#and that was twenty years ago it's only gotten worse

[lazyscience]

This might interest you, from a different profession with the same problem, the hollowing out of administrative support structures:

are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

[kamiversee]

Not So Innocent ꨄ

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Your boyfriend Choso was always a freak but, your newly wedded husband Choso is ten times worse.

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, heavy dirty talk, language, spitting, manhandling, praise, degrading, rough sex, overstim, slight cum play, filth, etc

[ { Paring } ] ➤ Choso Kamo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 3.1k

——CHOSO'S SO SWEET. Often did you hear such words during your wedding. Your friends, family-, everyone called Choso sweet and simply perfect for you.

The way his eyes lingered on yours for moments far longer than needed, how he'd find any moment to caress your hand, trace small shapes into your palm or your shoulder when he could-- he was such an attentive man. People praised him all day long for how he acted around you.

Even when you weren't around and Choso talked to the guests about you, people commented that he had such a beautiful way of describing you, how he'd explain that you were his muse and all his success in the world of art stems from you.

Choso felt like without meeting you, he may have never gotten as far in life as he did. It took roughly five years or so of dating for you to even be ready for marriage. And for a long time, Choso didn't know what it was you were so afraid of but he still waited patiently until you started to hint that you were ready.

Through those years of dating, you eventually got the whole truth from Gojo, whom you hardly think much about now but, after getting the truth-- you think that's the day you ran to Choso and started throwing out hints of marriage. Perhaps that's what'd been holding you back for so long, not knowing why things happened the way they did in college.

Hell, even after you found everything out, it took some time for you to really wrap your head around things. Part of your heart, this really small part, still longed for Gojo and for that, you felt like shit for months.

Up until you eventually poured the truth out to Choso one day. The whole truth. Every detail of the list, how it started, how it ended-, everything. Choso had responded to you saying that what you told him explained a few things...

Even so, lots had changed over the course of five years. The truth was out and you were completely free from confusion. Not only that but, not too long after Gojo confessed every detail of his truth, Sukuna released his custody over Yuji. So, of course, you and Choso were at an all-time peak of happiness.

Hence why you date the day of your wedding as the happiest day of your life. You recall every moment, every laugh, every happy tear that was shed-, everything. It was such a beautiful and peaceful day.

And Choso was so sweet— too bad that only lasted until the sunset and the two of you were off to your honeymoon destination.

Okay well, he was still sweet for that day since the two of you were a bit too tired to do much after a draining flight to where you are now. As for the next day, the first day of your honeymoon... well, Choso was...

“C’mere baby,” His deep voice, husked with hours of sleep that'd just barely faded off, filled the air of the room you were in.

Soft sunlight peeping in through the curtains, even softer sheets surrounding the two of you, clothes messily scattered to the floor-- he may not have gotten to you on the night of your wedding due to sheer exhaustion but the next morning? Oh, you couldn't get a second away from him.

You've dated Choso long enough to know that sometimes he just wakes up hard, his cock poking at your ass as you'd shift around in your sleep. It was a natural occurrence you'd gotten used to. Sometimes you both ignored it and sometimes it was taken care of immediately.

But when you just got married to this man less than twenty-four hours ago, there was no way for you to have expected him to just ignore his morning wood. Especially not when Choso's been on cloud nine ever since he saw you stroll down that aisle looking just as beautiful as the first day the two of you ran into each other.

A heavy groan pours out of your husband's mouth whilst his hands run along your body, fingertips dancing against your supple skin before he finds his rightful hold on your hips.

Cheek down against the mattress, back arched sensually, and ass up in the air-- the sudden snap of Choso's hips against your ass rips a moan from your mouth, one of many that's already left you within the past hour or so.

You'd married such a sweet man but in bed, he was an entirely different person, hence why your fingers are curling into the sheets and you're attempting to pull yourself away from him for only a second. Only to earn a grunt from Choso who tugs your hips back to him, “Don’t fuckin' runnn baby,” He sighs, a lazy smile spread across his face at the sight.

You've got a bit of drool slipping down your face, Choso's fingers are stopping you from moving too much and all you can do is take it. "M-Mmgh..." Your eyes began to water a bit as his thick cock drilled into your hole relentlessly, "C-Cho, hahh, you're s-so-"

"Big?" He finishes for you, earning a squeeze from your cunt in response. The sudden tightness makes his brows push together as he tosses his head back, "Yeah baby, you've been tellin' me that for years," He teases, "M'not gettin' any smaller, sorry princess."

His tip was so fat and angry against your insides, leaving you utter mush beneath him with how hard he was fucking his cock into you. "C-Can't stand you-, fuck." You gasp as he lands a hand onto your ass, gripping at the fat and chuckling at your words.

Then he's leaning forward a bit and angling his hips differently, drilling deeper inside you before grunting out a low, "Yeah but you can cum f'me again," Choso comments tauntingly with a smirk on his face.

One of his hands starts to travel to your back, pressing you down into the mattress before he lifts a leg a places his foot onto the bed for better leverage. If you weren't clawing at the sheets before, you damn sure are now as his throbbing cock bottoms you out.

Your jaw went slack and you were tearing up, "Ah, mgh, oh... oh fuck, Choso..." You moan, trying to collect yourself and not get too caught up in how good he was fucking you.

But how could you not? Choso was fucking you deep and hard, grunting and groaning without a care in the world while trying to hold out on painting your insides white too soon.

Then there's the way your pussy narrows around his shaft, letting him know you were close again, "See? There you go-," Choso loses his words for a moment as you start moving your hips backward to meet his thrust. You'd caught him completely off guard and it makes him choke, "Y-Yeahhh, fuck yourself on me, jus’ like that," He moans.

Choso leans up a bit just to watch you, eyes glued down on your pussy lewdly taking his cock over and over again. The sight makes him smile, as always.

"Shiit baby, you've got such a pretty fuckin' pussy," Choso praises as he tilts his head, jaw-dropping a bit at how you part your legs a bit more and arches your back further, "Fuck, princess-, fuuck... so fuckin' pretty," He stammers a bit while he continues to praise you, losing himself in the way you continuously bring yourself back on him.

His cock thrust in to match your movements, both of you fucking each other in sync. Oh how you drove Choso to the brink of insanity-- he was moving to spit down on his cock just before it disappeared inside you without a second thought, watching his saliva mix with the slick from your cunt and releasing another moan afterward.

Then Choso brings his hand to your ass again, "Baby, I complimented you, didn't I?"

You just nod stupidly, not thinking twice about what he's hinting toward, "Mmhhmm-," Choso snaps his hips forward again, pelvis clashing into you and making you whine, "F-Fuck."

Cocking his head to the side, Choso starts picking up his pace again, "What're you supposed t'say when you get compliments, huh?" He asks, tone rough with you.

His swollen cock rutted into your cervix, leading your legs to quake and your breath to escape you, "Choso-,"

"No pretty, c'monnn," He cuts off on purpose, "Where's those manners of yours, hm? Have I been too nice to you lately?" Voice dipping down into something a bit sweeter with you, your stomach churns before he's stretching you open all over again.

"Fuck... Fuck-," You gasp and your eyes squeeze shut before you're panting, "T-Thank you Cho..."

That earns a sexy smile from your husband, "There ya' go, suuch a good fuckin' girl f'me. Smart woman I've married, sayin' thank you after gettin' praised. Y'like it when I tell you how pretty y'are, hm?"

Blindly nodding into the bed, "Uhuh..." Is the most you can babble out.

And of course the sound makes Choso smile. He loves getting you to the point where you can hardly speak. Which is exactly why he’s smiling as he hums to you, "Speak up baby." Just as those words leave his lips, his cock is turning your cunt to mush, leaving you nothing more than a mindless hole beneath him.

Panting and clawing at the mattress, tears slip down your cheeks and your words come out jumbled and whiney, "Yes, Choso-, hhgnn… y-yes."

Choso puts on a pout to mock you before he scoffs and reaches a hand down to your hair, "C'mere, look at me,” He utters surprisingly softly before tugging you up by your hair so he can get a decent look at your face.

He forced your head to angle toward him and you swear he’s fucking you harder than he was before. Your pussy was sloshing all over his thick shaft, leaving where you were connected and slipping down along both of your thighs— you were a wet mess but Choso seemed to love you like that.

"Hi baby,” Your husband whispers, his eyes hanging low as he gazes into yours. Then he pouts at you again, “Aww, you cryin'? Feels that good, huh?" Choso teases. He watches the way your brows furrow and decides to go even further, bringing his free hand around your body and moving two fingers down to your clit.

Your body jumps within his hold once he starts rubbing over your clit, a strangled moan pouring out of your mouth, “C-Choso-, hahhh… fuck-,”

He just smirks, "Does it feel good when I touch you like this too?" He asks gently, as if he can’t see the clear effect his touch has on you.

You couldn’t even answer him verbally just yet— quiet mhm’s leaving your throat was the most you could manage. Your hand went over his and your nails were scratching against his arms, legs trying to draw together and your body nearly falling forward.

"Hm? I can't hear you princess,” Choso has the nerve to taunt you, “C’mon, jus' talk t'me. Tell me what you want me t'do," He instructs before pulling your body back against his.

Your mouth simply hangs open and his fingers won’t stop toying with your clit, his heavy cock resting inside you and leaving you full and lightheaded with pleasure, “…Mmh, k-keep-, nngh, g-go- oh, fuck, fuck… keep goin’ Cho… hahh, don’t stop, don’t fuckin’ stop…”

His cock aches inside you at the sound of your small whimpers in between words and your twisted-up face. Smiling, "Keep goin’, huh? You close?" Choso’s voice is sudden in your ear and you just moan into the air. “Gonna make a mess on me? Hahhh, fuck I guess I married a slut too, huh?”

You manage to meet his eyes and Choso swears he’s never seen you with an expression this lewd before. Well, he definitely has but, it still amazes him every time.

His brows push together and he groans, "I mean, look at that face-, shit,” Choso gasps. Just looking at you with a completely fucked out expression almost made him fold, “So fuckin' perfect. My perfect wife."

Your lower lip pokes out and you whine, “C-Cho…”

“Mhm, y’know you’re mine right?” He coos, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck. You huff out a sigh in response and he starts talking against your skin, “Yeahhh, my wife. My lil’ slut to ruin whenever the fuck I want, right?”

His voice grew rough all of a sudden and he started moving you around again, placing a hand to your back and forcing you back down to the bed. Then both of his hands were on your back, pressing into your arch before his hips picked up in pace.

The veins decorating his cock rubbing against your walls, cockhead digging deep inside you and making you gasp all over again.

Then there’s his voice, “Y’like that Mrs. Kamo?”

Oh you practically lose yourself right then and there— a slick mess of cum coating his dick due to one simple phrase. Choso scoffs loudly at the sight and the feeling of your pussy squeezing him like crazy.

“S-Shit, y’like your new last name, huh?” Choso huffs, sounding a bit more breathless than he did just moments ago.

“M-Mhmm, ah… mmgh-, fuck,” You bite your bottom lip for a second to get yourself together before uttering a sweet, “I love it Cho…”

He really starts to lose himself after that, mindlessly pounding into you with his jaw-dropping a bit. Choso doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life. You were his. His wife.

Fuck he was seconds from emptying himself inside of you— hell, maybe he should. Fuck you nice and full of his cum… It’s been a while since you’ve let him do so after all.

“Baby,” Choso grunts, heavy pants leaving his wet lips, “F-Fuck, m’gonna cum…” He suddenly heaves out.

So lost in the thought of cumming inside you, Choso hardly realizes how he’s drilling into you right now— the bed had begun to shake and your body was dipping down into the mattress, his cock twitching wildly inside you as it ached for release and heavy balls slapping against you with his every thrust.

The fabric below you is wet from your drool and you could hardly even whisper his name out, the sound leaving in a light squeak, “Choso.”

“Uhuh,” Choso responds mindlessly before he moans, “M-Mhmm, fuck… lemme cum inside you, princess.” He finally manages to blurt out his thoughts and it catches you off guard.

Followed by that is Choso moving a hand under you and rubbing his fingers over your clit yet again— tugging a cry from your throat, “S-Shit-, hahhh,” Your body was practically folding in on itself but his other hand remained firm on your back, keeping you in position, “Choso, fuck, Cho… mmmh-“

“Please?” He whines, “Fuck-, fuuck… baby… I need to,” Choso’s quick to beg you as he’s desperate for his release, “Needa’ stuff this pretty pussy full of me,” He babbles out before throwing his head back and groaning, “Fuuck, I wanna see it drippin’ outta’ you when I’m done. ‘Nd then stuff it right back in, make it nice and sloppy.”

His words had you cumming again before you finally agreed, nodding desperately against the bed, “Okay, mgh, okay, fuck,” You whisper.

His thrusts grow sharper and his body weighs into you a bit, “Okay, what?” Choso grunts lowly.

Just barely, you angle your head back as best you could to look at him and flash the smallest fucked out smile you could manage, “Cum inside me, Cho.”

His reaction is priceless, seed spilling into your pussy seconds after those words hit his ears— or maybe it was the way you’d looked at him, either way, he was fucking his cum into you within seconds.

Babbling as he ruts into you with mindless, almost animalistic-like thrusts, “Fuckin’ love you-, holy shit, I love you,” Is the only thing Choso could repeat as his cum spurted into you, the sound of slick growing louder and messier as he never once slowed the pace of his thrusts.

And he’s just thrusting in and out and in and out over and over again, watching that messy white ring form at his base and letting out a long groan at the sight.

“F-Fuck, say it back pretty, tell me you love me,” He huffs impatiently.

Sure, Choso knows you love him and he can clearly see how difficult speaking is for you but he didn’t care, he needed to hear it back from you anyway.

“Love you, Cho,” You whimper, “Mmmh… I love you s-so much.”

And then he’s fucking you through those very words, his body leaning over yours at this point and a moan of your name leaving his lips— followed by the faintest whimper.

When he finally calms himself, he’s pulling out with small whines escaping him. His face was flushed and he couldn’t stop panting.

Then he was moving a thumb to your sensitive folds, spreading your cunt apart to watch his cum trickle out and angling the tip of his cock against your hole just to watch his cum drip out of you and down onto his skin.

It was messy, nasty even, but didn’t care one bit. A smile was etched onto his face as he did so and you just laid there completely still for a while.

Choso was behind you toying with the mess below, enjoying himself a little too much, “Can’t get enough of this pussy, y’know…”

You scoff, “Choso…”

“I’m jus’ sayin',” He hums before tilting his head, smiling growing, “She’s so messy, I fuckin’ love her.”

You roll your eyes at the man, “Cho… please stop talkin’ about my pussy like it’s a p-person…”

“Shhh baby, I’m trying to listen t’her,” He says, completely disregarding your words as he continues to just rub his tip in between your folds. “Nasty fuckin’ girl. Y'Made such a big mess,” Choso coos. Then he shrugs and you feel him start pressing his tip into you, “S’okay though, you’ll make another one f’me, right?”

You send your husband a look, “Choso.”

“Shhh princess, don’t be rude,” He hums, smiling to himself as he doesn’t even attempt to look away from your cunt, “I haven’t even made my pretty girl squirt yet,” He comments before his smile widens, “Good thing I’ve got all day t’do so.”

Yeah, you definitely weren’t getting any more rest…

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Whispering Woods

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: When the world gets too much for you, you have the tendency to 'run' away sometimes. This time you and your dragon don't get the peace and quiet that comes with it for too long as it seems you have an admirer waiting to make their presence known.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Hand Kisses'

(Y/N): Your name

(D/N): Dragon's name

(D/S): Dragon species

(W/C): Weapon of choice

*Gif does not belong to me

It wasn't unusual for you to take a break from Berk every once in a while. Hopping on (D/N)'s back and flying off without a word to anyone else on the island. You knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, not when Drago Bloodyfist or whatever Hiccup had called him recently attempted to take control of all of Berk's dragons, but you couldn't help yourself. There was nothing better the disappearing for a few hours with nothing but the wind in your hair, your (D/S) under you and the quietness that came with it.

The only repercussions for disappearing that you've ever gotten were some annoyed friends or a worried Hiccup, which you could say was one of the worse options since he tended to fret when you returned. Though anything was better than a mad Hiccup when you accidentally disappeared for three days and came back to half of Bekr looking for you since Hiccup had gotten worried enough to start a search party.

That's how you found yourself where you were now, surrounded by the quietness of a forest on some random island not too far away from Berk. The flight over had only taken twenty minutes as you and (D/N) took your time flying there.

(D/N) had slunk off not too long ago, making her own way through the forest as she explored, leaving you to your thoughts as you trailed after her, not trying very hard to keep up.

Berk had been hectic recently. Hiccup found his mum, Berk was attacked, you almost lost (D/N), and Stoick died... It was a lot to happen in the span of a few days, closer to a few hours if you don't count Hiccup's extended absence.

This island had seen worse for wear but there was still a lot of work that had to be done. Which you should be doing now but too many people were asking too much of you. You had also been avoiding meeting Hiccup's mum as the two of you had spared only a few words to one another when in the heat of battle.

It was a lot to think of all at once, so you found yourself off the island quicker than the Twins could say boar pit.

Being out here was doing wonders for your mind; calming you down and making it easier to think of nothing at all. It was all you could hope for, even if you knew you would have to head back soon unless you wanted Hiccup to deem this as another one of your escape attempts.

It was only when the forest got quieter than normal did you felt the need to come back to your senses, an actual need to be alert instead of walking around aimlessly as if you were on autopilot.

The soft thumping of (D/N)'s feet from ahead had stopped, along with the birds hidden in trees. The only noise that passed through was the rustling of leaves as a steady breeze glided through the woods. Your hand was itching down to grasp onto the small blade you had strapped to your belt, your (W/C) left on the saddle that (D/N) had run off with.

Before you had the chance to do anything though, a set of hands were slipping around your waist, tugging you back and into someone's chest softly. Years of Viking training were already kicking in as you raised an elbow, ready to dig it back with a low aim when someone caught onto your arm, stopping it in its motion.

"Hey," You struggled to get out, still trying to land a hit on the person behind you and push yourself away, attempting anything that would set you free.

"Calm down," A familiar voice laughed out, surprising you into stillness as your brain realised who it was. At your sudden stop, you were whirled around by the person who had disturbed you, being met with a bright smile and a deep set of green eyes as they bore into you. "I was wondering when you'd notice it was me."

"Hiccup," You deadpan, watching as the taller boy slowly pulled you closer, setting one of his hands on your waist without the hassle of a fight from you trying to dislodge it.

"(Y/N)," He copied, raising one of your hands with his free ones and bringing it up to his face, setting a soft brush of his lips on the back of it in the form of an extended greeting. You watched the motion with warm eyes, the annoyance that had crept up your spine dying down a bit.

"How long have you been here?" You questioned once your fingers got interlocked with his, not going to deny the soft touches as the both of your hands were brought down.

"Not long," Hiccup commented. Standing in front of you, Hiccup seemed like he didn't have a care in the world, reminding you of what you had left behind on Berk and how Hiccup himself could bring this feeling out of you. "Toothless saw you and (D/N) fly off not long ago and wanted to bring me to you so that he could play with them."

"Mm," You hummed, bringing your linked hands back up. For a short moment where your hands stayed hovering in the air, your lashes fluttering at Hiccup, you took him in, the small smile on your face expressing more words than you wanted to at the moment. Laying a kiss on the back of his hand, you murmur, "We better go find them then and make sure they don't get into too much trouble."

[solbaby7]

Wanting You, Wanting Me

pairing: azriel x reader

based off an anonymous request- got carried away but I tried to stay within the guidelines; this was actually a really cute concept

warnings: angst at first but it gets fluffy towards the end, swearing, jealousy, mutual pining, mentions of nightmares, sleep deprivation, probably some typos

summary: Silent yearning only remains silent for so long when you suspect your crush likes your best friend instead

--

Elaine was like flowers budding in the Spring; new and fresh, full of promise and beauty. She was kind and caring, compassionate and soft-spoken, dainty and slender—all the pretty things that males loved in women.

Or maybe it was just her.

Because you were fairly new and fresh too; just barely in your twenties and full on the idea of life and love and everything in between. Maybe you weren’t as kind, not as nice or welcoming; you didn’t always have the right words and in lou of sounding stupid or making a fool of yourself, you stayed quiet.

Watching; observing, learning the family around you as you navigated your place in it. Everyone already had their role; playing their parts as if they’d been trained their whole lives for it and even Feyre and her sisters had fallen into a steady rhythm after the Cauldron. But with all the new additions, couples pairing up and friendships pre-established a hundred years before you were even a thought—your place there seemed less clear.

Especially since Azriel had started paying such special attention to Elaine and her annoyingly beautiful garden and the plants that seemed to thrive tenfold at the mere sight of her.

You didn't mind at first; the three of you falling into a steady rhythm of hanging out together, taking walks and sharing stories but somewhere along the lines he stopped looking at you when he'd laugh. Envy builds for a woman too kind to deserve it and it makes you feel even worse--masking your distaste with soft smiles that you hoped looked as welcoming as hers.

You can’t even help the turn your thoughts take but no matter how much envy fills you; there’s not one con that presents itself when regarding her.

It becomes subconscious, the way you mimic her; fixing your posture, hands reaching to push back strands of hair and smoothen out the fabric that the soft curve of your stomach. Silently nitpicking parts of you that you’d never considered wrong before but that had to be when everything Elaine had got was so right.

He walks in like you’ve summoned him, steps silent and sure. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mutter a beat too late, only realizing he was regarding you when you’d finally glanced up over the book in your hands.

You’re acutely aware of his every move, the radiating warmth of his body contrasted by the cool kiss of his shadows sifting through your hair when he leans over the back of the couch. The smell of his soap reaches your nose when he leans in, hazel eyes skimming over the pages you're reading and you thank the good Mother above that you’d gotten past the naughty scene three pages ago; where the good guy who pretends to be bad slides his fingers between the maidens thighs, urging her to be silent as he worked her over through her clothes while being surrounded by a whole camp full of males and a looming threat lingering somewhere in the trees. “Bad dreams again?”

You pray he doesn’t catch the slight uptick of your heart rate, the closeness forcing your body to react without permission and it takes great effort not to tear the delicate pages under the pressure of your fingers alone. “Something like that,” You grit out, reminded of the nightmares that assaulted your slumber; the sight of Elaine and Azriel—kissing. Enough to rip you awake and force you to empty all of your stomach contents; you’d just barely made it to the bathing chambers, hairs sticking to your cheeks and nightgown damp with sweat as you leaned into the toilet.

You still hadn’t been able to keep anything down; stomach too unsettled and brain spiraling enough to distract away any signs of hunger.

“She’s been getting them all week,” Elaine softly adds, fingers busy with her knitting needles and yarn; a new blanket for you to add to the giant collection neatly folded your closet. “—won’t drink the tea I made for it though.”

“Because the tea makes them worse and then I wake up from them with my body still paralyzed,” You’re quick to say, familiar with your best friends tactics in divulging important information to the shadowsinger to ensure you actually did something about it—that you took care of yourself. “I’ll happily keep just the bad dreams.”

Azriel's not even looking at you anymore though, already rounding the couch to sit beside Elaine, ball of yarn rolling between them and you can’t help but stare. “Tell me more about this tea?”

“I make it from the plants in the garden,” She points at the window behind them, pale green yarn still wrapped around her finger. “Camomile and ginseng and usually it helps but she just reacts to it differently.”

Azriel hums and you hate the way the words make you feel; like there was another thing setting you apart from the others and this perfect life that didn’t seem capable enough to hold room for all of your imperfections. You don’t wait to hear anymore, steps light and hands quick to stick your bookmark in place and collect your tea cup before you’re gone and down the hall; tears burning in your waterline.

Because, you were sure that if you had to sit there and watch them a second longer you were going to scream.

Scream at Elaine for being so sweet and gentle; so knowledgeable and helpful and certain that it was you that was the issue and not her stupid herbs grown in her stupid garden. You wanted to scream at Azriel until you were blue in the face, listing off every single thing you've ever done to show that the thing between you was way more than just friends. How he was everything and you know that maybe you weren't perfectly skinny like Elaine was but you'd always found great beauty in things that were different.

You can’t tell if you’re happy or not that no one comes to check on you the whole four hours it takes for you to relax; binging the entirety of a book until you were too focused on someone else's life to focus on your own and only once you'd finished the book in it's entirety were you forced to leave the room in search for the one that followed.

The library is empty when you enter, only a few lights still burned and you’re already murmuring soft words to yourself while you search around for what your looking for, fingers bumping over the slides of books; their engraved titles all unique and beautiful and probably interesting but still not quite right. It takes some time but you’re certain you’ve found it, a few rows higher than you can reach but it’s easy to drag over a chair for assistance. "Come on," You mutter, nose scrunching with strain as the tips of two fingers graze the burgundy spine. You’re prepared to jump and pray the chair doesn’t collapse beneath you when the book simply slides out and floats down to you, cool shadows twirling up the length of your arm as if to stabilize you as you step down. “I didn’t need help,” You grumble without looking at your savior, the weight of the book now in your palm and excitement swirls at the thought of more.

“You never do.”

You don’t mean to be so snappy but the sleep deprivation takes a toll and it was becoming harder to distinguish truth from dream; your brain always stuck on his mouth leaning in for Elaine’s and the anger that ensues is all consuming. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azriel shrugs, sighing as if he knows how this conversation will end and in no way will he ever come out on top. “I don’t know—just don’t get why you wouldn’t have told me you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Because, Az, what would you have done? Help Elaine make me tea’s? No, thanks.”

Confusion spreads on handsome features, hazel eyes fierce even with his lids lowered. “What does Elaine have to do with any of this? Because she told me?”

The breath you let out is heavy, defeat settling in once you realize the hole you’d been digging yourself and it’s a struggle to heave yourself out and drag the chair back to its original spot but Azriel’s there in seconds. He’s quiet; waiting for an answer as he takes it from your hands. “No,” You concede, all fight leaving when it was a one-sided battle. “She doesn’t have anything to do with it. It’s fine—I’m just tired.”

“Then sleep,” He urges softly. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I can’t.”

You can’t even focus on the words of your page under his stare. You’ve read the first line six times over and you still haven’t fully processed it. The thought of him being nearby as you slept, the thought of his eyes on your body in nothing but a nightgown and your hair free from all its carefully done braids. “Can you tell me what you’ve been dreaming about?”

His brows raise when you suck in a sharp breath, cheeks flinching at the suggestion and you shut the book altogether. “I’d really rather not.”

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me about it?" Azriel's hand covers your own, voice so soft it hurt. "You tell me everything.”

Your heart thumps so hard in your chest you can hear it in your ears, your free fingers fumbling against the other under the table and you can't refrain from the nervous chuckle that pulls free. There's a second where you want to just tell him; to confess your feelings and how much you loved the way he was looking at you but fucking hated how you knew that look wouldn't stay if Elaine walked in. The reminder of her alone makes your body deflate, gaze going far off and Azriel's concern only grows when you stay quiet too long to be normal.

The cool touch of a shadow grazing your cheek pulls you out of it. "I suppose this just isn't worth telling."

It's not the answer he wanted, that much is clear by the frown that tugs on full lips, the wings that tuck in tighter and you want nothing more than to give him everything he'd wanted and more to get his face to stop looking at you like that but before you can say another word, another person enters. "Sorry to interrupt, I was just looking for you.

His eyes instantly go to her, hand pulling away from your own and attitude seeps out when you regard her. "Well, you found me."

Elaine's eyes bounce between you and Azriel as if she could feel the tension in the room that held so thick you could cut it with a knife. Her voice is hesitant when she begins, a steaming pot held in hands covered by thick oven mitts. "I made a new recipe for the tea," You don't even hear the carefully curated list of herbs she rattles off, informing their uses and how well they work together but you can't stop shaking; chest tightening at the way Azriel watches Elaine gracefully flit about the room and you can't stop thinking about how quickly he pulled away his hand. "It's really strong so you can't have too much but the madja said that it would help with the sleeping and the paralysis."

You couldn't of cared less, snatching the kettle from her grasp and in your anger you can’t even hear her gasp, can’t feel the burn of the boiling handle against your palm as you pour a mug so thick it nearly spills over the top. “Thanks, Elaine. Really, I hope it knocks me out for a week.” You don’t stay to take in the worry on Azriel's face or the hurt that laced your friends features. Your book is tight in your grasp and you’re halfway down the hallway when you feel your palm begin to throb.

Your bedroom door shuts with a slam, pure frustration pulsing through your whole being and you can feel it ebbing from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. A sigh pulls when you take an angry sip, it burns your tongue, slightly bitter but it was eased with a little sugar and a teaspoon of honey.

Guilt swells at the kind gesture and your misguided anger; Elaine had only been trying to help, making things to quell the dreams she didn’t even know were centered around her and man you loved but didn't love you back. It weighs on you as you change into your night clothes, smoothening ointment and wrapping thick gauze around your burn; there was no blistering but the angry red mark was sure to remain there for quite some time.

You try to distract yourself, silently sipping as you read your book.

It’s alarming how quickly you relax, the giant mug nearly empty when your book slips between your fingers and thuds to the floor, body slumping into the sitting chair and you don’t even have enough time to drag a blanket over yourself before your eyes flutter shut and sleep takes over.

And this time, you didn’t dream.

