivan dont show off your power to random people it can be scary.stay safe", so source: i made it up. mightve forgotten some ivan canon lore on the side but i hope not

much to ponder about ivans i want to be noticed/ i hope nobody ever notices me ever brain worms and issues over his sense of self

another of my more 80s redesigns. had so much trouble before i remembered his camping backstory. japan merch included of course

[fandomsareforlife]

For the oc ask game...

I don't know who those people that you mentioned in the tags are... or at least I don't remember them?

But uh, it says that if u don't know, then just ask-

Yeah hi

I'm asking 👈(" ⁰ ∇ ⁰ "👈)

Hello, my friend! I have actually mentioned one of my OC’s before, Eugene Techno, in detail. You can find it here!

However, my other ones are all but a mystery to you, I have realized. As such, I am finally committing my ideas to paper. I will not be going super in depth, solely so this way you don’t have to read like an essay. I will be talking briefly about the history of them and their creation.

Also, these are all based off their personality traits/backstory in my A-Z series, so some things may be retconned/changed in other series/stories. Just roll with it, okay?

So let’s get started.

Selena Darkley Oppenheimer

Pronouns: She/Her

Let’s start things off with probably one of my first OC’s for Ninjago. She is Shade’s big sister and in some aus Ultra Violet’s twin and is 22 years old at the time of the Tournament Of Elements. She’s the same age as Griffin, Ash and Chamille. She is also the master of spirits.

(Also she and Griffin used to pretend to date since they were expected to get married at a young age.)

She has definitely been through some changes. For one, she actually used to be Shade’s twin sister, but then I realized I liked the idea of her being an older sister more.

Some things about her is that, like her siblings, she is part-phantom, which means that for her magical rituals relating to the body, soul and life force are much easier than they are for others. She is fairly tall at about 5 foot 9 inches.

She is definitely not a great influence on Shade, but she tries. She truly does try, but unfortunately her growing up very independent makes it hard for her to be able to care for a small human.

She’s aromantic and allosexual, cause we need more aroallo rep in stories. Not great at flirting, but will do so if needed.

Zevon Turner

Pronouns: He/Him

Now, you might look at the last name and go, “Hey isn’t there a guy named Griffin Turner?” And to you I saw, yes. Yes there is.

He’s Griffin twin brother, and is affectionately know as the evil twin. He’s definitely more willing to cause chaos than Griffin, but that’s a story for a different time. He is also the taller twin, which isn’t saying much considering he’s barely any taller but he is fine with that.

He is very much a fighter. His specialty with magic is combat magic, so spells that can be useful in a fight. Specifically, ones that affect time and genera combat spells, such as cutting spells.

Also, he is the designated earth science nerd since his brother is not willing to be it.

Elijah Paleman (edited)

Pronouns: He/They

Elijah is Paleman’s older sibling, by two years. He used to be called Xavier/Anthony, but I decided that Elijah was cooler. (+I decided to have Xavier added to my name hoard and wanted to give homage to a lot of creators who use Elijah as Paleman’s first name.) He is also dating Zevon, cause I said so.

(Also, quick note: Elijah is fine with both masculine and gender neutral words being used in regards to him, but they usually just use whatever one he remembers exists.)

He is the tallest, because he has some giant blood in him, which meant that they managed to be six foot 3, which is pretty unheard of for Darkley’s graduates.

Elijah is very much the rich kid stereotype in the friend group. Their parents were not as focused on getting him able to survive by himself so much as getting him ready to take on the family business. (The family business is a tech/security company with some focus on fashion and various illegal things.) That meant that while he is definitely a decently skilled fighter and negotiator, their survival skills leave something to be desired.

His whole thing is being very good with tech. Unlike the rest of his friends, he doesn’t have a bunch of innate wild magic in him, which means that he doesn’t have the same issues as them with using tech, since he is part giant, which means that his magic doesn’t affect tech as much. Therefore he is the designated tech guy.

Also, just to let you know, he does actually try to be a good older sibling. Like they bought books on how to. And he and his brother get along great.

—-

Alright that is all of them! If you have anymore questions please feel free to direct them towards me, but note that I might take forever or answer.

[lilliagradiewrites]

surprise? (jj maybank)

Summary: You’re John B’s sister, and you’ve been dating JJ in secret for months. What happens when John B sees a hickey on your neck, and realizes his best friend has been making on his little sister?

WC: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Hickey/ mentions of sexy time, cursing, mentions of violence

A/N: Another JJ one shot! This one has been sitting half-finished in my collection for a while now, so tonight I decided to complete it! I’m such a sucker for a brother’s best friend moment, so I knew I had to write a JJ x Routledge! reader fic. i hope you all like it!

PS: Thank you so much for all the love on evermore, my last fic!! It was so well received, and has gotten more recognition than anything else I've ever uploaded. I’m so thankful!!

I love you all so so much, and I hope you enjoy!!

