#but the resolution will be in the part after that and hopefully in a way that doesn't break romantic tension

[zara-renata]

i have thoughts about your most recent fic and tumblr’s comment character limit has brought me to your ask box again 🙈

omgggg it’s so good to know sylus’s POV during that wine night!! and i don’t know why and how, but sylus’s thoughts about mc here, esp how he feels about her selfless tendencies (to her detriment), makes me feel vulnerable and seen. when i read reader-insert fics, i tend to imagine a separate character for mc even though it’s technically supposed to be me in my head. perhaps the character i made up resembles me (but better lmao), but different enough that she’s like an individual on her own. but when i read this fic, it’s like sylus was talking about me, as in the real me, which made me emotional. it could be that the way mc handles herself poorly in here resonates with me due to some irl stuff, but honestly it’s primarily how good you write about a character’s emotions and thoughts. it’s like the words reached across my screen and tugged at my heart. you’re such a great writer when it comes to expressing a character’s innermost thoughts. it’s like i’ve been placed inside a character’s mind to bare witness their raw self.

again, i love how your sylus x mc dynamics, at least for this series, revolve around an mc oblivious to how much sylus cares about her. it seems she doesn’t even believe she’s deserving of such affection, nor is she fitting to be the object of such primal desires. in a way, she’s kind of self-sabotaging in the sense that she thinks she doesn’t deserve kindness, help, and affection. she’s genuinely fine with taking the brunt of the pain and suffering – and not even in the hero, martyr kind of way. it seems it’s how she’s always been, such behavioral tendencies of hers seem to be as normal as the sky is blue, which is sad and concerning because she deserves so much. i’m honestly excited to see sylus try to knock down her hardened walls and have her realize how deserving she is of so many things. i hope she realizes she can relax, rest, take it easy, and feel safe. especially with him.

i actually laughed out loud about how unhinged sylus can be about his sexual desires for her. like the man is blue-balled to heck, but he isn’t the kind to succumb to his base urges. he really respects and loves mc. i think i would even say he reveres her, given the fan theories around their past. it’s like his urges are just something that come with his intense adoration and care for mc, which is so so admirable and attractive.

maybe i’m just a tad sensitive today, but i completely zeroed in on the emotional aspects of this fic – quite a difference as to how i salivated over your previous fic in your ask box LMAO. coincidence is such a funny thing because i feel like i really needed to read this fic today. i feel much better and more ready to face the day. this has been such a good read, and i humbly offer my apologies for yapping at your ask box yet again 🧎‍♀️🫣

First off, you never have to apologize for sending me your thoughts. I'm so happy every time I receive an ask, it's always an unexpected surprise. And your asks are always really thoughtful and fun to read! I wasn't just patronizing you when I said last time that it was really fun to receive such a spicy ask about the NSFW aspects of Sylus's character and dynamic with mc in these stories. A huge part of his appeal is his physicality and how he shows his affection through actions. Hot, hot, actions.

To be honest, this message from you is really reassuring, because I've noticed that a lot of the fanfic that gets a lot of traction in (any) fandom is of the NSFW variety (which, duh, I totally understand and appreciate and consume happily), and I worry that because I'm not currently focusing purely on that aspect of Sylus that people will be less interested in reading what I'm sharing, especially the installments that are so mc POV heavy. So to hear that you also like being in this mc's head, and can relate to this mc, that how I have Sylus respond to this mc's issues and hangups and trauma brings you comfort, is amazing for me as a wannabe writer. Although I also want to give you a hug (with your consent of course) if you can really relate to this mc because no one should ever have to feel what you so accurately point out about what this mc feels: that whatever pain you're experiencing is normal, and expected, and you can hardly imagine that someone would be so dedicated to helping relieve it for and with you. Because everyone deserves to feel cherished and demand more than the bare minimum from the world and the people in their life. I'm hoping that I can keep writing this story as an exploration of Sylus teaching mc that, and that you continue to derive comfort from it. Because in the end, fanfic can serve many purposes. And just like it can be a vehicle for exploring incredibly dark and disturbing and cathartic themes using our favorite characters, I think it can also be the ultimate comfort food, and sometimes you should just be able to feel fucking good reading it. I'm so happy to hear that this part did that for you. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts.

[kooldewd123]

For as much as I love Animorphs, I’ve never actually read it in order all the way through. It was always scattered entries, whatever I could find at the library or buy at garage sales. There’s even a small handful I haven’t read at all. That’s why, for my New Year’s resolution, I plan to reread the series in its entirety. However, I know how my brain works, and I’m afraid I might lose motivation and quit too soon. That’s why, after each book, I will add to this post with, in my opinion, the most fucked-up part of the book, as well as the silliest part (because anyone who’s read these books knows that those are the two main tenets of the series). That way, I’ll have a publicly available record to hold myself accountable to if I start slacking, plus a nice thread of propaganda to hopefully suck more people in. I plan to read one mainline book a week, starting with:

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? ���人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[littlemissstel]

Hi! Your Shiu pieces are so lovely - he doesn’t get enough fluff or, ya know, stories in general.

May I please request a story of him attempting to quit smoking because the woman he is into doesn’t want to date a smoker?

Feel free to ignore this, if the idea is not interesting to you 🫶🏻

Lollipops and Smoke- Shiu Kong

Helloo!! Thank you for the kind words<3

IKRR the amount (well lack of) of Shiu media is actually outrageous, he's the reason i started this blog😭Hopefully this is on par with what you were thinking of Xx

Pre-relationship, swearing, uses of the names "bastard", "minx", "Doll", "Sweetheart", "Darling", no uses of (Y/n),mentions of drug use

It is past midnight now and you were in Shiu's car as he drove you home after a long day of dealing with clients. The two of you have engaged in what seems like a thousand different conversations on the way there, but he's not quite sure how you landed in this one...

"You're really not going to tell me?"

"I'm not sure what you mean Doll. There is nothing to tell."

"Shiu. Let's be honest for a second here. There's no way you've only done cigarettes throughout your life. With the things you've told me about your youth, you had to of been high at least once."

Shiu holds in a chuckle, shaking his head with a wide smile at your deadpan expression.

The truth is you were right. He was a seasoned connoisseur in the field of substances thanks to his party days and he does conveniently forget to tell you the part were he puffed, sniffed or drank in his stories of nostalgia. When he first started out in the job, he had to entertain clients by sharing a drink/drag or two, though that was never something he found enjoyable and has since promoted out of it.

It's not that Shiu was regretful about his past experiences, no, He just wasn't proud of them either. He had great times which made for great memories but he knows what kind of impression they can give off and for someone like you- for someone he is trying to impress- he believes some memories are better left unsaid.

"I'm really not as old as you think i am. This is my youth-"

"Yeah right-"

"Enough about me. You're real fuckin' nosey you know that? What drugs have you done, Sweetheart?" He sends you a playful glare through the mirror.

"Paracetamol and Ibuprofen."

This earns a deep laugh out of Shiu, something that has become more frequent during your time with him yet you still take the moment to properly intake the resonant sound.

"I did have a boyfriend who was into a few things though. It didn't last very long."

"Was he trouble?"

"No, he was sweet, but i just don't think i could be with someone who does anything, you know..."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing. No vapes or cigs. Nothing that lingers."

What you said lingered in Shiu's mind. Long, long after the fact. He was somewhat surprised, you never seemed to have a problem when he smoked around you - then again he tried to limit the amount of times that happened. Then again he might be wrong and you just don't like him back.

But he liked you.

He liked you enough to go against his better judgement of pursuing you- no matter how selfish it may have been, and so he liked you enough to finally start his mid-year resolution to put down the cigarettes. That night he laid covert in the darkness of his bedroom, scrolling through an endless amount of forums from ex-smokers and ordering an unjustifiable amount of lollipops, gum and nicotine patches.

Shiu had always been the number one user of the saying, "I can quit when i want" and part of that was true...he could quit when he wanted. It didn't mean he wanted to struggle when he did though. His job was stressful and the only method of relaxation he could find that fit into his busy schedule was smoking. Now he just had to experiment...

Throughout the next few weeks you noticed a few changes in Shiu.

First, he seemed irritable.

Not to you- to you he was just quieter than usual- but Toji had been the one informing you that Shiu had "A stick shoved up his ass for the entire week", though this was after discussing how they were going to split the shares of his commission which meant the statement was untrustworthy.