There was only peaceful silence and maybe an uncomfortable pressure in your chest that it came and went in waves; too grateful for the relief that settled in your bones to care. It was like you were sinking, body slowly falling into a sea of cushion and comfort and you’d have been willing to stay there forever.

Your brows furrow when a noise pierces through the silence; eyes squinting in the darkness to find the source but the harder you try to make it out, the darker the rooms gets. A hand rubs against your chest, the pressure coming back and this time it’s so hard it makes you cough, eyes clenching shut and it’s like that was the switch to wake you up.

Azriel is leaning over you, hands on your chest and cheeks red with exertion when you cough and cough, soul aching to return to the peace—that silence where there were no dreams. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“Wake you up?” His voice holds no more room for placating to your wants; hands shaking at his sides and it’s then you see the fear. “You didn’t have a pulse. I came to check on you and you were—“ Azriel clears his throat, voice cracking with his clothes disheveled and full lips firm in a straight line as he stood before you, crouching down to meet your eye level. “Tell me right now, what were you dreaming about that was so bad that you were willing to die to stop them.”

Your chest heaves as you take in air, a ringing begins in your ears and you back away; avoiding the words, the conversation—the sight of his mouth on hers. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will."

"Azriel—"

Az groans at your tone, turning his entire body away as if he physically couldn't bear hearing another aversion; another lame excuse as to why you couldn't tell him what was going on when you always did. "Do you not trust me? Is that it?"

“What?”

You'd never seen him so upset, eyes blazing and wings rustling in his frustration as he stood. "I'm just listing shit at this point because all I've done is try to be there for you—me and Elaine, and you just keep pushing us away."

"Oh, please," You snap back, gaining the strength to stand and the ache in your chest only gets worse and you begin to wonder just how long he was on top of you breathing air into your lungs and willing breath to stick with the push of his hands. "If Elaine's around, I might as well just walk right out of the room because that means you'll be otherwise occupied shoving your head up her ass."

"You sound ridiculous." He lets out a gruff laugh, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you jealous or something?"

"It's clear you have feelings for her. I get it—she's perfect and pretty and skinny and obviously you like that sort of thing but don't stand here and pretend you even notice I exist with her there." There's no taking back the words and you don't even care to look into the way his brows furrow at you, words punching at him a mile a minute as a dam breaks and days and weeks and months worth of emotions rage forward with no signs of stopping. "How couldn't I be jealous? When it’s so obvious that you love her and not me.” It feels pathetic to say out loud, hands crossing over yourself as you did your best to remain strong; to get through the feelings even though your skin was on fire and you couldn't stop fidgeting. "That's what my dreams have been about. Why I've been missing sleep and hiding things from you because every time I close my eyes all I can fucking see is you and her."

You don't even realize how much distance you'd been putting between you two, subconsciously searching for a way out when Azriel inevitability let you down easy. "You love me?" Words die on your tongue, feelings laid bare and vulnerabilities left out for his viewing pleasure; eyes like drops of gold boring into you as you gently nod. He sinks onto the edge of your bed, a breathless laugh emitting as scarring fingers traced over the soft fabric of your duvet. "The only reason I started talking to Elaine in the first place is because you and her had gotten so close and I wanted an excuse to be around you."

Your brows furrow, lips parting in confusion and the nerves begin to fade. "No."

Azriel's head nods once, settling into the fell of your room and the little trinkets you'd kept close on the nightstand; pictures neatly framed and resting on books you favored a little more than the others on the shelves. Hand sculpted vases made from blown glass that scattered rainbows across the room when the sun shone through the curtains to feed the bright flowers inside of them. "Yes, but you kept leaving and I thought it was because you weren't interested."

"But, I thought—"

"I think it's safe to say we both were off in our assumptions."

It feels like a dream and not the kind you'd been running away from but the one you'd been sinking and falling into earlier before Azriel had pulled you back. The one that felt like peace and comfort and something like hope begins to brew in your belly when you dare you look him in the eyes. "You like me?"

Azriel's features soften, the fear and worry from before a thing of the past when he stood and walked towards you, shadows kissing at your legs when warm knuckles grazed your cheek. "I love you," He corrects gently, his touch like home and its instinct the way you close the proximity. You can feel his heartbeat on your chest, the strong muscles of his arms itching to be traced and a smile forms at the blush that forms on the tops of his ears under your attention. "—and those smutty little books you've been reading."

His chest is hard when you jokingly smack it, cheeks going hot and eyes darting to the book laid forgotten on the floor. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The lie doesn't deter him and neither does the little gasp that pulls free when he gently forces you to look up at him, hazel eyes trained on your mouth and the tongue that darts out to wet plush lips. "I'll pretend I believe that if you just shut up and let me kiss you."

Maybe reality was better than dreaming.

Because this time, when he leaned down with intent to press his mouth against another’s for a kiss—it was with you.

[millervrse]

A SECOND CHANCE ! joel miller x reader

summary: Joel was sent by Marlene to come find you and bring you to Saint Mary’s. You are the only human aside from Ellie Williams who has been bitten and not turned: You are the only way that a cure can be created where no blood is shed. But to do that, you’ll have to warm up to the hardass that is Joel goddamn Miller.

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, so minors dni, occurs after the plot of the first tlou, but before joel gets ellie out of saint mary’s, some canon facts are changed for the sake of this story, ENEMIES TO LOVERS! reader has a heavily established backstory that is to be explored throughout the series, game references (tess, the fireflies, sarah, the general plot of the game, etc). implied age gap. reader’s just as tough as joel, if not worse! warnings will change and be updated as the series progresses.

word count: 2.8k+

LYN SPEAKING! alright, hey! i’m lyn, and i’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for close to a year now (yes, a year) and baby FINALLY finished the first installment of this series i plan to work on based on it. i sincerely hope this is well received! if you want to know when i update this series, please let me know, and i will kindly tag you. also, if you have any ideas as to where this story can go, my inbox is wide open! alright now, buckle up and enjoy!

PART I: IMMUNE

“If there’s no way for you to do this where Ellie lives,” Joel said, a dark gruffness to his voice as the words leave his lips. “Then it ain’t happenin’. I swear it.”

Joel Miller and Ellie Williams had been through hell and back to deliver her to the Fireflies. People had died along the way, close to the pair or not, and sacrifices had been made for the greater good. But now, as they stood at the end of the line, Joel realized that there was no greater good, and that they hadn’t been to hell.

Because this was it.

Joel stood defensively before Marlene, the woman who was the reason this was happening in the first place. The Fireflies wanted to make a cure for the virus that had taken their world by surprise twenty years ago. One that would cure the infected of their curse, to bring them back to the human beings that they once were. But to do that, Joel would have to make the biggest sacrifice of them all.

Losing Ellie.

He couldn’t bear to lose a second daughter, not when he had already given his all to have her. To keep her. Not when he had already lost Sarah in his arms all those years ago. No, no, no. Sarah had been unfairly shot, unfairly killed, and Joel was powerless to help her.

That wouldn’t be the case with Ellie.

He stood in front of an unconscious Ellie now, laid out over a bed in the hospital he had delivered her to. He had managed his way in here by narrowly avoiding Firefly personnel. But just as he was about to flee, Marlene and several soldiers behind her had him cornered every which way.

“Joel—“ Marlene did her best. But Joel didn’t want to hear it.

“No,” he barked, gun trained on the brunette. It didn’t matter if this ended in flames. It didn’t matter if he died. If he was doing it for Ellie, then he’d do it again and again, in this life and the next. “If there is no scenario where this little girl survives, it is not, happening.”

There’s a pause, a look of delay in Marlene’s eyes as she looks at Joel. She debated. Should she tell him? Should she reveal a secret she had been holding back since he had taken this assignment nearly a year ago?

This was no time to hang back.

“There’s one.”

That, was the moment in time when Joel Miller learned about you.

A girl, who had also been bitten, and not turned. A girl, whose history Marlene refused to delve too deeply into. A girl, who could be the cure to the cure, where nobody died. 

Where Ellie lived.

“Where do I find her?”

———————————————————————

That’s how he had gotten here.

A noise sounds from behind you as you're readying to go and hunt for food in your house in Vermont, alongside a brief patrol to make sure that no infected were lurking by. You’re quick to tense when the sound fills your ears, grabbing the crossbow that was on the counter near you, the one that you’d thankfully just loaded, and whipping around.

A man who looked much older than you stood in the doorframe. He was tall with tousled hair, a green, wrinkled shirt mirroring his gruff demeanor. Your gaze darkened at the sight. You hadn’t seen a human being in a millennia. Let alone one that you hated to admit, was handsome.

You didn’t let that deter you, however, raising your crossbow higher and aiming it at him.

"You've got five seconds to tell me what you're doing here,” your voice firmly rang out as you drew the bow. Thank God you’d always been a natural at aiming. “Or I'll put one between your eyes.”

The man put his hands up, though his face remained neutral as he stood in place, as if to show he wasn’t afraid of you. ���Easy does it,” he rasped, his voice as gruff as he looked. “I’m not here to hurt’cha.”

“Then, leave,” you returned. “This doesn’t have to end in blood. And if you get any fucking closer, I promise you, it will.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” the man said in jest, causing you to draw your arrow back more, a warning for him to watch his tone. A sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders tensed at the gesture, closing his eyes and opening them to meet yours. “Look. I was sent here to find you. Alright? I just need to talk.”

This wasn’t going to be easy for Joel, was it?

Your aim never wavered as you responded. Your first thought was what the fuck was he talking about, but the curse doesn’t make the cut as you answer. “Sent by who?”

A pause.

“Marlene.”

You tense.

“She said you’d know her.”

Oh, you fucking know her, alright. Who the fuck was this man and how the fuck did he know about you and Marlene? It’s impossible, you think. That was years ago. This man was lying.

Right?

“Marlene?” you scoffed, your voice shaking. “That’s bullshit. I haven’t spoken to Marlene in years, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be sending anyone to find me,” you return, the furrow already present in your eyebrows deepening, eyes drowning in suspicion. “Who are you, really?”

The man doesn’t move, instead keeping his arms raised like he’s some sort of peace offering. “The name’s Joel, Joel Miller, and I swear on my life that what I’m tellin’ you is true,” he said. When he took note of the apprehension in your expression, he lowered his voice, letting it relax into one that was meant to make you feel calm. “I’m not here to hurt you. Alright? Just let me explain.”

It didn’t help.

You wanted to shoot this man already, with every fiber of your being. Your trust issues were rattling like fireworks in your brain, telling you that he was a liar, that he was trying to get you vulnerable, catch you off guard. But against your better judgment, you nodded, hanging fire for him to go on.

"There's a, uh, little girl. Her name's Ellie. About a year ago, Marlene asked me and a friend o’mine to smuggle her out of Boston, where we were, in exchange for some guns. We agreed. But Marlene didn’t tell us why,” Joel began, sighing before going on. “Come to find out, little girl was infected, but the bite was three weeks old.”

A pause.

“She was immune.”

You tense again, like you had been over and over again since Joel had walked into your house. That word, that fucking word. That word that made your blood run cold. Made your head spin. Made horrid memories rush to the front of your brain. 

Immune.

You raised your eyebrows at Joel in disbelief of the three words that had just fled his lips. “That’s impossible,” you said. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he returned a little too quickly. “I was thinkin’ the same way you are. Ready to kill her right there and then when I found out. Thought Marlene set us up, knew it was only a matter of time before she’d turn and catch us by surprise. But the little girl, Ellie, wasn’t lyin.”

You grimace. A fucking little girl. You didn’t even want to ask how old she was. 

Because if this was going where you thought it was, then your heart was going to ache a whole lot more.

“Our journey had its ups and downs. We had to reroute over and over again. Fireflies can be pretty damn hard to find these days. But we ended up finding out that most of the ones who were remaining, were in Utah, holed up in some medical center. Ready to make a cure.”

Joel was about to go on, keep explaining. But he didn’t have to.

You cut him off.

“I’ve heard this one before,” you laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement, let alone humorous at all. It was one of disbelief, because how in the fuck had the universe spared you that day, just to bring it back to your feet? A scoff escapes your lips, and you sigh, pushing your tongue into your cheek before answering. “Saint Mary’s, isn’t it?”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows. “How’d-” he said in confusion, wondering if he had accidentally let it slip a few minutes ago in his hasty battle to keep an arrow out of his brain. “How’d you know?”

It’s your turn to be confused. If Marlene had really sent this man all this way to come find you, you figured she wouldn’t have spared him the details on the true nature of your connection, or lack thereof, to Marlene. “Are you kidding me? I’ve lived this,” you say, a bit of  malice behind your words as you raise your bow. “And if you think I’m going to go through that again, you better think fucking twice,” you warned.

Joel scoffed, undeterred by your threatened show of violence. He had seen scarier in his over twenty years in the apocalypse, and he was sure that if you wanted to shoot him, which you were more than capable of doing, you would have done it by now. "Little lady, I am not asking you too, alright? There's more to it."

Your expression doesn’t get any more welcoming, much to Joel’s annoyance. “Then you better get to talking, because I’m dying for an excuse to shoot you. Pun intended.”

Killing a bloater is easier than suppressing an eye roll at your words.

"Look, that girl and her bite, Marlene thinks that the head surgeon over at the Fireflies could fix up a cure. A cure for mankind. But she can’t undergo the surgery alone, not unless, unless—”

You finish for him.

“Not unless she dies.”

Joel nods, his feelings too grim to ask how you know that. He was sure that there’d be lots to uncover about you, that is, if you agreed to come back to Utah alongside him. “Right. And Marlene said, that if I found you, there’s a chance you could undergo the surgery with Ellie. And she’d survive.”

You take his words in, mulling them over in your head. The survivor in you was screaming to not let your feelings take hold. That no matter how desperate this man was for you to come with him, you would have to decline. But your conscious, the moral part of you that somehow persevered no matter how cruel this world had been to you, was bellowing. It wasn’t fair, what was happening to that little girl. It wasn’t fair that she would have to die to fix a world that was arguable beyond fixing.

But then again, what had happened to you was unfair too. And so was this unexpected arrival.

“You’re asking me to leave the comfort of my own home, travel across the damn country, go off with a man I don’t fucking know, all for a goddamn chance?” you asked. There was no violence behind your words this time. Just disbelief, incredulousness. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Joel never lowered his hands as he spoke. “Look, I know you’re uncertain, and I would be too. But this girl, Ellie, she—” he paused, doing his best to maintain his composure. “I just can’t lose her, okay? I can’t.”

Now your face relaxes, if only a little bit. You can see the raw and vulnerable look in Joel’s eyes, the gloss to his brown eyes that shines in the dim light of your house. 

“You’ve grown attached to this girl, haven’t you?”

Joel Miller was a tough man. Feelings weren’t in the cards for him. Not since Tess, not since Sarah. And for the love of God, if he could turn them off and never feel again, it’s likely that he would. So for now, he doesn’t tell you how much Ellie really means to him, returning to the cold approach he took on the world before he met her. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have, not that that matters,” he dismisses. “Point is, lady, if I have to drag you out of here kickin' and screamin', I will. But I ain't leavin' without’cha."

You scoffed. "You don't even know my name."

Well, for some reason, you figured he didn’t. But just then, he said it, proving you wrong in seconds.

 “Ain’t it?”

Don’tfeeldon’tfeeldon’tfeel.

You and this man were more alike than you knew.

Rolling your eyes, you speak up once again, pushing your feelings down into the gutter where they belong. “Let me tell you this, Miller. I gave up the hope a long time ago that there was anyone else out there like me, and so did Marlene. Why in the hell should I believe you?" you ask.

Joel parts his lips to speak, but words don’t come out. You were right. He had given you no reason to believe him, to trust him, and especially not, like you’d said, to leave the comfort of your own home and join him on his quest to save mankind, to save Ellie, if she was actually fucking real.

There’s a brief pause before he answers. "I don't know how else I can convince you. I can't, to be honest. But Ellie, she needs you. I can't let her die."

You paused for a second, allowing his words to sink in. God, you were apprehensive, but he, he was adamant. And the look in his eyes was tearing your survivalist ideologies to the ground.

"Saint Mary’s ain't close,” you say.

Joel’s eyes light up. It’s not a yes, but it’s hope. "I know,” he says. “I've got a car."

"A car?" you asked in shock. What more did this man have up his sleeve? You hadn't seen a working car in years. They weren’t easy to come by, and even if they were, gas was a major aspect of why nobody had cars anymore. Marlene and the Fireflies used to always have them, but because it’d been so long since you’d last seen her or a Firefly in general, you couldn't actually remember the last time you'd driven one.

"Yeah, it's a means of gettin’ around, kind of like-" Joel began. Annoyedly, you cut him off.

Did you really look that young?

"I know what a car is,” you said in annoyance. “Haven't seen one in years. You really have one?"

Joel decided to ignore your offended response, though it was hard to suppress a smirk at just how offended you’d gotten. "Yeah, I do. I told you, I'm not lyin'. Not about the car, not about Marlene, and not about Ellie. I promise.”

Promise.

You had it engraved in your brain that the word promise was a synonym for lie. It was just a kinder, less harsh way of putting it. But regardless, they were bullshit. Promises weren’t real. This wasn’t real. Joel wasn’t real.

You want to pinch your arm to make sure. Then you realize you’ve never had dreams this vivid.

You hated your face for the way it relaxed. You hated the fact that you could hear the genuineness in his tone, the converse of lies in his gruff demeanor. You hated the way your crossbow unconsciously lowered.

And you were going to hate Joel Miller for sure.

“You try anything, Miller—” you bark.

Joel’s eyes light up once again, and he can’t help the small smile that takes the corners of his lips. "You’ll put one between my eyes, I know. And I won’t, I promise.” 

“So are you comin’ or what?”

"Not so fast," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Give me some time to pack, mull it over a little more. You owe me that."

Joel wanted to protest, just a little bit. But he refrained, nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your eyes remained watchful, fixed on Joel as you walked backwards to the top floor.

There, in your bedroom, you think over what just happened. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to risk the life you had created, all for a chance? Who the fuck were you right now, and what had you done with the tough woman you had always been?

You were about to let your morals cloud your judgment, traveling far and wide to save a little girl you didn’t know, alongside a man you were sure you were going to hate. You were about to throw away all you’d become, all you’d ever wanted to be since what went down with the Fireflies all those years ago. With Marlene.

God fucking damnit.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 10

Series Masterlist

➪in which you start your first shift at jess’ after leaving clay’s house in tears, and a confrontation at work leaves you feeling a lot worse than before.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay watched you flee his house with tears in your eyes, and he couldn’t even question you on it before you were gone, your body covered back up by your dress from last night instead of his shirt. 

He had no idea what happened in the three minutes he left you alone for, but apparently it was a lot. Only a few seconds passed by the time he made it to the front door to go after you, but when he looked outside, you were long gone. 

You said you weren’t feeling well and that you needed air, but he was still confused as to why you didn’t let him take care of you. If you weren’t feeling up for that second date, then he would’ve happily let you lay in his bed all day until you felt better, but you fled before he could even offer that to you. 

What happened? 

His brows furrowed as he closed the door loudly and made his way back up to his room, planning on calling you, or at least texting you, as soon as he located his phone. 

But as soon as he entered his room, that plan slipped his mind as his gaze narrowed onto the framed picture that was placed on his still unmade bed. Clay felt his heart drop as he neared the photo, a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he realized who it was of. 

Clay picked up the picture of him and Sam that was taken on their wedding day, and he couldn’t even recognize the version of himself in the photo. It felt like so long ago, and he knew he was a very different person now. 

The guy in the picture was a lovesick fool who missed every single warning sign and red flag Sam gave out. His twenty two year old self felt like a stranger now since he had been forced to grow up so quickly after Joey was born and Sam left him.

He wanted to laugh, because the second things had gotten good with you, Sam fucked it up for him without actually being there. 

Where did you even find this picture? He couldn’t remember where he had put it after tearing his room apart of anything that reminded him of her, so what were the odds that you had found it?

Clay looked around and noticed one of the drawers in his dresser was open a bit, and when he pulled it open and saw an unfolded blue shirt thrown in there, he knew that was where you discovered it. 

This was the drawer Clay barely went into as it was full of all his old tees he used to wear when he was in his late teens and early twenties. They were his vintage and graphic shirts, and the ones he didn’t wear often, so he truly didn’t remember putting the picture in there since he hadn’t opened the drawer in quite a while. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he picked up the shirt and and looked down at the photo. No wonder you suddenly didn’t feel good, Clay was beginning to feel sick, too, as he stared down at the smiles on his and Sam’s faces. 

Young, dumb and naive Clay. How stupid can you be?

With a groan, he tossed the shirt onto his bed before turning the frame over and practically ripping the back of it off. He pulled the photo from the glass and tossed the frame aside, too, and without a second thought, he ripped it into countless pieces. 

He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do that before he met you, but now that he’d had a glimpse of what life looks like with you, he never wanted to go back. He hadn’t even thought about Sam at all since he left her that final voicemail, and he hated the fact that you must think that he still loves her. 

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

The only part of her that he loves is the one he shares with her. The one that brought you and him together. His son; someone who he doesn’t even consider hers anymore. 

Joey isn’t Sam’s. He never was. She brought him into the world, and then she abandoned him. No mother does that to their child. 

As far as Clay was concerned, Joey was all his. 

He throws the pieces of the picture into the garbage bin beside the dresser before looking around for his phone. He finds it on his nightstand next to his alarm clock with your sticky note on it, and his heart ached even more. 

Without wasting a second, he picks his phone up and calls you. He sits down on his messy bed and tugs at his equally messy hair as it rings and rings, and he knows you probably won’t answer him for at least a few hours.

You were upset, and rightfully so. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he started when he was met with your voicemail, and he would’ve laughed at the fact that he is leaving someone else another pointless voicemail, but you weren’t just someone, and nothing was pointless when it came to you. “I didn’t realize I still had pictures with her around, and I hate that you found that. I swear, I would’ve never told you to grab some of my clothes if I remembered that it was in there. It wouldn’t even be in there anymore.”

He felt stupid calling you like this, but he needed you to know as soon as possible that he was over Sam and that she was no longer in the picture. 

“Sam doesn’t mean anything to me. All she is…she’s just the person who helped bring my son into the world. That’s it,” he was rambling now and felt his chest tighten. It hurt a bit, and it felt like he was straining his heart, so he knew he needed to end the call and calm himself down. “I’m sorry. Please, call me back.”

He hung up after that and tossed his phone onto the bed before sitting down and running his hands through his hair. 

How did he always manage to fuck things up? It was going great, you trusted him enough to let him pick you up after a night out, and your second date was a mere few minutes away from happening when you left in tears. Ones that he caused, more or less. 

-

You were embarrassed as you turned off your phone, declining Clay’s second call to you since you left his house crying.

Sam was stunning, and now that you knew what she looked like, you could see the similarities her and Joey share. 

You felt like an idiot and you were humiliated and feeling so insecure right now. A million doubts ran through your head and left it hurting, and your unrelenting tears definitely didn’t help. 

Once you were home, you completely shut yourself off from everything and tried to focus on preparing for your first shift at Jess’ cafe. You wanted to check your phone and even wanted to see what Clay had said in his texts, but you also needed some time away from all that.

So you didn’t turn your phone on for the rest of the night, and by the time you entered Jess’ the next day, you still hadn’t powered it on. You didn’t have much time to use your phone as Jess would be starting your training any minute now, but you still didn’t want to completely cut Clay off. You decided that much after a whole day had passed. 

You turn your phone on and click on his contact, but before you could read one of the four texts he sent you, Jess calls your name, and you have to put your phone away and begin training. 

Around an hour passes before Jess allows you to continue your shift without her hovering over your shoulder. You had just taken your first order when your new coworker moved to get started on it. “Oh, you don’t have to do it for me,” you wave him off. “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t actually make the drinks?”

He just shakes his head with a grin, “The guy you took the order from is a regular,” he says. “Trust me; it’s best if I make his drink. If you mess it up even a little bit, he’ll ruin your whole day.”

“Okay,” you laugh and decide to let him take this one as you begin to wipe away the messy counter. “Good looking out.”

He smiled over at you as he made the drink and gave it to the guy you took the order from, his glare turning into a content smile as he sipped on it. “See? Told you,” he mumbled and you just shook your head, setting the cloth aside and beginning to change the coffee filters. “I’m Miles, by the way.”

You look over and see that he held his hand out to you. “Y/n,” you say and shake his hand. “I’m new, clearly.”

“I can see that,” he nodded and braced his elbows against the counter. “You new to the city, too?”

“Um, kind of,” you answer and wipe your hands on your brown apron. “I’ve been here for about a month now. Still getting used to all of it.”

Miles nods in understanding, giving you a boyish smile afterwards. He was cute, but not nearly cute enough to get your mind off Clay. Miles looked to be around your age, or maybe a bit older, and he had dark brown hair that covered his forehead, and from what you could tell, his eyes were a deep green. “Yeah, the city isn’t for everyone,”

You furrow your brows then laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not…I love it here so far,” you further explain. “It is a lot to take in, though.”

“Ah,” he nodded again and gestured to the customer on his side of the counter, politely pausing your conversation as he began taking the girl’s order.

You smile at him and turn to your side, and your breath gets caught in your throat when you meet Clay’s pretty blue eyes as he enters the shop. He briefly smiles but it falters as he nears the counter, guilt swimming in his gaze as he places his hands against the marble. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you whisper back and try to distract yourself by cleaning a nearby mug. An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and you hated every second of it. It was never awkward with Clay, and the sudden change had your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with him. “Um, do you want a coffee? Or a pastry?”

Clay sucked in a breath and shook his head. “No, I just,” he trailed off and you hesitantly met his eyes again. “I wanted to see you. Wish you luck, you know, on your first shift.” 

He was dressed in what you think is his work attire - though it looked just as formal as his usual clothing - and your heart swelled a bit at the fact that he stopped by before work so he could talk to you, even though it was a bit out of the way from what you knew about where his job location is. 

“Oh,” you say quietly and want nothing more than to throw your arms around him and kiss him right then and there. He was so sweet, you hated how tense things were between you right now. “That’s…nice, Clay. Thank you.” 

Clay smiled at you but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You wondered if he felt as miserable as you did, then you remembered you hadn’t actually read his texts, so you really had no idea on how he was feeling right now. “Yeah,” he murmured and his eyes held so much longing, you felt your own burn a bit. It looked like he wanted to ask you something, but he didn’t and instead said, “I don’t know if you read my messages or listened to my voicemail, but…I’m sorry about yesterday. If I had known…”

You tear your eyes away from his and bite down on your lip. “Yeah, I um…haven’t gotten around to checking my phone,” you confess and grip onto the edge of the counter as you feel your face begin to heat up. Glancing to your right, you can see Miles eyeing the two of you with a poorly hidden look of judgment on his face, and you could only hope he didn’t bring this up later.

Clay stayed silent and nodded. “Oh,” he said quietly and it somehow made you feel even worse. “That’s okay. Just, whenever you get the chance…I miss you.” 

You bite down harder until you were sure you were about to make your lip bleed before looking up at him. You wanted to say it back, but you were still hurt and a bit stubborn and your emotions were a mess right now. “Do you need me to watch Joey later?” 

His face falls a bit and he steps away from the counter. “Yeah, if you’re able to. If not I can call my-”

“No, I can,” you say quickly and give him a tight smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

Clay swallows hard and nods, giving you a so clearly forced smile and making your heart ache even more. “See you later,” he rasped and turned around, leaving the shop without another glance at you.

As soon as he was gone, you blew out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and turned your back to the rest of the shop as you pulled out your phone. It was nearly dead as you didn’t bother plugging it in last night, and you were seriously regretting that now as you finally allowed yourself to read Clay’s messages. 

8:09 AM

Clay Beresford: I’m so sorry you found that, I swear I didn’t know I still had pictures of her and I around.

8:43 AM

Clay Beresford: Sam is not in our lives anymore, I promise. I care about you so much, and so does Joey. Please call me back.

1:19 PM

Clay Beresford: I understand that you need time, and I’ll give you as much as you need. Just know that she means nothing to me anymore, and she hasn’t for a long time now. 

9:21 PM

Clay Beresford: Joey missed you today, we both did. I know you have your first shift as Jess’ tomorrow, but are you still able to pick him up from school after? I’m sorry again, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you. 

He’d been trying to apologize and explain ever since you left. 

You felt your eyes sting again, and you brought your phone up to your ear after clicking on the voicemail. “Everything okay?” Miles asks as he hands a freshly made drink to a girl. His voice sounded a bit humorous, and you furrowed your brows at it but couldn’t call him out on it before Clay’s frantic voice met your ear.

Your lip was hurting now as you had gone back to biting it while you listened to his voicemail, and by the time it was over, you were sure you could taste a hint of metal on your tongue. “Fuck,” you whispered as you typed out a text to him with shaky fingers. 

Miles coughed loudly next to you, and you lifted your gaze and glared at him. “I take it you and that rich guy are close?” He laughed and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “Or maybe you were but not anymore. He looked like a kicked puppy walking out of here, poor guy. But he’s not poor, right? He looks like he probably owns his own business or something.”

“Shut up,” you say before you could think it through. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to quickly apologize, but Miles just scoffs. 