LET’S DO IT!

~~~~~~

Neither you nor JJ could pinpoint the exact moment it began.

Being John B’s younger sister, you had known the blonde boy for basically your entire life. In seventh grade, you had developed a slight crush on JJ. He was the older, popular boy that cracked funny jokes; how could you not like him? You had always thought he was cute, but you started seeing him in a different light around the age of twelve.

The crush quickly faded away, and you found yourself with many boyfriends and flings over the years. Looking back on it now, you don’t think your feelings JJ ever truly went away… you had just forced yourself to forget them.

For JJ, the feelings developed around his sophomore year, when you were a freshman. For the vast majority of his life, he’d seen you every day when he inevitably made his way to the chateau. He’d cared about you, of course, but no more than a ‘I care about her because she’s my best friends little sister’ kind of way.

He has a vivid memory of you, the morning after he’d had a sleepover with your brother. He was sitting on the couch with John B, having a conversation about some stupid guy thing he couldn’t even recall now. He remembers seeing you walk out of your room, having just woken up, wearing an oversized t-shirt. Your hair was in a messy bun, and you didn’t have on any makeup.

He couldn’t explain why, but you looked so damn beautiful to him that day. You never noticed him staring at you, but John B did. JJ remembers his friend’s brows furrowing.

“What the hell are you staring at?” After following JJ’s gaze, his eyes widened. “Are you looking at my sister, man? Cut that shit out.”

“No, of course I wasn’t. I was looking out the window. Chill, bro.” JJ had quickly denied the claims of his friend, who didn’t entirely believe him but chose not to say anything else on the topic. After that day, JJ tried his best to avoid staring at you, but it was always hard for him.

Within a month after that incident, you began hanging out with the Pogues more and more. They quickly became your best friends, and you loved them all more than anything. They all helped you and John B through the disappearance of your father, and you were eternally grateful.

Naturally, you found yourself growing the closest with Kie. Being the only two girls, it made the most sense for the two of you to be very close. Kiara was like a sister and a best friend all in one, and you loved her very much.

Pope was always great. He kept you and the rest of the pogues in check, making sure you remained safe and made smart decisions. John B, of course, was your older brother, and you were very close with him. You had your frustrations with the brunette, however. One thing that always pissed you off about John B was how insanely protective he was. He would threaten any guy whose eyes lingered too long on you at a party, and it took years of convincing to allow him to let you go on a date. You loved him, of course, and knew he was always trying to keep you safe, but you couldn’t help but be frustrated with him sometimes.

And then there was JJ. You didn’t even know what to think when it comes to the blonde boy. You had always noticed something special about him, and felt slightly different towards JJ then all the other boys. For some reason, the both of you kept your distance from each other. Maybe, you both knew in the back of your mind that if you got too close, there’d be no pulling you apart.

One night at a party, you had gotten absolutely wasted. Kiara had gone home with some girl, Pope’s dad didn’t let him come, and John B was nowhere in sight, meaning it was up to JJ to take care of you. He brought you home, cleaned you up, and put you into bed. In your intoxicated state, you let your walls fall down. You told Jj how you felt about him, too drunk to worry about the consequences.

Fortunately for you, the feelings were reciprocated. JJ said that he felt the same way, and he’d been keeping his distance from you because of strict commands from John B. “Anytime I’d get close to you, or even be ‘too friendly’ towards you, I’d get the whole ‘my sister is off limits’ lecture, I was tired of hearing it, and I didn’t think you felt the same anyways.”

That night was the beginning of a long journey. He kissed you, and you were happier than you’d ever been. He ask you to be his girlfriend, and you happily said yes. There was only one issue with the whole situation.

Your stupid, overdramatic, overprotective brother.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him for a while?” Jj suggested after much contemplation on both of your parts. “See where this goes. If it gets super serious, we’ll obviously tell him, but it’s probably best to keep it on the down low for now.”

Though hesitant, you eventually agreed, deciding it was the best decision for now. You hated lying to your brother, but it’s not like you had any other choice.

Six months passed after that night. You and JJ’s relationship grew stronger and more serious with each passing day, but neither of you had the guts to tell your brother. So, you kept dating in secret, the relationship only between the two of you.

Oh, right. And Kie.

JJ had gotten into a habit of sneaking into your bedroom window late at night. He rarely got any time with just the two of you, and even when you hung out with your friends, he wasn’t able to be as affectionate as he wished he could be. One morning, Kiara arrived at the chateau earlier than usual, bursting into your room to find you asleep, wrapped in your boyfriend's arms.

The brunette woke the two of you up with a loud exclamation of “What the fuck?”

JJ kissed you goodbye and scrambled out the window before John B heard anything, and you sat Kie down and explained the whole situation, making her promise not to tell anyone.

Especially not John B.

Kiara, being the amazing person she is, swore secrecy and squealed about how happy she was for the two of you.

Kie’s knowledge of the relationship is part of the reason she insists on waking you up one morning at the chateau. She and Pope had stayed the night, as well as JJ. JJ was nowhere to be found, but the group just assumed that he had run home to grab spare clothes or something.

Well, the boys assumed that.

Kie knew better.

Her suspicions were completely confirmed when she entered your room to find you and JJ cuddled together, just like all those months ago when she had first found out.

“Wake up, guys! JB and Pope are awake. JJ, hop out the window and pretend you went to get clothes from your house. You don’t have a lot of time.”

Immediately, you and your boyfriend were launching up out of the bed. He followed his usual routine of kissing you goodbye and then jumping out of the window. You thanked Kie before beginning to search for your swimsuit.

“You’re welcome, babes. And by the way, I’d make sure to cover up that fatass hickey on your neck before walking out of this room.”

Kie gives you a wink before walking out of the room and closing the door, leaving you there with red cheeks and wide eyes.

You moved immediately to your mirror, and examined the left side of your neck. Sure enough, there it was: a large bruise that JJ had taken his sweet time on the night before. You huffed, recalling when he was giving it to you.

“JJ, don’t.” You breathed, lightly pushing him off you. “You can’t leave marks, everyone will see.”

“Let them see.” He lifted his lips off your neck to look you in the eyes. “I’m tired of hiding that you’re mine. I want everyone to know that you’re taken, by me. Let them see, babe, I don’t care.”

For a moment, he had you agreeing with him. Who cares if everyone finds out? They’d just find out eventually anyways. What’s the difference if they find out sooner rather than later?

But, you eventually cam to your senses. “I’m tired of hiding too, J. We’ll tell them soon, but I don’t want my brother to find out I’m with his best friend by seeing the hickey his best friend gave me.”

JJ paused his movements for the second time, breathing and thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” He bites your earlobe, then leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll make it small. I still want my mark on you.”

Clearly, JJ had lied. The bruise on your neck was absolutely massive, and you’d have your work cut out for you when it came to covering it up. Sighing, you reached for your makeup bag, pulling out some color corrector and concealer.

A good thirty minutes later, the bruise was covered enough to go unnoticed, and you were outside on the dock, dressed in a pink swimsuit and a pair of shorts. John B and Pope were on the boat, preparing it for you day on the water. Kie was inside shoving snacks, water bottles, and beer into a small cooler. JJ, who had just finished rolling a few blunts, came walking out of the house. You heard him approaching behind you, and whipped around to face him.

“I have a bone to pick with you, Maybank.” You glared, crossing your arms over your chest. Your boyfriend looked nervous, his smiling face immediately shifting to a concerned one.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He said quietly, making sure that the other pogues were out of earshot before using the nickname. JJ knew you well, and any term of endearment made you melt for him. He always used them, but was particularly heavy on the nicknames when you were upset with him.

“Last night, I told you not to leave marks. But you insisted, and you told me you’d leave a small one.”

“Yes, that happened. So why are you upset with me?”

“Because the hickey I woke up to this morning was anything but small. It took me twenty minutes and half my concealer to cover that shit up! Are you fucking crazy? Are you trying to get us caught?”

JJ moved towards you, probably to take you in his arms, but caught himself just before he did it, glancing up at the boys on the boat.

“I’m sorry, love. I couldn’t help myself. You look so fucking hot with my marks on your neck. It’s too hard to resist. Believe me, I tried.”

“Then try fucking harder, Maybank! Do I need to remind you that your ass is on the line here, way more than mine? Birdie’s not gonna beat my ass if he finds a hickey on my neck, he’s gonna beat yours! And then I get to have a screaming match with my brother after patching you up in the bathroom. I don’t know about you, but that is not the way I want anybody to find out about our relationship.”

JJ opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again with a sigh. He knew you were right.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. I need to gain better self control. It won’t happen again, I’ll listen to you next time. I’m sorry angel, really. Forgive me?”

He was giving you those puppy dog eyes that he knew you couldn’t resist. After a moment of staring into them, you finally gave in. “yes, bebs, I forgive you. But don’t do that shit again, or so help me God…”

Your boyfriend broke out in an ear to ear grin. You could tell that he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and take you in his arms, but he obviously couldn’t. “Thank you! I love you, angel.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, allowing a smile to creep onto your face. “You’re lucky I love you, too. Now come on, I think they have the boat ready to go.”

------

A few hours later, everyone is lounging on the boat. You’d been out on the marsh for a good four hours, and the whole group was beginning to grow tired. The late afternoon sun bared down relentlessly on you, warming your skin and causing your body to overheat, despite the fact that you’d been swimming in the cool water for the past hour.

“God, it’s so damn hot out here. Can the sun chill the hell out for a second?” You complained, taking a swig of your beer.

The rest of the group murmured their agreement from various places on the boat. Absentmindedly, you gather your wet hair in your hand, holding it up on the back of your head to try and relieve the heat on your neck.

Big, big mistake.

Unknowingly, you’d exposed the massive hickey on the side of your neck for the entire boat to see.

The makeup you’d piled on that morning had apparently faded while you swam. Your hair covering it was the only thing keeping you from exposing yourself, and now it was revealed.

“What the HELL is that, Y/N?” Your brother was speaking, pointing at your now exposed hickey.

You looked immediately at JJ, whose eyes had gone wide and cheeks were pink.

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Birdie.” You replied quickly, not knowing what else to do.

“Is that a fucking hickey?” John B was walking towards you now, and your eyes were wide. You backed away from him, but you could only go so far on the small boat. He reached you eventually, pushing the hair from the side of your neck to reveal the bruise once again.

For a moment, your brother was silent. Strangely, this made you even more nervous then if he was screaming and shouting. You knew your brother well enough to know he was composing himself.

So that he wouldn’t strangle somebody.

“Who did it?” he said quietly. His voice was shaking with anger.

“Did what?” Your voice was shaking as well, but with fear for your boyfriend’s life instead.

“Who gave you the fucking hickey, Y/N! Stop playing dumb! Who did that to your neck.”

Panicking, you glanced over at JJ.

Yet another big, big mistake.

This glance was enough for John B to realize what the answer to his question was. You watched the pieces slowly connect in his mind, and then he was speaking again.

“It was YOU?” He rounded on the blonde boy near the edge of the boat. “You’re messing with my baby sister? Are you fucking kidding me, JJ?”

“Calm down, bird! It’s not what you think.” You were immediately at your brother’s side, trying to calm him down before your boyfriend’s body ended up at the bottom of marsh.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Y/N! I think this is exactly what it looks like! It looks like this dickhead has a screwing around with my sister when I specifically told him not to!”

“We’re not just screwing around, John B!” JJ said in defense.

“Really? What the fuck else are you doing that would end with my baby sister having a hickey on her neck?”

“We’re dating!” You burst out. “We’ve been dating. For six months now.”

John B turned towards you immediately after your statement. He looked completely dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t possibly process the information he had just been given.

“Six months?” he echoed, and you nodded.

John B turned back to JJ.

“Surprise?” The blonde boy, hoping to lighten the mood.

Obviously, he was unsuccessful.

“You’ve been messing with my sister for SIX MONTHS, and I’m JUST NOW finding out? What the hell is wrong with you? I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

Before anyone could do anything to stop him, John B was lunging at JJ.

As if he’d been preparing to do so, JJ jumped off the side of the boat, landing cleanly in the water.

John B stood over the side of the boat screaming at him.

You mad eye contact with Kie,who was giggling slightly at the whole situation. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

This was going to be a long night.