Secondly, he was less focused and increasingly restless, which drew the most concern from you because Shiu was always well managed. It was one of the first things you learnt about him and he hasn't faltered since so when he started to zone out and tap against the steering wheel to an inconsistent beat you only became more skeptical.

But your last and final straw...was his sweet tooth.

The ravenette was a chronic enjoyer of savoury foods. You had seen him nursing a lolli' in his mouth consistently for the past few days, sure. But when a multi-pack of 300 lollipops sat discarded in the backseat of his car you knew something was up.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's going on with you?"

His brows furrowed as he spared you a quick glance.

"What do you mean, darling? I've been fine."

"You've been acting weird...First toji says you've been irritated all week but now you've got a sweet tooth and a thousand lollipops in your backseat. I know you don't have a kid Shiu. Unless you're about to tell me you're going to kidnap one."

"I am not going to kidnap anyone."

"Then are you okay?"

The car stops at the red light and Shiu sighs weakly, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression.

"I've quit smoking. Trying to replace it with something better. I like lollipops."

Your mouth droops into an "o" expression. Well that makes sense, you hadn't thought about it but why would you? It seems a bit abrupt, no? Most people ease out of smoking and you haven't seen him hold a cigarette in...well...a long time.

"Why- i mean, no congratulations- but- how long has it been since you stopped?"

"Three weeks give or take"

"Oh..."

The car filled with a thick silence only disturbed with the low rumbles of the engine. You're not quite sure what to say. What is there to say? He sounds pretty decided and you fully support his decision but- oh...You can't help the feeling of guilt that washes over you.

"It isn't to do with what i said is it?..." Shiu's hand grips the wheel harder for a quarter of a second as he turns to you to speak- but you noticed, and you felt your stomach twist for the second time in a minute.

"Shiu- you know i didn't mean that about you, i really didn't mean to offend-"

"-You didn't offend me doll, now calm down before you work yourself up, hm?"He says, a smirk creeping up on his face and you take his advice, settling back down in your chair waiting expectantly.

"I've been meaning to quit for a while now`, just never had a good enough reason to do it. Now i know you prefer the company of non-smokers, i finally got the motivation to."

What does that mean?

"I didn't mind your company before you know."

"Oh trust me, i know." His smirk now fully progressed as his attention undividedly turned on you. The most focused he's been in weeks. His dark hazelnut eyes bore into yours leaving you feeling exposed- so exposed. You believed him. His confidence, true or not, left little room for doubt and now you wondered what else he knew.

Don't embarrass yourself.

You leaned in, trying to keep a hold of what little control you had as he matched your stance.

"You're back to being a smug bastard aren't you."

"Never stopped."

"Then why don't you enlighten me on what else you know?"

Shiu's breath hitched before letting out a short, incredulous laugh, leaning back in his chair with his head tossed back.

"Green light, minx." He says finally.

After all, Shiu Kong believes some things are better left unsaid.

banner by user030419 on pinterest

divider by @saradika-graphics

I am open to constructive criticism but be nice because I'm sensitive asf 💀 Thank you for sending this request in, i really enjoyed it

please feel free to leave any ideas/recommendations

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always.

Posting October 21, 2023, 8pm EDT

new teaser under the cut

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block, the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

it's finally here! I'm so excited to share this with you. I'd love to know your thoughts and whether or not you're excited!! there's so much more I wanted to include, but maybe (hopefully) there will be a part 2 somewhere down the road.

[formerlympp]

Unhappy Hour

Lily was starting to detest happy hours.

Inaptly named things they were, she’d privately started calling them misery hours. She’d have to make it her New Year’s resolution to grow a backbone and start declining the invitations. That, or stop drinking, which might be easier than saying no to kindly Muriel, her generally reserved coworker who turned into a sailor after a couple of G&Ts. After all, her inability to say no to Muriel was precisely what landed her in her current predicament.

“Why don’t you just beg off?” Mary, her roommate, called from the corner of their cramped kitchen. Lily had long thought that her backbone had been imparted to Mary, who had no qualms about shutting people down over the slightest menial transgression.

“Can’t,” Lily called back, the best she could manage without toothpaste slipping down her chin.

“Can’t or won’t? No, don’t bother answering that.” A threatening pause came next, quickly followed by the crinkling sound of paper that Lily knew meant Mary was stuffing a sweet into her mouth. “Oo’ zit, gin?”

“Muriel’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s best friend’s son. Jeff something-or-other.”

“’O no-un.”

“He’s someone surely.”

“No one to you,” Mary clarified in a slightly less muffled voice. “He’s probably no keener to meet than you are.”

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence, Mare.”

Mary appeared in the doorway just as Lily slipped her toothbrush back in its holder. The pair of friends caught each other’s eye in the mirror as Lily started unpinning the rollers from her hair.

“C’mon, since when does anyone look forward to a blind date? Speaking of, you’ve put in a fair bit of effort for this Muriel’s… sister’s… er… whoever’s son. More effort than I’d expect for someone apparently dreading her evening.”

Lily merely shrugged as a reply, uninterested in justifying her pre-date ritual. It was a good ritual, and besides, she deserved to feel like the best version of herself whenever she wanted to.

“Shit,” she exhaled, after catching a look at her watch, “I’m going to be late.”

**

Shockingly, Lily arrived at The Shack, a hip, low-lit bar—“frequented by the young people,” Muriel had told her—ten minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time. She couldn’t stop herself from studying her reflection in the dark glass windows; she brushed her fingers through the mess of curls her hair had become in transit. Breathing deeply and squaring her shoulders, she pushed her way into the bar.

Clusters of people stood every few feet, making the pathway between the tables and chairs into a labyrinth. She wove her way through, an odd determination in her step that clashed with her internal desire to walk right back out the front door. She was supposed to meet Jeff at the bar for drinks and starters and hopefully riveting conversation (Lily wasn’t holding her breath). The semi-circle bartop stretched along a large expanse of the room, barely inhabited at this time of a Friday evening, and Lily couldn’t help herself from admiring the rather nice-looking man tending the bar at the far end.

Eventually, she rounded the bar in search of Jeff, who had been described to her as: tall and handsome. (She didn’t mind a cliché now and again.) Scholarly, and a sharp dresser, if not a bit disheveled. (Whatever that meant.) Dark hair and framed glasses. (She did not mind a nice set of specs to be sure.)

Then she spotted him, sitting across from a stretch of beer taps, shoulders bowed slightly as he studied his phone. As Lily drew closer she watched him press his glasses back up his nose. Even from the admittedly shrinking distance, she could tell he would give the bartender a run for his money. For a moment, a brief, unrelenting irrational moment, excitement flooded her system; it burned in her veins, sent bubbles straight to the logical part of her brain, then—

“Hi, you must be J—” A set of hazel eyes locked with hers and her jaw dipped lower, all the buzz of excitement leaving her. “You’re not…” Jeff.

Oh no.

Oh—but, wait had it been Jeff? Maybe she had heard the wrong name—

“Oh Christ, you are the Lily that Auntie Mabel… I had no idea, Evans, I assure you.”

Of that she was fairly certain he was telling the truth. He was many things, but a liar was not among them. Besides, only an evil force in the universe could explain why out of the billions of people on this planet, Lily had been set up on a blind date with her ex-boyfriend, James Potter.

[chihoshisai]

Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time in other chapters), fem reader // wc : 3.084

Part 2

Anxiety, like the crawling of silent bugs, had eaten at your mind all evening, morphing into worry, what ifs and over speculations throughout the darkest hours of the night. As for the reason behind such agitation, it stemmed from the temporality Sabo had shared with you — two to five weeks before all fell apart. Two would prove hard to change the mind of his hard driven person, to convince him would require harsh, grand gestures. Five would be plenty, enough to slowly weave your way into his life and hopefully his heart. As for three, the temporal middle ground would result in a mixture of the two. However all three kept hidden the similarity of no guarantee towards the desired outcome. 

Morning had come, as usual to start the timer of your day -and responsibilities- with no regards for your mood. Yesterday, after your mother had come to fetch you both in the garden, you had bid farewell to Sabo and his family, his demeanor rather cold despite the fidgeting and amiable look you gave. He had only shut down the idea of you accompanying him in his business, but not that of leading a double life. Therefore, there was hope. A hope which you had carried with you all afternoon but, through its polishing had gifted you in return a sleepless night. 