“Oh, come on. A guy like that has no business coming into a place like this. I bet he could buy this whole street if he wanted to, then he’d own us,” Miles continued and you forget your task of texting Clay back in order to defend him from your coworkers petty assumptions. 

“And what if he could? What if he did? What would you do about it, Miles?” You ask with annoyance lacing your tone. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to assume all this stuff about Clay when he had no idea what he was actually like. 

“I’d quit,” Miles answered with a shrug. “I don’t need some rich prick holding anything above my head.”

You drop your phone onto the counter loudly and move towards him. “Shut the hell up,” 

Miles laughs again and it only irritates you further. “Make me,” he muttered. “Christ, Y/n, you don’t believe guys like that actually care about people like us, do you?”

“People like us?” 

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Poor people. We don’t need the rich pitying us when they have it all at their-”

“Shut up,” you nearly yell and then realize you were literally in the middle of your first shift and getting into a heated argument with your new coworker you only shared one brief conversation with before this. The patrons looked over at you with wide eyes and quiet laughs, and you felt embarrassed for the second time this week. 

You couldn’t say anything else, and neither could Miles, as Jess came in from the back room and glared at the two of you. “What is going on?” 

Miles just raised his hands and turned back to another customer. “You hired a spaz, Jess,” 

You opened your mouth to give him a witty remark, but Jess reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey,” she said and pulled you with her into the storage room. “What’s going on? You were doing great when I left you, and now I find you yelling at my best worker?”

You let out a surprised laugh, “He’s your best?” Jess raises a brow at you and you sigh before looking down at the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, slightly frustrated as she crossed her arms. “Just tell me what happened. Why were you and Miles arguing?” 

You huff and meet her gaze. “You know that boyfriend I told you about at that bar? Well, him and I got into a fight or…something, and he came into the shop today and apologized and I stupidly pushed him away and I guess Miles decided he should assume all these things about him and I couldn’t just stand there and take it,” you explained as plainly as you could, not wanting your boss to completely know what’s been going on in your personal life. “I know it’s a dumb reason, but I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry, Jess, I promise I’m not like that all the time. I just got mad.”

Jess pursed her lips and nodded, her hard gaze dropping a bit. “So I missed seeing just how cute your boyfriend supposedly is?” She teased, lightening the mood and making you huff out a quiet laugh. 

“He’s very cute,” you repeated your words from a couple nights ago, and you were reminded of the way Clay came out and picked you up before taking you back to his house and taking care of you. “Things are messy right now, and I’m sorry I allowed it to be brought into my work life. What happened with Miles won’t happen again.” 

You shifted the conversation back to a more serious one, and you could tell Jess appreciated it by the way she smiled and nodded at you. “You better not,” she said sternly. “Because I like you, Y/n, and I want you to have a real chance here. Okay?”

Nodding quickly, straighten yourself out. “Okay,”

“Good, now get back out there,”

A few hours later, you successfully made it through your first shift and were currently listening to Joey ramble on about what he did at school in the backseat of Rick’s car. 

You were nearly back to Clay’s place when Joey shifted and tugged at his backpack from its place on the floor. You reach over and help him, and once he grabs a piece of paper from it, you let it gently drop back down as Joey leans against the seat again. “I made this today,” he said and held the paper out to you. 

Taking it from him, you’re once again almost in tears as you look at the drawing. Joey was getting better at drawing and coloring with each passing day, and his attention to detail at his young age was extremely impressive. This drawing was of you, Clay and Joey, with you being in the middle this time and the Beresford boys on either side of you. “Wow,” you say quietly, meeting Rick’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You’re quite the little artist, huh, babe?”

Rick gave you a knowing look as Joey said, “Daddy and I like it when you’re at our house. You make things better,”

And then you were on the verge of tears for the second time today.

-

@evilnight07 @espinathena-17

[thisapplepielife]

Happy 1st Anniversary, Tuesday's Gone With the Wind.

Twenty-nine years ago in fictional history, Corroded Coffin's plane crashed into the woods of Louisiana.

Thanks and so much love to anyone and everyone that has given this fic a read over the past year. Thanks for braving beyond that opening author's note. Thanks for the love you've given it. Thanks for making me feel seen. You made me feel like this thing that I spent months solely focused on, deep in research, was worth the time invested. You made me feel that it was a story worth telling.

It's my favorite thing I've ever written, and the one that still occupies my thoughts on the regular.

One year ago today, I finished posting it. It's not my most popular fic, not by a long shot. But I don't think it needs to be. It might not be for everyone, and that's okay.

It was for me.

And if it was for you, too, please know how much I appreciate you for reading it, recommending it, or championing it in any way. The audience it found may not have been huge, but the response from those that did read it, was so beyond overwhelmingly supportive and positive.

I said in the beginning that this was a love story. I'll double down on that now, with a year of distance and the continuation of their story in Wildflowers, under my belt.

It's many love stories.

And I miss these versions of them, and the love they all shared.

I miss Eddie Munson, with his big heart that fell fast and hard and forever. I miss Sweetheart and Dragon Slayer. I miss the Eddie that loved wholeheartedly, and despite all the problems he had, that never changed. Steve Harrington arriving in his life was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he knew that, from the start. He was all in.

I miss the young and flawed Gareth Jones, and his love for Di that he sometimes squandered like a goddamn fool. I miss his ride or die friendship with Eddie, that feels as real in my heart, as anything I've ever seen on screen. Gareth has changed how I listen to music, fundamentally. The drums snap to the forefront, now. And sometimes, I'll smile and think, damn, Gareth Jones would play this like a motherfucker.

I miss Jeff and Goodie, and their lifelong friendship, from the cradle to the grave. Jeff, for his even keel and ability to be part of the solution, instead of part of the problem, and Goodie for being exact opposite. The dry-witted, fanner of flames, that often made things (and let's be real, Gareth) a little bit worse, just because he could, for fun.

I miss Road Manager Steve Harrington, with his red milk crate and his unwavering competence and love. If love could have kept that plane in the air, Steve's love for them all would have been enough to do it, without a doubt.

If you haven't read it, and might want to, amazing, thank you. You don't have to read it unspoiled, and I'll even answer spoilery questions by DM if you want me to, but I'll always stand by the option to read it unspoiled existing, for those that do want to just dive in, and see where it lands. Or crashes, as it were.

I can only hope that you get, or have gotten, something out of reading it, because I absolutely got something out of writing it.

They changed me.

Thanks, boys.

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly what a day.

[seikkoi]

ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ | natasha romanoff x hacker!reader

18+ minors DNI

warnings: mentions of alcohol, arguing, harsh language, explicit s*xual content

genre: angst, a lil fluff, a lil sm*t

word count: 2,060

a/n: reader is gender-neutral

You've spent far too long trying to be more than just a warm bed for the infamous Black Widow.

Oh, Natasha’s a poison alright.

An intoxicating, slow moving poison that captures everything it encounters. Her recent favor of the season’s no exception- hooked on something that kills you. 

It’s not like Nat physically hurt, not at all. The problem was quite the opposite. Nat provided you near limitless pleasure at one cost-it’d never be love. That hurt worse than any physical pain the poor woman could imagine. The nights in the Black Widow’s bed would continue to stagger so long as that was understood.

You would never be Nat’s- no matter how much you wanted to be.

Despite her making this quite clear when you first expressed your interest, you couldn’t help longing for it. You’d had been her mission half a year ago, and quite the challenging one indeed. A propensity for computers coupled with a shitty moral compass led you to a lifetime of digital crime. The ante only seemed to raise every year, the stakes rising alongside the payment. You were good enough to get a job going after SHIELD, but not good enough to actually succeed. The client was pissed, and money was lost, but you shook it off.

When you awoke to the barrel of a gun and cold, beautiful eyes, you realized you didn’t cover your tracks well enough, either. 

Thankfully, Fury was more interested in hiring you than killing you. 

You hadn't been more than twenty four hours away from her since that day. At first, not intentionally. The next night, Nat took you out for drinks- mostly to make you feel less like a target. 

It’d turned out that you two had great chemistry- talking the night away until it bleeded into the morning. She spoke about the Red Room, and how the Avengers gave her a second chance. It helped you feel better about your own morally gray life. 

Many, many drinks and swapped secrets later, and your hands are full of red hair, mouth absorbed in the same woman who might’ve killed you a day ago. While your eyes are fluttering, Natasha’s hands disappear behind your pants, telling you how happy she is that you decided to join them. 

Maybe it’s because she doesn’t leave in the morning, or because she invited you over again that night, but you thought it meant something. To make matters worse, Natasha seldom held anything back from you- the good, the bad, or the ugly. You were the same, sharing parts of your life that made you see your relationship as more than just a consistent hookup or even friends. 

About a month and a half in, Natasha frustrately picked the lock to your apartment after waiting twenty minutes for you to answer. She walked into your bedroom to find you typing away at lit-up monitors, absorbed in your work, headphones muffling any phone calls or impatient knocks. 

You flinched at the sudden removal of your headphones, gazing up to an angry scowl. To her dismay, this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten lost in your work and forgot she was coming by. The assassin was adamant that if you just gave her a key, this wouldn’t happen. You playfully joked that giving her a key would denote commitment. The red-haired woman laughed at the suggestion to the tune of your heart cracking.

In all the nights and weekends following, Natasha would continue to do things that left you feeling insane. Her actions said one thing, yet she always made it clear that this was never, and would never be a relationship. After a while, it started to feel like she just didn’t want to be committed to you, specifically. You worried if there was something wrong about the idea of being in a public, loving relationship with you- as opposed to just someone she fucked. 

Tonight, like most nights, she’d let herself in after a particularly tiring day. Frustration and resentment boiled at the sound of her footsteps. She laid on your bed, illuminated only by lines of code, waiting for you to finish whatever new encryption Fury requested. Tonight, like most nights, you stared at the screen as swallowed down your hopeless pining with a fifth of whiskey. 

Despite any ignored feelings, you relished in Nat’s company, speeding up your work to get into her arms sooner. You loved that she was comfortable with you, hearing her get up and head for the shower. Yet, the bitter, angry part of you hated that she would never love you in spite of any trust or comfort. 

You listen to Nat return and open one of your dresser drawers full of her clothing to change (strictly for convenience, of course). Eyes still trained on your work, you return the kiss she graces on your cheek as she pours herself a glass as well. 

When you turn your chair to Nat, she’s looking at you with one of those smiles that makes your stomach turn into butterflies. You take a second to admire her relaxed appearance, hair down and messy, in baggy, out-of-date clothing. It’s easy for her to make you forget you were ever upset.

You must have been staring too long, because Nat crosses the distance between you two. Before you can ask her how her day was, she straddles you in the chair, pulling you in for a deep, long kiss. Your hands find their way to her waist, pulling in her closer and sucking at her bottom lip. 

Natasha’s hands cup your face gently, sighing into you. It’s not long before your kisses grow more hungry and passionate, hands traveling and caressing every inch you can. When she breaks the kiss, you’re completely intoxicated once again- dazed and longing for me. 

“Hello to you, too,” she says, with cloudy eyes and a small grin.

“You started it.”, you reply distractedly, dancing your fingers along the waistband of her shorts. 

Natasha gets distracted herself, by the program still running on your computer screens. 

“You know,” she starts, running her hands through your hair. “I never understand what it is you do.”

You can’t hold back a laugh as you push your hand past the elastic, fingers pushing against the soft fabric of her underwear. Natasha lets out a quiet moan while her head droops back to your neck. 

“I’m serious,” Natasha lamints. Her breath hitches when you pull her underwear away with your free hand, sliding your index finger into her entrance. “I want t-I wanna understand all of this.”

You are much too concentrated on eliciting more raspy breaths from the enamoring woman on top of you. You pump your finger into her with tender, slow strokes, feeling her wetness pool at your hand. Natasha softly whines your name into your neck, causing you to groan as you add another digit. 

“Didn’t think you cared all that much,” It’s an honest admission, one that give without much thought. You speed up your fingers, curving against her walls right where you knew she needed it. Your own breathing becomes erratic, caught up in the way Natasha clings to you. 

Russian curses come out short and heavy the moment your thumb brushes her clit. You grip her hip to keep her place, and more pleas of your name follow suit. It was the moments like these, when you knew that you were all she wanted, that made everything else worth it. 

“I do care.”, she manages between moans. 

The cracks in your heart start to come undone once more, taking you out of your lustful daze. For what was the 100th time in months, you had to tell yourself she didn’t mean a damn thing by that- she cared about you as much as the next person did, nothing more. 

You ignore her and pick up your pace even further. The all-too familiar shudder of her body, accompanied by the velvety, strained moans from her mouth, told you that she was close. You quickly become reabsorbed in giving her as much ecstasy as you could. Natasha’s hands in your hair pull tighter as she gets lost in her own pleasure, forcing your gaze slightly up.

Her eyes are squeezed shut, mouth in an open gasp, burrowed against you like a lifeline. A moan of your own escapes at the sight. You think you could die just like this, with this perfect image of the most perfect woman. 

Right as you’re certain she’s about to reach her peak, you draw circles on her throbbing clit, watching her body twitch. 

“I love you,” Natasha’s words pass through your quiet and broken ears as she climaxes. 

It sets you into shock, making you think you imagined it. In the few seconds that follow, neither of you speak, as Natasha regains her breathing and you stare at the ceiling, pissed off again and confused. 

You feel Natasha shift, eyes making their way to your confused face. 

“I-”, she starts to stutter, to which you roll your eyes and push her gently off your lap.

As you start to head for your bedroom door, her hands wrap around your forearm, yanking you back. 

“What the fuck, Nat?” You rip your arm away from her, even more shocked by her aggression towards you.

The assassin simply stands, still stuttering over what to say. That only becomes the final straw for you. 

“Get the hell out, now.” You swing the bedroom door open as you speak. All you wanted for months was to hear those words. Now, all you could taste was poison. She’d broken your heart time and time again. You’d spent so long learning to handle loving someone who’d never love you back. To suddenly act like she ever gave a damn after all that was insulting. Even if she meant it, how long did she really mean it for?

“You don’t mean that.” She has the audacity to sound hurt. 

“Yeah, I do, leave. I’m not gonna let you keep doing this to me.”

“Doing what to you? I’m telling you that I care-”

“Oh suddenly now you care! After how many months of me begging for you to feel the same, now that I’m finally getting over it, you care?”, you shout as you cross the room towards her. 

“I always fucking cared!”, she yells back, and you notice the tears brimming in her eyes, fists balled at her side. In all this time, you’d only seen Nat cry twice. Once, when talking about Yelena. The other when Clint lost his family. To be crying now because of you, felt like hell.

You immediately soften when you notice, tears of your own forming. You’re left in speechless shock yet again at her words.

“Then why say the opposite for so long?”, you ask, voice hoarse.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Everything good in my life goes away. I didn’t want to ruin this.”, she goes quiet herself, staring at the floor. 

“You didn’t think telling me over and over again that we aren’t anything would make me go away?” 

“You’re still here, aren't you?” Natasha gives you a shy smile when she speaks. It’s true- you were too addicted to Nat to let her go. Even just a minute ago when you told her to leave, you knew you’d be following after her. 

“Honestly, I don’t know why. You made it clear how you feel.” She could joke about it all she wanted, you were still hurt and replaying months of rejection in your head. 

“I’m trying to tell you I didn’t mean it, please.” The remaining space between you is closed while she takes your hands in hers. Her gaze locks onto yours, staring into teary, green eyes. 

“I love you, that is the truth. I promise.” It’s never a challenge for Nat to break your resolve. Especially when you've been dreaming to hear the spy say that. 

“How do I know you mean it? That you're not ‘gonna change your mind?” 

You feel her thumbs graze over hand, a mischievous glint forming in her eyes. When your confusion grows, Natasha drops to her knees before you. As she lowers herself to the floor, she places kisses along your hands before moving to tug at your jeans. Whatever mixed feelings you still had, flew out of the door. 

“Let me show you how much I love you.”

[streetlight11]

I Will Always Love You

Summary: You have known each other for years and practically watched the other grow up thanks to living right next door. Nobody knows how you both truly feel except for yourselves. Now that you're in your mid twenties, you felt the need to put all that childish acts aside and finally acknowledge that feeling you've both kept in your hearts for years

Theme: neighbours au, friends to sort of enemies to lovers

Genre: slowburn, smidge of angst, romance, fluff

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drunk, slight tension, snowed in briefly, slight anxiety, mild language

W/C: 10k

Pairing: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

a/n: Happy New Year everyone! 🎉 May 2024 bring peace, health, happiness and success to you all 🩵 Thank you to those who follow my account and for liking my writings that I've posted thus far! To many more writings and ideas this year 💃🏽

You and Minho go way back. You practically grew up with him since he was indeed your neighbour. It’s impossible to split you up with him back in kindergarten and the first few years of primary school. Both of you were like two peas in a pod, even your close friends and classmates knew about your very close friendship with him. Despite his odd personality that just screams Scorpio and his peculiar love for dark humour, you seem to adapt to him really well that not many people can do. Unfortunately, halfway through primary school, his friends started to separate you from Minho.

They would hang out with him before you could find him after school, they would call you multiple different names saying you’re clingy, they would embarrass you by saying you only stick under Minho’s arms like a leech wherever he went. And the worse part is, Minho did nothing to defend you. He did nothing to stop his own friends from bullying you like that.

That was the reason why you slowly distanced yourself from him since his friends would literally shoo you away like you were a peasant.

Eventually, you grew a dislike of him for what he did, even up till this day where you were both turning 25 in September and October. The thing is, you both still lived with your parents which means you still see him everyday just that he lives a completely separate life from you. Your sister however has moved out long ago since she got married.

No doubt, you miss being close to him.

Those times where you would laugh and play catch with him in his backyard. When you’d cry in his arms when someone in kindergarten steals your crayons. Where you would stay up with him past bedtime, writing whatever you wanted to say to each other on drawing blocks and showing it to the other at your bedroom windows that were facing each other. How he would walk with you to and from school, wanting to act like the bigger one since he’s a boy when in reality, he’s 27 days younger than you. Minho was your best friend but that’s just it, isn’t it?

He was your best friend… Not anymore…

Both of you grew up really well thanks to puberty and deep down, Minho couldn’t lie that you still look the same except you’ve gotten prettier. Your fashion sense is still somewhat boyish but not as bad as when you were younger, where you just wore big shirts and ¾ trousers. Now, you’ve worn dresses and skirts a few times for special occasions but you always wore jeans.

Sometimes you go for a feminine outfit with skinny jeans and crop tops while on some days you go for oversized shirts or hoodies with baggy cargo pants or jeans. And you are never a heels girl, only for special occasions. Most of the time, you are seen in sneakers and it suits you a lot. He’d be damned but he agrees that you look the best in sneakers.

You look a lot more confident in sneakers compared to heels. The only thing is, he’s been hiding a big secret from everyone including his parents that he doesn’t plan on revealing it to anyone anytime soon. Minho can lie to everyone but he cannot lie to himself. Seeing you grow up before his eyes, watching all the good and bad times you go through, seeing how puberty did its magic on you and witnessing how different of a person you are now in terms of personality, Minho couldn’t help but fall in love with you.

Unfortunately, his ego is too high for him to easily admit that so he chose to keep that a secret from everyone and act as if he still doesn’t like you.

It is a rainy Saturday evening and your friends Changbin and Chan came over earlier to study and do your assignments together with you. Changbin drove here while Chan rode his motorbike and since the weather wasn’t that great, your mother insists for them to stay for dinner or at least until the rain stops. You were in the kitchen, helping your mother prepare the food and plates on the dining table when they both offered to help. Your dad was out working overtime so it’s just you and your mother at home with your two friends.

She then asked you to text your dad saying there’s food at home and he doesn’t have to buy it after work. You remembered your phone was in your room so you rushed up the stairs to find it. A few minutes passed and you still haven’t come downstairs. Mothers being mothers, she gave the boys a sympathetic smile before she asked either one of them to go check on you.

Changbin nodded and left as Chan stayed behind to help scoop out the beef stew into the bowl. Meanwhile, Changbin softly approaches your room to see where you are. When he saw you by your vanity table where your phone is charging, he tiptoed over to you who was standing with your back facing him.

You were busy texting your best friend Lily when suddenly, a strong muscular pair of arms wrapped around your waist to surprise you. You gasped softly from surprise, glancing to your right to find Changbin’s grinning face just staring back at you.

“What’s taking you so long, dummy?” He asked, earning a laugh from you.

“I was texting Lily. Why? Missed me already?” You teased him knowing there was no effect on him because he is already happily in love with his best friend and boyfriend, Felix.

“Of course, I always miss you.” Changbin said, nudging your cheek with his nose playfully.

He finally lets go of you and leaves the room with you hand in hand. Both of you completely missed the way someone witnessed all this from across your bedroom window in the dark. You came back downstairs to have dinner with everyone, only for your dad to come home when you were halfway done with your meal. Hours passed and you were in your bedroom with your friends when Chan stood by your window to look at the night sky. Suddenly, his words caught your attention.

“Hey Y/N, is that your neighbour you told us about?” Chan asked while staring at something downstairs. You got out of bed and walked towards him only to follow his trail of sight. Sure enough, you saw Minho playing catch with his cats. If you remember correctly, they were Soonie, Doongie and Dori. You naturally smiled at the sight of him playing with his cats.

“Yeah…” You simply said before Changbin frowned at you with a question in mind.

“Wasn’t he like your best friend at one point?” He asked, making you sigh and walked back into your room to sit on your bed.

“He was…”

“Then what happened?” Chan asked as he now sat on your study chair, curiously waiting for your reply.

“We… grew apart.”

“There must be a reason why you grew apart, no? I mean, if you two were really close friends, you wouldn’t wanna grow apart from each other… Unless something happened that made you choose that path.” Changbin said and you immediately felt upset.

“We used to be inseparable. He never told me he wanted me to give him space or anything and he simply stayed close to me too wherever we went. Until our third year in primary school, his friends started calling me names and said I was always clinging onto him like a leech. He never said anything to defend me or stop his friends. Ever since then, I slowly distanced myself from him because of his friends and he never apologised so I just decided to forget about it.” You finally explained to them the full story.

“I’m so sorry…” Chan said, making you smile despite the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” You said as they both looked at each other and Changbin decided to drop the bomb on you.

“Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure. What is it?” You asked as you waited for his reply.

“Do you miss him?”

You fell silent for a while, not knowing how to respond. Your mind screams no but your heart screams yes. It’s difficult to choose one answer but you knew deep down, which is the right answer you’ve been holding onto all these years.

“I do…”

They chose to drop the topic and talked about the plan next weekend to hangout at the club. They soon left to head home after saying and hugging you goodbye at your doorstep since it was no longer raining. That night, before you went to sleep, you walked over to close your window and turn on your air conditioner when you saw Minho cradling Soonie in his arms as he entered his bedroom. You quickly closed the window and drew the translucent curtain over to cover your window while you peeked to see him.

Minho kissed Soonie’s nose as he nuzzled his face into her body. She licked his nose a few times before he placed her down on his bed and soon walked over to his window. You quickly hid behind the wall, afraid he might see you. If only you knew the reason why he actually went to his window, you wouldn’t have moved away that quickly.

A week later, you were just getting ready to head out with Chan and Changbin while your parents were out for their anniversary dinner. You wore a pretty lavender body fitting dress that stops about two inches above your knees. Changbin texted you saying he was already on his way to your house in a cab, together with Chan. Knowing they would reach in just 5 minutes, you decided to head downstairs and waited there instead. You had just locked your front door when the sound of a door closing followed by keys jingling made you turn to your right.

There, you saw Minho leaving his house as well. He was wearing a black silk dress shirt with the first few buttons undone, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, tucked into his light washed denim skinny jeans and a pair of mens boots. His hair was styled up to show his forehead and bangs to fall and frame his face.

He looked sickeningly handsome. You’re almost jealous of it.

“Does mommy know you’re sneaking out of the house?” Minho asked as he came next to you who was just leaning on the short brick wall that separates your house yard from his.

“I don’t need to sneak out because they know where I’m going.” You said with a soft scoff.

“Mmm, so they’re aware that you’re going out wearing something like this? Naughty girl…” Minho teased you with that charming smirk on his face.

“I’m 25, Minho. I can wear whatever I want.”

“Technically, you’re still 24.” He’s right. You still have four months till your birthday but who cares.

“You’re so annoying.” You whispered to yourself as you saw a taxi gradually slowing down towards you. When the vehicle finally comes to a stop in front of you, the two heads that popped out from the windows made you relax. It was Chan, Changbin and Felix. You entered the cab without saying anything else to Minho, ignoring the way he was keeping his eye on you even after the cab had driven off. One thing he completely forgot to do was to compliment you on how pretty you looked tonight.

Half an hour later, you arrived at the club and soon got out of the vehicle with your friends. You managed to enter the club since the queue wasn’t that long and made your way to the bar to get your drinks. You stayed by Chan the entire time since Felix was with Changbin. That night, you had no idea why but you just felt like letting loose and drinking however much booze your body can take.

Minutes ticked by and you were now on your 7th shot of tequila. You were clearly drunk but not enough to drop dead unconscious. Chan was talking to you about this girl he met on this dating app and was just listing out all the things he liked about her when you suddenly dragged him to the dancefloor. He danced with you with no sense of awareness of your surroundings. Everyone else was just as drunk as you, dancing their hearts out letting their limbs move to the beat.

You were too busy swaying your hips to the song when someone slips in front of you and takes your hands in his gently. Your vision was hazy as you found it difficult to keep your eyes open. The person danced with you, bringing your hands up over his shoulders and dropping them there while his hands rested on your lower back comfortably. For some reason, you felt like the touch was very familiar.

The music was drowning you, wanting to just focus your vision on the person you’re dancing with. Just then, he leaned down to say something in your ear, loud enough to hear over the booming music.

“You’re very drunk.” He said, your mind was running amuck.

“I know.” You giggled but he kept his lips by your ears, not wanting to pull back and let you see his face.

“I should take you home.”

“N-No… Take me to your home.” You giggled as you tangled your fingers in his hair softly to play with it.

“I don’t think you will like that, Y/N.”

Oh, he knows your name. This must be Chan… right?

He then guides you towards the entrance, only for you to panic saying you need to tell your friends that you’re going home and all that so they wouldn’t get worried. But instead, he told you to do that in the cab to avoid you from falling down. Not long after, the cab came and you entered the vehicle with him. During the car ride, you ended up falling over with your head in his lap. You fell asleep with your left arm stretched over the seat while your right hand gently held onto his thigh for support.

The next thing you knew, you woke up the next morning in your bed with a really bad hangover. And yet, the memories from yesterday still lingers in the back of your mind and the mysterious guy remains unknown. Later in the afternoon, you went to make a group call with Chan and Changbin and they picked up your call with ease.

“Hello?” You asked into the line and they both replied at the same time.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Were any of you guys with me last night at the dancefloor?” You said and you could hear both of them humm in thought.

“I was with you briefly when you dragged me to the centre but I don’t really remember anything after. I was really drunk.” Chan laughed.

“I was with Lix the entire time. So I’m clearly out of the picture.” Changbin giggled as you heard a shuffle from his end but then it stopped.

“Because I was dancing with someone and he sent me home last night. I thought it was one of you guys.”

“Definitely not me then.” Changbin said and so did Chan.

“I don’t think I was sober enough to even send myself home…” Chan said lightly but then he paused. The line fell silent and he spoke up again, “But if neither of us sent you home, who did? And how would they know where you live?”

He does have a great point.

“That’s what I’m confused about. How would a stranger know where I lived? Unless it’s one of you guys?” You asked as your brain began to search for ideas on who it could be. All but one was suddenly missing from your list by accident.

“Maybe it’s your sister!” Changbin said only for you to scoff in disbelief.

“It was a guy! And why would my married sister be at a club when she has a pair of twins to take care of?” You asked, only for Chan to laugh out loud and tease the other male in the call.

“Maybe it’s your cousin?” Chan asked but you knew it wasn’t a relative. Just then, Changbin mentions someone you completely forgot about.

“What if it’s him?”

“Him… who?” You asked in a slow pace, hoping he wasn’t talking about who you’re thinking.

“Your hot but ex-best friend neighbour?” You can’t believe he said it.

“No… No, it can’t be. How would he know I was there? That’s impossible.”

“Probably he just happened to be at that same club. That is the only club in this area anyway…” Chan suggested, making you frown. What if it’s true? That’s the only logical explanation as to how the person knew where you lived and knew your name. If it wasn’t any of your friends, it couldn’t have been a total stranger. But why? Why would he do that when he clearly didn’t have to?

This isn’t making any sense…

Nevertheless, you made an excuse saying you needed to help your mom run some errands so you ended the call. That night, you were just sitting by your window staring at the beautiful starry night sky when you saw Minho enter his room. He paced around his room with a deep frown on his face. Just then, he took you by surprise as he grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless for you. A soft gasp left your lips as you quickly closed your window before he saw you.

Little did you know, right after he took off his hoodie, he heard the sound of your windows being closed so his gaze naturally flew across the room just in time to see you lock your last window and disappeared into your room. Minho chuckled quietly to himself as he went to take a quick shower. After he was done, he laid in bed staring into his ceiling with the same scene just repeating over and over again in his head.