~~~~~ A/N: Anddddd there’s the end! I really hope you guys liked this!

All notes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

ALSO: SEND REQUESTS!!

I love you guys so much,and Happy Holidays!!!!!

[brain-deadx0]

Virgil's Betrayal

Part 3 of New Big Brother

Previous Next

Summary: Remy meets Patton’s brother and kids and proceeds to get murdered. 

Warnings: Food mention, play fighting including nerf guns, manipulation but for good stuff, let me know

Remy was not nervous. 

 When dad guy had asked him a few days ago if he would be ok with going to the man’s brother’s house for lunch that weekend, Remy had said, “Sure.” He’d agreed to it. 

 So no. Remy wasn’t nervous. Even as they pulled up to the frankly huge house in a neighborhood of huge houses. 

 Definitely not nervous. 

 Virgil was practically vibrating in his seat. He’d been telling Remy all about his uncle and cousins, and what games they could play together the entire drive. 

 “Everybody ready?” Dad guy asked as he turned the car off. 

 “Yep!” Virgil told him as he quickly unbuckled himself. 

 Dad guy sent one of his questioning looks to Remy via the rear view mirror. Remy ignored it and climbed out of the car to follow Virgil who had already ran for the front door. 

 Dad guy joined them at the door as Virgil rang the bell. Remy wasn’t trying to hide behind them. They just ended up closer to the door. There was the sound of a lock being turned before someone inside the house hollered for them to come in. 

 As soon as they walked through the door there was the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. 

"Virgil! Uncle Patton!” A pair of voices yelled before two young boys were launching themselves off the stairs towards them. Dad guy yelped in alarm as he attempted to… catch them? 

 “Jan, your boys are going to give me a heart attack one of these days!” The man yelled through his subdued laughter from his place on the ground. 

 “And I’ll help them get rid of the body.” The voice from before called. A moment later a short man appeared from what Remy assumed was the kitchen. He looked a lot like dad guy save for the fact he was definitely older than the man. And the mild scarring on the left side of his face. 

 “Alright boys, that’s enough abunculicide.” The man told the kids who were laughing in dad guy’s arms. 

 “Aw…” The pair said before releasing him. 

 Dad guy smiled before standing up and ruffling their hair causing one grin and the other to balk and try to fix it. 

 “You must be Remy.” The man said, “My name’s Janus, it’s nice to finally meet you.” 

 “Nice to meet you, sir.” Remy told him. 

 Mr. Janus smiled, “You can call me Janus.” 

 Yeah that was not happening. 

 “The two terrors who ambushed you all are my sons Roman and Remus.” 

 “I’m Roman.” “And I’m Remus.” The two introduced with matching bows, “And together we’re-!” They spun in opposite directions before striking poses back to back, “-the creativitwins!”

 Remy couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the theatrics as dad guy clapped excitedly, “Oh that was so cute!” Dad guy told them. 

“No it wasn’t!” The pair told him pointedly, “It was cool.” Roman told him. 

 “Yeah!” Remus agreed. 

 “Well whatever it was, I loved it.” Dad guy told them. 

 “Lunch will be ready in about a half hour,” Mr. Janus told them, “So you can all make yourselves at home.” 

 “Can we go outside?” Remus asked. 

 “Yes, but-” before the man could finish both boys took off running. 

 “Come on Virge!” One of them called. 

 The next thing Remy knew he was being grabbed by the hand and pulled towards the back yard, “Come on Remy!” Virgil told him. 

 Guess he was going outside. 

 ~ 

 “-Don’t get too dirty.” Janus finished lamely as all the minors fled to the backyard, “Well I tried.” 

 Patton chuckled, “Probably should’ve started with that part.” 

 “How many sons did you want back alive?” He asked. 

 Patton laughed, “Come on, I’ll help make lunch. 