You darkly grumbled at the golden rays seeping through your velvet material curtains, shifting under your silk blankets, internally wishing for time to slow its pace to allow you more chances to forge a path through Sabo's resolution. All you needed were opportunities, excuses to create a shared meeting with him. 

Nevertheless, the voice of your lady’s maid came to stir you away from the abyss of your mind,  prompting you out of bed, with much reluctance from your part, and aiding you into yet another stifling  gown. A half up, half down updo was tied on your head with a ribbon, modest makeup applied to your face and perfumed sprayed around you like one would to a flower. 

With your beautification from night to morning completed, you heaved your first sigh of the day, straightened your back in a resolute manner and left behind all traces of an insecure mind to be replaced with the expected nature of a princess; kind, loveable but also clever and quick-witted. Even after all this had been drilled into your soul, you hated the idea of parting from your room, where you could allow your thoughts and behavior to run free, to instead step into the constant raging fire of the castle.

But time wasn't so kind, with its advance it pushed you over the door frame of your chamber and into the lavish corridors to reach the dining room. Inside, you found your mother, your king of an older brother and your two youngest siblings, a twinning pair of boy and girl whom you envied the abundance of freedom and lack of responsibility rather often. 

You gave your greeting and sat. The mundane act stirred from you a bored expression as you ate, giving comments here and there to contribute to the family chit chat until the words of your brother harnessed your attention.  

“We're to hold a ball at the end of the week,” he announced nonchalantly, taking a pause to sip from his drink while the news flew over the table. At his words your mind had already pinpointed the first guest to invite.

“Cool, what's the occasion this time?” Your youngest sister cooed from your side in excitement.

“In honor of our sister getting engaged,” he gave you a warm smile which you returned rather sheepishly. If your mind wasn't racing with disaster possibilities you would have felt flattered at his gesture. 

“Eh, you're finally getting married and getting out of here aren't ya?” The youngest boy smirked from the other side of the table, enticing you to roll your eyes at him. 

“Yes, I suppose I am,” you sarcastically responded to him, and at his snicker you finally shot him daggers while feeling the spoiled fruit of your anxiety.

“We'll announce her engagement to Sabo during the event. Invitations are to be sent tomorrow,” your older brother poke, bringing back the conversation on track.

At this, your mind jumped at the opportunity that presented itself on a silver platter. “May I deliver the invitation to my betrothed and his family?” You asked, hoping no one would find an inconvenience in you going.

Thankfully, your mother seemed of an equal mind at the idea. “Why not? It will be the perfect chance to give them a visit. We shall choose a gift for them today and you are to head there tomorrow.”

Oh how you wanted to jump at her neck and thank her for being so supportive. Instead you beamed, showcasing her a full teeth smile, thickening the conversation with ideas of gifts and invitations design.

---------

The following day arrived, sharp on time and quickly dwindling away into early afternoon. With a mixture of jubilation and anguish at facing Sabo for the first time in two days, you boarded a carriage. Alone in your trip, you focused mainly on the flashing scenery rather than your thoughts to keep a composed control over yourself. You weren't sure what to expect from this brief intermission at his house, but still you believed some uninterrupted time together would do more good than harm.

Under no delay did you reach the household in question, stepping out to be led into a drawing room to wait, ultimately meeting the arrival of stunned, yet zealous faces of the couple who welcomed your sudden visit with pompous warmth.

“Your highness, to what do we owe the honor?” Outlook greedily rubbed his hands together.

You maintained a steady gaze over them. “I come to bring you a gift,” the valet that had accompanied you inside holding the parcel in question went to hand over the package to Outlook. 

“My, you didnˋt have to!” Didit exclaimed in delight, visibly pleased and greedily eyeing the packaging.

Even if the reality remained that the gesture was done out of obligation and procedures, disgust swelled inside you at the sight of the true character overflowing from the couple. You were raised with modesty and seeing such a tainted display of emotions unnerved you. Refusing to acknowledge their glee, you continued on another note. “I also came bearing an invitation for a ball that is to happen later this week. My engagement to your son is to be revealed to the masses there.” You curtly added, forcing yourself to keep eye contact.

Once again, the couple rejoiced as you placed down an invitation on the table. “What wonderful news, we will be sure to attend,” the man spoke and you gave a rigid smile.

Now that formalities had been cast aside, you felt the speed of your heart accelerate at the true purpose of your visit. “May I deliver the news to Sabo myself?” You inquired to the couple. 

They glanced at each other, forcing your heartbeat near cardiac arrest. “Unfortunately we're afraid Sabo is away at the moment…” Didit spoke in a small voice.

It felt as if an invisible weight had been dropped on your shoulders — you had rehearsed yourself day and night for this moment and he wasn't here? To be honest you did find it odd how his parents were the only ones to greet you. “Where is he?” Your tone neared shaking, leaving you with no choice but to intertwine your fingers until your knuckles turned pale.

Outlook shook his head. “We're afraid we don't know. Sabo has a tendency to… slip out to God knows where.” Seeing as you blankly stared following his statement, he quickly waved his hands about as if it was a trivial matter. “It is no need for concern your highness, he is an honorable gentleman.” 

It seems clear that both parents were in the dark as to Sabo's business. But his whereabouts and occupations weren't your primary concern, meaning the prevention of the dissolvement of your engagement. “I can wait,” you abruptly voiced aloud before your thoughts had sorted themselves out.

“A-are you sure, your highness? We have no idea when he will be back,” Didit asked, most likely more concerned with your overall impression of their son than your well-being in waiting.

“I don't mind waiting until night time if I have to,” you affirmed. The couple refused to defy your authority and instead awkwardly allowed you to make yourself at home before slipping out with their present in hand. Thus began your gut wrenching waiting; lonely from the absence of the valet you had dismissed, sweet from the aroma of tea you were served to consume and dreadful from the boredom that seized you after an hour. 

You had scrutinized every nook and crazy of the room, grown tired of the sunflower colored walls and longed to stretch your legs. Given your title and their approval for being able to make yourself at home, you brought yourself to the door. There you considered your options and opted that a walk in the garden would be considered far from harmful and respectable. As such you twisted the doorknob and entered the deserted corridor. 

The residence was far smaller than your own. Nevertheless you wandered in search of the outdoors, which you assumed should be somewhere on the main floor. Yet, as you turned corners after corners, with no staff to ask for directions, you abandoned your aim and instead took interest in the overall decoration of the mansion. Flashy and austere, everything seemed to be displayed as an attempt to show off wealth rather than style. You scrunched your nose when you crossed paths with a credible counterfeited painting. Well it must have fooled one too many if it sustained its place atop the walls. 

Analyzing the brush technique of the artist, your ears picked up a muffled conversation from your right. Etiquette would have it that you were at this instance obliged to turn your heels and walked away, but this was the household of your fiance. Curiosity won over and, making sure to tread carefully on the carpet you took slow steps towards the door like opening in the wall that led inside a room you never got the chance to lay eyes upon.

The familiar voice of Sabo's parents filled your ears. 

“A vase? To think she took all this trouble to bring us mere pottery,” the harsh voice of Didit discredited your gift.

“This is only the beginning, I'm sure we'll be granted far more luxuries over time,” Outlook spoke with disdain.

Hearing their blasphemy far from scared your heart, instead hardening your ill sentiment towards the despicable pair. With such personalities for parents, no wonder Sabo wished to get away. You would want to do as much too. 

As your eyes darkened by their chatter, a hand came to grab your arm from behind and another, quick like the wind, placed itself atop your mouth to prevent a pitch from leaving your lips. Alerted, you clawed your free hand at your face to remove the caging. Your heart raced. Your palm grew sweaty. Your eyes widened in alert. And your insides churned in discomfort. 

However, you were wheeled around by the hand clutching your arm and was met with the sight of Sabo; his round eyes, steady and blank, stared directly in yours while the hand he had used to silence you moved to gesture a silent motion at his lips. 

Identifying him had made the uncomfortable beating of your chest shrink down into a heavy breathing. Your gaze lowered at the finger he had put at his lips and before you had the chance to look back into his eyes, he dragged you away with the clutch he kept over your arm. It was probably the biggest affront someone outside your family had ever dared to pose to you in your life. Yet you knew better than to speak aloud words of protestation, instead staring confused gazes at the broad back of Sabo, his jacket removed to reveal a sweater vest that lined the length of his shoulders sharply. The nape of his neck too was exposed, and shamelessly, you looked.