The way you danced with him last night, the way your fingers tangled into his hair, the way you fell into his lap, the way you slept the entire car ride back home, the way he carried you into your home and all the way to your bedroom, the way you unconsciously whined when he pulled away from you, the way he took the chance to gently caress your cheek while whispering the words he never dared to say to you in person now, the way your lips looked so soft and kissable but he had to restrain himself from doing something while knowing you were drunk.

Minho pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind, hoping he’ll forget all about it as the days go by. Wanting none of that to bother him because if it does, he would probably come knocking at your doorstep and tell you how he truly feels about you. Clearly his ego would be crushed by that so he chooses not to.

Months had passed and it was your birthday today. Your parents invited your sister’s family, your friends Chan, Changbin, Lily and also Minho’s family over to the house for your birthday celebration. It was just going to be a private birthday party for you. You wore a pretty blue semi flowy dress to match the theme of the decorations. Your mother knew you loved blue so that’s why the decorations were all blue in colour. With the right amount of food and desserts she ordered, you can’t wait to have a good time. The only thing is, you were kind of hoping Minho would come.

You missed him a lot but you weren’t sure if he feels the same towards you. Nonetheless, those thoughts were thrown out of the bus the minute your friends arrived. The party started after 3pm and your friends came just one minute after 3 so you got distracted really fast. As the hour went by, your sister, your brother in law and your twin nephew and niece finally came. You greeted them warmly while your brother in law handed you a gift bag.

“Happy birthday Y/N! Your sister and I picked this out for you so we hope you like it.” He said, making you laugh.

“Thank you! I just hope it’s not something weird.” You joked and they laughed. Your niece and nephew hugged you to say hello and wish you a happy birthday before they went to greet your parents. A few minutes later, your doorbell rang again so you went to see who it was. Surprised to see Mr and Mrs Lee standing there with a gift bag and a box filled with home baked cookies.

“Happy birthday dear. Here’s your birthday present and the cookies you loved to eat when you were younger.” Mrs Lee said, making you giggle.

“Aww Mrs Lee, you shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay my dear. Today is your day.” Mr Lee said as you welcomed them in. Though you did feel a little sad that Minho wasn’t here with them, maybe he really doesn't care about you anymore. You joined your friends in your living room as they played with the twins. Just then, Changbin spoke up from beside you.

“He didn’t come?”

“No…” You said but somehow, he could tell your tone was off.

“Were you hoping he’d come?” He asked softly, not wanting to upset you in any way possible. Your silence was enough for him to apologise even though he knew it wasn’t his fault. Changbin rested his hand over your knee and gently caressed it to comfort you and it partially worked. Hours passed and you were just playing with your niece when the doorbell rang.

“Y/N sweetie, can you go and see who that is?” Your mom called from the dining table where the adults were eating and chatting. With that being said, you nodded and got up to see who it was. Maybe your mom ordered something she forgot about. As soon as you pulled the door open, you froze at the sight of someone too familiar standing at your doorstep. Minho glanced down at your attire before meeting your eyes and he gave you a little smirk.

“W-What are you doing here?” You asked rather softly, unable to calm your nerves.

“What does it look like? I came to celebrate your birthday… And also have free food.” Minho said as he took a step forward while you took a step back. Minho smirked at you cheekily before he tapped the tip of your nose with his finger and whispered, “It’s good to see you again.”

The minute he walked in, your parents greeted him with so much love. Your mom hugged him tightly and he embraced her as though she was his mother. Your mother asked him to make himself at home and just take whatever food he wants, only for him to thank her. Meanwhile, you glanced over to your friends and both Changbin and Chan looked at you with shocked eyes.

The twins greeted Minho warmly as he lifted your niece on his waist while your nephew ran to take his favourite stuffed animal and bring it to Minho.

You’ve never seen him mingle around with kids before, not really knowing what to expect considering he’s an only child. So to see him being greeted warmly by kids who basically met him for the first time, it’s making your heart tingle. To avoid looking obvious, you quickly went to sit next to Changbin while Lily and Chan were talking about school. Your friend looks at you worriedly but all you did was smile.

“Are you okay?” He asked, making you nod.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, knowing you damn well that you’re not anywhere near okay.

“Yeah! I’m okay.” You smiled as you watched Minho get dragged by the kids to play with them together with Chan and Lily who were seated by the toys. Every now and then, Minho would glance at you and you’ll look away as though you didn’t mean to look at him.

Minho’s lips would unconsciously curl upwards slightly without making it obvious that he’s smiling at you. The sun was starting to set and your mother was preparing the candles for your cake. You were just in your room, charging your phone and also wanting to get away from the whole awkward situation downstairs for a bit when a familiar voice speaks up from your bedroom doorstep.

“I thought the birthday girl should be downstairs mingling with her guests?” He asked as you turned around to find Minho leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Why does he look so fucking handsome tonight in just a plain black shirt and jeans?

“I was just about to head back down.” You said, avoiding his gaze as you turned your back to him once more. Minho carefully walked over to you while keeping the conversation alive.

“Really? You don’t seem like you are going to move any time soon though.”

“I-I have to send an email for my school work.”

“For 10 minutes? Yeah right.” He said as his voice sounded a lot closer now. You turned around to say something to him but instead, you flinched back when your arms accidentally crashed into his chest. A soft gasp left your lips when he smirked down at you charmingly.

“U-Um… We should go downstairs.” You said as you slipped past him to head towards the door but Minho caught your wrist and tugs you back slightly to stop you from walking.

“Hey… I just-” Minho’s words get stopped when your sister’s voice echoes down the hallway.

“Y/N? Minho? Come on! It’s time to cut the cake!” She suddenly appears by your door only for Minho to let go of your wrist gently so she wouldn’t question anything. Soon, all three of you went downstairs but while you were about to head to the dining table where the cake was lit, Minho spoke up, earning a frown from you.

“I have to go. I just remembered I need to submit my essay tonight and I still haven’t finished it yet.” Minho said as he bowed to your parents and was about to walk out of the house when you reached for his hand in yours and tugged him back gently.

“N-No, please… Don’t go?” You whispered with a shaky breath. Minho could’ve sworn he saw tears, his heart broke seeing you tear up but he couldn’t just hug and kiss you right there even if that’s all he could think of. So instead, he reached up to hold your face with his right hand and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb to comfort you.

“Happy birthday Y/N.” He whispered softly as he turned and left without looking back. You stood by the door as Chan came over to take you in. Not before he rested a gentle hand on your lower back and comforted you as best as he could.

“Come on… He’ll come around soon. You know he will.” He said, only for you to sigh. Throughout the night, you weren’t as happy as you were a few hours ago. From time to time, you kept glancing over to the house next to yours. Your friends could tell that your mind was somewhere else so they decided not to stay long. But before they left, they made sure to hug you tightly and Lily didn’t forget to say something sweet to you.

“If he’s meant for you, he will come back. Only idiots would be dumb enough to not choose you as a partner.” Lily said, making you giggle lightly. That night, you couldn’t help but feel sad thinking about how Minho slipped away from you yet again. You were just curled up in bed when there was a soft knock on your bedroom door.

“Baby? Are you still awake?” Your mother asked as she opened your door. You hummed to respond, hearing her walk closer until she was right behind you.

“Oh, my sweet baby. Come here.” She said while climbing into bed, only for you to immediately throw yourself in her arms and cry. She held you in her arms securely while you cried your heart out.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I-I never said this to anyone before… b-but I-I miss him…”

“I know, baby. I’m sure he misses you too… Just… Give him some time to figure things out. I’m sure he’ll come around.” She said, hoping you’ll feel better. Thankfully, you calmed down with her words so you stopped crying and she kissed your forehead before tucking you into bed.

It’s been 2 and a half months now since your birthday party. You didn’t celebrate Minho’s birthday simply because his parents told you he was out of the country with his friends for his birthday. A part of you knows he was just trying to avoid you and so his parents couldn’t throw a party for him only to invite you. Just last week, your parents told you about their plan on going for a staycay with the Lee’s family for the holidays. Apparently they’ve already booked the accommodation which is a beautiful wooden lodge up in the snowy mountains.

It was only after they told you that you remembered it was your friend’s wedding on the day they planned to leave for the mountains. Unfortunately for you, it seems like you have no other choice but to go the next day instead. How you would make your way to the mountain, that’s your task to do some planning at least you can join them on the trip anyway. Your sister and her family would be going too but they’re all leaving on the first day morning but you had to stay behind.

Today was the day where your family and his, had already left to go to the lodge up the mountains while you’re here preparing for your friend’s wedding. Hours prior to leaving the house, you made sure to pack all the clothes you need for your trip so that you wouldn’t be rushing tomorrow or tonight knowing you’ll be back way past 7pm despite the wedding reception starting at 1pm. It was one of your old friend’s wedding from college. Her name is Roseanne and she is considered one of your close friends.

You wore a pretty turquoise boat neck dress that stops a few inches below your knees, pairing that with a simple pair of black open toe heels. Your hair cascades down your shoulder and back in soft straight waves.

When you arrived at the wedding venue, it was very beautiful. The colour scheme for the wedding decorations and the altar is just spectacular. Since you were there alone, you didn’t really know anyone there except for Roseanne’s sister and parents. Time passes by so fast, you don’t even realise it was almost 10 o’clock now. You knew you needed to head home and get your rest since you planned to leave early in the morning tomorrow.

With that being said, you bid her family goodbye and made sure to meet Roseanne and her newlywed husband to say your final congrats before leaving the venue. You called a cab and it came as soon as you called. The drive back home seemed shorter than the drive to the venue earlier, maybe due to less traffic at night.

Nevertheless, you paid the cab fare and got out of the vehicle after saying thank you. The cab driver soon drives off while you went inside your house and locked it.

You let out a tired sigh as you dragged yourself up the stairs to your bedroom. You turned on the lights and walked over to your vanity table beside your bedroom window. Taking a quick glance, you saw that his bedroom was dark. You wondered what he could be doing there at the lodge with your family.

With a soft sigh, you combed your fingers through your hair and brought it up to hold it in place with your claw clip. You began to remove your makeup with your makeup wipes while blasting your favourite tunes. Luckily you already packed your clothes and necessities. A few minutes later, you just left the bathroom down the hall when your phone started ringing. You glanced down to see your mother’s caller ID on your lock screen so you answered it.

“Hello?” You said into the line.

“Hi sweetie. Have you packed your bags?”

“Yeah. I’m just bringing my luggage and my sling bag.”

“Great! Anyway, there seems to be a change of plans. Minho is actually home right now and he planned to drive up the mountains tonight so he would reach here tomorrow morning. Since you’re both at home, why don’t you go with him tonight? He just got off the phone with his mother and he said he’s okay with driving here with you.”

Minho’s not with them?

“Oh… Uh… Sure, I guess.” You said, sounding a little unconvincing to her and she laughed.

“Alright dear, just be downstairs before midnight, okay? I love you baby.”

“Okay mom. I love you too.” You said before ending the call.

Great… What better way to have a reunion by spending a 6 hour drive with him. This is gonna be awkward…

Nonetheless, you did what was necessary before midnight rolled around. It was finally midnight in a blink of an eye and you were just locking your front door when you heard his voice speak up from behind you.

“Didn’t think you’d be left behind as well.”

You turned around to find him strolling towards you in his sweatpants, hoodie with his oversized shirt peeking underneath it and a long windbreaker jacket over it. His hair was damp and fluffy so you’re assuming he just got out of the shower and yet, he still looks good.

“Wedding bells were calling me. What about you? Why aren’t you there with them already?” You asked as he took your luggage from you and placed it in his car boot and proceeded to close the door. Once you were both inside his jeep, he started the car and drove off smoothly not forgetting to answer you.

“I had to retake my exam today. I suck. I know, okay? Don’t judge.” He said, making you raise your hands in a surrender position. Minho’s lips curled up into a cute smile that made you look out the window to avoid his gaze.

For the rest of the drive, both of you got quiet. He focused on driving while you were dozing off after a tiring day. Minho never held a grudge against you for sleeping while he had to sacrifice his sleep and stay awake to drive. Although, he does tend to glance over to his right to check on you but it leaves his heart fluttering every time he does that. It’s been nearly 4 hours since the drive and as he got higher up the mountains, the snow was beginning to get heavier.

Cool air seeps through the car gaps, causing you to stir awake from the sudden drop in car temperature despite the heater already turned on. You glanced up to see the car completely covered in snow while a thick windbreaker was placed over your curled up body in the passenger seat.

“How much longer till we reach the lodge?” You asked tiredly as you peeked the time on your phone screen.

“Another 2 hours, give or take.” He said while keeping his eyes on the slippery road. There’s no way you can make it to the lodge in this weather. With how heavy the snow was falling, it could be a snowstorm coming your way pretty soon. So to avoid any unfortunate events, you knew it would be the best decision to stop somewhere and wait till the morning to continue your journey. Upon having this thought, you noticed there was a hotel lodge just a few metres ahead.

“Stop there. We can’t go any further in this kind of weather.” You said as Minho drove to the open parking lot at slow speed due to the piled up snow covering his tires and almost 6 inch tall snow that was covering the ground. Once you were parked, both of you felt a little worried considering it’s now or never.

“Leave our luggages here. We’re just here to let the night pass anyway.” He said, making you frown even though you knew he had a point.

With that being said, both of you struggled to get out of the car but you still made it to the lodge safely as he clicked the lock button on his key. You entered the lodge first with him following behind you and there were quite a number of families there too and it looks like they’re snowed in as well. Minho approached the counter where a man was seen a little overwhelmed by the new guests who showed up.

“Hi, can I know why are all these people gathered here?” Minho asked, only for the man to politely smile and answer professionally.

“They’re just here for shelter since the weather forecast for tonight isn’t that great. There is a high chance that we will be stuck here tonight. Really sorry for the unfortunate situation.”

“It’s fine but uh… do you guys happen to have a spare room for us to rest in for the night?” Minho asked as you simply watched quietly beside him. You’d usually butt in and argue back with whatever decisions he’s making but tonight, you’re too tired to function.

“We do have a small room but there’s only one bed and our heaters are not that strong due to the horrible weather. We can’t fix it until tomorrow when the mechanics are open. Will that be okay?” The man said, giving Minho the chance to look at you to see how you feel about the suggestion.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Didn’t you hear what he just said? There’s just one bed and the heater isn’t working well. Do you still want the room or not?” He asked.

“At this point, I don’t even care.” You sighed tiredly only for Minho to give the man a shrug of his shoulders.

“Fine. We’ll take it.” Minho said as he then made the payment for the room. A few minutes later, you were both sent to your room on the third level. You thanked the worker as you entered the room after Minho who was now holding the door for you. As expected, the room was just barely warm with the cold air still surrounding the room completely. You were in three layers of clothing and yet you’re still shivering. The first thing you did after taking off your shoes was to climb into bed and bury yourself under the thick covers.

You were just curled up on one side of the bed when you felt the mattress dip with his weight. Minho pulled the cover up so he could also bury himself in it. He laid on his back while you laid on your side with your back facing him. The room was silent as nobody said anything but with the subtle shifts and movements, you knew that he wasn’t asleep.

“Should’ve asked for an extra blanket. It’s still so cold…” He whispered as he shifted a little closer to you when he felt the nice warmth radiating off you.

“I just hope the weather gets better later. But right now, all I need is sleep.” You said as you buried your arms closer to your chest to keep yourself warm. Silence fills the room again but you were still shivering and Minho could feel the bed vibrating softly from it.

“You know what? Fuck it. I can’t sleep like this.” Minho said as you wondered what he was going to do next.

Just then, you didn’t expect him to shuffle towards you until you felt his chest pressing against your back while his left arm slid over your waist and reached for your arm. He slips his hand into your right hand, lacing his fingers perfectly with yours before tangling his legs with yours underneath the covers. Your heart was racing rapidly in your chest now, afraid to make the slightest of sound and movement. But Minho calms you down by caressing your hand with his thumb, feeling his soft lips press on your neck.

“Are you still cold?” He whispered quietly against your neck, making you let out a very soft whimper before saying no.

“Good.” He replied to you, holding you closer right after. This kept you warm and you both eventually managed to fall asleep.

A few hours later, you woke up feeling comfortably warm and fuzzy. You let out a soft moan as you stirred awake, feeling something soft brush against your forehead. When you manage to open your eyes, that’s where you realise the sleeping position you were in. Minho was laying on his back with you resting your head on his chest.

Your left hand was tucked between your bodies while your right hand was lacing fingers with his that was hanging past your shoulder. Minho stirred awake when he felt you let go of his hand only to slide up his chest and stopped on the side of his neck. You stayed like that even when you felt his hand glide up and down your right forearm softly.

“This feels nice…” He said quietly, not really expecting a reply from you. Your heart swelled knowing he was talking about being this close and comfortable to you once again after years.

“We can stay like this for a while more…” Your voice was almost a whisper but thankfully he heard you. Because the minute those words left your lips, you felt him press the sweetest soft kiss to your forehead. Minho couldn’t stop himself from cracking a smile against your skin, knowing you probably felt it.

“I wouldn’t wanna let go anyway.” He said ever so softly, making you blush. With that being said, you snuggled deeper into his chest. Trying to ignore the urge to kiss him right there. About two hours later, you finally got out of bed and headed back down to resume your journey to the family lodge. Neither of you mentioned the cute little cuddle session simply because you were too shy to address it in the car and even when you arrived at the lodge a few minutes past noon.

Everyone asked you and Minho about what happened last night and where you’ve been, so you told them everything. All until the cuddling part. They were just glad that you both made it to the lodge safely so you could finally enjoy the holidays in the snowy mountains.

Throughout the next two days, you were enjoying yourself a lot on the trip. From the activities to sightseeing to homemade food and to family bonding. This has probably been the only time you saw just how fun Minho truly is and how loving he was towards your sister’s children. The twins are already 9 years old and yet, Minho seems to win both their hearts. Maybe including yours too.

It was the last night of the family trip, all of you were gathered around the christmas tree when your parents began to give out gifts to their kids and grandkids. Followed by Minho’s parents giving him his presents. You got a few pretty tops from your parents while your sister got you a beautiful necklace with a simple heart charm. Just then, Minho’s mother held out a wrapped present to you with a bright smile on her face.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. This is a gift from us that Minho helped to choose. We hope you like it.” She said, making you thank her while taking the gift from her. All eyes were now on you as the kids wanted to help you unwrap so you let them do that. Once the present was revealed, a soft gasp left your lips when you saw the brand of the box. It was a shoe, not just any shoe though… It was your favourite shoe brand.

You carefully pulled the cover open and peeled the paper back only to gasp out loud this time. It was the exact shoe that you wanted to buy for yourself the other day but was prioritizing your expenses to only buy what you need.

“I love it… I wanted to buy this a few weeks ago but I didn’t…” Your voice grew softer with every word until you were now looking at Minho.

“I noticed you like shoes. So I just gambled and picked the one with a baby blue accent. Didn’t know you wanted this exact one though.” He said, making you giggle.

“Well, thank you for the gift then.” You said with a smile, earning a laugh from him.

An hour later, everyone was starting to disperse to head to bed but you weren’t sleepy yet. You bid everyone goodnight but you stayed seated against the couch facing the fireplace. You were just admiring the shoe when a familiar voice caught your attention.

“Be careful not to burn the shoe.” Minho said as he approached you with a teasing smirk.

“Of course I won’t. I’m not that clumsy.” You replied to him while putting the shoe back in the box and pushing it under the tree, away from the fireplace. Minho took a seat on the couch as you got up and plopped down beside him.

“But really though… Thank you for the gift.” You said, earning a soft smile from him. Both of you fell silent, blankly staring at the fireplace instead of each other. You were so close to removing yourself from the room, thinking he probably feels awkward with you here now that you’re alone again but he spoke up before you could run away.

“I’m sorry…” He said very quietly while staring into the fire.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked over a whisper, finally turning to look at him. Minho kept his gaze ahead but you saw the sadness lingering in his facial expression.

“For everything? I’ve hurt you a lot and only now do I have the balls to apologise.” He chuckled but it wasn’t a happy one.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” You said with a smile on your face, ignoring the tears that were threatening to fall. After what felt like hours, Minho finally turns to you with the deepest frown you’ve seen on him. He took his time boring his eyes into yours in search of something unknown to you.

“Why?” He asked and you were confused.

“Why not? That’s what friends do, no? They forgive each other…” You said easily only to go speechless when his eyes grew wide at the word ‘friends’. This was already pretty obvious where he got caught up and it doesn’t make sense to you. Sure you haven’t really been doing friend stuff with him for years but you still consider him your friend, even though deep down you want him to be something more.

“Friends?” He whispered out as a question so you couldn’t help but giggle lightly to brighten up the mood slightly.

“Yeah? Okay fine, technically we’re neighbours. Does that sound right to you?” You asked, only for him to finally crack a smile. This simple sight has undoubtedly awoken the butterflies in your stomach.

Both of you fell silent briefly, not really sure how to continue the conversation. You stared at your hands in your lap, picking on your cuticles out of anxiety and he noticed.

Minho could never stand seeing you having anxiety. The cuticle picking, shaking legs, fidgeting limbs and all he wants to do is to hold you close and tell you that he’s there with you. He takes this opportunity to calm you down and by that, he reaches one hand up to hold the side of your face and turn it towards him. Once you were facing him, you felt him caress your cheek with his thumb as he slowly leaned in. Partially scared that you might just pull away from him and embarrass him.

Your heart was palpitating rapidly in your chest, not really sure where this is going. Just when you feel his nose brush against the side of your nose, a familiar voice calls out to you very softly from behind Minho.

“Auntie Y/N? Can I sleep with you?” Your niece asked as Minho pulled away from you just in time for your niece to settle herself in your lap.

“Of course, baby. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” You said, turning her around to carry her in your waist while you stood up. Minho stood right after you but before you walked off, you cupped his face with your right hand and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Minho froze seeing you smile up at him only to then carry your niece to your room. That night, he slept with a smile on his face even though it was just a kiss to his cheek.

The next day, it was time to go back home. Since Minho drove there, he and his parents took his car while you followed your family car together with your sister’s family. Both of you never spoke about last night to anyone, not even to each other. The drive back home was filled with sleep and occasional laughter. When you arrived back home after sending your sister to her house, you made your way to your room to unpack and shower since it was already 8pm.

You had just finished showering and entered your room when you saw Minho shuffling around his room shirtless with damp hair falling down his head. Of course he looked handsome as ever but at least now you don’t have to quickly hide yourself from him to avoid him seeing you.

So instead of doing that, you continued doing what you planned on doing and that was to wear your clothes and unpack.

Minho stole a few glances into your room through his window as well but you didn’t seem to look over so he never waited for you anyway. He’s just happy that you’re no longer mad at him. That’s already a great start for him to redeem himself and maybe redo his friendship with you.

Besides, that’s all you both wanted with each other… To finally be friends again and possibly more.

It's been a few days now since the trip, yet neither you nor him have spoken to each other. Today is new years eve and you didn’t really have plans for midnight. Changbin was going to celebrate new years with Felix, Lily has a party to go to that was hosted by her friends in high school while Chan is out on a date with the girl he’s been talking about lately. It’s 2 hours to midnight and you were just lounging in bed, scrolling through your twitter when your mom came to your room with a bright smile on her face.

“Hi darling. You’re not going out with your friends tonight? It’s New Year's eve…” She laughed softly but you shrugged your shoulders as a response.

“Nope. All my friends already have their own plans. And besides, it’s just new year’s.” You said proudly, earning a smile from her.

“Well, in that case, why don’t you get ready. Someone’s here to take you out to see the fireworks.” She said, making you frown.

“Who?”

“Get ready and you’ll know.” She said before kissing your forehead and left the room. With that being said, you quickly changed into a thin sweater, a hoodie over it, ripped jeans and pinned your hair up in a claw clip. You opted to just fill your brows, put on chapstick and wear your contact lens on to avoid wasting time. Once you were sort of presentable, you took your phone and left your bedroom but you definitely weren’t prepared for when you arrived downstairs. There by your couch, was Minho leaning against the back of it with his arms crossed over his chest.

He was chatting with your dad and he looked so fucking handsome as always. Minho was wearing a simple white long sleeve with black and light grey flannel, a hooded leather jacket, skinny black jeans with his hair down completely not styled and yet he still looks good. When you finally reached the base of the stairs, both of them glanced over to you and you felt shy under his gaze.

“H-Hey…” You started and Minho couldn’t help but chuckled softly at your reaction. You dad smiled at you two, telling Minho to drive safe as he gave the boy a hug. You went over to hug your parents and soon left the house with Minho. The minute your front door closes, you spoke up to him in urgency.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to drag me out tonight?” You asked, earning a laugh from him.

“It was meant to be a surprise. I guess I’m just lucky that you’re home tonight.” He said casually.

He soon started the car and drove off into the night. You have completely no idea where he was taking you but after a while, you sort of have a clue since the drive was leading you to the highest point of town where the famous lookout point was. The drive to the location was filled with singing and laughing, not really having a proper conversation. When you arrived at the lookout point, you had about an hour left till midnight. Minho parked his car to the side of the road a few metres next to the railing.

“Do you wanna stay in the car or sit outside?”

“Let’s sit outside. The night sky looks really pretty tonight.” You smiled and he nodded to your suggestion. He locked his car and you both walked over to climb over the railing and sit on it facing the lookout point.

“Wow… I’ve never been here before.” You said as you took your time to admire the view. The starry night sky, the city lights, the wonderful view of the city at this time of night.

“I always come here if I need time alone. It calms me, weirdly enough.” Minho said, earning a nod from you.

“I can totally understand why. It’s beautiful up here.” You said while looking out into the city before you. At that moment, there’s nothing more beautiful to him than the sight of you here with him after years of missing you. Both of you chatted with each other and catched up with a lot of things you missed in one another’s life. When Minho realised it was almost midnight, he got up and told you he wanted to take something from the car. You let him be as you continued to stare into the night sky.

A few minutes later, you realised you had a minute left until midnight. You were just staring blankly at the city lights when Minho’s voice caught your attention.

“Hey, let’s stand. My ass hurts from sitting there too long.” He said, making you laugh. You did as he said only to join him behind the railing. Without any thoughts in mind, you stood facing the lookout point, only to hear everyone else around that area do a countdown. Naturally, you smiled as you hugged yourself.

10…

9…

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

“3.” He said.

“2.” You said.

“1…” You both said at the same time as everyone else yelled into the night, “Happy New Year!” At that exact moment, fireworks were brought to life as they exploded into the night sky in colourful arrays of sparks. You gasped at how pretty they looked, not regretting leaving the comforts of your bed for this. Just then you thought the night couldn’t get any better, a warm hand slips around your waist as you get turned around.

When you finally turned to the side, Minho slid his left hand onto your face and without any words exchanged, he locked lips with you. His heart was beating so fast as his hands shook from both the cold and his nerves. You smiled against his lips as you slid your hands up his chest and wrapped them around his shoulders. Minho was so scared that you would shove him away or slap him for being bold but he never thought you would kiss him back. You allowed him to pull you closer against his front, snaking both arms around your waist to secure his hold on you.

His lips were too addictive, you had to force yourself to pull away to breathe. Keeping your face close to him, you tangled your fingers into his soft hair while you held his face with your other hand and caressed his cheek with your thumb softly. Minho’s heavy breaths mixed with yours as he squeezed your waist a little before he spoke up very quietly despite the loud explosion behind you.

“I’ve missed you so much… I regret letting you slip away due to my ego. But I will never regret loving you from the day we met.” He paused as you stared into his eyes lovingly and you could tell that he was nothing but genuine.

“Y/N… I love you… I will always love you.” Minho whispered against your lips and that was all it takes for you to break into tears. You couldn’t help but bury your face in his shoulder, feeling him hug you tighter while caressing your back. He let you cry into his shoulder, never once letting you go or loosening his hold around you. Eventually, he guided you towards the car until he could sit on the hood with you in between his legs.

Once you’ve calmed down, you pull away from him to wipe your tears on the sleeves of your hoodie. Minho laughed at you but he too helped with wiping your tears away using his thumbs. When you’ve stopped crying, he holds your face in both hands and gently tilts them up to meet his eyes. As soon as you finally locked eyes with him, Minho gave you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen before he kissed you once more.

You melted against him, resting your hands on the nape of his neck as he pulled back to gently say, “I mean what I said just now.”

Minho isn’t the kind to easily convey his feelings let alone show it to anyone. So for him to confess to you right now is a big step he took and he wasn’t going to regret it no matter what your answer is. You wanted him to know how you feel so by pulling him in for another longing kiss, Minho smiled knowing your answer was already pretty obvious.

“I love you too, Minho.” You whispered against his lips, earning a chuckle from him.

“Good because I would dig myself a hole if you didn’t.” He joked, making you giggle. That night, you stayed out with him for a few hours before he sent you home. You ended up cuddling in the back seat of his car, talking about anything and everything you could think of. You came back home feeling so happy and full. Who knew this day would come. You’re just glad you never fully gave up on him.

[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet. 

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight—  and expense off of your shoulders. 

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it. 

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory. 

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money. 

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer. 

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop. 

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell. 

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here". 

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college. 

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was. 

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust. 

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up. 

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided. 

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning". 

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?". 

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude". 

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".  

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double. 

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift. 

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one. 

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you. 

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want. 

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material. 

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk. 

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight. 

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.  

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers". 

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on". 