 ~ 

 Remy watched the younger kids from his seat on the porch steps. Roman suggested playing super hero’s and was met with agreements until he suggested Virgil be the villain. Which apparently happened a lot. 

 “Come on, Virgil.” Roman whined, “We need a bad guy!” 

 “But I always lose when I play the bad guy.” Virgil told them, “Why can’t you be the bad guy and we fight you?” 

 “Because me and Re are the heroes.” Roman said as if it were obvious. 

 “We could be bad guys.” Remus told him, “The bad guys are cooler anyway.” 

 “Noooo.” Roman told him, “We’re the creativitwins! We’re supposed to be the good guys!” 

 “But we’re always the good guys!” Remus replied. 

 “Remy!” Virgil called, “Tell them we wanna be the heroes!” 

 “How about…” 

 ~ 

 Patton jumped when the mostly silent backyard suddenly erupted in gleeful screams. 

 “Welcome to the world of raising multiple children.” Janus told him. 

 Patton smacked his arm lightly before going to peek at the yard. The three younger boys were running around the yard at top speed as Remy made a grab for whoever got closest to him. Patton smiled as Roman yelled for a retreat before all three kids ran for the treehouse. Remy stalked after them, giving the twins enough time to make it to safety, but grabbed Virgil before he could climb high enough. 

 Virgil squealed as he was pulled away from the tree and yelled for help through his laughter. 

 Patton cooed at the sight before reluctantly going back to the kitchen. 

 ~ 

 Virgil laughed wildly even as Remy used him as a partially successful human shield. If he had known there were fully loaded nerf guns, Remy would’ve made it harder for them to get to the treehouse. 

 “Don’t worry Virge!” One of them yelled, “We’ll rescue you!” 

 “Dead or alive!” The other added. 

 Remy laughed, “It’s not a rescue if you kill him!” He told them as they continued to shoot.  

 “Silence feind!” The first one told him before firing more foam bullets at them. 

"Any ideas?” Remy asked Virgil quietly. 

 “I think there’s more guns on the porch?” Virgil whispered back. 

“Perfect.” Remy grinned, “Muwahaha! You can’t defeat me!” He told the pair in the treehouse before running towards the porch with Virgil. 

 Once there he put Virgil down and the kid directed him to where the extra nerf guns were. The ones in the hidden storage bin were much smaller than the ones the twins had. 

 “Virgil! You’re not supposed to help the bad guy!” 

 “Ha ha! I put him under mind control!” Remy told them, “Now I have a minion.” 

 Virgil snickered before rushing to grab a gun of his own.

 “You won’t get away with this, villain!” 

 “Let him go or face our wrath!” 

 “Never!” Remy called back, “Pick up as many bullets as you can, but don’t shoot too much, ok?” He whispered to Virgil, “When they run out we can go after them, cool?”

“Yeah!” Virgil whispered excitedly. 

 It took longer than Remy thought it would for the rain of foam to slow to a stop. “It’s over, heroes. Surrender peacefully and I might spare you.” He told them. 

 He could hear hushed laugher from the treehouse before one of the boys replied, “Okaay~ just a minuute~” 

 “Uh-oh.” Virgil said beside him. 

 “Uh-oh?” 

 He didn’t have to wait long to figure out what the kids were up to because a second later he was being pelted with various balls, ranging from ping pong to tennis. Before he even had a chance to recover, one of the twins was suddenly right next to him and whacking him with a foam sword. 

“What the- hey!” He laughed before trying to fend off the nine-year-old. While he was distracted, the other one had made their way to the ground as well and ambushed him from behind. “Oh shhh-!” He cut himself off as he fell. 

 The second kid had hit the back of his knees with a foam club. This was definitely not a fair fight. 

 While the twins were busy beating him to death he suddenly felt the familiar sensation of foam bullets. 

 “Wha-? Virgil! I thought you were on my side?” He asked incredulously, causing Virgil to laugh, “Betrayed by my own brainwashed minion!” 

The kid just giggled harder, “I was just pretending to be mind controlled!” He told him as he continued to fire the toy gun. 

 The kids screamed in delight as they assaulted him with their various weapons. Remy was ready to admit defeat and call them off when a voice interrupted. 

 “Alright, boys, that’s enough.” Dad guy said. 

‘Oh shit.’

 ~

 Patton’s heart broke a little as the joy on Remy’s face quickly melted away to something much more subdued. He sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile but it didn’t seem to help any. “Lunch is ready.” He told them. 

 “Okay.” the younger kids chorused before dropping their weapons and racing inside. 

 “Are you alright?” Patton asked, “They might be foam but they can still hurt when the boys get excited.” 

 “I’m fine.” Remy said casually as he stood up and brushed himself off. 

 “Alright then.” He smiled, “Then let’s go eat some pizza bread.”

 ~

 "Pizza bread" as it turned out, was bread with cheese and pepperoni inside. So, more sophisticated than the rolled up pizza slice Remy had pictured. Apparently you were supposed to dip it in some fancy tomato sauce which is why Remy was surprised when Mr. Janus had them all move to the living room to eat. 

 "Dad, can we watch Avatar?" Roman asked. 

 "No, let's watch dirty jobs!" Remus told him. 

 "How about mythbusters?" Roman countered. 

 "Ah, ah," Mr. Janus told them, "what's the rule for guests?" 

 "Virgil," They chorused, "wanna watch-" "Avatar?" "Dirty jobs?"

 "Um… what about Most Extreme...?" Virgil tried. 

 "Yes!" 

 "No!" 

 "Two to one, we win!" Remus cheered. 

 "Boys." Mr. Janus told them, "We have more than one guest, remember?" 

 "Remy, say no!" Roman told him, "Then we pick a different show."  

 "I don't really have an opinion." Remy told him, "What's "Most Extreme"?" 

 "They take all the cool stuff from animals like eyes and teeth and show what it would look like if humans had the same ability." Remus told him, "It's neat!" 

 "Its freaky is what it is." Roman told him. 

 "That's what makes it cool!" 

 "I'm gonna pass on the vote." Remy told them. 

 "He's impartial so we win! The Most Extreme it is!" Remus turned to high five Virgil. 

 Roman seemed a bit miffed at losing the vote, but it wasn't long before he was staring at the screen with as much interest as the other two. And honestly? Remy got it. The show was actually pretty cool. 

 ~ 

 Patton smiled as Remy seemed to settle in again and get pulled into the show. He waited until the episode ended and everyone was done eating before moving to collect the empty plates. Unfortunately, the action quickly caught the attention of the teen. 

 "Don’t worry, I got it." Patton assured as Remy moved to start cleaning up as well. 

 "It's ok," Remy told him, as he paused somewhat hesitantly, "I don't mind." 

 Patton smiled, "I appreciate it, but you don't have to. Janus and I are gonna clean up and then we'll probably be heading home." 

 "Oh," Janus said suddenly, "while I'm thinking about it, we packed up some of our old clothes to donate. You guys can look through them for some play clothes." He told him. 

 "Sure." Patton told him. 