Admittedly, you wanted to relish in the sight of his back slightly longer rather than be shoved into yet another sitting room, though smaller in size. You turned around to see Sabo close the door before he reeled on his heels, scorn thundering his features. This wasn't the second encounter you had envisioned. Far from it

“What do you think you were doing by eavesdropping on my parents?!” His voice far from minced the words that came out.

“Surprised I can be discreet?” You tempted as a joke with a sly smirk. 

His lips further inclined downward. “Does royalty always snoop around in people's business? What were you thinking of accomplishing either way?”  

You shrugged. “Snooping around? Well yes it is our duty to be aware of our subject's life. But let's say that this time around I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sabo found no amusement in your witty reply. “Why did you even come here? I received word when coming home that you were waiting in the drawing room but instead found you elsewhere.” 

This knived at your conscience, for you felt his opinion of you was lowering. Mix how he had caught you in a reproachable act which had put him in displeasure, along with the lack of warnings for your arrival and you would have very reticent traits to seek in a partner. 

You looked away in guilt. Your hand rummaged in the pocket of your dress to fetch the envelope you had set aside for him. “This is why I came,” you extended the invitation towards him.

Sabo eyed your hand rather than taking its content. “Don't tell me you're throwing yet another ball?” His tone was reproachful and you weren't sure why.

“It is for our engagement. Your presence is required,” taking matters into your own hands, you closed the distance with him and placed the envelope in his sweater vest pocket. Satisfied you took a step back and gave him a quaint smile.

“And that's reason enough to waste food and resources that many would kill for?” The anger in his eyes sent a chill down your spine.

You felt like blame was being cast on you, and you hated that sentiment when you weren't the one with power. “Listen, the problems you are speaking of are out of my control. I wasn't the one who decided to throw a ball and all I did was pay you and your family a visit out of respect to deliver the news myself,” you reeled in a harsh breath.

 “Discarding all sense of responsibility, I see. Pretty common for royalty, and nobles for that matter.” 

Your temper was starting to rise. “Can you stop speaking as if all the problems in the world are my fault?” 

“You are the princess of this country, and as you made quite clear last we spoke, you're skilled enough to govern this nation. So tell me why exactly are you excusing yourself from blame?” Sabo raised an eyebrow at you while crossing his arms.

You momentarily found yourself at a loss for words. Gripping your dress in anger, you gave a spiteful pout. He wasn't wrong, and you hated him for rubbing how you made sure not to be perceived as a useless figurehead in your face. “I–”

“Your brother is king too. And the entire nation knows how tight knitted your family is. You could have talked him out of it if you wanted.” Sabo looked like he had more to say but seeing as your jaw clenched from being interrupted, he stopped his monologue.

You had to stop yourself from taking in a deep breath through your mouth. With the fire burning in your insides and the words he had thrusted in your face, it was hard to keep face. “I didn't know you were so agaisn't balls.”

Sabo gave an impatient sigh. “Not just balls. Everything morally wrong with the lavish life of the wealthy. It is quite disgusting.” 

“Could that be your reason for abandoning this life?” 

Sabo kept quiet for an instant, realizing that he might have said more than expected. “Well half of it, yeah. I cannot stand to partake in such credulous behavior.” He walked past you to sit in an armchair.

“And has it ever crossed your mind that commoners would be no different from us if given the opportunity to live our life?” You turned to perpetuate a stare in his direction.

Sabo leaned on his knees with a grave air. “Because we deprived them from so much all their lives.”

“And you think running away from all of it will change something?”

“Probably not. But at the very least, I can break my part in the system and live a life I consider more fruitful.” 

“You are odd.” You bluntly voiced, walking to sit in front of him. “I can't decide whether to dislike you after the accusations you push my way or admire the sympathy you feel for the common people.”

“Think whatever you want of me, I do not care,” his words and conviction striked you as truthful, enough that it caused a slight jealousy to form in you towards having enough courage to remain unbothered.

“You do not care because of my status. I almost pity you, Sabo.” 

“What?” He lifted his head with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes surveying your features in search for answers.

“You cannot see further than my title of princess, which pains me. I however have been able to look past your many disrespectful behavior and remarks to deduce in our short time together that you are hard headed, will driven and possess a great deal of sympathy, which I find quite likable in a man. However I wonder if you have been able to discern any good qualities in me.”  

A pause, thick in silence occurred.

“Mhmh, I see.” You stood, harboring a hurt expression, feeling you had left a weak impression on his person. “Unfortunately things are already in motion for the ball, and invitations have already been sent and received as we speak. I hope to see you there in good spirits for the sake of the celebration.” 

Part 3

[disneyprincemuke]

our spot, 2 * ls2

it’s about two weeks since you last saw logan and you find him sitting all alone in the dark

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

warnings: logan is the warning idk

notes: i know it took me forever to write this subpar ass second part but like- i kinda like it because i'm bad with resolutions and making up (i'm single)

also i'd like to have a word with whoever made this gif because it's like so disrespectful like he is so fine why would u do this?

(f1 masterlist)

(prev)

“you’re growing up too fast,” your mother had said to you earlier after you finished packing the last of your boxes. the boxes that would be sent off to new york in a couple of days before you head out right before new year’s.

thankfully, your family agreed on flying over with you to spend the holiday with you. you had spent weeks and months rethinking the choice of your relocation; if you could handle being away from your family.

your father insisted you explore the world without them by your side and you took up the offer. you'd broken up with the guy you were seeing a couple of days ago.

while you had your doubts about where your relationship was going, there was no denying the amount of time you'd spent together. it still stung you quite a little bit to up and leave him. he had asked you if there was any way to make it work, but you couldn't get yourself to say anything.

so, he pulled you in for a hug and wished you well. and then you left, tearing up very slightly on the drive home alone.

it would be nice to start fresh in a new place. your last conversation convincing you to pick up the pieces of yourself and start moving on for real.

though, it seems it would take forever to do that. you hadn’t only lost a romantic connection when you lost logan, but also your best friend.

the first person you called when you crashed your car on the highway when you were 17, the person who stood up to the girl who made fun of you when you were 9, and the only one who knew you better than you knew yourself.

so here you are at 3 in the morning walking the quiet streets of your small town with your hands in the pockets of your sweater. you try to stifle the sniffle that escapes you, having spent the past couple of hours in tears at the thought of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known.

packing up and spending months in new york, then indefinitely in germany made you a nervous wreck. though the company you’re working for has arranged everything for you from the airport pickup to the apartment estate you’ll be spending your days in.

when you left your house, you glanced across the street to disappointment. logan’s truck isn’t parked on the street and his room had its blinds drawn — the way it’s been since you last saw him.

when you first got the promotion, you almost picked up your phone to text logan. but the heavy weight of guilt made you hit erase and put your phone down after a second.

even when you had graduated about 6 months after cutting contact, you wanted so bad to send him a photo of you and your degree together. but, there was something so embarrassing about reaching out and starting a conversation like nothing had happened.

you posted it on your instagram stories, reposting every single tagged picture for days after to hopefully prompt a message of congratulations from logan. but he didn’t bite.

it made you wonder if you’ve truly made a mistake suddenly cutting him off.

you sigh, making a sharp turn after you pass the school. there’s a dark figure up ahead on the playground that makes you question if it’s a mistake that you’ve come here so late at night.

but it’s a relatively safe gated community. you press your lips together as you approach, your breath hitching in your throat when you’re finally able to make out the man sitting at the end of the slide.

“fancy seeing you here,” logan mumbles, throwing the pieces of rubber from the playground floor into the ground. “it’s late.”

“yeah, i just finished packing,” you answer under your breath, passing him to sit at the edge of another slide. “just needed to do some thinking. didn’t expect you’d be here.”

logan grins to himself with a soft chuckle. “yeah, i’m sorry for intruding.”

you hadn’t been here since you last asked him to come here and see you. in fact, prior to that meetup, you’d only been here a total of 5 times since you last talked.

it reminded you too much of the memories you shared with him growing up.

you lie back in the comfort of the slide. “don’t worry about it. i don’t come here often,” you smile to yourself as you confess. "not anymore."

"i can tell," logan mutters. "i've been here every night since you texted me."