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed. 

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester". 

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips. 

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you. 

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture. 

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester. 

[thatsatricky1]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/n didn’t have a lot going for her, rising student loan debt, a shared dodgy apartment and a shitty bank job that didn’t pay well. Could her life get any more downgraded? Apparently it could, in the form of a group of well known bank robbers deciding the bank she worked at was the perfect and simplest heist they could do for a change.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Lee Jeno x Reader

𝐖𝐜: 2k

If there was one thing both Winter and Y/n could agree on it was they did not get paid enough working at the Bank. The fact the two of them had gotten a job there had surprised them up until they’d actually started working there and then they realised just how horrible it was.

Most banks these days had one or two counters for actual human interaction, with more ATM’s littered against the walls for non-human interaction. Which was what people preferred these days.

However the bank Winter and Y/n managed to snag a job from was an old bank, with only one ATM which wasn’t even located in the building but outside it on the wall. Inside however was like going a step back in time where it was lined with ropes heading to five separate counters.

Today like any other day both Winter and Y/n were behind their separate counters helping one customer after the other. Customer service was and will forever be dreadful yet the two women sucked it up, they had student loan debts and rent hanging over their heads like most young people.

Y/n glancing up at the large built in clock against one of the lobby walls noting it was nearly time for break. Though turning her attention back on the ranting old lady she knew it would end up being a while before she’d get to head into the staff room.

“Ma’am like I said before, unfortunately you’ve already taken out your limit for this month.” Y/n repeated her words she’d already explained in much more detail to the elderly lady twenty minutes ago.

She did on one hand feel sorry for the elderly lady since she wasn’t getting much monthly from her retirement money, though that happened a lot more frequently these days and would only get worse as the years progressed. Y/n didn’t even want to think about her own retirement pay later on in life.

But that empathy was slowly draining from her when the elderly woman went from ranting on how unfair it was to blatantly disrespecting and dissing her. The fact she was catching strays from the elderly woman for something not in her control made Y/n want to slam her own head against the wooden counter but instead rolled back her shoulders to keep up proper posture.

After another ten minutes the elderly lady finally left the line to head outside, unsuccessful in getting more money. If it was up to Y/n she’d have shoved money into the woman’s hand and sent her on her way thirty minutes ago, but again, she needed to keep this job.

Y/n glanced over at Winter’s counter, wincing at seeing a guy wearing a business suit waving his arms animatedly. That toupee he was wearing did nothing to hide his obvious receding hairline and hair loss.

The person walking up to Y/n quiet enough she didn’t pay him any attention, too focused on watching Winter dealing with the toupee business man.

Y/n head only turning to face in front when a low voice cleared their throat.

“Oh fuck.” Was all she could mumble out with the sight in front of her. He was wearing a white balaclava with two black spikes on the top, that may or may not have been cat-like. But it was the logo patch ironed on it that caught her attention.

Dream.

A notorious group that surfaced one year ago known for bank robbing. Yes, in this era, day and age that was still happening. Usually unsuccessfully but this group had been doing it perfectly well without getting caught.

The group goes from big bank heists to small ones in different areas all around the place. No proper method, pattern or strategy being linked to them. And they just so happened to decide that this bank was their newest stop.

The person raised an eyebrow at Y/n’s choice of wording and quite tamed reaction most likely from shock. She noted he wore blue-greenish contacts and some of his white bleached fringe was pushed down by the balaclava.

A loud bang sounding out through the room followed by screams. Customers and workers alike going down to the ground. Only then did Y/n connect the dots; it had been a warning shot fired by another guy wearing a similar balaclava.

Her eyes drifted towards the chaos but a click of fingers brought her gaze back to focus on the one in front of her.

He grabbed a piece of paper sliding it through the small gap in the window pane glass separating the counter, a safety precaution the bank had installed years ago.

Her fingers sliding the paper closer to her side unfolding it to see what was written on it.

‘Cash’ That’s all that was written on it.

Refraining from making a face she looked up at the guy before glancing over at the other counters seeing four other people with balaclavas already getting cash from each counter.

Scrunching up the paper, she moved below the desk to grab the pay out box. They had one box at the counters for up front pay, but her attention focused on the button below her desk.

The emergency call button they had installed two years ago. Only being able to afford making one of them which so happened to be her counter for the day. Y/n had been pretty sure a panic button legally had to be installed on every counter in banks but she’d bit her tongue on that one when she’d first gotten to know the bank.

Of course it was her desk that happened to have the panic button, how on earth was she supposed to nonchalantly press it. She wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t even work, their boss cut corners on check ups all the time. She was pretty sure that button hadn’t had any attention on it since the day it was installed.

Grabbing the pay up box she stood up placing it on the counter moving to unlock it ignoring the gaze on her face. Starting to take out the money in stacks.

Hands fumble after the third stack a few falling down, Y/n shooting the guy a sheepish smile moving to bend down slightly one hand grabbing the cash while the other pushed down on the panic button. She could only hope that thing actually worked.

Fully standing as she continued to stack the cash before pushing them through the small hole entrance of the glass panel. The guy moved his hand to swipe the money into a material duffle bag. His gaze drifted up to hers once more.

“That’s all I have in my till, maybe you should have come by an hour earlier before some widow took out a pay out life endurance bill.” Y/n blurted out half because of nerves but also because she never quite knew the appropriate thing to say in serious moments.

The guy's eyes twitched slightly as if amused by her words before he gestured his head to the side, Y/n following it to see her work colleagues behind their counters moving out being led towards the centre of the lobby.

Taking the hint she moved towards the counter’s small hip height door leaving the little safety nook, moving to walk over to the crowded middle area of the lobby.

Not even a second by the others before Winter grabbed her hand tugging her down next to the rest of them.

“Did you?” Winter cryptically asked out her finger making a moving motion which took Y/n a second to understand before she nodded.

Y/n moved her head slightly to look over at two of the masked guys heading towards the back with her manager. In a weird way she was satisfied in seeing her boss look like he was about to shit himself after all the overtime, pay cuts and unfair things he’d done to herself and other workers.

Twenty minutes in, Y/n had noticed the other four masked men had taken turns walking around them, making sure no one left the small circle they’d formed in the middle of the lobby. Occasionally they’d gesture to one or another person to give them something, mainly jewellery, watches, wallets, purses and other valuable items.

The guy from before walking up standing over Winter and Y/n, looking them over as if to see if they had anything worth pocketing. Y/n holding back a comment on how unlikely it was seeing as their stuff was in the staff room.

But she did note his gaze seemed to go over Winter but stayed stuck on her. He gestured with his free hand tapping on his ear. Y/n only staring back before Winter nudged her.

“Your earrings.” Winter whispered in a rush not wanting things to go south.

Y/n shoot her a look since her earrings were just casual short thick metal loops. She’d bought them on a whim at a market years ago for cheap. They weren’t expensive and definitely weren’t valuable.

Though she still moved to take off all four of them, handing them over into the guys waiting palm. He looked down at them, fiddling slightly with them before moving to slip them in his pocket rather than putting them in the bag.

Right then the two guys from before walked back out from the back of the bank with duffle bags slung over their shoulders, the bank's manager nowhere in sight.

With that they all started to get ready to leave until the familiar sound of sirens flooded the air still at a far away distance. The guy nearest scrunching his eyebrows at how that happened, the police station would have been too far away to hear the one warning shot and they’d confiscated all phones right at the start.

Though his eyes drifted towards Y/n, tilting his head recalling when she’d crouched to grab some cash she’d dropped. A muffled laugh leaving his mouth. She’d pressed a panic button. He’d thought for sure along with the rest that this old place wouldn’t have one.

Jeno couldn’t exactly say he was impressed, a lot of the time the panic button got pressed during their bank heists. But he did think this one would be stuck in his head for a while.

Jaemin silently patted his chest to get his attention, nodding his head towards the back gesturing that they were leaving. Slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder he glanced one more time at the two women nearby before they left.

The six of them getting into the van as Renjun who’d been waiting had pulled up at the right time for them, not even giving time for Mark to close the door properly, tires squealing as he drove off.

Jeno leaning back in his seat peeling the balaclava off, chucking it to the side somewhere before shoving his hand into his pocket pulling out four metal chunked earrings. Rolling them around his fingers in thought.

“I’m guessing that’s for your personal collection.” Donghyuck scoffed out unimpressed, his head shoved over the back seat gazing at what was in his friend, Jeno’s hand. He preferred more expensive pieces over bland metal or at least something with a splash of colour.

“I like them.” Jeno hummed out noticing the wear and scratches on them. Gaze moving to the window where the back bank slowly got smaller and smaller.

“We really don’t get paid enough for this shit.” Y/n grumbled watching the police finally enter the building, her shoulders slumping at the fact it was one middle aged man with a very unkempt moustache and a scrawny looking trainee.

“You‘d think the bank robbers would have been doing us a favour if they had at least broke an arm or leg of ours for insurance purposes.” Winter chimed in wincing when the trainee tripped over his own foot.

“New job?” Y/n offered out.

“New job.” Winter confirmed in a more of a sigh.

Hope y’all liked the preview it was a bit rushed, the actual oneshot is gonna be really really long so prepaid yourself for that lol.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @bubusebu @hanniehq @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui

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Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget likes, reblogs and comments are always encouraged and help keep writers like myself motivated to continue our works.

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[doomed-syko]

Right Back Where We Started From | Robert Keating x Fem!reader

summary: Flying home for Christmas seemed like a great idea until you’re snowed in and stuck on an icy runway… for the foreseeable future. Even worse? The person in the seat next to you is the guy who broke your heart a year ago

word count: 3.5k

warnings: angsty, exes to lovers (kinda), fluff, swearing, mention of alcohol, my bad writing as always, the usual really

author’s note: i have returned to my roots and am back with a robert christmas fic, everyone rejoice. this time a bit different. as you can tell, i’ve rewatched normal people while writing this – to all my robert keating and paul mescal enjoyers, this one is for you x

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”        

You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but your already bad day had just gotten worse somehow, which was kind of an achievement in itself.

It was bad enough that you had slept through your alarm this morning and had rushed into work over an hour late (the sudden onset of winter and heavy snowfall delaying your arrival even longer), which was followed by your suitcase breaking as you were about to leave your flat for Heathrow and you had to quickly find something to repair the broken zipper with. The bad luck didn't end there of course. When you did finally make it to the airport - ten minutes before check-in for your flight closed - you almost got run over by some busy businessman who didn't look where he was going and, in the process, rammed his metal suitcase against your knee, which had been pulsating and in pain ever since. Your flight being delayed by an hour and twenty minutes was truly only the cherry on top.

But even then, none of those things could compare to the mixture of feelings you felt bubbling up inside you when you realized who had just sat down in the seat right next to you and who was about to sit right next to you for the next hour and a half or so.

None other than your bassist ex-boyfriend whose band was almost everywhere these days. Of course, it had to be Robert Keating.

For a few seconds, you thought about the best way to approach this whole thing. Ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there? Put on a happy face and try to be nice to him? Even though the mere thought of your breakup still made your heart ache and sting every time you thought about it, thought about him. None of those seemed like good ideas.

Before either of you could decide how to approach this awkwardness, a decision was made for you. In the form of the voice of a flight attendant over the intercom system.

“Welcome on board British Airways flight BA 838 to Dublin Airport, due to the heavy snowfall and an icy runway, our start is delayed by at least thirty minutes,” a murmur went through the crowd. “Our cabin crew will be coming around, handing out free drinks and snacks, we apologize profusely for the delay!”

You must’ve really pissed off someone in your last life because there was no way this was real life. How could literally everything possibly go wrong in one single day?

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Robert echoed your words from earlier, the absurdity of it all was the last straw for you and you started uncontrollably giggling to yourself.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rob sighed and you knew without looking at him that his face was pulled into a grimace. It was safe to say that he was not having fun right now.

“Oh, believe me,” you stopped chuckling and turned your attention to your former lover, who did indeed look like he wanted to be anywhere but stuck on an icy tarmac right about now. “I’ve actually had one of the worst days of my life today.” You shrugged your shoulders. “At this point, I’ve just stopped trying to make any sense of it.”

Before you knew it you told him about everything that had gone wrong for you up until that point. Broke suitcase and all.

You even showed him your knee that had been massacred by that man and his heavy suitcase and realised that it actually had started bleeding. No wonder it kept pulsating with pain.

Those damn businessmen and their way too expensive, way too heavy metal suitcases

“I feel like I've been talking your ear off for way too long now,” you smiled awkwardly. Seems like 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was the plan you had chosen. “Now tell me, why are you in London on the 22nd? Shouldn’t you be already home with the family?”

You hated that you still knew what he and his family did every Christmas. You hated that you still knew a lot about him actually.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rob replied. And just like that, operation 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was fucked. “We had a label meeting a few days ago, with the big boss,” He joked. Looked like you didn’t mess up your chances of keeping this civil after all. “The lads all flew home on Wednesday, but I needed a day just for myself, to decompress or something like that… It has been a long year you know? So much has happened in the last twelve months, and I’ve had almost no days for just myself.”

“Yeah, busy year,” you acknowledged. You couldn’t escape the band anymore; they were everywhere these days. And as much as it hurt to see or hear about him everywhere you went; it made you happy to see them doing so well.

You were about to say something when the voice of the flight attendant from earlier came over the intercom again, this time informing you that due to the weather, your delay would continue but that you had to stay on the plane for safety reasons. At this point, you wondered if you would even make it to Dublin before Christmas… maybe you just had to spend Christmas in London alone, so the bad luck that seemed to follow you around could not rub off on anyone else.

At least the cabin crew would – once again – make their rounds and hand out free drinks, food, and some blankets.

Realizing that you hadn’t registered how cold it actually was on the plane, you made sure to profusely thank the brunette flight attendant, who handed you one of the British Airways branded blue fleece blankets, wrapping it around your upper body and legs you had pulled up on the seat after taking your shoes off. There was no way you were going to be (physically) uncomfortable today.

You turned your attention back to Rob, only to see him already looking at you. Actually looking at you and not the 'barely holding eye contact' thing he had done earlier, now he was staring at you, his eyes rapidly moving like he had forgotten what you looked like and was now trying to commit every part of you to his memory.

It made that mixture of feelings you had felt bubbling up inside you when you had first seen him earlier, return. Just this time, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach, that you always used to get whenever you had looked at him, were more prominent than any other feeling.

Fuck… great work! Thirty-five minutes spent next to your ex and boom… you were right back to feeling head over heels for him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say now, because what do you talk about with your ex-partner when you didn’t plan to see them never mind being stuck in an airplane that could not take off due to the sudden onset of winter. No one had ever written a handbook of how to act if you were ever stuck in a situation like this. No one. Especially not on how to act when you are actually still very much in love with said former partner, making the doubts you had always had about you going your separate ways, appear even greater.

The breakup had been mutual. You both barely had time for each other anymore and at that point in time it had seemed like the only reasonable decision to make. You had finished university that summer, he was practically always on tour or in the studio and when you had gotten that job offer for your current job in London you realized that things would only get harder from there on out. So, you moved to London, Robert stayed in Dublin – when he was not on tour – and then you broke up.

Of course, you had promised to stay in touch, to stay friends but you both knew that that was not happening. You couldn’t stay friends with him, not when you were still head over heels in love with him.

That’s why the breakup still hurt, even though you had not been with him in well over a year. You had tried to move on, had hooked up with a few people here and there, had gone out on the dates your new friends had set you up on but no one made you feel the way he did, so you gave up trying and slowly came to terms with the fact that you would maybe never be as in love again as you had been when you were twenty.

You sighed, trying to shake your thoughts as you fished your phone out of your jeans pocket.

20:21

Even with the initial hour and twenty minutes delay of the flight, you should’ve been long in the air by now, scratch that you should be more than halfway to Dublin by now. You sighed again, before typing out a message to your mother, telling her that you were still in Heathrow and didn’t know when you'd be home. Her answer came quickly, reassuring you that she would be there to pick you up from the airport when you landed, whenever that may be.

Putting your phone away you turned your attention back on Rob, who seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts, that even though he was looking at you, he was more looking through you.

“Are you alright?” You sounded more concerned than you were.

“Yeah yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit tired,” He smiled at you. “It's just– you know… I have missed you. A lot.”

Oh.

“I’ve been for a while actually,” He chuckled awkwardly. “The last year has been one of the strangest of my life. The juxtaposition of all the success with the lads, all the sold-out shows, festivals… all the fun and good stuff that has happened and then missing you all the time, missing us. It is a lot.”

Robert’s admission hit you like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit.

“Don’t say that.” Your voice was breaking. Why was your voice breaking?

“No, I mean it,” Rob's voice wasn’t steady, but he continued, reaching for your hands, and giving them a gentle squeeze. It was the first time he touched you that evening, leaving your skin feeling like it was on fire everywhere his met yours.

“No, you don’t get to say that shit after I spent over a year being heartbroken.” Your emotions were running wild now. “Not after I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never love anyone like I love you.”

There it was. Your confession. Out in the open.

“We both decided it was for the better to call things off,” Robert cringed at the words. But he was right, it had been a mutual decision. “You can’t put all the blame on me… if I had known how difficult this would be I would’ve never done it.” You could tell he was getting worked up over this, but you could not blame him for that. You weren’t doing any better really. “I would’ve moved to this damn city for you!”

“Don’t say that.” There it was again. “Robert, you would have hated it here. You would have been away from the lads, you would have had to commute between London and Dublin all the fucking time,” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, which proved to be difficult the longer this went on. “That’s no way to live, baby. We would have been miserable.”

He was silent for a while, his hands still holding onto yours as if you were the anchor keeping him grounded but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. Now you squeezed his hands.

“Bobby there is no use in pretending you wouldn’t have been absolutely fucking miserable here,” You sniffled trying not to cry. “I would not have had time for you, and you would not have had time for me. We would have lived two separate times, believe me, we would have resented each other after a few months.”

“Still,” he tried to argue. “I’ve been pretty fucking miserable this year without you too.” He was finally looking at you again, his eyes slightly glassed over.

You didn’t know what to say to that and before you could think of something, the intercom turned on again.

“Good evening, my name is Richard Jones, I’ll be your Captain tonight and I am happy to report that we’ve finally got cleared to take off.” Finally. “We will be making our way onto the tarmac in about ten minutes. Since we are obviously not the only plane waiting to take off, we will have to wait for a little bit longer, but we should be in the air in the next thirty minutes or so. We, again, apologise for the delay, if you have any more questions our cabin crew will be happy to answer them. We thank you for your patience!”

You felt like a weight was finally being taken off your shoulders. A weight you had carried around with yourself for almost a year now.

You got your phone out again, sending another text to your Mum telling her that you were finally about to take off and actually get home for Christmas. And then… then you took a deep breath turning your attention back to Robert.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“Well since we are sharing,” you smiled at him, still holding his hands. “I’ve missed you too. A lot!”

Before he could answer you, you got interrupted once again.

“Is there anything I can get either of you?” The brunette flight attendant from earlier smiled at you. “Any drinks? Food?”

“Yeah actually,” you turned your attention from Rob to the brunette woman. “Could we get two red wines and a pack of salt crisps? Thank you so much!”

You took the two wines and crisps, setting one of the wines down in front of Robert.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” You grinned at him, who would have thought this day would end like this? You certainly didn’t. “Cheers!”

The both of you talked a lot. About everything that had happened since your breakup, about how much you missed each other, about your job and the band.

You told him how proud you were of him and the lads, that even though it had hurt to see them everywhere, your happiness for their success outweighed the heartbreak of – at the time – knowing that you would probably never get to tell them that in the way you had done for years before. That you missed your friends in Dublin but that your new job and friends in London were great. How much you had fallen in love with this city. And how much you hated not at least trying to stay in contact with Eli or Josh.

In turn, he told you about how much he loved touring, how he and the lads had grown even closer, how crazy eventful this year had been and how glad he was that they were taking a little break. Taking things slow but already working on album number three.

You talked about your confessions from earlier. That you both were obviously miserable without each other, that you still loved each other greatly and what it meant for you going forward.

With your head on his shoulder, you talked for the whole flight, in hushed whispers, laughing every now and again.

And if the confessions had taken a heavy weight off your shoulder earlier, this – the hushed talking, the little giggles, and the handholding – made you feel weightless. Made you feel like you were on top of the world again. All because the man you loved was still in love with you.

You were holding hands when you finally walked out of the airplane at 22:25. Finally back home in Dublin you thought. And you continued to do so when you waited to pick up your baggage, which of course took another fifteen minutes but at this point, what were those extra fifteen minutes? If anything, it was more time with Robert which you gladly accepted.

“Is anyone here to pick you up?” You looked up at Rob, while you were still waiting for your broken suitcase, to arrive on the baggage conveyor belt.

“Sent a message to my Ma while we were getting ready to land,” He answered. “Is that your bag?” He asked pointing to the black suitcase, which was indeed yours. “She should be here by now and if not, I’ll just have to wait a few minutes,” he grabbed your suitcase, grabbing your hand again and interlocking your fingers. “Your Mum is picking you up, right?”

“Hmm,” you hummed as you walked through the automatic doors. “There she is actually.” Your pace got faster after you spotted her in between the dozens of other people who were waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive. “C’mon.”

You felt your fingers slip out of Robert's hand a few meters before you reached your mother, practically running into her open arms. Only once you were back in your mother’s arms did you realize how tired you actually were.

“Oh my god I’ve missed you so much,” you sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy to be back home.

“Oh, it is so good to have you back, sweetheart!” Your mother replied kissing your cheek before spotting Rob who had given your little reunion some space. “Robert it's good to see you again darling.”

She pulled him into her arms, just like she had done with you earlier but not before side-eying you. This was going to be fun to explain later.

“Okay let’s get you home,” your mother sighed, grabbing your suitcase. “Is there anyone to pick you up, Robert?”

“Yeah, my Mums on her way,” he smiled down at her. “I’ll wait outside for her; don’t worry she'll be here in a few minutes.”

The three of you walked through the airport, towards the car park, your mother in the front with your suitcase, Robert, and you behind her with the rest of your baggage.

“I’ll get the car,” Your mother said when you stepped outside, the cool air blowing through your hair. “You wait here I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Before you could answer her, she was already gone, leaving you and Robert alone. Smart woman, you thought to yourself.

You turned your attention back to Robert, smiling brightly, before resting your head against his chest. You stood in silence, the chilly wind still blowing through your hair. You did not feel the need to say something. Everything you needed to get off your chest you had talked about with Robert. You would rather just stay where you were right now, in his arms and pressed against his chest just like you had done a hundred times before.

“I’ll see you in January,” he smiled, carefully grabbing your face, and pulling it from his chest to look at you. “Right?”

“Yeah,” you hummed, hearing the honking of a car, and turning around to see your mother waiting for you. “I’ll keep my bed warm for you!” You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

“I’ll know you will love,” Robert grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” another kiss. This time his lips landed on your right temple, right next to your eye. “I love you!”

The last kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose. Just like he had done on your first date, years ago.

“I love you.” You replied, kissing the skin right below his chin, before nuzzling your nose into his neck. It was crazy how fast you fell into old patterns.

Your mother honked again, which you took as your sign to let go of Robert and get into the car. Before leaving his warm embrace, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his skin still feeling warm beneath your lips.

You walked to the car, put your backpack on the backseat and before she could even ask you answered the question you knew she was dying to ask you.

“It’s a long story.”

note: if you liked this imagine, don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog, that’d be greatly appreciated! xx

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[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 7 - Died and Dashed

(Content warning; contains light mentions of blood and injuries. Reader discretion is advised. This fic will also contain spoilers from The Book of Bill going forward.)

— — — — — — — It had taken Stan twenty minutes to calm down this time around.

Twenty minutes, a few dents in the walls of the boat, a couple of busted knuckles as a result of said dents—eh, semantics.

Honestly it was a miracle he’d made it back to the boat before he started swinging. If he’d stayed there any longer, there was a not-zero chance that the little bastard would’ve ended up with another black eye.

If not him, then—

“No, Stanley.”

Stan’s gauze-bound grip tightened on the paper in his hand, and he shook his head before turning back to the desk. “Come on, Stan—you can’t be thinkin’ like that…”

He’d been lucky enough to snag a decent-sized handful of the photocopied journal pages from his safe, although he’d taken great care to light any remaining portal schematics on fire and stomp the smoldering remains until they were nothing but ash.

…Probably a dangerous thing to do while in a boat made of wood. But hey, he wasn’t taking any chances!

With a sigh, he shifted irritably between a page about gnomes and one dedicated to ‘Category 3 Ghosts’. Boy, he sure wished he’d thought of that idea over thirty years ago! He sure wish he hadn’t been too blinded by his anger to think clearly and had actually done something smart at that specific moment in time! Or had actually followed Ford’s request and gotten on a boat, sailed far away from everything and buried the book where Bill couldn’t get his grimy little hands on it!

He sure wish he would’ve done any of the other smart, logical ideas at that point in time, instead of just making his brother’s life worse like he always did.

Speaking of which—

His gaze fell to a collection of pages that Ford had added after his return to their dimension. Sure, he had kept his journals at arm’s length by the time he’d gotten around to writing the back half of the third one, but Stan hadn’t spent the past thirty years perfecting the art of pickpocketing for nothing. It’d practically been child’s play to sneak up to the kids’ room while Dipper was asleep—said journal clutched tightly against his face in a perfect mirror of Mabel snuggled up to her stuffed animals—quietly nab the book outta his hands for the night, and slip it back into place before he woke up the next morning.

The specific pages in question discussed one of the dimensions that Ford had visited in his travels. A better world, as he’d labeled it in his writing. Whatever had happened there, the Ford of that dimension was thriving because his Stan had actually listened to him. The Stan of that dimension still possessed worth to his brother.

Stan pressed a hand to his hair with another rugged sigh. Geez, was this really going to work? Was he really going to find some miraculous way to stop Bill in all this mess, when Ford hadn’t even found one back when said mess was still all in one piece?

And even if he did, did he really think any of this would prove himself useful to Ford?

He slowly slid his hand down his face in exasperation, before glancing over at the desk again—

Hang on.

He turned back to the alternate dimension pages again, squinting close at a series of paragraphs near the end. Most of it was just a bunch of science-y mumbo-jumbo that Stan didn’t care enough about to decipher, but the majority seemed to discuss the creation of a power source alongside the parallel-dimension’s Old Man McGucket.

A topic that sparked something in Stan’s mind as his thoughts drifted back to Ford’s words from the previous evening:

“The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket.”

Hmm.

After staring at it for another moment of thoughtful contemplation, he moved to add the pages to the already-sorted stack on the other side of the desk. Just before he could go of them, however, the door to the cabin burst open with a loud bang—causing Stan to jump about three inches in his seat before spinning around in his seat to confront the source of the noise. “Hey, pal, whaddaya th—”

Most of the anger that had been building up escaped Stan with an exhale of relief when his eyes landed on a familiar plaid shirt and head of red hair tucked under a blue-and-white hat. “What, are you tryin’ to give me a heart attack, Wendy?!” he asked, lowering the fists he had instinctively formed. “You realize at my age, that could count as attempted murder.”

“Sorry,” Wendy said, kicking the door shut behind her. “Just needed to get away from the crowd for a bit.”

“Yeesh, is it that bad?” he asked, and leaned towards the nearest window to peek out of the blinds. “Thought the party only just got started a bit ago?”

“Yeah, a party with everyone in town,” she reminded him as she sank against the wall into a sitting position. “Most of which are all here by this point. Just saying, even the Woodstick festival has certified ‘Quiet Tents’ where you can sit and breathe air that hasn’t been breathed in by hundreds of other people yet.”

After a few more seconds of staring at the crowd, Stan let the blinds flick shut again. “Touché.”

She watched him turn back to the desk, raising an eyebrow at the papers still clutched in his fist. “So, you plan on joining them anytime soon?” she asked. “After all, the reason nearly everyone in town’s gathered here is for your family. And at least three-quarters of that family are off doing their one thing.”

“Hey, listen—” Stan began, then paused. “Wait, three-quarters?”

“Yeah, like the doc said earlier, it’d take a while for him to deactivate the security room,” she explained. “So Mabel’s been out in the woods this whole time waiting for him to finish.”

“And they’re still not back ye—hold on,” Stan said, his train of thought once again interrupted as he ticked off a few fingers. “...So if those two-quarters are there—” He flicked a thumb towards himself. “And one’s in here, that means one’s out with the party, then?”

“Yeah, that’s how fractions work,” Wendy confirmed, her raised eyebrow ascending further. “And knowing who the first three are, I think we can probably guess which fourth it is.”

After a few seconds of putting the pieces together, Stan slapped a hand to his forehead. “Yeesh, whose bright idea was it to leave Dip as the party guy?”

“His and Mabel’s actually,” Wendy said. “Decided that one of them should stick around while the other rushed off to help your brother, since you were too busy doing whatever you’ve been doing here on the boat to do it yourself.”

Stan pointed a warning finger in her direction. “Watch it, Corduroy, I told you kids that this was none of your business.”

“I know it’s not,” she said. “And I don’t care one way or another how you two deal with all of this.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “But do you think Dipper and Mabel are gonna just take it lying down? They’re just as stubborn as you are, and if you’re not gonna keep stepping up to the plate to try and help your brother out, then they’re gonna do it for you.” 