 "I'll be right back to help clean up." Janus said before leaving the room. 

 ~

 Remy wasn't sure why he was suddenly on edge. All he knew was something felt off and he didn't like it. 

 Mr. Janus came back a minute later with three large bags. "Ok," he said as he set them down, "look through and take anything." He told them before pointing to the twins, "No dress up this time." He told them. 

"Why not?" Roman asked. 

 "Because yesterday we had to cut your brother out of a shirt you both knew was too small." 

 "I was a mutant giant what was I supposed to wear?" Remus asked indignantly. 

 Remy bit back a smile. 

 "Preferably something big enough to get yourself out of." Mr. Janus told him. 

 "Boring~" Remus drawled. 

 Mr. Janus shook his head fondly, "No dress up." He told them again before leaving to help dad guy. 

 The second he was gone the twins shared a look before quickly opening the bags and digging through them. 

 Remy laughed slightly, "Didn't he just say "no dress up"?" 

 "He said no dress up for us," Roman corrected, "but nothing about us dressing up you or Virgil." 

 "And so long as he doesn't catch us too quickly we can do it too!" Remus grinned. 

 Remy quickly turned down any attempts to get him to play dress up, and delegated himself to watching as the older boys coerced Virgil into trying on just about every piece of clothing. They had quickly moved on from the kids clothes that Virgil could feasibly fit in, or at least grow into soonish, to going through Mr. Janus’s old clothes just to wear them. 

 Virgil was digging through the bag when he suddenly gasped, "Remy!" He said excitedly before pulling something out of the bag and bouncing over, "Look!" He beamed as he held up an old leather jacket, "It's like from the store!" 

 "Uh, yeah, kinda." Remy admitted. 

 "I don't remember that one." Roman told them, "It doesn't look like Dad or Noni's." 

 "Dad!" Remus called.

 "What happened?" Mr. Janus answered as he came around the corner before huffing a small laugh, "I see you ignored the dress up rule." 

 Remus ignored the last part, "Whose jacket is this?" He asked; pointing to the coat Virgil was holding. 

 Mr. Janus glanced at the jacket Virgil was holding, "That's my old one." He told them, "I haven't worn it since… probably since I was about twenty or so. That's when Noni gave me my other one." 

 "How long ago was that?" Virgil asked. 

 Mr. Janus laughed, "Long enough to know I don't need it, let's stick with that." 

"That's Dad's way of saying he's old." Remus whispered causing Virgil to giggle. 

 "I heard that." Mr. Janus told them with an amused eyebrow raise, causing the kids to laugh. Mr. Janus shook his head, "Anyway, like I said you're welcome to anything in the bags." He said with a glance to Remy, "Try not to smother your cousin in the clothes." He told them offhandedly as he went back to the kitchen. 

 Something was definitely going on. 

 "Try it on!" Virgil told Remy as he practically shoved the jacket at him. 

 "I don't know, kid." Remy told him. This whole thing felt like way too much of a coincidence. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. This had to be a set up, right? 

 "Why not?" Virgil asked. 

 "I already have a coat, remember?" 

 "Yeah but this one doesn't cost money." Virgil told him. Dammit. "And at the store you said these were cool." 

Stop making good points.

 "Oh! It could be part of your villain outfit!" Roman exclaimed, "All super villains need to look cool." 

 "Otherwise they're just regular villains!" Remus added. 

 "What's the difference?" 

"Presentation!" All three told him. 

 Ok, well he definitely ran into something there.

 "Pleeeease, Remy?" Virgil asked with wide eyes. 

... Fucking puppy dog eyes.

 Remy sighed, "Ok, fine." 

 ~

Patton peaked around the corner and smiled. For once he was glad Virgil had learned to weaponize his puppy eyes. 

 ~

 Remy made sure that when dad guy and Mr. Janus came back that he was not wearing the jacket. Just in case. 

 Thankfully neither mentioned it as they packed up the clothes Virgil. Or as they resorted the rest the kids had used for dress up. They all said their goodbyes, with Mr. Janus saying he hoped to see them again soon, and the twins telling Remy they wouldn't be going so easy on him next time. 

 If dad guy seemed extra smiley on the way home, it was none of Remy's business. 

 Remy was not smiling to himself either. 