"oh." you take a deep breath, not knowing if you'd like the answer to your question. "what for?"

"thinking real hard," he says just barely above a whisper. he turns to you with a small smile. "i was thinking about you. and germany... and how close it is to me."

your breath hitches. you won't admit to him, but you accepted the offer to move to germany to at least be remotely close to him. or to at least convince him to give your relationship a shot.

you've been apart for years. the only way you got to spend time together back then was if you'd make the effort to visit him in the uk, or if he had the time to fly back home. it was difficult to keep finding ways to make the relationship last.

you had to pretend for a while that you never had to end it. but you knew in your heart two years ago that it cannot keep going on like this. you cried and cried every single time at the airport when he would have to leave you behind in this small town.

you knew his mother mentioned to him about the guy you were seeing. because your mother came to you asking questions about the mysterious guy you never even told her about.

every night after that, you thought about calling logan to explain yourself; that it's not what he thinks it is. but were you really in the position where you had to explain yourself?

"i do love you," he says, picking at the rubber grit once more to avoid your stare. "but the long-distance... barely seeing each other for months on end... it was hard. i couldn't give you what a normal guy would. i couldn't keep making you wait around for nothing."

"but that's not up to you to decide," you say slowly, hoping that he would understand where you came from. "it's unfair. i was willing to go through all of that with you. we've been through so much together."

"i didn't want to risk losing you over something like that," logan sighs, looking up at you in despair. there's a sadness in his eyes that you've never seen before. "it was lonely without you. you're my best friend - losing you over something different entirely was devastating. i didn't have anybody else."

you shake your head, unsure of what to say to him. it was lonely for you when you cut him off. you went from communicating everyday to only catching glimpses of his life on tv, instagram and media news sites.

every single achievement you had, you thought about calling him and hearing his proud voice. but you couldn't fully back yourself on the fact that you broke your own heart because he wanted to keep you around.

"i thought of you every single day," logan says. "i'm sorry. i know you've got a boyfriend and i'm sure he's great, but-"

"i told you," you laugh dryly, throwing your head back. "if you just tell me right now... i'll be all yours."

"but i can't do that to somebody else," logan frowns with a shake of his head. he's contemplated a lot over the past couple of days. how appealing your proposal sounds to him, but the fact that you're still seeing somebody has been making him hesitate. "you know what that means."

you press your lips together. logan's always made sure that he was as morally right as much as he could with his decisions. you sigh, a small hesitant smile stretching your lips. "we broke up."

"what?"

"i broke up with him a couple days ago," you whisper, dropping your eyes to avoid his questioning stare. "i just wanted to go to germany with a fresh start."

logan doesn't say anything immediately. and you don't follow up your confession with anything either. so you look up into the sky as you sway your feet left and right as you try to count the stars that illuminate the night sky. your heart pounds in your chest as you anticipate what he will say next.

and you know he's still there, thinking hard because you can still see his shadow against the playground flooring.

"stay the night," he says softly.

you sit up, both of your hands gripping the sides of the slide as you turn to look at him. "what did you just say?"

"come home with me and then let's talk about it," logan smiles, though he still looks just as tired as before. "let's figure it out, you and me; germany. let me make this right."

"you idiot," you laugh, tears falling out of your eyes again as you have another outburst. "logan."

"wait, why are you crying?" his voice is soft and laced with shock, hands held out towards your body. "i thought this was what you wanted? did i cross a line? i'm sorry."

"no, i just," you cry, wiping the tears from your face. "god, i just missed you so much. i'm sorry. it's not you."

he's now gotten up from his seat. he's knelt down next to the slide you're sitting in, trying to reach out and touch your arm. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry it took me this long." his thumbs swipe over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "please don't cry anymore."

@thatgirlmj @lfm98 @gentlyweeps-world @ladywhistledownx @charli123456789 @lightdragonrayne @k-pevensie28 @angsthology

[writingescapades]

Vines on Stone

A/N: Look at me unravelling a moment into a long story and writing about kisses. I'm growing at a writer! Hopefully.

You were strong. The way you carried yourself through battle and work, so composed, so put together. He loved it. Envied it. He who wrapped himself up, coiled and curled around life itself. How can he be anything to you?

You were friends. Actual friends, and though Aventurine had difficulty accepting this, he knew he craved more. He could tell you wanted more too. How else could he explain the special shine your eyes took when they noticed him? Or the ease and comfort you felt around him that he both relished and puzzled over. Yet you always kept a distance, insisting that he had to focus on healing himself before pushing what you both had and understood into uncharted territories.

He understood your hidden words, but he also understood himself. The part that didn’t want you to leave every night. The part that wanted to bask everyday in the morning lull and not just when you both had a late night or early morning mission together. He wanted more than just your hands, or the arm grabbed to pull each other in and out of danger. The more he wanted, the more he grew around you, hoping desperately one day to crack through your stone and pull out the emotions you neatly buried. But you were strong. Resolute. And as much as he loved that about you, it was killing him now. He was only human. What’s one more sticky situation in his murky life? So he did the only thing he could you, trick, and twist until you found yourself in the current situation.

He was spread out on the floor, limbs curled around your ankles, not letting your get up so easily. His eyes stared into yours asking the same question he had just spoken. Don’t you want this? Even now he could see how much you cared for him. Even though he instigated the fall, even though he knew you knew he instigated the fall.  Your arms instinctively fell parallel to his face, keeping your body from crashing on top of him. Damn you and your morals! Let him get hurt this one time if it meant having you in his arms! You looked down at him, concerned for his safety, but he detected something new, hesitation. He longed to glide his hands up your arms, past the shoulder and neck to your face and bring comfort. He wanted the same. But he laid himself bare. You knew everything about him and now he could only watch you, awaiting the final judgement.

You knew his story from the bits you pieced together over your time together. At first it gave satisfaction to give comfort to Aventurine. Then you gained pride whenever you addressed each other as friend.  You never smiled so much at calling another person you friend, as many pointed out. Somewhere along the line friend took on a different meaning for you. Best friends. Soul friends. Bonded friends. Then, then what? Each time you both outgrew the husk of the name you gave the current stage of your relationship, but you both were too scared to reach for the next rung. Even though you longed to hug him around the shoulders. Even though you wanted to be the one person what made his demeanor light up with joy. Even though, right now, you just wanted to place your hand around his head and ask if he was alright. It was too fragile.

Was it? Aventurine wondered. After scrapes, burns, bullets, and backstabs, Were you both so weak to the intangible? In addition to life and work, Aventurine had pushed you, seen what truths you could really stand. He didn’t need you and discovered that you didn’t really need him either. So what kept you both so attached beyond vocabulary and definitions? You had given him so much space in your heart, why wouldn’t you let him do the same? Do you want this? His arms asked as they slowly wrapped around your waist.

It was a familiar weight used by both of you when you leapt off building with only a cord to keep you both alive. Your left knee instinctively went down, as if getting ready to launch off the roof. So many times Aventurine placed his life in your hands as you guided the two down to safety. So many times you let your back be exposed knowing that Aventurine’s hands stood on guard, gun in hand. As ludicrous as it sounded, you loved those moments together, hovering right above death, both hearts pounded from exhaustion and fear. The excitement that took off as your body adjusted again and again to being airborne. You always cupped his head in your hands in those moments. What was so different this time?

We’re landing. You both had been much closer in other situations, but those times survival took precedence. Now neither of you could die, only be mortified, and hurt too deep to heal. His arms had slowly pulled you down. He could feel your hands behind his head. Still you kept your head above his, watching him carefully. He had his habits formed out of secrets and past lives, and he expected no less from you. But right now, he wanted to move his hands up your back and to your head, cocooning you in his love. There. He confessed. Would you acquiesce?

It always surprised you how little you needed to accept someone like Aventurine into your life, past the layers of stone you placed, down to the quiet inner self you protected. You let him relax and get stuck within you but always feared if he would do the same with you, if he had the capacity, if you would be a terrible human for accepting the love he was clearly dying to express. But he had curled around your heart and cracked it, and even though you both could hear the wails your heart made for him, you didn’t rip him off. You still let him take root and he still gave you the choice to be without him.