She tapped her knuckles against the wall behind her. “That includes either running off to help him out and missing a party they really wanna be at, or being the only Pines at that same party and spending most of that time stressing about everything by himself.”

Stan considered this for a moment, before rising from his chair with a sigh. “You ain’t subtle, you know?”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

Stan shot her a smirk in response, before he rose from his chair and started making his way to the door.. “If you wanna keep hidin’ out in here, then fine,” he said, stuffing the papers still clutched in his hand into his jacket pocket. “Just don’t let anyone else in, and don’t touch the stuff on the desk.”

“Aye aye, captain,” she said, giving him a salute.

The door swung shut behind him and the cabin fell silent, save for the muffled sound of partygoers in the yard outside. Wendy remained still for a few minutes more, letting her eyes drift shut for a second as she enjoyed the moment of peace—

—until the buzzing of her phone in her pocket drew her attention elsewhere and she flipped it open to investigate.

— — — — — — —

The first thing Bill was able to process was a throbbing pain in his forehead.

The second thing was that he was able to feel pain at all.

With a sharp inhale of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his head snapped upright—functional pupil darting about wildly as he tried to process his surroundings. 

He was—

—still in the bunker?

Heh?

Judging by the vintage technology that surrounded him—technology that Ford had foolishly assumed would keep him and his country bumpkin pal safe from any apocalyptic harm (spoiler alert, Fordsy, it wouldn’t have)—there was no doubt that he was still situated down in the bunker’s observation room. Same exact spot, same exact technology, same exact—

—blood pooling beneath him?

Second verse, same as the first—heh?

With the unicorn-hair-rope still tightly bound around his body, Bill shifted awkwardly in place to get a clearer look at the fresh blood that now decorated the control panel beneath his legs. And not just the control panel; a struggled rotation of his body revealed more blood splattered against the metal and tech—with a single bullet embedded in the spot where everything was thickest and most concentrated.

A bullet about the size of the area on his forehead where a throbbing, searing pain—pain far worse than being clunked on the back of the skull with a bat—was culminating to one specific point. 

The same area where blood—blood as bright and fresh as the splatters around him—slowly trickled down the center of his face at the edge of his vision, before finally dripping down from his chin to join the rest beneath him.

Oh.

Oh.

It wasn’t the first time Ford had shot him with a gun. There was the time Bill had raised a horde of zombies from the dead to try and give him a gentle…nudge in the right direction. Not to mention their delightful little reunion back during Weirdmageddon, although Ford’s aim definitely hadn’t gotten better across three decades.

But this felt far more different than a blast of energy through his hat-flesh, or a quick de-possessing of a zombie after Ford splattered its brains all over the cold, winter ground with a cheesy one-liner. And if Bill didn’t have more pressing matters to deal with, he would’ve punctuated that jab at Ford’s humor with a firm suggestion for the old man to not seek a career in the field of comedy.

But unfortunately, now wasn’t the time for a cheeky “Don’t quit your day job, Fordsy!” or other hilarious remark on his end.

He tore his gaze from the blood and turned back to the front, that sense of wrongness only swelling further at the sight of Ford once again frozen in time. And as if on cue, every color in the observation room began to slowly trickle down to the floor and converge towards the center of the room, same as they had done back in the study. 

Bill barely had time to roll his eyes before the shifting mess of colors morphed into a familiar, orange tint—seconds before taking on the even-more-familiar form of the shelduck. “Wow, it’s about time!” they said joyfully once they had fully formed. “And here I was starting to worry that I’d have to go the entire summer without getting a chance for us to talk again!”

They turned around to take a look at their surroundings. “Huh, so they took you down to the bunker after all,” they observed. “Half expected them to try something in the underground lab first, but I guess this one would probably want to keep you outta the house as much as possible.”

The last comment was directed at the stilled Ford, along with a bat of their eyelashes in his direction. “You know, I’ve always been more partial to the other one, but even I can’t deny that the Hot Twin gene clearly extends to both of them,” they said, leaning closer to him with a studious look. “Let me tell you, that evolution of sideburns to a beard is nice…”

They spun to face Bill again. “But enough about all that, let’s get to the actual reason I’m here!” they said, pressing a balled fist against their forehead. “And how I feel like a massive idiot for letting you dive right into my game without covering the—oh, hold on, you might want to get rid of those binds first.”

With a snap, the binds of the rope went completely slack and Bill slid from the control panel to the floor with a surprised yelp—earning a small chuckle from Tangy and an outstretched hand to help him to his feet. “Sorry, maybe I should’ve set you down on the floor first—oh!”

Tangy barely had time to retract their arm before a yellow-and-black blur came charging at them with a furious shout. “You!” Bill snapped at them, teeth bared as he prepared to launch himself at them again. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you Birdbrain?!”

Forget any previous niceties he might’ve put on before; he was going to get some clear answers out of Tangy if it was the last thing he did! Even if it meant following up on his promise of plucking every single feather out of their sorry, orange hide!

Unfortunately for Bill, any harm he attempted to inflict on them went unfulfilled, as they slid out of his way just in time for him to go crashing back to the floor on the other side of the observation room. “Trying to catch me off guard?” they asked, once again spinning to face him with a wide smile. “Honestly not a bad attempt, I didn’t see it coming!”

Bill was back on his feet in an instant, trembling with sheer aggression for the being before him. Were they mocking him?! Who did they think they were?!

In fact—

“Who do you think you are, pal?!” he asked—shouted aloud. “Do you have any idea who you’re messing with here? I’m the most powerful being in the whole Multiverse, and if you think I’m gonna stand here and take this from you—”

“Of course you’re not, Bill,” Tangy said, taking a step towards him. “You want me to tell you why I’m here, what’s going on, why you’re not dead after—”

They made a gesture with their hand towards the mess of blood that Bill had left behind. “You want answers, I understand. Well, lucky for you—I think—you went and got yourself killed, so I’m able to correct a few of the mistakes I made during our last conversation—”

Another gesture, and suddenly a piece of paper flashed into view between them. “—starting with the rules I forgot to explain to you~!”

Despite the adrenaline rush from his failed attempted to attack them, Bill once again found his rage taking a backseat to curiosity as he stared at the paper. “Rules? What rules? You didn’t mention any rules.”

A beat, before he thumped a fist to his chest. “Not that I would’ve listened to ‘em anyway!” he insisted. “Rules are just another way of telling someone the things they’re not allowed to do, and I’m the kinda shape who does whatever he wants whenever he wants!”

“Oh, not to worry,” they assured him. “It’s less a list of what you can’t do during the game, and more—” 

They snapped a few times in an attempt to find the proper words. “—let’s call it an FAQ about how the game itself operates. Maybe the first few might apply to you at most, but overall they’re far more restricting for me than they are for you. Either way, I felt bad about not covering them with you before so I thought discussing them while we’ve got time now would be best.”

Bill glanced at the paper with an unimpressed look. “...You filmed an elaborate promotional ad about how the game works but wrote the rules on a piece of paper?”

“Like I told you before, the movie’s a work in progress,” Tangy explained. “Plus most of my other clients tend to appreciate having all the rules in a place where they can properly read and digest them, as opposed to a quick-moving motion picture where they might miss something.”

With a roll of his eyes, Bill turned his attention back to the paper hovering before him. Unlike the wacky lettering used in Birdbrain’s video, the font was clear and black, with the following text written in easy-to-read letters:

Rules of The Shelduck’s Game:

Once you start playing a game, you must continue to the end. So no agreeing to play if you think you can’t handle it!

Once a player agrees to playing a game, they are rendered safe from any obstacles that might permanently halt their attempts to play the game to the end. Obstacles exempt from this rule all depend on the game’s setting and other surrounding factors, but most obstacles should be unable to permanently halt the player’s progress in the game.

The Shelduck is allowed to add additional rules to the list, based on the specific game chosen. However, they can only do this before the game starts and the player must be informed ahead of time, to avoid any unfair play.

The Shelduck cannot directly interfere with the gameplay itself, but they can offer hints and advice if a player gets stuck!

If you win your game, you are granted your reward. If you lose, you win…nothing! Of course!

You are allowed to request nearly anything as a grand prize; however, the Shelduck is more within their rights to deny any requests they see unfit to grant.

Don’t forget to have fun! :) It is a game, after all!

Yeesh, were Birdbrain’s previous clients a bunch of kindergarteners? Their list of rules read more like something a teacher would tack on their classroom wall rather than the rules for some interdimensional game of chance and skill.

Despite the juvenile formatting however—Bill was silent as he once again took in every word, letter, punctuation mark on the page during several read-overs of its contents. At the very least, their list seemed pretty pretty cut and dry—most questions answering themselves in the next sentence before he even had a chance to ask them aloud and overall leaving little room for the kind of trickery he might’ve played on someone with one of his own deals.

Of course, little room for trickery didn’t mean that there was no trickery to be found at all. Especially due to the fact that Tangy had only chosen to spring the list on him now, after he’d already agreed to play their stupid game!

Oh, right, he was mad at them about something—

“Forget your lousy rules!” he said aloud, making an effort—a failed effort—to kick the paper away. “They’re not the only thing you didn’t bother to tell me about! What about the vessel I’m using? Or the fact that you dropped me down right in front of Sixer and the rest of his stupid family?”

“To answer in order,” Tangy said. “You never asked about the body thing. You just assumed the entire time that you’d be using my body as your vessel. The thought of being in a completely different body never crossed your mind. As for the other thing—”

They winked at him. “Alright, you got me; jerk move on my part! But hey, you were the one who chose to cackle wildly in front of them as soon as you woke up! Can’t exactly blame me for that one!”

Bill scowled irritably. “Alright, well, explain why it looks so much like—”

He pointed a finger at his face, followed by a gesture to his entire being. “Oh, that?” Tangy asked, tapping a finger against the bottom of their bill. “Hmm, that’s a good question, actually. Honestly it was kind of a difficult decision to figure out what your body should look like for the game. I had plenty of options to choose from—”

A clap of their hands summoned several pictures of a variety of people, most of which possessed a familiar, black-and-yellow color scheme. “I could’ve gone for a taller and fancier look—” 

A gesture towards the picture of a tall, thin man dressed in a fancy suit and an eyepatch. 

“—or perhaps something a bit more modern—” 

Another gesture to a picture of what was assumed to be a larger woman with darker skin and curly, golden locks of hair.

“—or heck, I could’ve gone the ‘102 Deeds for Teddie McLowd’ route and plunked you into something that wasn’t even human!”

They outright grabbed the picture of a yellow sphynx cat and held it towards him. 

“—but in the end, I felt like my best bet was making it look like a body you’d possessed in recent memory.”

With a snap of their fingers, every picture vanished from sight again and they tossed their hands up with a shrug. “I did consider giving you one that resembled Blendin Blandin for a spell. But he’s kinda been MIA for a while so I just went with the one you have now.”

They looked him up and down again. “Personally, I think this one suits you much better, anyway~!”

“Personally, I think a pile of reassembled molecules and burnt feathers suits you much better than your current form,” Bill said with a sneer. “I say again; I bet you think you’re sooooo smart with that little ‘ooh, Bill, I forgot to tell you the rules, along with all this super-important information you probably needed to know ahead of time’ stunt of yours—”

“Not a stunt,” Tangy said, hand to their forehead. “I did genuinely forget, and you have every right to be mad at me.”

“Regardless,” Bill continued. “None of your nonsense is gonna do me any good now. I’m—”

He paused, a hand slowly moving to his forehead as he turned to look back at the mess on the control panel behind him. “I’m—dead?”

It was more of a statement than a question, genuine confusion painting his features for a brief second as he lowered his hand, pale fingertips now stained red. “I’m dead…”

Confusion, the faintest specks of grief and fear—

And back was his anger again as he snapped his glare at Tangy. “Which means now I can’t even play your stupid game! What d’you have to say about that, Birdbrain?!”

“Oh, right, that’s the other thing I came here to talk to you about,” Tangy said. “Funny enough, it ties back in with the rules thing! So I guess me forgetting to cover them before kinda all worked out~!”

They reached for the paper with the rules, and pointed to the first two for Bill to see with a few taps for emphasis:

Once you start playing a game, you must continue to the end. So no agreeing to play if you think you can’t handle it!

Once a player agrees to playing a game, they are rendered safe from any obstacles that might permanently halt their attempts to play the game to the end. Obstacles exempt from this rule all depend on the game’s setting and other surrounding factors, but most obstacles should be unable to permanently halt the player’s progress in the game.

Bill stared for a moment, then gave them an unconvinced look. “Alright, so what?”

“Any player playing one of my games is safe from nearly any obstacles that might stop them from playing the game,” Tangy paraphrased. “And on top of that, they have to keep playing the game until the end. Which means—?”

“Birdbrain, if you don’t explain what you mean in five seconds, I’m actually going to pluck every single one of your head feathers out and use them to stuff a throw pillow made of pure gold.”

“Okay, first of all, that cannot possibly be comfortable to sit on—”

“Comfort comes second to power.”

“—second of all, what I mean is that any players playing the game are contractually-bound to keep playing until the very end of the game. Your game ends in approximately three months~!”

They made a ‘go-on’ motion with their hand. “Which means—?”

“I don’t know,” Bill said irritably. “That you bring me back to life after I get a bullet in my skull so I can keep playi—”

A beat of realization struck. “Oh, okay, I see what’s happening now.”

“Bingo~!” Tangy said, giving him a thumbs up. “You’re not really dead, it’s just more of a—let’s say a ‘lost life’ scenario. Like in a video game where you have a handful of extra lives stored up, so you just pop back to normal after dying without losing any progress!”

They winked at him. “And before you ask: no, there’s no limit on your metaphorical lives! You can pop back as many times as you need to throughout the course of the game!”

Bill considered this for a moment. Okay, so Birdbrain was clever enough to think that far ahead. Sure, he was currently bouncing around a few multidimensional recipes for a nice roasted duck in his skull, but at the very least, he was still alive. 

A thought that eased some of his initial concerns, banishing them back to the darker, more repressed corners of his mind where they belonged! “Alright, so I’m not actually dead now, and I assume I can’t actually die throughout the game—”

“For the most part, yes—”

“Woah, woah—” Bill snapped at them, both in tone and with two quick snaps of his fingers. “Nope, you’re not glossing over that. What do you mean ‘for the most part’?”

“As rule two explains,” Tangy said, once again giving the paper a tap. “You’re rendered mostly safe from any obstacles that might stop you from playing the game. However, there could be some obstacles that might override that rule and provide more of a danger to any players. But not to worry in that regard; that’s more of an extreme case scena—”

They were cut off by the quick motion of Bill grabbing a handful of their shirt and yanking them downwards so the two of them were at eye level. “Birdbrain, I have been jerked around enough over the past twenty-four hours,” he said, face once again beet red out of sheer rage. “So I’m gonna tell you what you’re gonna do now, Citrus Breath! You’re gonna stop pulling my leg, and you’re gonna explain to me what the f—wait, what are you doing?”

Bill’s anger was abruptly halted as Tangy—still showing no sign of annoyance or irritation with the vitriol he spat at them—took his hand in theirs and began to roll up the left sleeve of his jacket. “Yet another thing I forgot to mention,” they said, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m not doing this on purpose, I swear! I’m just a bit scatterbrained at times!”

Bill narrowed his eyes. “A bit?”

“Anyway, look—”

They held up his arm to reveal something on the wrist. A small picture—or more accurately, a—

And now the halted anger was forgotten completely as Bill stared at the object embedded into the skin on his wrist. A glowing, familiar speck that Bill had only just processed he had been missing up until this point—the very idea of it being truly lost to him containing enough power to quell any rage as he gently touched his other hand to it. “Is that—”

“I was originally going to make it an orange,” Tangy explained, a sudden and genuine warmth to their tone. “But after some consideration, I thought a more…personal route for your method of contact would be more appropriate.”

Bill continued to stare at the glittering speck for a moment more, before casting a dirty look up at them. “Again I repeat; woah, woah, we’re not glossing over that! What do you mean method of contact? What’d you do to it?”

“To it, I mostly just tattooed it into your skin,” Tangy explained. “Thought it’d be easier to keep track of than your old storage method, which would’ve gotten lost very quickly if I’d given you one—”

They cast a glance up at the top of his head, before looking to his arm again. “But as for why I did that, I thought it’d be the easiest way to get ahold of me if you needed any help during your game.”

They gave the tattoo a light pair of taps with their finger. “Two taps, and you’ll be brought here into the mindscape to chat with me,” they explained further. “If you’re having trouble locating a piece of the triangle charm, or if you just wanna talk to someone, just double-tap and I’ll be here~!”

Their smile widened. “And to answer your question from before, it also doubly acts as a safeguard for your body. So long as you have this little speck on your wrist, you’ll be able to pop back to life and keep playing the game. Does that make sense?”

“And if I somehow don’t have it on my wrist?”

“Well, then you’d better be super careful, haha!” Tangy said with a laugh. “But not to worry there, the chance of anything being able to truly get rid of it is slim to none. At the same time, though, I’m only so powerful and something could always come along that could override my ability to keep you safe. And I’d rather be honest about my shortcomings than not.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet…”

After staring at the little speck for a few more seconds, Bill yanked his hand free from Tangy’s and forcefully tugged his sleeve back down over his arm. “So, got any other big bombshells you conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell me about, or am I free to get back to your dumb little game now?”

Tangy tapped their chin. “I thiiiiink that’s everything I needed to say for now,” they said with an apologetic smile. “Again though, I am sorry I forgot to tell you about all of this. That one’s totally on me, and I don’t blame you for being mad.”

They tossed their hands in the air. “But hey, everything I told you before is still in effect~! If you win this game, I’m contractually obligated to pop that weirdness barrier like a balloon for you!”

A wink. “Remember, you’ve got three whole months to find all the pieces of my puzzle and win your prize~!”

“Again I ask: how do I know there’s not something more to the game that you conveniently ’forgot’ to tell me about?” Bill asked flatly. “For all I know, you could’ve hidden the pieces somewhere where I’ll never be able to find them. Or you could’ve just kept them stored in your mindscape while I’m off on some wild goose chase!”

…As annoyed as he was, he was not about to pass up an opportunity for another good bird pun.

“Heh, good one,” Tangy said. “But no, that’d be against several of the rules on my list.”

With a snap, the list of rules flew back to their hand and they uncrumpled it to point towards rules three and four. “Remember, I’m bound by the same contract you are.”

“Yeah, and how do I know you’re not just lying about that?” Bill pointed out, folding his arms across his chest. “Come on, Birdbrain, did you forget who you were talking to? I’ve been in this line of work since before you were an egg popping outta your duck mom’s cloaca! Do you really think you’ll be able to satiate me with pretty reassurances, especially with how much you��ve already forgotten to tell me up until this point?”

He narrowed his eyes. “If you really think I’m gonna take any of this lying down, then you’re even more of a birdbrain than I initially thought.”

“You raise an excellent point, Bill,” they said. “I guess there’s no actual way to prove that I have to stick to my contract. I mean, you could always talk to my boss about it, but—”

A loud beeping on their wrist pulled their attention to the watch that had conveniently been hidden by the sleeve of their windbreaker. “Oh shoot, my time’s almost up for this bout of help,” they said quickly. “Okay so once we’re done talking, your body should pop back to the way it was before you died—”

“Wait, hold on—”

“Also as an apology for all my forgetfulness—and to even prove to you that I really am trying to help you out—I’ll do you a favor this time and keep the bonds you had around your body cut once you’re outside the Mindscape,” Tangy continued. “Can’t do much in terms of cutting them or directly interfering after that, but I think I can get away with doing it this one time. You were already trying to cut through them anyway—I think it’d be a plausible enough outcome without too much meddling on my end.”

“Birdbrain, if you don’t stop talking right now and answer me—!”

“Sorry, Bill, but there’s only so much I can do at the moment,” they said. “Anyway, good luck! Remember: tap the speck twice if you need a hint—although sometimes their might be a cooldown period, so don’t go tapping it all willy-nilly and waste your chances to talk to me!”

“Oh, so that’s another thing you forgot to tell me—”

Before Bill could threaten them further, their form began to shake and dissolve, before their color sank back into the floor and slowly returned to the rest of the room.

And time unfroze.

— — — — — — —

The first three seconds after Ford fired the gun had been a rush of pure elation. 

A brief moment of unbridled satisfaction, one where nothing else mattered besides the fact that he had once again pointed a gun at Bill Cipher and come out the victor.

It was around the fourth second that the shock finally set in—numbing horror overtaking all other emotions as he stared at the lifeless body sprawled across the control panel before him.

“Can’t bear to aim a gun at another family member? Especially not your little paranormal protege?”

The gun clattered to the floor of the observation room as Ford’s hands—the specks of blood that had coated his left fingertips in the backspatter the least of his worries—found his face. 

He’d screwed up.

He’d let himself fall victim to another one of Bill’s horrible tricks, let that damn triangle get in his head once again. All he had needed to do was ignore him long enough to store him into one of the cryogenic tubes, and his troubles would’ve been over.

But even after all this time, he was unable to resist grabbing hold of the obvious bait Bill had dangled in front of him, like chum before the world’s most gullible shark. Of course Bill had been saving the appearance card as a last resort—probably in the hopes of pushing Ford to the brink and allowing himself to be freed from his vessel. 

And look at how well that method had worked in Bill’s favor! Now the aforementioned vessel was dead, leaving the current whereabouts of his soul unknown and his overall existence far more dangerous than it had been before. All thanks to his inability to stop listening to anything that came out of that wretched triangle’s mouth!

Ford’s right hand found the edge of the control panel—far enough from the body to avoid any additional blood on his hands—shoulders trembling as a whirlwind of questions began to swell inside his mind. Questions, anxieties, guilt—

What was he going to tell his family? That he’d buckled under the pressure and done the one thing he’d been trying to avoid for the past twenty-four hours? That the fate of the world, the universe—of everything was now currently up in the air, due to his foolish, pathetic lapse in anger? Would they be furious with him for not letting them help? Disappointed? …Would Stanley be both—?

“Grunkle Ford?”

Ford was back at full height in an instant as a familiar voice called out to him from the security room. When the culprit continued to remain hidden from sight, he replied in a voice that was far too small to be his own: “Mabel?”

A beat as he looked to the body, then snapped his gaze back to the doorway. “Don’t—just stay out there, okay?” he said quickly, words forming on their own. “If you have to come in here, keep your eyes covered! Do you understand?”

“I’m not looking,” she answered just beyond the doorway. “I—I heard the gunshot, and—”

Her words were shaking, trembling just as badly as Ford’s entire being as he returned one hand to the control panel to steady himself. “Wh…Mabel, why are you here?” he asked. “I told you to—”

“I was waiting in the stairwell,” she explained. “In case you needed any help with Bill.”

“You—I’ve been down here for hours. How did you manage that?”

“I had snacks in my sweater, and my cell phone to text Dipper updates,” she continued. “We didn’t want to leave you out here with Bill all by yourself. We know you wanted to do it by yourself, but—”

Her worlds trailed off with a sniff, as if she were trying not to cry. A series of actions that tightened Ford’s chest with affection. Dipper and Mabel had really put that much effort into looking out for him? Sacrificing a whole day to linger in the stairwell on standby, just for him?

“He—is Bill gone?” she guessed. “Is that why you don’t want me to come in without covering my eyes?”

A surge of guilt clamped itself around the aforementioned affection like a triggered beartrap around its prey. And how had he repaid their kindhearted efforts? By going and ruining his original plan and putting them in further danger.

His free hand returned to his face in shame, moving upwards to brush the hair from his eyes. Forget telling the entire family that he had screwed up, how was he supposed to explain to his teenaged niece that he had just put a bullet into the head of someone who looked almost identical to her twin brother? Even if she understood the reasoning behind why—how would she look at the person who had pulled the trigger? How did she look now beyond the wall that separated the rooms?

And not only that—

He finally forced himself to look back at the body—one that looked so small and frail against the mess around him. Without Bill to twist and contort the facial expression, or to grin that wide, horrible grin in such an unnerving way, the body really did resemble a regular, unpossessed child. A regular, unpossessed child with a bullet wound smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

And suddenly the arm on the counter was the only thing keeping Ford standing, his knees on the verge of buckling as a wave of nausea threatened to rise inside him. He was no stranger to having to pull a gun on Bill, and it was far from the first time he had pulled the gun on a child in general. There had been countless dimensions with eerie children who had taken pleasure in beckoning him from the far end of a hallway, or childlike beings who had found the act of being shot at as enriching and a means of play.

But this was far different from some random, ever-changing void child who giggled with delight as he shot bullets into its vast emptiness, or a pair of twins who only ended up being ghostly hallucinations that couldn’t actually be harmed by a gun. It was a real child, the real corpse of a child who so strongly resembled his great-nephew—

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel called again. “Are you okay?”

Before he could answer her proper, a bright, blinking light to his left pulled Ford from his trance, and his gaze snapped to one of the monitors on the wall. “Oh no…”

“What? What’s wrong?” she called in a worried tone.

“The cryogenic tubes,” Ford said. “One of them’s been unfrozen!”

The sound of footsteps came up beside him, and he turned to see Mabel standing there with her hands over her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means—”

He looked to Bill’s lifeless body again, grimacing when he realized how close Mabel now stood to it. “Take a few steps backwards.”

While she obliged, he continued his original train of thought: “When I was…dealing with Bill, I slammed his body against the nearby control panel. He must’ve fallen against one of the buttons that unfreezes the pods.”

“Can you tell which one it is?” Mabel asked

“I’m not sure,” Ford said, turning to the monitor. “Let me just take a look—”

“—so that’s yet another thing you forgot to tell me—”

A shout from the control panel was cut off by a raspy inhale of breath and Ford’s attention snapped back to Bill, staring in disbelief as the previously-deceased body—the evidence to prove as much still littered across the control panel and surrounding computer—

—well, moved.

As the clearly-not-dead Bill continued to flail over the knobs and buttons, the ropes that had bound him—both in life and assumed death—went slack, and his body slid from the bloody control panel to the floor with a thump.

Ford stared at him, too dumbfounded to react. Bill stared in return—

“Grunkle Ford, what’s happening?” Mabel asked from her spot, hands still over her eyes. “I heard Bill’s voice, is he still alive?”

—before jolting up from the floor in a flash, shoving Mabel out of his way with a maniacal cackle as he hurried onwards to the security toom.

“Wha-woah!”

Not expecting the sudden oncoming attack, Mabel was easily knocked to the side—hands moving from her eyes in an attempt to catch herself before she hit the floor. Ford had instinctively moved to pick up his gun again before he could even think to question the logistics of the sight before him, but he was just as quick to Mabel’s side to offer her assistance instead. “Mabel, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him as he pulled her back to his feet. “But what just happened?”

A beat, before she moved her hands to her eyes again. “Also sorry, I didn’t mean to stop covering my eyes.”

“That’s fine, you don’t have to keep covering them,” Ford reassured her, expression growing solemn again as he looked to the security room. “Bill’s escaped again, and we have to stop him before he gets out of the bunker.”

Mabel let her hands fall to her side again with a curious look. “What? But what about the tubes?”

“If any with specimens inside were unfrozen, the door lock should keep them sealed in the storage room for the time being,” Ford said quickly. “We can deal with them after we recapture Bill.”

“...But didn’t he—”

She turned to the splatter of blood that remained on the control panel, before her gaze fell to the abandoned gun that still rested on the floor. An action that made Ford’s chest tighten with guilt once more, just as tightly as his hand’s grip on the gun once he finally picked it up again. “It’s…a complicated situation,” he said slowly, slotting the weapon back into its holster. “The fact of the matter is that he’s still alive. And if he’s still alive, then restraining him is still our main priority.”

Mabel considered this with a thoughtful look, before clenching her fists with determination. “Well, alright then, let’s go get him!”

The two of them dashed into the security room, although Mabel did give pause at the doorway to glance back towards the bloody control panel one more time. Unbeknownst to her as she eventually turned to hurry after him, however—Ford’s blind rage had made him bring Bill’s body down on more than just the button to unfreeze one of the cryogenic pods.

He had also brought him down on the emergency release button to the door itself.

And as the two of them hurried through the tunnel after Bill, they missed as the reinforced steel door slid open to reveal one of the things that had been locked away for a reason.

A small thing, about the size and stature of Dipper Pines; one that blinked as it stepped through the doorway and took in everything before him. The blood on the control panel, the open doorway and deactivated security room—

—the rumbling of the building around him as the exit stairway once again ascended somewhere he could not see.

And with another series of blinks, one where his eyelids open and closed sideways in a noticeably-inhuman way, he fell to his hands and knees before making a mad dash for the open doorway.

— — �� — — — —

Dipper wasn’t the best at parties.

At the very least, he didn’t always know what to do at a party that involved a lot of mingling with other people. A type of party that the Shack seemed weirdly dedicated to upholding, if the current one and the few from the summer prior had anything to say about it. 

At the latter, he’d spent a good portion of the night either fighting his clones for a chance to dance with Wendy—he’d already made a mental note to kick himself for telling her about that later—or had been too busy trying to get ahold of the FBI agents who had visited the shack, only to unleash a hoard of zombies on said agents and everyone else at the party.

Needless to say, his track record of actually attending a Shack party and doing regular party activities was a big fat zero. And he now found himself wandering aimlessly through the crowd of partygoers without any sort of idea on what to…well, do.