 …Whatever.

 ~~~~~notes~~~~~

 For anyone who was wondering, Virgil 100% knows what he's doing when it comes to puppy dog eyes. He was raised by Patton Can't-say-no-to-cute Sanders. And yes. He does use this for evil. 

[pacifymebby]

November / Bob

Bob x reader 

"Shit," you winced, trying not to jump when yet another bang from the field across the road from your brothers house set your heart racing.

You hated firework night, you'd never liked it when you were young and though your parents had hoped you would grow out of hiding under the table every time you heard fireworks going off, you hadn't. You were 19 now, and though it wasn't the same fear that had you jumping and flinching at every explosion, it was still a fear that left your whole body tense and uncomfortable.

In an attempt to ease your 5th of November nerves your big brother Johnny had invited some of his mates round with the promise that you could shut all the curtains and turn the sound up on your video games loud enough to drown them out, but the bonfire they were having across the street wasn't far enough away that drowning them out was really possible.

So you remained, sitting in the corner of the sofa, knees hugged tight to your chest, trying to hide your childish anxiety from his mates. They were all lads from the band he'd joined the other year, nice lads, funny, easy going, a bunch of dorks and yet, you could tell they were all still much cooler than you. Much older than you too.

When you'd been sitting with them earlier that evening you'd felt much smaller and younger than them, listening to them talking about the things they had planned whilst they were breaking from tour.

"S'alright Mousey," said Johnny as he came back inside, cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket, his hand ruffling your hair as he perched on the arm of the sofa beside you, "couple more hours and they'll be done for the year,"

"A know," you said quietly, blushing because you could feel the eyes of his mates on you, at least you thought you could. All of them probably wondering why you were being such a baby about the whole thing. You bit your lip, jumping when another set of fireworks had you almost dropping your beer.

"You're really jumpy aren't you lass," chuckled Van one of your brothers mates, his smile was friendly enough but you didn't appreciate him drawing even more attention to you. You knew his heart was in the right place but even so.

"Yep," you said, your smile tight when you looked up and met his gaze, "I guess so," you said, cradling your beer in both hands, holding onto it like a little life line.

Van smiled at you, you see in his eyes he was trying to be friendly, but it wasn't enough to ease your nerves.

"She's always been like this, havent you mousey," said your brother, squeezing your shoulder before pushing himself up, asking who was having what out of the fridge and who was having next go on the game they'd been playing. You'd not joined in yet, pretending to watch, laughing along when they did, unable to really concentrate because of the noise outside and the fact that every time someone set fireworks off outside it scare you half to death.

You nodded and smiled a little embarrassed, blushing as you pushed your hair out of your face and took a long gulp of your beer. You weren't really sure the drinking helped that much but it had been yours and Johnnys dodgy coping mechanism for the last few years and you weren't about to start something healthy now.

He wasn't wrong either, you'd never liked fireworks, never. It was just that he was twisting the truth for you there because for awhile you had grown out of it. You'd calmed down in your teenage years and once you'd even been to a bonfire with your friends. It was just that something had happened a couple years ago, something which had nothing to do with fireworks and everything to do with a shitty relationship which had dragged your mental health through the mud, leaving you with several emotional and some physical scars. And PTSD is a bitch on firework night, whether your trauma has anything to do with fireworks or not.

No one really talks about that when they talk about PTSD. How half of your symptoms seem to be irrelevant.

You couldn't stand anything unexpected, you didn't like insects and flies which made you jump, you didn't like ambulance sirens or car horns, didn't like bright lights like when a camera flashes, you didn't like airplane noises, didn't like the sound of doors slamming or people raising their voices, even if they weren't shouting at you.

And you really, really hated fireworks.

Had Bondys friends not been round you'd probably have been hiding under a duvet, squeaking and gasping every time you heard a firework go off. But because they were all there you found yourself trying your best to control your nerves. You were failing but at least you were trying.

When they all crammed back onto the sofa you wound up squished next to Bob, the quietest of Bondys mates. He hadn't been joining in with their games much either and you'd sussed that maybe he was a kindred spirit in that sense, preferring just to watch and laugh at their daft behaviour rather than joining in.

It wasn't until later when the rest of them had piled back outside for a smoke that your learned just how kindred a spirit he really was.

It was quiet, the only noise that of the video game pause music, which wasn't loud enough to drown out the fireworks and the noises from the police sirens in the city. Firework night was always bad for that too, the number of sirens blaring.

Another bang, louder than before because it hadn't come from the field across the way, it had come from next doors back garden. So loud you really did jump out of your skin, spilling a little of your beer on the floor, your squeak catching Bob's attention from where he sat a little apart from you on the sofa.

"Fuck sake," you winced, your voice trembling a little, you didn't want to cry, there was nothing to cry over but you were tired and emotionally frayed at the seams so one extra inconvenience like spilled beer on your tshirt, was enough to leave you shaking.

"Aw hey its really not your night is it," he said softly with a small smile reaching over to take your beer bottle from you, trying his best to help you. You flinched when his fingers touched yours but he didn't seem upset by that, just smiled again, an awkward little laugh. "If its any consolation I don't really like them either," he said with a little smirk when he returned to you a moment later with a tissue to help you mop up the spillage.

"Id like them if they weren't so noisy," you said with a self aware little smirk, shy when you looked up at him and saw his eyes studying your timid expression.

"Yeah," he said, "I could put up with them then I guess," you giggled at him then, only to be cut off by yet another bang right outside the window. "Your neighbours are dicks by the way," he said then, grinning and looking a little pleased with himself when you laughed at him, your eyes lighting up, pretty and smiling back at him. He thought it was the happiest you'd looked all evening and for that he felt very proud of himself.

"Why couldn't they have just gone across the field," you whined making him chuckle, his hand instinctively reaching for your knee when another set of explosions went off outside. You shuddered and bit down on your lip, biting a little too hard and drawing blood. "Typical," you mumbled tasting the blood and licking your lips, "god you must think am such a fuckin child," you simpered, knowing that your sulking wasn't going to help the childish image you were building for yourself.

At least you'd met Bob before, at least he'd seen you behave like an adult at least once or twice before.

"I don't," he said rubbing your knee with his hand, watching you jump and flinch once more, catching the teary look in your eyes before he sighed. Did something he wouldn't usually have been brave or bold enough to do. "Come here lass you look like you need a hug," he nodded for you to shuffle closer to him, into his arms which, when you did, he closed around you and held you close to his chest.

You weren't usually particularly confident about this kind of thing either, talking to strangers, or people you didn't know so well. You definitely didn't have a habit of cosying up to them on your brothers settee, but something about the softness with which Bob had spoken to you, something about the way he held you, your back against his chest, his arms around your waist holding you secure like a seatbelt, made you feel stable and safe. When the next set of explosions sounded you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder, heard his voice low and gentle reassuring you.

"You're alright see, I've got you," he said softly, his arms around you steadying you.

"Uhuh," you breathed, your voice shaking a little, still timid, still on edge but certainly soothed by him.

After a moment you felt your heartbeat easing, felt yourself settling down, all your muscles finally beginning to relax, and even when the next set of fireworks went off outside you found it easier to settle down, leaning against him.

"You okay?" he asked, his lips brushing your ear accidentally when he spoke.

"yeah," you replied quietly, your fingers finding his though you weren't aware of what you were doing until you felt his hand respond to your touch. Until his fingers had laced with yours, "thanks," you said softly, "am not being a massive crybaby a promise," you started, paranoid again that that might be how you were coming across but he just smirked.

"Already said I don't think you are y/n," he chuckled, finding your desperation to defend yourself really quite cute, "not liking fireworks doesn't make you a baby," he said then, as if to clarify something, "loads of people hate them..."