Facing everything, Aventurine gave you the last trick he had, a genuine smile. Seeing how happy he seemed, how excited he appeared towards life and an unknown future, you reflected his smile and crashed into him. Hands wrapped around each other, urgently delivering long withheld caresses while lips chased one another. It was messy, scary, uncertain, but fun. And although you both would tire out quickly from the period of stress, there was the bud of a new comfort. One that promised its own excitements and hesitations. But for the moment, you both basked in tahe shade of a long withheld love.

[elyvorg]

Kieran Part Bonus: I AM SO PROUD OF MY BOY

And now for my really actually final analysis post about Kieran, covering both the epilogue and also his scenes in the League Club room once you’ve finished that. Somehow both of these relatively short pieces of content still managed to be packed with delightful nuance showcasing both how Kieran’s still struggling with his issues and yet also how much he’s grown since his main arc. They are absolutely lovely and fill me with so many warm happy feelings about my boy.

Honestly, it’s remarkable, not just from a Pokémon-writing perspective but as a piece of fiction in general, to have this kind of satisfying follow-up for a character arc. Usually once a character’s arc reaches a resolution, their story just ends there, and we don’t get to see more of how they’re processing what they’ve been through and learning to grow further in the aftermath. So it’s a really wonderful breath of fresh air to get to see something like that for once here with Kieran! The Pokémon writers absolutely did not have to make the epilogue and postgame content focused on showcasing this, and yet they did. I am, once again, pleasantly boggled by how much they cared about doing Kieran’s story justice. Just, wowzers, man. There really is no more appropriate word for my amazement than that.

(This is an epilogue, if you will, to my previous two analysis posts discussing Kieran’s character arc in The Teal Mask and The Indigo Disk! Reading those before this is probably recommended.)

Before even getting into things that are strictly from the epilogue itself, can I just say: I really love that Kieran took a mental health break from Blueberry Academy to give him some time to process things? (Okay, the game only calls it a “break”, but let’s be real, it is for his mental health, and this is Good.) It just makes me very happy that the writing acknowledged that he’d probably need something like that after what he’s been through instead of going straight back to business as normal at school – and in an in-story sense, it’s lovely that Kieran realised he needed this and didn’t try and force himself to just keep going as if nothing had happened. He’s starting to learn to take care of himself and not push himself way too hard!

Making new friends

The first lovely sign of Kieran’s growth that we see in the epilogue is that, not only does he want to catch up with you, he also wants to meet your friends from Paldea! He must have spent some time during his break thinking about the fact that you mentioned you had friends from there.

And the thing is, with Kieran’s insecurities, it would have been so easy for him to slip into a mindset of “your friends are probably way cooler than me, why would you need me”. But instead of letting himself get caught up in that jealousy spiral again, he fought against it and did the healthy thing of asking to meet them himself. Hopefully he can become friends with them too and then he’ll have nothing to feel jealous about! He outright says when he meets them, “Any friend of [yours] is a friend of mine!” Look at him go. (Arven should take notes on how not to act insecure about one’s best friend having other friends, because damn, Kieran’s managing to be more well-adjusted than him now.)

All this is also just a sign that Kieran’s hoping to try and make more friends in general. He’s such an introvert that he must have figured that’d be easier for him to do with people for whom he has a mutual friend to get to know them through. Plus, if they’re your friends, then he already has a guarantee that they’ll be good and nice people. Way more manageable for him than trying to approach complete randos.

And really, it’s such a huge remarkable thing for Kieran that he is trying to make friends now. Friends, plural! This is the kid who used to be so lonely and shunned by others that his big dream was to one day be like the ogre who, according to him, doesn’t care that it’s all alone. And maybe then, if he managed that, he’d be able to befriend the ogre – just that one other person who is also alone and outcast. It never even crossed his mind to try and imagine that one day he could be confident and worthy enough to just… have some human friends. That wasn’t even an option in his head – it was “learn to not care that he’s alone” or nothing.

And yet look at Kieran now, actively reaching out to try and make new friends! I am so proud of him.

Learning to ask for help

Soon after you meet up with Kieran, it becomes apparent that something is Very Wrong with his sister. According to Kieran’s account, it was shortly after he sent you the letter that Carmine became possessed, so it’s not that the letter was secretly a call for help in which he couldn’t bring himself to admit the actual problem.

And even now that you’re here… Kieran wasn’t going to tell you about this problem at all until Carmine happened to wander up and start mochi-dancing in front of you. He tries to play the whole thing off like it’s totally normal and she’s definitely just… excited to see you???, even though he has to know that doesn’t make any sense at all. On some level this is just because it’s really scary to admit to himself that something is very wrong and he doesn’t have a clue how to fix it. But it’s also because… he still doesn’t feel like he has the right to ask you and your friends for help.

This is one of the ways in which Kieran’s issues and low sense of self-worth from before are still lingering and have not just been magically, instantly fixed. While he may be making a conscious effort to fight through his insecurities to try and make more friends, he hasn’t started consciously tackling everything that was holding him back just yet. It seems like he imagines that asking your friends for help, these people he’s only just met, would just make him a burden on them and maybe spoil any chance he had of actually becoming their friend himself. (Although, even if you’d come to visit him alone, I suspect he’d still struggle to ask even just you for help, simply due to his old ingrained mindset that he’s not worthy enough to deserve it.)

Happily for Kieran, your friends are all good people who instantly unthinkingly offer to help without him even needing to ask them! Kieran’s sheer surprise and gratitude when this happens is so telling about his insecurities for why he didn’t feel he could ask, but it’s also lovely to see him starting to realise that his instinctive way of thinking about this is mistaken. Welcome to having friends, Kieran, this is how it works actually! Most people are good and will be happy to help out a friend in need! It’s okay to need help sometimes!

There’s another very innocuous line that I find interestingly telling about Kieran’s mindset regarding this. When you’re all at the community centre wanting to use the TV, Kieran laments that it’s stuck playing the tourism ad because the caretaker hid the remote, so Arven immediately suggests you all look for it. And Kieran reacts, in surprise, “Why didn’t I think of that?” It reads as largely rhetorical, but… it’s a good question.

Why didn’t Kieran think of just trying to find the remote? Because he’s spent so long stuck in a mindset where, if things are bad for him, it’s just what he deserves for being weak and there’s nothing he can do about it. His response to his problems during the main storyline was to completely separately fixate on making himself Stronger so that, in theory, problems would just stop happening to him entirely. It never occurred to him to try and just face and deal with his problems directly – at least not until the climactic battle with Terapagos, which was the first time he ever found the courage to take such an approach – so the notion to do so still isn’t quite habitual in his mind just yet.

Hopefully Kieran asking why he didn’t think of that wasn’t quite so rhetorical, and he was reflecting on it himself a little when he said it. He ought to realise that actually, taking action to directly solve his problems is a good thing and something he should strive to do more! He has already begun to do so in some ways by reaching out in an attempt to make more friends, at least.

Solving the problem

Kieran sure does get a lot more practice at Directly Solving Problems thanks to the events that go on to occur that night, doesn’t he. I love that the epilogue’s plot, while ostensibly just there to give players an opportunity to catch Pecharunt, is also a narrative that exists to let Kieran get to be a hero alongside you.

It’s somewhat low key, but Kieran definitely gets pretty freaked out about everything that’s happening. Which is really perfectly reasonable – though the effects of the possession are incredibly silly, it’s still got to be genuinely frightening to see people he knows getting controlled against their will by some unknown force, especially when this includes his own family. (One detail I love is that the game uses that lack of a highlight in his eyes during certain lines to communicate the fear he's feeling and trying not-so-successfully to hide; it’s a small thing, but it works so well.)

Once you’ve fought off his possessed grandparents, Kieran starts to panic, convinced it’s only a matter of time before it gets him (even though the evidence of how exactly the possession occurs is right there if he’d just stop to think about it for a moment). On some level, he must still have this sense that, if it can get all these people he looks up to, surely it’ll get him too who’s so much weaker than them. His inferiority complex is still there and affecting him, especially in this stressful situation.

Good thing Kieran has you by his side, the strongest coolest friend ever whom he knows he can rely on! If you hadn’t been there to reassure him and snap him out of it, he really might have lost himself to his panic. Or he might have just not even tried to battle the possessed people and do something about all of this in the first place – see the earlier point about how him facing problems directly is still not instinctive to him. He’s able to do so here, but a lot of that is probably thanks to being able to follow your lead. Still, this is bound to help him get better at doing so on his own in future!