He slowed to a stop near one of the food tables with a sigh. Ugh, why had he let Mabel talk him into being the one to stay behind? Sure, she had raised a convincing argument about wanting to spend more time with Ford. Who wouldn’t want to spend more time with Ford? But between Dipper’s worries about her and his inability to act as more than a wallflower (could someone be a wallflower if the party was outside without any walls?), he was starting to wish he had pressed harder about being the one to go after Ford instead. 

He could’ve brought his journal along with him, maybe spent the day writing in the dark silence of the bunker stairwell by the light of his cell phone. Something he probably would’ve gotten more benefit out of than where he was now.

Speaking of which—

He once again reached into his pocket to pull out his phone with a faint hope that Mabel had sent some kind of update in the past five minutes. A hope that was dashed as soon as he flipped it open to reveal his empty inbox, leaving him with nothing more than a concerned sigh. “Come on, Mabel, what’s going on out there?”

A series of hearty shouts drew his attention towards another table to his left. One that had unofficially—but unquestionably—been dubbed ‘The Meat Table’, given the table’s contents and boisterous chants of “MEAT TABLE! MEAT TABLE!” from Manly Dan and the Manotaurs circled around it.

He cast another, more thoughtful, look at his phone. Well, if he was going to just wander around the party without any clear goal, he might as well keep his word about snapping pictures for Mabel.

He raised it up and aimed the camera at the group of meat devourers, the phone clicking with a flash before he turned towards another group. This time he was greeted by two unicorns conversing off to the side, one occasionally casting a judgy glare in Manotaurs’ direction when a bone—picked completely clean of any meat—happened to sail right onto their plates of enchanted greens. Click went the camera again as the two of them levitated their plates and trotted off in annoyed huffs.

He turned a third time—

“Ah, good evening, young Pines.”

—and suddenly his entire phone screen was taken up by the snobbish expression of Preston Northwest, causing Dipper to take a step back in surprise before he lowered his phone completely.

Beside Preston stood his wife, both dressed to the teeth in elegant formal wear—the specific shades of green of their wardrobe likely chosen with the intent of making the greens of the surrounding forest feel inferior at the sight.

“Hey, Dipper.”

And from behind both of them in a light-green gown of her own, Pacifica Northwest gave him a small, polite wave. Other than her outfit, she looked near-identical to her appearance from the last time Dipper had seen her—the only noticeable difference being the length of her bleach-blonde hair, which now rested at her shoulders as opposed to almost touching the ground.

Rather than acknowledge her father and mother—a move that was only half-accidental—Dipper waved to her in return. “Hey, Pacifica! Nice to see you again!”

“I—”

“Yes, yes, we’re all so pleased to see you and your family again,” Preston continued before Pacifica could get another word in, while he gently—firmly—guided her out to the forefront. “Especially after your heroic efforts of last year.”

He spoke the word heroic with the faintest hint of disdain, as if the word left a bitter taste on his tongue. However, his proper grin never faded as he looked to his daughter. “Isn’t that right, Pacifica? We’re all so impressed with how the Pines family managed to save the town from that dreadful demon with the horrible fashion sense!”

“The one you immediately tried to suck up to—” Pacifica began under her breath, before speaking more clearly. “I mean, yeah, we’re so grateful or whatever…”

Dipper raised an unconvinced eyebrow in Preston’s direction, but he cast Pacifica a small smile. “Well, like I said: it’s great to see you again,” he said. “And hey, don’t be so modest. You played a big part in helping save the town by being a part of the prophecy too, didn’t you?”

From beside her husband, Priscilla gave a snobby wave of her hand. “Oh-hoh~, you’re too kind,” she replied in her daughter’s place as well. “You can imagine how proud we are of our daughter for being a part of that fancy prophecy business.

“Quite right,” Preston agreed. “Even if the end result was a complete disaster, it’s the ability to slap the Northwest name on the attempt that counts! Quite an interesting attempt on your great-uncle’s part, might I add—”

He darted his head back and forth with feigned innocence. “Oh, and speaking of Stanford Pines on a completely random and naturally-approached whim, have you seen him around anywhere? I know I’d personally like to talk to such a clever man as he, maybe exchange some words—”

“Dad, come on,” Pacifica urged. “Do you have to try and rub elbows at every party that we’re not hosting?”

“Why, Pacifica, rubbing elbows at parties where we’re guests is the entire reason to show up at that party in the first place,” Preston explained, before pressing a hand to the side of his mouth and lowering his voice. “Why else would we dare show our faces at such a backwoods establishment such as this? …Quite literally, might I add—why on Earth did that man choose this spot out of anywhere else in the town?”

“Didn’t you sell the land to him at a bargain, dear?” Priscilla asked.

“Oh-hoh, that’s right,” Preston replied with an amused chuckle. “Well, I suppose even high-end college folks have to penny pinch where they can~! Guess not all of us are lucky enough to be born rich!”

It took a lot of self-control for Dipper to repress the look of disgust he so desperately wanted to cast at them, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was succeeding in that regard. “Well, if you’re trying to find my Great-Uncle Ford, he might be a bit distracted until later in the party,” he said aloud. “But hey, I’m sure if you keep your eyes peeled, he might show his face at some point.”

His gaze fell back to Pacifica. “And while you do that, maybe Pacifica can rub elbows with me instead? You know, splitting up covers more ground and creates more connections?”

A shrug. “Right? Rich people care about that kind of stuff, don’t they?”

“Excellent idea,” Preston said, and nudged Pacifica forward further. “Pacifica, you stay here while your mother and I go mingle.”

With a huff, Pacifica reached down to straighten out her dress. “And by that, you mean try again with the fairies, right?”

Regardless of whether her remark was true or not, the words fell on deaf ears as the couple disappeared back into the crowd. “Sorry about them,” she said, turning back to him with a scowl. ”They only wanted to come so they could try and get on your uncles’ good sides. And, you know, to try and sell some property to the few remaining creatures in town that Dad hasn’t struck out with yet.”

“Property?” Dipper asked. “Don’t most of the supernatural beings here, like, live here for free already?”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “Also wait, why would he try and get on Stan and Ford’s good sides? Didn’t your family go broke because of Bill’s defeat last year? Feel like if anything, he’d want our heads for that.”

A pause. “...He’s not here to try anything with them, is he? You know, goad one of the big-time town heroes into a fight and then turning around and suing them when they knock him flat? Because I think we both know he is not going to win a fight against either of them.”

“First question, tell that to the ones actually willing to pay for it,” Pacifica explained with a dull hand. “As for the others, it’s kind of an extension to the first.” 

She made a wide gesture to the surrounding partygoers. “See, when a lot of the supernatural beings started relocating into the town itself, Dad saw a great business opportunity to make back the money he’d lost investing in Weirdness Bonds. Especially when the number of lumberjacks working for him almost tripled in size overnight, thanks to—”

The gesture shifted over to the Manotaurs’ table. “So he started selling land in town to any of the weird creatures willing to pay for it. Not a lot of them actually went for it, because, like—yeah, they were already here and a lot of them aren’t that dumb.”

A scoff. “Plus at first, Dad wasn’t all about working-with-slash-living-alongside all the ‘freaky magic people’, as he put it.” 

“You mean the guy who wouldn’t let the rest of the town join his fancy-schmancy parties wasn’t interested in dealing with the weird forest folk?” Dipper said, folding his arms in amusement. “I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty farfetched to me.”

“You should’ve heard him back when they were first settling into town,” Pacifica continued with a roll of her eyes. “He was all like ‘Ew, who’s letting all these weird, little bearded men run underfoot? Why is Bigfoot in the store? Ugh, the sclera on that flying eyeball is so tacky, it should get flying lasik so the rest of us don’t have to look at it!’ Bet he would’ve bribed Tyler to boot them all back outta town if we had the money at the time, it was so stupid—”

She shook her head. “But then one day this herd of unicorns were all like: ‘Hey, we also wanna be left alone by everyone else and we’ll toss money at you to help us do that!’ And apparently unicorn gold, is like—super valuable and junk, so Dad was all onboard and built them a condominium with an artificial spring and rainbow light fixture. And then the gnomes heard about it and wanted in too—”

“Lemme guess, they offered your dad the chance to make his daughter their queen if he built them a place?” Dipper guessed.

Pacifica shuddered in confirmation. “Listen, I appreciate all the help those little beardo-weirdos gave us last year with the robot-shack thing, but mushroom crowns and a bed made of moss are soooo last season—”

“No, no—no need to elaborate, I get it.”

“At the very least, Dad didn’t take them up on that offer,” she continued. “But he did build them a place on the complete opposite side of town just to keep them as far away from us as possible. And then there was a whole thing with the living video-game characters wanting to expand the arcade—you know a lot of them have coins, gold rings, exotic pets that fight each other—”

She rolled her wrist. “Yadda yadda, blah blah blah—anyway, word got out and enough of the ‘freaky magic people’ were eventually willing to toss their money at our family for a home inside the town limits that he started caring less about who they were and more about how much money he could get outta them.” 

An embarrassed shrug. “We’re still only at about a quarter of what our fortune was before, but Dad thinks continuing to invest in magical, rich clients is a great way to get us back on track. Sorry he’s not subtle about his plans.”

“Well, I never expect a rich jerk to be subtle about anything if he knows it can make him even richer,” Dipper said with a laugh. “And I guess actually building places for people who want to give him money isn’t the worst way to spend his time.”

Pacifica brought a hand to her mouth with a chuckle of her own, one that quickly shifted into a look of disgust. “Ugh, the first thing I do when we see each other again is go on and on about my family,” she said. “Sorry about that—”

“Once again, no need to clarify because I totally get it,” Dipper assured her. “And hey, at least it sounds like things are…kind of better than last year? I say hopefully?”

Despite the hand still covering her mouth, uncertainty began to creep into her features. “Kind of’s a...good way to put it,” she said. “It’s not all designer-brand sunshine and rainbows—”

The uncertainty faded into a small smile, one not even her hand could mask. “—but I guess not going designer is probably a good thing for my family, huh?”

“Heh, probably,” Dipper agreed with a wink. “Although when you guys go for the bargain-bin sunshine and rainbows, then I’ll really be impressed! Ooh, and get them with a two-for-one sunshine and rainbow coupon!”

“Eugh, don’t even joke about that! We’re not that desperate!”

Smiling wider, she finally lowered her hand to give him an playful nudge to the arm, earning a bout of laughter from both of them. “Well, as much as I love it when other people hang onto my every word, I’ve talked enough about myself enough,” she said. “What about you? How’ve you and Mabel been? I know you sent everyone letters and stuff, I just haven’t had a lot of time to sit down and read through the newer ones you two sent me.”

She raised a hand to her chin. “Although I’m pretty sure our mailbox is gonna smell like bubblegum forever, thanks to whatever Mabel added to them. I wanna guess actual bubblegum?"

“She took sticks straight out of the package and rubbed them on each letter before sealing the envelopes, then rubbed them on the envelopes themselves," Dipper explained. "Said she was going for an au naturale scent.”

Pacifica opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again with a hesitant expression as she further considered her reply. “Well, tell her it was, uh…thoughtful,” she finally said, smile unsure and awkward. “Plus I give her props for the correct use of the term au naturale. Although—”

She turned her attention from him towards the surrounding party guests, expression puzzled as she scanned their faces. “Now that I think about it, where is Mabel? Shouldn’t she be, like, doing some wacky, wild stunt in the middle of the party?”

“Did someone say Mabel?”

Before Dipper even had a chance to answer her question, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around on his feet to the smiling faces of Candy and Grenda. “Hey, Dipper!” Grenda said, pulling her hand back to give him a thumbs-up. “Great party!”

“Or it will be now that we are here!” Candy added with a delighted wiggle of her hips. “We are going to tear up the dance floor! …As soon as we find Mabel, of course!”

Grenda placed a hand over her eyes to scan the crowd. “Yeah, you’ve gotta help us out, Dipper! We’ve been trying to find Mabel since we got here with no luck! Got any ideas on where she could be?”

“I hope she is not hiding from us,” Candy added, hand to her chin. “Although a game of Party-Hide-And-Seek does seem like something Mabel would do.”

“Yeah, but why wouldn’t she tell us about it first?” Grenda asked.

“...Surprise-Party-Hide-And-Seek?”

“Touché, Can-day,” Grenda said, before turning back to Dipper. “Is she playing Surprise-Party-Hide-And-Seek? Don’t tell us where she is if the answer is yes, just tells us if that’s what’s going on.”

Her gaze moved past him and she tilted to the side to see Pacifica standing there. “Hey, Pacifica! Have you seen Mabel?”

Pacifica shifted uncomfortably at being addressed by the girls, attention falling to a random wrinkle on the side of her dress. “Uh, no, I just got here,” she said as she tried to smooth it out. “Actually, I was also asking Dipper about her and where she might be.”

“That would explain why we heard Mabel’s name,” Candy pointed out to Grenda. “Which allowed you an opening to that clever segue of yours!”

“Oh yeah, I was on the ball for that one!” Grenda boasted with a proud grin.

While Candy praised her further, Dipper remained rigid where he stood. His expression had sank the moment Pacifica had questioned Mabel’s whereabouts, only lowering further when the other girls had chimed into the conversation. “Uh, no, I don’t think Mabel’s playing any sort of hide-and-seek,” he said aloud, racking his brain for some kind of excuse to explain away her absence. “But I think she’s—she’s—”

Shoot, his brain wasn’t racking fast enough! And he could practically feel the familiar, clammy hand of anxiety creeping up his spine as the girls continued to patiently stare at him. Come on, Dipper, think! Coming up with a believable excuse shouldn’t be this hard! Soos had done a pretty good job of it earlier—

Huh. 

Hmm.

“Mabel’s off with Ford!” he started quickly, letting his words lead before his thoughts could catch up to them. “Like I told Pacifica’s parents earlier, he’s off doing something in private, and Mabel went to go help him out.”

A shrug. “I think they’re working on some kinda surprise for the party? …A not-hide-and-seek based surprise? I don’t really know all the details, but she should be back soon.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Not that he would’ve minded bending the truth more than that, but Mabel was off working on something with Ford and he technically didn’t know all of the details. 

The surprise element was a bit of a risk, but hey—Soos had already used it on Tyler and it was probably smart to avoid spreading too many different rumors about what they were actually doing. And despite the apprehension behind his words, they were apparently convincing enough to get a joyful laugh out of Grenda. “Aww, that’s so Mabel! Always trying to add a little something extra special to any party she can!”

“You were right when you called her an angel who goes the extra mile,” Candy agreed with a nod of her head.

Grenda thumped a fist to her chest. “I’m a Mabel genius!”

“Huh, wonder what kind of surprise they’re working on,” Pacifica pondered thoughtfully. “I mean, knowing Mabel, she’s probably got something super wild and we—er, uh, unique planned out. Like, I dunno, jumping off the roof into the mermaid tank or whatever…”

“Mermaid ta—wait, that reminds me!”

Dipper was quickly spun back around by a firm pair of hands and once again found himself inches from Grenda’s solemn expression. “Dipper! Important question!”

He blinked in surprise. “Uh…if you let go of me, important answer?”

“Right, sorry, I get hand-shouldery when I’m excited,” Grenda said, returning her arms to her side before she continued: “You and Mabel know about all the new stuff in town, right? Like how Wendy’s family’s got the Manotaurs, and all the new exhibits at the shack?”

“Ooh, please tell us Soos and Melody showed you them already!” Candy added excitedly. “Did Mabel see the mermaid tank?”

“I was getting to that, Candy!” Grenda said unhappily, before looking back at Dipper again. “Did she see the mermaid tank? Did she absolutely flip out at how cool it was?!”

“Yeah, Soos gave us the tour last night and she saw it,” Dipper confirmed. “She also snapped a couple of pics while Melody dived into it.”

“I knew it!” Grenda cheered, pumping a fist into the air. “I knew she’d love it!”

“You really are a Mabel genius and we could all learn from the wisdom you hold,” Candy agreed with another nod, before she peered around Dipper’s body at Pacifica. “But how did you know about the mermaid tank, Pacifica?”

Dipper looked back at her as well. “Hey, that’s a good question! Do you visit the Shack often or something?”

“No, I—”

Pacifica’s eyes shot wide open, and she quickly cut off her words with a loud clearing of the throat. “Uh, no, I just…come up here to stock the gift shop with Dad’s real estate brochures sometimes,” she explained. “Plus it’s kinda hard to live in town and not hear about the stuff that goes on at this old shack these days. Pretty sure at this rate, they’re gonna get it labeled as a historical landmark because of how important it is to everyone.”

She waved her hands. “And, you know, the part it played in the actual history of protecting the town last year, and junk.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard that too!” Candy said. “I know I’ve heard Soos say that if they ever do that, he plans on hanging up a special plaque up in the—”

“‘Scuse me, girls—”

Both Candy and Grenda let out a surprised yelp as a pair of strong Pines hands slid them apart, moments before their owner continued onwards through the gap. “Outta the way, old man with old man business to attend to—”

“Eww,” they replied in disgusted unison.

Any attention that Dipper might’ve had on the conversation immediately snapped to Stan as he trudged onwards past the kids, the Meat Table—”Hey, Stan! Grab a leg and meat up!” Manly Dan hollered at him through an overly-sized bone of meat, a request met with a wave of Stan’s hand and a gruff: “Later, Dan, I got a nonspecific excuse I gotta take care of first!"—and onwards towards the edge of the wood.

Specifically in the direction of the bunker.

Dipper took a few steps forward to follow after him, but Pacifica’s light hand against his wrist stopped him from going further. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Uh, sorry,” he said, pulling his arm back. “I’ve gotta go—check on that surprise that Mabel and Ford are working on! Top secret, gotta make sure everything’s running smooth—”

“But—”

She barely had time to get another word out before Dipper had disappeared into the crowd. Leaving the girls alone in an awkward non-silence, the partygoers’ voices around them acting as background noise to their ceased conversation.

“So, is it just me or did he get taller? And, like, less noodley?” 

Grenda was the first to speak again, her remark bringing a smile to Candy’s face. “Ooh, it looks like you are not just a Mabel genius, but a Dipper one as well.”

“I am on a roll!” Grenda said proudly. “To celebrate, why don’t we go over to the Meat Table and see if the Manotaurs will let us join them?”

“Sounds like fun!” Candy said delightedly. “I want to see if I can beat Womanataur in a rib-eating contest!”

She clenched her tiny fists together. “Candy can taste victory—and delicious barbeque—on the horizon!”

“Oh, now that I’ve gotta see!” Grenda said, with a look to Pacifica. “You wanna come too, Pacifica?”

“With Mabel working on a party surprise, we appreciate any help we can get to take those meat munchers down!” Candy said, fists clenched.

“Nuh-uh,” Grenda said, giving her shoulder a pity pat.

“What? What was wrong with my trash talk?” Candy asked.

“Just nuh-uh.”

Pacifica’s gaze lingered in the direction of where Dipper had gone for a bit longer, before she finally turned back to them. “Uh, sorry, what was the question?”

“Manotaurs, meat-eating contest, three of us,” Grenda said. “You in?”

“No!” she replied too quickly, taking a few steps back. “I mean, uh—no thanks, my parents would kill me if I got any barbeque sauce on this dress.”

“More for us!” Candy said delightedly, before taking Grenda’s hand. “Let’s go!”

The two of them hurried to the Meat Table in excitement, leaving Pacifica as the only remaining member of the previous conversation. Much like with Dipper, her attention lingered on the girls until they had seated themselves amongst the Manotaurs, before she finally turned her gaze to one of the pockets on her dress.

She reached a daintily-gloved hand inside and pulled out her cell phone, flipping it open in an instant and shuffling off to the other side of the crowd as she started typing out a text.

— — — — — — —

“Stan! Good to see you!”

“Save that feel-good feeling for later,” Stan called back to the random partygoer as he continued onwards through the crowd. “I’ve got business to take care of—move it or lose it again, Creepers!”

His warning fell on deaf—or death—ears as the Category 2 ghosts before him had no time to float out of the way before he came charging through their intangible bodies. Their forms dissipated for a moment before settling back to normal, although both shook a fist in Stan’s direction with aggravated shouts of: “Watch it, Pops!”

While Stan paid them no mind, Dipper was quick to reach them in his hurry to catch his great-uncle. And after making the wise decision to maneuver around them when he overheard them plotting a way to prank Stan back—”I’m tellin’ ya, the ‘Kick Me’ sign’s the way to go! He’ll never see it comin’!”—he continued to hurry after Stan with a shout of his own: “Grunkle Stan, wait!”

“Look, I get it,” Stan said, reaching the edge of the lawn with a gruff halt. “Everyone’s lookin’ to say hi to me! Just gimme ten minutes and I—”

He paused as his eyes landed on Dipper approaching him. “Oh, it’s you.”

Dipper also slowed to a stop at the edge of the lawn, any attempt to respond halted by him taking a sharp inhale of breath. “Hold on, just—” he gasped. “One second—”

“Yeesh, kid, you had the right idea with those pig lifts but don’t forget to strengthen the lungs, too,” Stan said. “What’re you doin’ here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be enjoyin’ the party?”

“C-could say the same about you,” Dipper choked out, before standing upright with a slow exhale. “Where are you going?”

“Me?” Stan asked. “Oh, I was, uh—”

He paused, casting a glance at the dark woods behind them. “Well, I was probably gonna head on down to that bunker of Ford’s,” he explained. “Figured if he hasn’t come back by now, then that one-eyed jerk’s probably causin’ more trouble than he’s worth and needs to get his butt into one of those freezy-pods asap.”

He winked at Dipper. “Also I figured it was time to give your sister a break from doin’ that job in my place.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “You knew about—I mean, uh—” A pause. “What are you talking ab—”

“Save it, Dip,” Stan interrupted. “A little birdie in flannel spilled your plan.”

Dipper snapped his mouth shut again. “Okay, I know you told me and Mabel not to worry about all the Bill stuff, but—”

His words were cut off by the feeling of a hand plapped against the top of his hat. “Again, save it,” Stan insisted. “It’s not like anyone else was steppin’ up to help him out, anyway.”

He cast him a small smile. “Plus I guess askin’ the two kids who spent all summer pokin’ around these woods behind my back to stay outta all this Bill stuff was a pretty stupid request, eh?”

From beneath his ruffled hat, Dipper smiled up at him in return. “So, you’re gonna go get them, then?”

“That’s that plan,” Stan said, with another look towards the forest. “But hey, haven’t exactly been to the bunker myself in, uh—”

He paused to tick off a few fingers. “Alright, so I’ve never been to the bunker. Let alone at night, where I’ll have to trek through the dark woods, full of weird creatures who’d probably wanna eat me—”

A pause as he looked back towards the party. “Although I guess most of ‘em are already here and horfin' down tablefuls of meat, so that takes care of one issue.”

“Sounds like you could use a guide to help you out,” Dipper said, his smile widening. “If you don’t mind having a tag-along, that is.”

Stan smiled wider in return. “You know of any Pines who can get the job done?”

“I think I might know at least one, yeah.”

With a laugh, Stan returned his hand to the top of Dipper’s hat. “Come on, let’s go get ‘em.”

And with a shared nod, the two of them hurried off into the darkened wood—the sounds of the party growing fainter and fainter behind them.

— — — — — — —

Running was hard.

Running was so hard.

Bill could feel his stupid, human lungs attempting to claw themselves out of his chest as he ducked around the side of a tree to catch his breath. An action that also brought himself to his knees for a moment as his pathetic little legs gave out from the unexpected burst of energy.

Yeesh, couldn’t Birdbrain have stuck him in a vessel that could actually do things properly?!

Speaking of which—

Taking another deep breath to flood his lungs with desperately-needed oxygen, Bill yanked up the sleeve of his left arm. As Tangy had promised in the mindscape, the little speck was still right there on his wrist.

He stared at it for a few minutes in silence, the mix of emotions from before swelling again inside his gut. How could such a thing have been an afterthought for him, even for the length of a single day? He was always so used to keeping it close to him at all times, tucked safely in his—

“Thought it’d be easier to keep track of than your old storage method, which would’ve gotten lost very quickly if I’d given you one.”

A pause, before he pressed his other hand to the top of his head. Huh, guess if his human vessel had been given a hat, it would’ve been a lot easier to lose than his usual, floating top hat.

Ugh, he was really starting to hate how often he gave Tangy internal kudos for their ability to (mostly) think ahead. Bird-brained or not, they did at least seem to be on top of the more important things when it came to their game. If it wasn’t finding a workaround when it came to the limits of his vessel, it was the foresight to make sure that vessel wouldn’t die—

The hand atop his head drifted down to the spot on his forehead where he’d been shot, lingering for a moment as he tried to locate the bullet hole in the spot where all the pain had accumulated earlier—

—pain that, Bill only now realized, had ceased to exist since the moment he’d popped back to life.

Sure enough, the throbbing pain from before was gone, with no noticeable wound to be felt in the area where it had been before. And not just that, but holding out his hand in front of him revealed a clear lack of blood on his fingertips, as if the wound had never even existed in the first place. And a further inspection of his outfit revealed a clean, unstained suit of black and yellow—

—one he’d only just processed he was wearing, and gave an unimpressed double-take to by the overhead light of the moon as he pulled himself back to his feet. Really, Birdbrain, a suit? Yeesh, the duck dressed like they’d crawled out of a vat of Trademarked Sludge from the Radical Kidz With A Z!!! Television Network, and they couldn’t even splurge for a more creative outfit than some generic suit?

“There he is!”

The sound of Mabel’s voice in the distance snapped Bill out of his internal judgment, and he ducked back behind the nearest tree again. “That won’t work, Bill!” he heard her call to him. “You can’t hide behind a tree we saw you duck behind!”

Ugh, okay—thinking-fast time! He needed a way to get rid of Mabel, and assumedly Ford. If she was hot on his tail, there was no doubt that Ford was right behind her—especially given her use of the ‘we’ pronoun. He needed a way out of this, a way to get away from them.

Overall, he just needed something to—

His gaze fell to his still rolled-up sleeve on his left arm, the glowing speck sparkling bright against his pale skin. 

—help.

After casting it a suspicious look for a few seconds, then peering back around the tree—

“Cipher!”

—yep, Ford was with her!

After re-ducking back behind the tree, Bill gave the speck one last glance before slapping his palm against it twice. Heck with it, even if Tangy provided no help, at least he’d get a few extra seconds to catch his breath.

And as promised, the colors of the woods immediately conversed to one area in front of him—shifting into one, specific shade of orange before Tangy rose up and out of the forest floor. “Well, that was quick! What’s up, buddy?”

Bill narrowed his eyes at them. “Save it, Birdbrain. You said I could call you when I needed help, right?”

“I did indeed~!” Tangy confirmed with a grin. “What do you need help with? Did you happen to locate one of the pieces to the charm?”

“No,” Bill said flatly. “Right now, I need lungs that don’t feel like they’re about to pop or legs that can keep me going for more than a few seconds at a time. And on an extended note to that, I need to get away from Ford and Shooting Star before they can drag me back down to the bunker.”

He paused, as a thought occurred. “Hey, since they’re trying to infringe on my ability to play the game, would that mean you’re allowed to stop them?”

Tangy tapped their beak for a moment. “Hmm, it’s a good question. But I’m gonna have to say no.”

“What do you mean no?!”

“Well, they’re not trying to kill you,” Tangy pointed out. “Just freeze you—”

“Yeah, freeze me long enough for my timer to go out and for me to lose the game!” Bill countered. “Doesn’t that count for anything?!”

“It means that you still have a chance to get away from them,” Tangy pointed out. “For the time being, they’re obstacles. Which is a key part of the game, keeps things from getting too easy.”

“Thought you said players were mostly safe from obstacles in your dumb rules,” Bill said with a scowl. “By the way, don’t think I didn’t miss how you avoided elaborating on the specifics of that rule. We’re not just gonna gloss over that—”

“Either way, I can’t help you avoid them,” Tangy said, their smile widening. “But if it’s any consolation to you, there is something out there that might potentially distract them long enough for you to get away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What did Stanford Pines smash your body against down in the bunker?"

“The—”

Bill’s eyebrows shot way up, a toothy grin of his own stretching across his face. “Oh, interesting.”

“There you go,” Tangy said with a shrug. “Of course, I can’t exactly take credit for that; it happened of its own accord. But hey, lucky break for you—”

Another beep of the watch on their wrist drew their attention away, and they clamped a hand across it. “Whoops, looks like time’s almost up for now~!” they said. “Guess if you need anymore help else today, you’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

“What do you mean?” Bill asked. “Thought you said I could just tap my wrist again and ring you up if I needed anything?”

“Hey, I also said there would be a cooldown period between uses,” Tangy reminded him. “Try again after midnight, we’ll see if that works!”

“Wait, I’m not done talking to you yet—”

Despite Bill’s protests, Tangy’s form once again sank back down into the earth, and both color and sound returned to the surrounding forest.

Sounds that included two pairs of footsteps hurrying rapidly towards his hiding spot.

With a huff, he took off in the opposite direction as quickly as his legs could carry him. Yeesh, for someone who was supposed to be helping him out during this stupid game, Birdbrain was proving to be extremely unhelpful.