"Yeah," you said softly, "I guess so..."

"Yeah," he smirked, "I know so," he said then giving your hand a little squeeze when he heard the back door open, the other lads probably coming back inside. "Stop being so hard on yourself lass," he said, his voice drowned out by the chatter and laughter of the other four returning.

You felt your cheeks burning when your big brother laid eyes on the pair of you cuddled up at the end of the sofa like that, but he just smirked, a knowing smirk, like he wasn't even really that surprised.

"You grafting me wee sister Bob?" he raised his brow, teasing smile on his lips, embarrassing his friend and you, though you did your best to stammer and speak up in Bob's defence.

"A was upset" you said, flinching at the sound of another ambulance siren whizzing past the front window. Johnny just smirked and nodded back to the television, "you alright now Mouse?" he asked you the childhood nickname suddenly even more embarrassing for you than it had been before.

"Better yeah," you said softly, catching the small smile on your brothers lips, knowing that he understood what you meant.

As the evening dragged out the fireworks didn't get any better, but your brother and his mates proved a good enough distraction to ease you through the evening, Johnny, Van, Benji and Larry all getting far too competitive for mario kart, the four of them swearing and calling eachother all names under the sun, saving the worst names for the computer that kept beating them.

You watched from where you sat, cuddled up to Bob, his arms still wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, every now and then he'd mumbled something to you, to make you laugh or to calm you down after a particularly sharp start, not once making you feel bad for your easily frightened nature.

And as it got later, and you drunk your way through several more beers, the two of you settled down together, leaning into one another with more confidence than before, so that when the others gave up on video games and put a dvd on, you found yourself drifting off to sleep resting against Bob's shoulder, your heard turned so that your face nuzzled into his neck, his soft musky aftershave lulling you with every breath you took. And as you let your eyes flutter shut, you felt him bow his head, his chin resting in your hair, his lips pushing the softest of kisses to your forehead the next time a firework made you jump.

[mandelene]

Dude I just BINGED all of your drabbles ahhh they’re all so good!! I have never read an au with Arthur as a doctor AND a father. I love how you write him and Francis together, you do a great job balancing them out and not putting either one too far into stereotypes, they’re such relationship power couple goals!!!! Also I don’t have a ton of familiarity with the health industry and am reasonably healthy, but omg all of the health/hospital focused ones fascinate me, you are very knowledgeable! I am embarrassed to admit I had not known how serious asthma can be (someone please hug Matt for me). Another one of your stories in particular stood out to me, a while back you wrote something with Alfred having epilepsy, and I don’t have that condition but in college a friend of mine did. I knew this about her for several years, and when I asked she talked me through what to do if it ever happened, but the first time I actually saw her have a full on seizure I admit I was freaked the ef out. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one there (and our other friend is way cooler headed than me lol) cause it was fight or flight or freeze and I was fully on freeze mode 😂 Seeing someone you care about in physical distress, especially when you know they have no say in the matter and probably won’t remember it, is alarming to say the least. It’s got me thinking of Al’s life after diagnosis, he has things mostly under control, but seizures still occasionally happen, like they do. And like, Matt knows what Al’s diagnosis is, and theoretically what to do, but the first time he sees Alfred seize, they’re just like, just at home playing video games or something and neither of their dads are around to help. Even when Arthur and Francis come home and Alfred is recovered (but tired) I feel like Matt would still be freaking out and trying to pretend like he wasn’t. Like even if they were older teens he would try to sneakily check on Al at night to make sure he’s okay 🥺 (also sidenote but I can totally imagine adult Alfred having a seizure alert dog who is just the cutest with all sorts of buttons and patches on his little halter vest) ANYWAY WOW I kinda really went off on a massive word vomiting spree there, hope I haven’t taken up too much of your time. You’re amazing! Keep being awesome!

Oh, my gosh -- thank you so much for the lovely words! 💞 Thanks for binging my stories, and I'm so glad you enjoyed them. :) And honestly, I don't know that much about healthcare -- I just try to make it sound believable enough lol. I'm sure I make lots of errors.

I hope I grow up to be old and chronically grumpy but still in love with my spouse like Arthur and Francis are with each other lol. And Matthew always deserves all the hugs for being a sweetheart. 😂 Asthma is generally mild for most people as long as it's "controlled," but it can also be life-threatening -- it's different for everyone and depends on what triggers you + how severe the attacks are.

Seeing a friend in distress can definitely be scary -- it's a good thing you and your other friend were able to deal with the situation! The first time I saw someone having a seizure, I was in middle school, and I was definitely frightened as well. It's natural to freeze up and not know what to do. But I try to remind myself that the worst thing you can do is panic when someone needs you to be there for them, so I'll attempt to seem like the calm and level-headed one even though I'm freaking out on the inside lol.

Thank YOU for being awesome and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day. 😊 Thanks again for all of the sweet feedback!

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

        “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[oceanselevenism]

If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

[pennie-umbra]

The Last Piece Left

This was supposed to be fluff the first time I had this idea. But then I decided that it could be fluffy with angst in the end. But then I got to actually write it and it became angst with even more angst in the end, so... hope you enjoy

I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: For the first time since he left the Others, Virgil reunites the courage to talk to an old friend, but neither of them seem to know how to feel about each other. Or how to not make things worse. 

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Warnings: swearing, mentions to death and dead bodies, angst (does that count as a warning?), fight, sex mention

Word Count: 2287

“I told them my name” Remus looked away from the canvas in front of him, just to see who he once called a friend standing in the middle of his room, with an expression as abstract as the paint Creativity was trying to finish. So many feelings in such a small space it became impossible to understand. 

“Ok? Good for you, I don’t give a fuck” replied, focusing his gazes on anything except Virgil’s eyes, doing his best to keep his emotions simple. We hate each other. He abandoned us. That should be enough. Virgil stayed in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. “What do you want, emo?”

“Thomas painted his hair” he started.

“Yeah, I noticed. Purple doesn’t really go well with green. Unless we’re talking about a wound. Or a dead body. Nevermind, purple and green are awesome together”

“Yeah, I really liked the hair, actually. I was thinking… I mean, you and Deceit have green and yellow. The core sides also have colors. I’m kinda tired of the black” 

“Are you? I think it matches you, boring, quickly establishes that you’re the villain, having been washed in at least some months”

“I just want you to teach me how to sew,” Virgil replied, already starting to lose his temper. Calm down, he said to himself,he may be hard to deal with, but you are here to help, not make things worse. 

“Roman knows how to sew, probably way better than me. Do you think I should add like, blood red or more like a wine red?” He pointed to the canvas, answering his own question before Virgil could do so “Yeah, blood red of course, the classic”

“I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, I don’t think Princey’s style really matches mine” Remus wishes he was as honest to himself as he was with other people. He knew deep down it would hurt more to do that. He knew that getting a bite of what used to be their friendship would just make him more hungry for something that didn’t even exist anymore. He knew it would probably hurt both of them even more. But someone wanted his help for the first time in… well. Virgil wanted his help. 

“Ok, get out of my room” said, finally turning to Anxiety, who tried to pretend those words didn’t send a wave of disappointment though his body. 

“Of course... This was a mistake” mumbled, starting to sink out.

“No dude! Fuck, I mean, like, intrusive thoughts and anxiety is never a good mix, let’s go to your room or a neutral room” quickly explained. 

“Oh” Virgil came back, seeming surprised “I can take your room just fine, dude, I’m used to it”

“It got way worse since the last time you were here, trust me, Gerard Gay” Virgil looked around. The view did look messier, if it was possible. The floor felt like skin, but with something off. He could hear whispers in the back of his consciousness, to which he could never identify a source. The smell was less like trash can and more like a trash can on fire where a corpse had been discarded some days ago. But he could take all that. He could take hours in that room, the same way Remus could take hours in his room. 