Kieran’s also still a bit too liable to feel like things are his fault even when they really aren’t. He blames himself for not warning Arven and Penny about the mochi in time, even though he was literally about to do so when Pecharunt showed up and sniped mochi directly into their mouths. That can’t be called Kieran’s fault at all! He tried! (And, hey, it’s not like you made any attempt to warn them either.) But he still feels responsible for it anyway.

And he’s also still rather defeatist when it comes to facing Strong Opponents in battle. Kieran couldn’t defeat Nemona earlier in the day, so when it comes down to facing off against her in order to get to Pecharunt, he just feels like he can’t do it, end of. Really, that’s not necessarily the case – since this is an emergency and not a friendly battle for sport, there’s no reason you have to beat Nemona in a fair 6-on-6. Anything to get past her will do; the two of you could have taken her on in a 12-on-6 double battle, perhaps! Kieran did not need to momentarily feel useless in this situation, but he did, because not being able to win against someone still equates in his mind to being No Good At All. Kieran, nooo.

Happily, the narrative provides Kieran with something else to do with himself while you fight Nemona so that he is very decidedly not useless in the slightest – fighting off the entire town’s worth of people behind you??? That is equally as necessary as taking down Nemona, something without which you’d never have managed to get to Pecharunt, and it must take some incredible battling skill to be able to hold off that many opponents at once. Like, dang, Kieran. I really hope he’s able to reflect on this in the aftermath and realise how incredibly strong and cool that was of him, because it was.

(He was holding his own one-against-many, just like he always admired Ogerpon for doing!)

Kieran’s fear and pessimism also show through just a tiny bit as you’re fighting Pecharunt at the end, when he reacts to the fact that you were able to damage it. Apparently he was afraid that this thing would be completely invulnerable and it just wouldn’t be possible for even someone as amazing as you to beat it and stop the curse. Yikes, that must have been a scary thought. But still, it all worked out in the end! Kieran’s learning that even when things are scary and feel overwhelming, by facing up to them and doing his best, it’ll usually turn out okay! Especially because he’s not alone and has friends by his side to support him now.

And, hey, one way or another, it seems like the events of the epilogue did help give Kieran that last little push he needed to decide to go back to Blueberry Academy! I imagine he was already thinking about doing so – he is actually a very stubborn and determined person at his core, so I don’t think he could ever have been considering just giving up on it – but all of this probably helped give him the confidence to make that leap. The thought of apologising to everyone for how he acted must still be incredibly daunting – but, he’s begun to realise that he can face scary things!

His old Kitakami team

During the epilogue’s battles, I was absolutely delighted to see Kieran send out Poliwrath, one of the Pokémon he used in Teal Mask but not in Indigo Disk – because this is proof that he’s been reconnecting with the Pokémon friends he left behind back then! As it turns out, the rest of his team for these multi battles is the same as his Champion team, with only the Polis switched, but even so, Poliwrath’s presence is enough to be a promising sign for all of his old Pokémon friends.

And this gets further confirmed by his dialogue with Arven in the clubroom! Arven asks Kieran which of his Pokémon he’s closest to, and he mentions his Hydrapple (which has been with him since it was an Applin), his Poliwrath and Politoed, his Yanmega, and his Furret! This accounts for all of the Pokémon Kieran had in his Teal Mask battles up to the third one, after which he started to fixate hard on getting stronger to prove himself to you, so these are likely all of the Pokémon that were friends of his from the start. And he still considers them friends now, which means he reconnected with them all and apologised as necessary for any leaving them behind/thinking they were weak/etc that he might have done! Yes good, Justice For Furret was had, I could not be happier.

(Okay, we never saw the second Poli back then, but the way he talks about both Polis together suggests they’re a pair, so I imagine they were both his friends back then, too. He also never used Applin against you before evolving it into Dipplin – which is fair, Applin is very not good in battles – so the lack of us seeing another Poliwag/whirl is probably because he felt he needed to use a diverse team that didn’t have two of the same species. He doesn’t have to battle with all of his Pokémon for them to still be his friends, after all! He still doesn’t battle with most of them now in the clubroom battles either, which use his same Champion team, but that doesn’t stop them from being his precious pals!)

(On the other hand, since there is no sign nor mention of them in the postgame, I suspect that, like Cramorant before them, his Gliscor, Shiftry and Probopass from the final Kitakami battle got released. Kieran would have only had them for like a day or two during the events of Teal Mask, since he only caught them after he fixated on getting stronger, so I doubt he’d grown very attached to them during that time. Still, that’s okay, because hey, he did make them stronger, which is probably all they ever expected from him when they joined his team.)

Nemona is Good

One extremely delightful aspect of the epilogue and beyond is Kieran’s interactions with Nemona. It turns out that her outlook on battling is exactly the kind of thing Kieran needed to help regain a healthier view on it himself!

His feelings about his own battling skills are still very all-or-nothing at the beginning of the epilogue. When Nemona excitedly declares that she’s heard he’s really good at battling, Kieran’s pretty dismissive of that idea. He couldn’t beat you, therefore that means he’s Not Good At It, right? (Kieran, no.) He also says that Nemona “destroyed” him once they’ve battled – but based on the fact that she has nothing but praise for how good he is, I very strongly suspect that he actually gave her a really tough fight, and he only framed it that negatively because losing at all still makes his inferiority complex blow things way out of proportion.

Happily, delightfully, Nemona tells Kieran exactly what he has always needed to hear this whole time, which is that it shouldn’t matter whether you win or lose, because battles are fun either way! And with a moment to reflect on that, he agrees… yeah, they are, he had a lot of fun!

We’d heard from Drayton that Kieran was always a kid who’d deeply enjoyed battling, from the very beginning. But it seems that somewhere along the way he’d stopped loving it so much, at least when he’s the one battling - probably because he’d often lose, which would trigger his inferiority complex and make him feel bad. We only saw a small glimpse of his passion for battling ourselves at the beginning of Teal Mask, mostly when he watched you battle his sister, and a little bit in his own early battles with you, but he still felt bad over losing, poor kid.

But with Nemona’s help, Kieran’s been able to remember just how much he always loved battling and can just enjoy himself with it again! In your clubroom battles with him, he has a line just before he Terastallises where he says “these feelings never change” – and though he doesn’t specify what feelings he’s talking about, the one thing about Kieran that has never changed this entire time, even if he sort of lost sight of it for a while along the way, is the thrill he gets from battling! He also says in another line that he’s “having a blast” – which is phrasing that Nemona uses that Kieran never has before, so apparently he picked that up from her? Aww. I am so glad he could meet her; she is exactly the breath of battle-loving fresh air he always needed.

Kieran’s clubroom conversation with Nemona is also very good and helps him let go of his all-or-nothing mindset a little more. Nemona praises him for how quickly he climbed the ranks of the BB League, which he insists is meaningless because he pushed himself unhealthily hard and then still couldn’t beat you in the end. But Nemona helps him reframe it and think of it as: he was incredibly dedicated, and it must mean he really loves Pokémon and battling, which is true! This has to help Kieran view his training arc in a more positive light instead of focusing on the negative aspects like his toxic obsession and lack of self-care. Hopefully if/when he starts training hard again, he’ll be able to feel better about it and not associate it with all the bad things, thanks to Nemona! (But also, Kieran, please remember to not neglect self-care again, that was bad. I imagine he has indeed got the message about that, since the way he talks about that aspect in this conversation seems tinged with regret.)

Carmine is Trying

Another thing we see in the epilogue – admittedly only a small glimpse near the end, but it’s something – is that Kieran’s relationship with his sister seems to have gotten a little bit healthier? They each make equal-opportunity Sibling Banter jabs at each other, and Kieran doesn’t slump and shrink and look so defeated when she bites back against one of his. There’s probably still some ways to go here on their dynamic becoming completely truly healthy, but it’s definitely progress from before, which is good to see.

I think Carmine really must have reflected on her role in Kieran’s breakdown and is trying in her own fumbling awkward way to do better by him now. A delightful sign of this is one of her scenes in the clubroom, in which she resolves to be less protective of Kieran, even if it’ll make her lonelier without him around as much. That’s exactly what she needs to do! After all, this whole thing started because Carmine couldn’t bear to let her brother endure even the tiniest amount of badfeels that would have come from learning he happened to miss out on meeting the ogre. Carmine has realised on some level that she needs to have more faith in Kieran and his ability to endure and get through stuff on his own, rather than trying too hard to protect him from everything ever, which just results in coddling him and stifling his possibility for growth. She still does want to look out for him from a distance and be able to help if he really does need it, but she’s trying not to overdo it any more. Yes good, I am proud of her too.