[additiva]

Can I ask two of the fic ask game?? Of course the fic I wanna know about is frechheit, and the asks are “dvd bonus” and “small things” 🥰

Hello!

You may of course ask two ❤️

Small things and a brief snippet for DVD bonus are both below the cut:

For small things:

One thing I'm not sure was noticed, and certainly wasn't commented on is:

When Charles has his little breakdown in Qatar, it's silent. He learned it when his dad was sick, because he didn't want to put more stress on his family by letting them see how affected he was by it.

The small things is that in Monza the following year after the podium, his breakdown that time isn't quiet at all. And it's because telling Ferrari is much worse to him than anything that happened in Qatar, so he can't hold it back. And also because he, by that point, trusts Max completely to handle all of him. And Max understands how important it is to Charles to hide it from the world, so he hides him away and covers Charles' mouth to smother the sound for him.

-----

Also, here's a snip for you, from that night in Monaco ❤️

-----

It’s late.

It’s really late.

Elsewhere in the city, the track parties are starting to wind down, revellers finally satisfied with the celebrations.

The tiny back-streets of Monaco are a little darker – a little quieter, free of tourists. Most of the residents are already asleep, preparing for work in a few hours.

Lewis wishes he was among them.

God, he wishes.

And he would’ve been if he’d – as planned – left Jimmyz a few minutes earlier; if he’d gotten into the car he’d called to pick him up; if he hadn’t run into the two dead-weights he’s now trying to drag home.

With a sigh, he bends to sit on the road-edge, tapping hopelessly at his phone.

Kill me.

Unexpectedly, it’s only a few minutes later that the response pops up on his screen.

Good morning Lewis. Do you know it is 4 am?

So it is. Actually it’s almost 4.30 -- 4.26. Lewis left Jimmy’z over an hour ago. He can’t believe he’s still awake. He can’t believe Seb’s awake.

I do.

After a moment, trying to feel bad about sharing his misery, he adds: Sorry did i wake you?

No i was awake

God, why?

Why

It’s a school day. It’s my turn to get the kids ready.

Lewis smiles at the image of him puttering around the kitchen in his slippers, making packed lunches.

That can’t be right. Your kids are here with me.

With it, he sends a snap of the idiots in question.

The two of them stand a few metres back, facing off in the middle of the street.

“Charles”, Max scolds, irritated. “You are completely missing the apex. You need to come like this—here, braking already.”

“What? No.” Charles is getting just as heated, tipping his head too far back to see Max under the brim of his Mercedes cap. With his hands, he gestures to a point on the track. “Like this, it is a better exit. Because the next corner, it is faster there. And already you can get on the throttle here.”

They stare silently at one another for a moment, and Lewis actually thinks for a moment that the argument they’ve been having for the past twenty minutes might be over.

“Well no because the track of course would go that way”, Max defends, indicating a spot where the road forks off in another direction.

And they’re off again.

Lewis groans quietly, slumping to rest his elbows on his knees as his phone lights up with a laughing emoji from Seb.

The bickering continues. They orbit one another, arguing. Their brows twitch with bemusement and irritation. They glare and laugh, grabbing at one another’s hands, interrupting gestures and explanations.

They sway together and apart, as Max jabs at Charles’ ribs for a particularly cheeky remark.

Lewis catches himself watching but can’t look away, warm with affection. He only stands to interrupt when they get dangerously close, unable to keep their hands to themselves.

As he approaches to drag them apart, they’re still whispering under their breaths about overtaking rules, lips almost brushing, final shreds of plausible deniability truly in danger.

They seem to have forgotten about him completely, surprised -- and delighted, on Charles’ part -- to see him. Fortunately, it helps to get them moving again, Charles easily shepherded along. Max, for what Lewis thinks might be the first time in his life, seems content to follow a step behind.

-----

Much love friends 😘 tell me your thoughts and feelings 🤍

[mikavlcs]

False Meridian

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.

Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.

You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.

Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.

Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.

Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.

Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.

But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.

Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.

Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.

Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.

And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.

Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.

For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.

Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.

You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.

So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.

Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.

And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.

But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.

It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.

You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.

Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.

When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.

It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.

So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.

You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.

But then it rang again, and again, and again.

Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.

You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”

Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.

She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.

Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.

She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.

“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”

Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.

Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.

She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”

You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.

“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”

Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Who the hell is this?”

A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.

“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”

A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.

“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”

The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.

“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”

“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”

An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.

With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.

“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”

The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.

“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”

Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”

Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”

A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”

Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.

“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”

“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”

“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”

“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara went to respond but the line went dead.

You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”

She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.

He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?

But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—

A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.

Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.

Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe. 

When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.

Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.

She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.

So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.

Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.

There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.

Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.

A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.

“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.

The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.

Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.

So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.

Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.

“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.

As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.

And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.

-

Tara didn’t sleep.

Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.

So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.

Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.

There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.

Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.

Lastly, there was Sam.

Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.

But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.

Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”

Another nod. “I will.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”

“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”

“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”

“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”

After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”

“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.

“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.

Tara’s stomach dropped.

“Sam…”

“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.

There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”

Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.

A question rose to the forefront of her mind.

“How did he know where you lived?”

Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"

Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

“Tara—"

“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”

That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”

Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.

She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.

There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.

So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.

She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.

Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.

-

Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.

It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.

But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.

No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.

It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.

Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.

They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.

Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.

Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.

Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.

She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.

Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.

So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).

“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”

Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.

“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”

Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.

“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”

“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”

When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.

“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”

You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?

“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.

Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.

“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.

Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.

Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.

Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.

The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.

Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”

She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.

You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.

This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”

Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.

The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.

Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.

Security System Disabled

A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.

Security System Disabled

There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.

Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.

“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”

You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”

“Yes, you will. You need to.”

“Tara—"

“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”

Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.

Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.

Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.

She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.

Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.

Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.

Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.

The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.

Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.

He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.

Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.

Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.

He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.

Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.

“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”

She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.

“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.

He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.

Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.

Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.

A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.

The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.

Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.

He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.

Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.

A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.

He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.

She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.

But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.

He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.

You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.

Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.

He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared.

You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.

She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.

Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.

The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.

At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.

Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.

Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.

He needed to pay.

Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.

With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.

The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.

By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.

The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.

What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.

Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.

Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.

Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.

She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.

Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.

So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.

But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.

What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.

On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.

All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.

The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.

She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"

Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.

“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.

Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.

“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.

“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”

Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”

Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.

“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”

Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.

“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”

Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”

Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”

Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.

Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.

In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.

Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.

So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.

A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.

-

A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.

The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.

Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.

Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.

Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.

Tara.

With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.

The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.

Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?

Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“No, don’t move.”

Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.

The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.

She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.

You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.

You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.

“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”

Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”

“The police killed him?”

She looked away then and played with your fingers. ���No, Sam did.”

“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.

You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.

It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?

And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.

Plus, Tara would never lie to you.

“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”

“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.

Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.

The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.

You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”

She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.

[theagstd]

One Night Stand ; 29

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to overs | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter twenty nine ; wc | 5.5 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook deeply exhales when he sees you flinch at his loud tone, he didn't mean to yell at you. he practiced breathing to calm him down before he knocked on your door so he wouldn't let any of his anger get on you. he was concerned for you, you're not supposed to lift any heavy weight but you didn't pay heed to his words.

he sighs, his fingers rub the wrinkles off his forehead so he wouldn't look any scarier than he already sounded. he could see your view from the corner of his eyes, how you frowned at him with a growing pout on your lips. you pushed the suitcase away slowly then proceeded to speak lowly, "You did not have to yell at me.."

your voice trailed when you murmured under your breath, Jungkook felt guilty, he'd never yelled at you in a long time and not lately, considering how close you two have gotten. "I know..." he reaches you and looks at your face, while your eyes look down at the ground. "I know, I know, I know. I- I didn't mean to raise my voice at you, it was an accident."

he tries to look for any signs in your expressions if things have gotten worse or he messed up but then your eyes flicker to his and then your fingers, which play with his. "well then apologize to us." he frowns and tilts his head at the word 'us' and looks around the room. "is... there someone else here?" his eyes desperately look for a person, who he wasn't aware of. 'who could be here with you?' "of course. it's not just the two of us here."

you watch how he looks super confused, his curious eyes search in yours only for you to point at your bump. "apologies to us." you mutter and he breaks into a small smile before his bunny teeth flash out. 'oh, he looks adorable!' you think.

"right... I'm sorry you two. I didn't mean to raise my voice or use those words. it was a mistake." he tightened his lips together, bringing out his little dimples that you're completely in love with. "we forgive you although the apology was too basic and could be upgraded with a Nutella souffle that I saw on TikTok, I still accept it."

your hands reach his neck, as they wrap around him while he reaches your waist. "since when do you talk on behalf of two?" "Since...now?" your fingers push the hair that's on his forehead away, they're pretty long and you love it. there's a lot in him that you love and you're waiting for a good day to let him know about it, in detail with not just your words but your actions too.

"yeah?" his fingers draw circles on your waist, he likes this outfit. The pretty little pink dress that stops above your knees. "you look cute today."

he takes this as an opportunity to compliment you, you're close to him, both of you watching each other's eyes, it's too good to be true. "today? don't I look cute every day?" there, he thinks. you're confident and have always been, it's a part of your personality that makes you who you are and it's the best about you too.

you rarely feel insecure and even if you do, you always make sure to not show it. you find ways to cope with it and then overcome it. being pregnant makes you question yourself sometimes, with all the changes in your body but you're looking gorgeous, you carry that bump like a queen. being confident is a lifestyle and you've adapted it years ago.

"you don't." he says, that lets you raise an eyebrow, almost like a threat. like, 'Say that again.' he giggles. he admires your arrogance when it comes to your looks. he'd been with many girls and he knew that if he said these exact words to them, they would pout and show how sad they were, be a pick-me and question him with that annoying child voice. but the girl boss in you, you don't show a little bit of that to him.

"you're hot, darling." you smirk and nod like you knew it before. "I'd like to stay that way." "Nah, I prefer you-" he bops your nose and pinches your cheek before he continues. "cute" his hands leave your waist as yours leave his neck, and Jungkook gets back to collect your suitcases and takes them out at the door.

"got everything you need?" you look around again and nod in eager. "wait here, I'll check around." "don't trust me?" "just to be sure." he walks inside and checks each room, and he returns with an unsealed back of trail mix. "and she said she got everything."

"Hey, I forgot about this." you grab it from his hand and pop a few dried cranberries into your mouth as you walk beside him to the elevator. you're excited to see Bam, to go back to that house. it was empty, you agree but it's still his home and it's got bits and pieces of him that make you feel closer to Jungkook.

back a month ago when you stayed at his place it was just a sort of security to you, it wasn't anything like now. now it's different, there's a feeling to it, emotions are involving now. Being in his personal space and seeing him in his natural environment is both exciting and calming.

you're finally gonna see him in his casuals and it just gives you a feeling of.. something you can't describe yet. he loads the bags into the car and then takes the driver's while you sit beside him. "wanna take control of the music?"

he asks you with sparkling eyes. you nod and connect your Spotify. the drive is quiet, you look out the window while he focuses on the road, and the both of you take secret glances at each other and hide the smile.

however, Jungkook still can't get his mind off from how his day passed. it was a mess, with Yoongi and the almost hassle at your place. but what irritates him more is the whole matter with the older he had at his office. he doesn't want to refer to him as Hyung anymore, he'd stopped doing that years ago and refers to the man as Mr Min.

but everything that he said is taking a huge part of Jungkook's head and it's reluctantly showing on his face, which you grasped when you glanced over at him. "is something troubling your mind?" his eyes flick to yours and then the busy road, he puts on a smile with a shake of his head.

"nothing at all. maybe what happened at your place." you know that it can't be that silly, he never yelled at you before too so it has to be something else that's bothering him. you wanted him to be open to you, you would love to be part of his thoughts, so he can share and not devour them.

but you're also afraid of coming across as pressuring or too nosy about his business. so you let it slide away, Maybe once you two have reached a more solid stage, you could ask him to share his thoughts with you.

-

Hoseok has had enough of keeping things in his mind, he's been feeling down the past few months and if that wasn't enough, overhearing the gossip of the ladies had successfully managed to leave an imprint in his mind.

he'd been feeling worse than he did before. he paces back and forth in the middle of his living room trying to find ways to contact you, you don't respond to his texts, you barely open them but calling you would be too intrusive. he'd got his phone in hand, staring at the screen as the clock ticks by each second.

it's troubling his mind and he just wants to know if any of them were speaking the truth. He doesn't know what to believe anymore. His eyes or his ears? He finds both of them unrealistic, or maybe he just doesn't want to think it's possible. The conflicting information swirls in his mind, making him question his reality.

his doubtful mind needs some relief but why does he feel this way? he doesn't think it's right to feel this- he shouldn't be feeling anything at all in fact. You're just his colleague, that's it. the line was drawn long ago.

poor Hoseok manages to take a seat on the couch as he looks out the window, the darkness of the streets and the dimness of the moonlight, allow him to deeply sigh. he knows this isn't a good sign. this isn't like him, he knows himself and he knows that he's making a big mistake but just feeling...

-

"the house is too quiet.. is Bam asleep?" you whisper asking Jungkook as he pushes the entrance door and turns to face you. "he just didn't hear your voice yet." "Can I call his name out?" you ask, curiously.

your eyes wait for a reaction of approval which Jungkook gives with a smile. "I never stopped you." he says as he waits for you to take out his puppy's name. "Bam-i?" you say his name out louder and immediately a bark follows, the pup runs towards you and begins dancing around, showing his moves that speak his happiness and welcome for you.

"aww, hi Bam-i, it's been long." you bend down to carry the little one in your arms, he's getting bigger and heavier since the first time you met him. the little boy's eyes were large, perfectly round and wide. he had innocence in them, love in depth and it would melt your heart whenever you meet his gaze.

now the pup is bigger, his eyes hold courage, confidence and bravery in them. Jungkook takes his time as he watches his favorite two have their little welcoming session that is too endearing to him. "if you two are done, y/n shall we get you to your room? it's quite late." you nod at his words and put Bam down after peppering him with kisses and lovely compliments.

Jungkook helps with the luggage and guides you to the room like it's your first time being here. It's the first time being here since things have become more intimate and comfortable. You walked out during a heated argument when you were both in a phase of strong dislike, but things have improved significantly since then.

which was something neither of you had ever imagined. "there there, back to your room huh." Jungkook says as he places the suitcases near your bed and dusts his pants before turning to face you. you look at him confusedly with a tilt in your head.

"back to my room?" "yeah, this became your room the first day you entered here. in fact, I didn't make any changes to it. I left it the way you did." he says, since you rearranged the furniture to make the place more comfortable when you moved in a few months ago. a soft smile decorates your place as you grow closer to him.

"thanks Jungkook." you whisper and he frowns, he feels slightly surprised at your thanks and doesn't want you to feel like he's doing this as a part of his duties. "for not changing the furniture back to its original place, I didn't like the couch being too close to the bed."

you say and he chuckles nervously, he'd assumed you were gonna go into a different direction but it was about the couch. He didn't think you had good humor. "you're a good actress huh." he mutters when your fake pout changes into a devil smile after you catch him looking worried about your thank you. he takes two steps forward, leaving just a few inches between the two of you. "I'm good at everything."

you whisper, your eyes looking everywhere except his, just to tease him. "yeah?" he grabs your hand and pulls you to cut the inches, your eyes gaze at him so does he, a smirk pasted on his face. his face leans towards yours just to place a kiss on your forehead. your eyes close at the warmth of his pretty lips on your skin as you breathe in his scent.

he looks down at you with a gentle smile and asks, "What would you like for dinner?" you press your lips together, biting your inner cheek as you think. "mmmm." "mmm." he repeats as he waits for your answer. "your pasta."

"pasta again?" his eyebrows raise, and he thinks how you could eat the same food over and over again. "yeah... it's all I can think of!" "you know that I can make anything, don't hesitate." you look down and twirl side to side slowly with a pout. "I know but... I really wanna eat your handmade one." he smiles and nods.

"alright, I'll get started on it. meanwhile, change into your PJs. I'll bring the food up to your room-" "But you said no eating inside the bedroom." you remember what the man said the very first few days when he'd prepared dinner for you.

he chuckles and cups your face. 'oh he's so warm!' you think. "that was way before, things have changed okay. I just want you to be comfortable." he murmurs and you giggle like a child. he can't take it anymore, the sound of it is just everything he wants to hear every day.

he can feel your cheeks in his palms, he's so happy that you're all healthy now unlike the time you found out about your pregnancy. now he can feel the puffiness of your cheeks yet your features remain slim like your nose. he'd heard about the pregnancy nose before but he doesn't see it in you.

all you've got is some beautiful apple cheeks that grow when you smile and bring this glow to your face that makes him go crazy. you look the same as the first night he met you, just with a bump and some cheeks decorating you, it's only made you look cuter.

"okay!" your voice gets high pitched and childish, he bites back another cheeky smile so he could leave and make your dinner, you've got this effect on him. he just wants to stay around you and be beside you as much as he can.

-

"you never pick up my calls y/n, what's keeping you this busy? this isn't like you." your mother has been whining for the past 10 minutes and all you've been doing is keeping quiet. you're at fault, you won't deny that. it's been weeks since you last answered your mother's phone calls and you're fully aware that she worries a lot;

you've just been adding to her already anxious state. "Mom... but I'm okay-" you speak softly, feeling guilty for keeping her in the dark about all the new additions in your life, which your parents have to know, they have all the right to know what's going on with your life especially since you're not alone now, you carry their grandchild.

"okay? you can be okay but I'm not. I won't tolerate this behavior from you anymore! I've always given you personal space but when you don't care about your parents, I might have to interfere." you can hear the urgency and panic in her voice, your sweet mother is furious at you and she has to be, you never responded to her in weeks, she's bound to feel mad.

"all you have to do is answer my calls, I only call you once a week y/n. if you don't have the time for your mother... I don't know-" her voice trails, it carries disappointment. your poor mother is always filled with emotions, she's your sun and moon, and her voice carries happiness, joy, pride and care for you but today, she's null.

"hey Mom... I'm sorry. I really am." your tone gets low with your speech slow. she doesn't deserve this treatment, you're her only child. Jungkook raises his palm to knock on your door but then sees you seated on the bed changed into a pretty pink pajama, but with a change in expression. this wasn't how he'd left your room, you were cheery and excited in each feature of your face.

but now, your fingers draw invisible patterns on the bedsheets, and a tiny sulk decorates your features as you look blankly at your unseen drawings. he notices the phone near your ear and doesn't want to intrude so he walks towards your nightstand so he can place your bowl of pasta. it distracts you as your eyes meet his,

he shows you a palm as a sign to go on with your conversation and he attempts to leave your room but your palm catches his wrists stopping his further tracks. he turns to you and sees you mouthing 'stay.' he nods and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a distance between the two of you since he wanted to give you space until you've done speaking to the unknown.

"how's dad?" you question and receive no response from the other line, which makes you sadder. your fingers now move to cradle your bump, and you sit cross-legged so your bump fits perfectly under the sheets. Jungkook is now aware that you're speaking to your parents so he grabs his phone from his sweatpants and scrolls through his emails until you're done.

he's glad that he fed Bam and cleaned the kitchen before coming to your room, he had his share of pasta while he was cooking so he's sufficiently full. "Mom...just tell me." you whine and she huffs before you hear your father's voice. "I'm fine Honey, was worried about you."

the sound of your father's disheartened tone makes your day worse, you hum instead and then hear your mom say. "if you're sorry, will you call me at least once a week?" "yes Mom, I will! - I will call you tomorrow. I'm sorry." You mutter quickly, feeling relieved that you've been allowed to apologize. "I'll talk to you tomorrow Mom."

you linger for sometime until you hear her say a soft "okay..." you decline the call and keep the phone away, cradling your bump as you watch it. "everything okay?" Jungkook asks as he places his phone back inside the pocket of his grey sweatpants. you meet his curious gaze and nod, giving him a half smile. he gets closer and bends his head to see your face that's been looking down for quite some time now.

"hey? you can talk to me yeah." he says and takes your hand to caress it with his thumb. "what's wrong?" you see him looking at you with those eyes that make you want to give in. "it's just mom, I don't wanna talk about it." you murmur and he picks up the quiver in your voice, so he doesn't force it from you. "okay." he huffs and tugs your palm gently.

"wanna have some pasta?" your quick nod makes him chuckle so he grabs the bowl and brings it closer to you. "there you go! Pesto alla Genovese." you grab the fork and place a few penne into your mouth. they burst from flavors of meat and onions, just the way you like them. you moan at the taste of it, which brings out a little smile from him.

"you like that?" "Mm-hmm." you mumble and poke more penne from the fork to fill your mouth with it. Jungkook passes the bowl to you and gestures for you to wait, with his index finger. he gets on his feet and walks out of your room only to come back with another serving bowl. your forehead creases and your chewing slows down as he grows closer to you with the bowl hidden behind him.

"I may have experimented and I hope you like it." he begins as he sits beside you and hands you a bowl of Nutella souffle. your eyes light up and you gulp down the pasta in two bites. "hey hey, this won't fly away. calm down bear."

"you don't understand, it's a souffle!" you try to swallow the rest of the food that's filled up inside your mouth. he tries hard to not laugh at your antics but eventually gives in when you open your palms for the mini casserole dish that he'd made it in. "I didn't have a Ramekin so I had to find a substitute and this dish was the closest to it."

he says as he passes you the gold spoon to crack the top of the dessert. "you've got to have a souffle when it's warm, it doesn't taste the best after a few minutes." you educate him and his lips form an 'o' shape, his thoughts tell him that he surely messed this up since he prepared it a while ago. "i- don't think you should have this then. I'll make you a fresh one, I've got some batter left-"

he tries to stop you from trying it, attempting to get back the dish before you poke in and let you taste it. "hey, don't worry about it. I'm sure it tastes fine. let me try it!" he lets you poke inside but he's got a slightly worried look on his face, he didn't know that you had to eat it as soon as it's taken out of the oven.

your lips close around the spoon which scooped the airy bake. your eyes meet his curious ones as he raises an eyebrow in question. "mmm, it's delicious Jungkook!" he lets out a relieved sigh but still feels disappointed. you notice it and feel guilty for telling him about it.

"Hey." your palm grabs him and he glances at you with a tight smile before he looks around the room. "you said this was an experiment. and it's amazing for a first try in fact.....you said there's more batter right?" he nods and frowns when you get out of bed. your hand still wrapped around his. "come on." "Where to?"

"let's bake a fresh one." you take the bowl with the pasta but he stops you and tells you that he's taking both of them downstairs. you both walk to the kitchen, he looks at you confusedly when you take the batter out of the refrigerator. "What are you up to?" "I'm in the middle of making a soufflé, obviously." he whines and takes it from you.

"Hold on, you can't make it. It was for you as my way to say sorry about earlier." he mutters with a hint of irritation lingering in his tone. "Hey, I've already forgiven you, and I was the one who mentioned the soufflé just for fun." "no, I'll do it."

he's hesitant in allowing you to make it. "hey Jungkook.." you place the bowl on the cabinet and meet his eyes. "it tasted great okay, it was an experiment and it was successful. don't feel upset about it. now... you and I can make another one and I'll show you when you should take it out of the oven so we both can enjoy one together okay?"

you murmur, your voice soft and understanding, it makes him agree within a few seconds. "but I'll handle everything, I want you to sit right there and give me instructions, yeah?" "sure Mr. Jeon, that will do!" you giggle and sit on one of the bar chairs as you begin to pass instructions over to him. you tell him to grease it well and dust it with a fair amount of sugar because you love it when it's sweeter.

you also let him know that he could use flour as a substitute, he gathers all this knowledge and keeps it in his mind. he now knows he needs to grease it with sugar or flour but his ears pass the flour because all he has to store is what you like and it's sugar so he doesn't need anymore information. you instruct him to fill the cups, leave some space so it can rise well and gently tap the mini casseroles on the counter so the surface will be smoothened.

"you missed out about the air bubbles being released." he says which makes you roll your eyes at him. "yeah yeah whatever Chef Jeon." he sniggers at the way you speak and the chef Jeon, he likes the sound of that. he brings over the cups to you and you see how it looks show him a thumbs up and tell him to now put it in the oven.

he gestures to you with his index finger grabs a paper towel and wipes the rim of the dishes like a professional chef, making you laugh at his actions. he puts them to bake like he did before and cleans up the little mess. you tried to help him but he forbade you so you didn't complain. "thought you didn't know how to cook."

he mutters as he wipes his hands with a towel while growing closer to you. you've almost done eating your pasta and when he places his hands on the counter and leans towards you, you attempt to feed him but he says he's had his share. you feel a tinge of embarrassment as if you'd become a little too intimate by feeding him, you're hoping he doesn't catch up on it and luckily he doesn't.

"I have no idea about cooking but this... I saw a TikTok today and it was just easy to remember." he hums and watches the bowl as you stir the balance of the penne. "you didn't have to do all this, you know. I was just teasing you bout it. I wasn't serious."

he gives you a side smile and looks at his fingers. "I know but I just wanted to try it for you. and you need a dessert after a good meal." he smirks and you nod at his words as you eat up the last of the pasta, clearing the bowl. "I agree!" he's quick to grab the bowl from you before you step down the chair to wash it up.

you sit back and cradle your bump as he offers a glass of water, you're overfed but you still manage to keep some space for the dessert because there's no way you're not gonna have Nutella souffle that looks bomb and is also made by Jungkook so it's just one more reason to have it. He takes his phone for some time and gets notified by an unknown number for the fourth time of the day.

the messages says;

'Jungkook you can't ignore me. we need to talk just once. I need to clear things up. - Taehyung.'

'kookie I'm sorry about today, can we please make up for it? at your office? a cafe? your place? anything. - yoongi. '

it frustrates him that everyone is on a mission to talk to him and he doesn't want to keep any connections with them but they still attempt and it only gets on his nerves. it's too late and he does not want to get irritated by these texts so he chooses to leave his phone on silent. "what do you think about a visit to your parents?"

he asks out of the blue and that makes you choke on the liquid. "hey, careful." he pats on your back a few times and looks at your face for any sign. "my parents?" "yeah?" your eyes search his face and then around the kitchen because you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"what makes you want to visit my parents?" you feel your heart at your mouth and it makes you think of various scenarios of why he would want to meet your parents. "no, I didn't mean it like that." "then what?" he chuckles and grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge. "I meant to ask if you would want to visit your parents, not me."

you hum and bite the inner corners of your lips to think for a bit. it would be out of the thought to meet your parents, you hadn't even informed them about your pregnancy yet. "no, it's fine..." Jungkook catches on the uneasiness of your tone and fiddling of your fingers.

"they know about the pregnancy, right?" he asks you, your eyes flicker to his sideways glance and then back to the ground, which makes him deeply sigh. he didn't expect this from you. "y/n, I think it's best if they know now. it's already too late." "I need time, I'm not ready." you say and shift in your seat uncomfortably.

he walks to you and leans on the counter to stop your fingers from twiddling. he sighs again and looks at you, he sees the disappointment and sadness in your eyes and knows that this is a difficult topic. "hey, look at me." he whispers and you gulp as you continue to look at his hands that wrap around yours. "darling, eyes at me."

he tilts your chin to meet his eyes and sees yours as your hesitant but you still chose to look at him. "I know this is difficult and requires courage but your parents have the right to know. how long will you keep them in the dark? don't they deserve to know?"

he asks you as your eyes linger on his, you give him a slow nod and he smiles, his fingers caressing the back of your hand to comfort you and tell you that it's okay. "not now but soon, you need to inform them okay. they are your family and they need to know." he murmurs and you whisper an 'okay' with a tight smile on your lips.

"good! now the souffle is ready and is waiting to be taken out." he speaks in a cheery tone as he wears the black gloves and pulls out the two cups. a smile decorates your face as you push away the thoughts about how you're gonna inform your parents about the pregnancy. Jungkook dusts some icing sugar on top of the surface and lets you poke into it.

the spoon now smoothly pushes inside the airy bake and as you take it out, the Nutella drips from the edges and drops fall onto your finger. "ouch-" you flinch when you feel the burning drop slipping inside your sick, burning your thumb.

Jungkook was quick to put your finger inside his mouth, licking the hot Nutella off your thumb and providing a cooling sensation from his salvia. his tongue wraps itself around your finger as he looks focused on managing to give you quick relief so the burning won't feel worse on your skin.

your movements halt when you feel him sucking your finger and how soft his lips are around your fingers and how cold his tongue feels. he removes your thumb and looks at you worriedly, "does it still burn? You okay? do we need to use some ointment?"

he questions faster and puts your thumb inside his mouth again giving you tingles and making goosebumps rise your little hairs as shivers run down your spine. "I'm fine. you look good wrapped around my finger."

you whisper as his eyes flicker to yours and realize what he's been doing. your thumb still inside his mouth, his eyes looking up at yours while you look down at him with a smirk on your face as you bite your lip so teasingly.

you drop the spoon back into the cup and place your hand under your chin to watch him look like this. he looks like such a tease as he intentionally now sucks on your finger slowly. so...slowly. you bite your lip and look at him with siren eyes, a stupid yet tempting smile sits on your face. he pulls his lips off your fingers with a pop! sound, seductively.

"you know what looks better?" he questions, his eyes now droopy as he licks his bottom lips. he knows what you're doing to him, he'd seen this 6 months ago. "what?" you ask in a whisper getting closer to his face. his eyes move from yours left to right before he glances at your lips.

"your lips wrapped around me........."

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