“I don’t see how”

“As much as I would love to see Thomas hyperventilating because his anxiety can’t stop thinking about how people are going to invade his house and slowely murder him if he doesn’t check all the locks at least five times, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that headache. And it will be a hell of a headache as soon as the room reaches your mind”

“Fine, My room, then?”

“Yeah, I’m in need of some new spiderwebs anyway” 

Virgil’s room didn’t change much since The Duke was there for the last time, except for some new Disney posters, probably from Roman and a drawing on the desk right beside anxiety’s bed. It was terribly colorful and childish, with all the three core sides and Virgil. Patton, then. Of course it was Patton. Anxiety immediately took the gift out of Creativity’s sight. 

“I’m not gonna eat it or anything, y’know?”

“It’s personal”

“Of fucking course it is” He could see how Patton seemed better compared to Janus. But they didn’t need a stupid - and shitty, let’s be honest - card to prove how much they cared for, everything was just so fucking stupid and boring with the core sides, why would Virgil fucking chose to be with them?! What was wrong with him?! What did Remus do wrong?! “It’s really shitty, but I guess daddy has always been bad at everything he did”

“Could you keep it down? For at least thirty fucking minutes?” Virgil snapped, clenching his fists and looking at Remus with pure danger in his eyes. 

“Do you have a… “He looked around, wishing he could just stop fucking talking for at least one damn second “A sketch. For how you want your hoodie to be? 

“I do, actually” Virgil kept his eyes away from his old friend, the tension in the room so heavy it could be cut, grabbing one of the drawings on the same table Patton’s gift was and giving it to the duke. It was… a concept. Remus conjured a pen, turning the paper and using it’s other side to make a more clear image, giving it back to anxiety.

“How about this?” Virgil tried not to smile, but his eyes betrayed him by shining. It was perfect.

"It 's cool”

“Great” he then started to reunite all the materials. One of Virgil’s older hoodies, purple fabric, white and black threads and…

“Why a spinning wheel?” 

"It 's cooler” replied, shrugging. 

“If I touch the needle will I also sleep for one hundred years?”

“Who knows? Now sit your ass down, emo, this will take time”

“Ok, what do I do first?” said, sitting on his bed and waiting for instruction. Remus flinched until the realization struck him. 

“Wait, you actually want me to teach you? Buddy, I’m the worst teacher ever and you know that” And also I’m a selfish motherfucker who knows very well that if you never learn it every time you need to fix it you will have to ask for my help. 

“It can’t be that hard”

“If you actually want to do something decent, it will take at least some days. Do you want The Duke in your room for days? I wouldn’t mind it, we could even have some fun” He smiled maliciously. He was right. Virgil wouldn’t want any of the core sides to know he still talked to Remus. Especially not Roman. 

“Fine. How long will it take for you to do it?”

“One hour” He could do it in a couple seconds, actually, but sshhh. 

“Ok” Virgil looked down, seeming almost… embarrassed. Creativity grabbed all the materials, conjured a bench, sat down and started to work. He tried to stay in silence, but it was almost painful to do so

“How are the core sides doing? Anything interesting, if that’s possible?”

“Are you trying to do small talk?” Virgil almost smiled. The only one of the Others good with that was Deceit and they all knew that. 

“I’m trying to keep it down like you said to protect your now light side ears or whatever” Virgil chucked, rolling his eyes. 

“What was that painting about?”

“Oh… I was trying to do an abstract representation of the emotions decay and rottenness bring”

“Sounds like you. How was it going?”

“Like shit. Not literally, even though that’s a good idea, did you know that when we die our whole body, like, relax, including our stomach muscles and all? And yeah, we shit ourselves, so go to the bathroom before you die, I guess” Virgil flinched with that unwanted information.

“I feel like you told me that before”

“I probably did, it’s pretty basic. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, I haven’t being able to paint anything good”

“I thought it was pretty nice” For Remus’ standards. 

“Sure you did. But really, how are those dorks? Did someone already explained to Daddy what sex it or nobody had the courage yet?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Of course!” 

“Nobody did, obviously, but I’m considering, I like Patton, but if he refers to adulthood as adultery one more time I’ll lose it” Remus snorted. 

“He does what?”

“Long story, dude”

“Holy fuck” He laughed “He’s definitely doing that on purpose”

“What would he win by doing that?” A couple of answers came to Remus’ mind but he was sure VIrgil would hate all of them. Still, he had to choose one, that how things work “Maybe he likes fucking with you guys”

“Not everybody finds it funny to manipulate the people around them like Deceit” Oh, here we go again. 

“Patton and Janus are not that different”

“Name one thing they have in common” fortunately for Remus, the first answer that came to his mind was not that bad. 

“Well, if you’re right, they both don’t know where babies come from” Virgil seemed divided between keeping arguing and smiling. He went with the second option. You can do it, Virge. You can not screw everything. 

“I guess so. But Patton is definitely better with hugs” 

“Which one of the light sides would you fuck if you had to chose?”

“Where did that come from?!” Remus shrugged.

“Just curious”. 

“I won’t fucking answer that!” exclaimed, his face starting to get red.

“For me it would be Logan. Or maybe you. Do you count as a Light side already?” Anyway, Logan must be amazing. It’s almost like fucking a teacher and I always wanted to know how it feels like” Virgil was about to order him to shut up, but he knew Remus enough to know it would only make things worse, so he went with a more effective technique.  

“How is Deceit doing?” Remus raised his eyebrows, the question surprising enough to stop his line of thought. 

“Fine? Why do you care?”

“I mean… are you guys good?” 

“As always”

“Haven’t he been… hurting you or anything like that?”

“Janus never hurted me, dude, what the fuck?”

“Except that he did. Except that he does it everyday. You just don’t want to admit it” Remus looked into his eyes, frowning.

“Emo, what is this all about?” 

“What do you mean?” Based on how he focused his gaze on the floor, Remus raised his eyebrows even more. 

“This is not just about the fucking hoodie, is it?” Virgil stayed in a seeming never ending silence.

“They accepted me, Remus.You guys said it was impossible for the core sides to accept us, but here I am. They could accept you too” Oh, so that’s what this is about. Remus went to one of his rare silences, which were always scarier than his loudest noises. 

“We already talked about this, emo”

“But that was before! When we thought they all hated us! But they don’t! Logan is welcoming and Roman is trying and Patton… Patton is willing to receive us with his arms open”

“No, he’s fucking not. Patton hates me so fucking much I’m pretty sure he would get rid of me the second he had the fucking chance and would still convince himself it was the right thing to do” He got up without realizing, putting all his efforts into not crying like a pathetic child. 

“I think you’re mistaken him for Deceit” Virgil also got on his feet.

“Janus, his name is fucking Janus, why can’t you just call him for his fucking name?! He yelled. 

“He’s a liar, Remus! He doesn’t care about you or any of us! He just wants to… Follow his plans or whatever”

“Oh, do you think Patton cares about you?!”

“Actually yes, I know he fucking does”

“Well, yeah, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but if I get there? Not only will he get scared and kick me out, he will also be angry at you for bringing the freak here into his perfect little world of sunshine and rainbows, so thank you so much, but Janus at least was there for me when I needed it, unlike those dicks or you!” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“I should have known this was a mistake” Virgil said, letting his shoulders drop with the height of defeat. 

“Yeah it was. Here is your fucking hoodie” He finished it with a snap of his fingers at threw it at Virgil, sinking out right after. “Have fun with your new friends, Virgil” 

Slowly, anxiety grabbed his new costume. It was amazing, Comfortable, spooky, creative. And it was so… detailed and clearly done carefully, It was… He started crying.Ugly crying, with the tears scratching his throat to came with violent sobs, their warm burning as they fell down his face, wetting his own clothes and the new one in his hands, the pain in his chest seeming like a monster was tearing apart his whole soul, trying to destroy his heart, it hurted more than anything that he ever felt. 

He knew, deep down, it was impossible to have a real famILY like that. But he also knew he was a hypocrite and it was easier to pretend things were simpler. It was easier to pretend he didn’t need Remus. Or Janus, by that extent. It was easier to pretend they weren’t family. But not easy enough for him to not hold on to all there was left from what they once called a friendship.

 He held the hoodie tighter.