Reconciling with his schoolmates

I said already in the Indigo Disk post that it’s incredibly brave of Kieran to resolve to apologise to everyone he hurt and make amends, and this is still true. That has to have been so scary, but he went and did it anyway! It seems he even apologised to the people who cared about him, such as his sister and Amarys, for worrying them with his behaviour – which also means he has managed to comprehend the fact that people cared about him, even back then when he was at his most unlikeable.

And by the sounds of what he says in his clubroom scenes, most people took his apologies well and are talking to him like normal now, which has to have been such a relief. It means a lot that Kieran wasn’t expecting anything of the sort and apologised anyway despite expecting backlash, simply because it was the right thing to do – but hey, most people are nice and can probably tell he was decidedly Not Himself during that time and are willing to put the past behind them! Social interaction isn’t quite as scary as he’d used to think, it turns out!

Even then, some things are still a bit weird, and with how far-reaching his impact as Champion was, Kieran’s bound to keep having to deal with this for a while. There must keep being more people he was a jerk to that he still hasn’t apologised to yet, people being intimidated by him because they don’t realise he’s changed, constant reminders of some of the hurtful things he said and did back then. Making amends is going to be a pretty long-term thing, but Kieran is putting in the effort to do so all the same, because it’s the right thing to do, and he is so brave.

Someone who is making this harder than it needs to be is Drayton, because of freaking course he is. He still insists on rubbing in the “ex-Champ” thing, even though Kieran has made it clear he does not appreciate being called that (of course, he no longer minds that he’s not Champion any more, but the fact that Drayton insists on constantly reminding him of his past self has to sting). On the one hand, Drayton is still concerned about Kieran in his own way, because he does effectively ask if Kieran’s eating better meals now, but on the other hand their entire clubroom interaction features him deliberately dodging Kieran’s genuine attempts to just engage with him in an effort to make amends, and, geez. This is exactly what he wanted from Kieran all along, and yet he is somehow still not satisfied. Seriously, Drayton.

At least Drayton is the only one of the Elite Four to be like this, and the others seem to be on good terms with Kieran now! Look at Lacey insisting that the past is in the past when Kieran acts confused that she’d want to help him after he was such a jerk to her. (Someone needs to take notes there, Drayton.) And it seems like Kieran’s got another good friend in Crispin, who’s in the same class as him! Our boy is making so many new friends and it is wonderful.

Of course, his insecurities are still around, and he’s still a little too liable to assume he’s doing something Wrong in social situations, as we see in a couple of his clubroom interactions. That one with Arven about his Pokémon is an example, as Arven phrased things as if he expected Kieran to have just one single closest Pokémon buddy, and Kieran seemed to feel bad that he actually had multiple candidates and couldn’t pick – but happily, Arven reassured him that it’s cool to not be able to choose, too! And in Kieran’s interaction with Crispin, he reflexively apologises for not having watched the latest episode of a show, but Crispin calls him out on the apology, and Kieran is able to question himself as to why he apologised and conclude that he didn’t need to, because it’s not like Crispin’s going to mind.

He is learning! He does not need to feel like he has to perfectly match his conversation partner’s expectations in order to be their friend! Kieran’s approach to his own issues has become so healthy and filled with self-reflection and growth, and I am so proud of him.

Friendship with you

Kieran is also able to be a whole lot healthier about his friendship with you, now that you’re properly friends again after everything! Possibly my favourite completely innocuous line in the epilogue is when he casually mentions that you and he became friends during the school trip to Kitakami. This is actually huge, because Kieran had spent so long utterly convinced that you couldn’t possibly have meant it when you called him a friend back then, not after the lie and all of his issues about being too weak to deserve it. But now, he’s been able to reflect on that and realise… of course you meant it. Of course you always wanted to be his friend, right from the very beginning! It wasn’t on purpose of you that he got left out of meeting Ogerpon at all, because you’re a good person and you wouldn’t do something like that, and he never actually deserved that after all.

(Perhaps sometime during his break, he had a proper talk with his sister about what happened and why she lied, and Carmine finally got to fully express that you and she never meant to hurt him and shun him with that.)

Kieran is still not over his idolisation of you, mind you. He reacts to you being the one to find the TV remote of all completely mundane things with “Wowzers! ‘Course you found it first!” – which, really isn’t a wowzers or an of course? Your magical protagonist powers do not and should not extend to this, and yet they still do in Kieran’s head. But even though he still views you this way, Kieran is so much healthier about it now. He’s no longer bitter and jealous and beating himself up for not being as perfect as he thinks you are, since nobody is (not even you, not really) – instead, he’s just so incredibly thrilled that he actually gets to be friends with someone so cool!

I really love that the devs went and gave Kieran a new losing animation for his clubroom battles, too. His previous ones always had him being varying levels of upset about losing, but not any more! He just stares in wide-eyed awe at your amazingness, and then breaks into a big smile and thanks you for the battle, because he still had great fun even though he lost! And he’s able to freely admit that he looks up to you because you’re so strong, or, in an optional line in the epilogue, he admits that he’s jealous that your friends are all really good people. He still has those feelings, but he’s able to healthily express them now without letting them twist him into something harmful.

It seems like he’s still a little insecure about if he deserves to be friends with you, though, based on a few small things. When he asks you for a trade in the clubroom, he appears hesitant to ask, as if he’s not sure he has the right to, and if you say no – even though there’s every chance this is just because you want some time to decide on an appropriately special Pokémon to give him – he slumps, probably having had his sensitivity to rejection triggered. And even once you’ve traded, he can later ask if you’re absolutely sure he can really keep the Pokémon you traded him, because he can’t quite believe he could get to have such a cool gift from you of all people. Aww, Kieran. Hopefully his hypothetical future interactions with you will help squash this insecurity of his further, because he deserves to feel comfortable in his friendship with his best friend!!!

Ogerpon

Another seemingly-innocuous but extremely good line in the clubroom is that Kieran can ask you if Ogerpon’s doing well and say that he thinks she’ll be pretty happy with you. He says this in a completely casual way, with no hint of bitterness – which tells us that he’s no longer jealous that you caught Ogerpon! It makes sense that he wouldn’t be, because he doesn’t need her acknowledgement any more like he used to think he did in order to feel worth something. He’s already got acknowledgement and self-worth and happiness now for so many other reasons, after all! So he can just be selflessly happy for Ogerpon that she’s found a trainer she can feel safe and happy with too, without being irrationally preoccupied over what she thinks of him.

It is interesting to see in this dialogue that Kieran initially calls her “the ogre” before correcting himself to “Ogerpon” – apparently, he’s only quite recently made an effort to shift what he calls her in his head. It’s true that in his reaction to her in the Champion battle, he did indeed just call her “the ogre”. It’d make sense that he didn’t actually work to shift his mental idea of what to call her during his Indigo Disk arc, despite knowing her species name, because the name “Ogerpon” likely brought back too many painful reminders of everything that happened in Kitakami. It was probably easier for him to just stick with “the ogre” and try to forget anything had changed. But he’s okay with what happened now!

And maybe Kieran trying to make a habit of using her name now is a sign that he’s started to realise that Ogerpon is her own individual who’s not quite the same as the mental image he always had of what “the ogre” was like? Maybe. It’s hard to be sure. Unfortunately the epilogue/postgame can’t do much with Ogerpon because it’s always optional for her to be on your team or even in your game at all (since you could in theory have released her or traded her away). But we can at least hypothetically imagine that in Kieran’s continued interactions with you, he’ll get the chance to hang out with Ogerpon a little and come to understand her better. It certainly seems now that he’d be able to hang out with both you and her without feeling uncomfortably jealous, which is a good start! (And Terapagos is on the list of ‘people’ he owes an apology to, so let’s imagine he gets a chance to do that, too.)

Moving forward

The “climax”, such as there is one, of Kieran’s mini-arc of scenes in the clubroom is him excitedly telling you that he’s had the BB League drop him from their rankings. Although your character seems a little bewildered by it (they are still a bit of a social dumbass), this is in fact an extremely good thing for Kieran! He’s taking a step back from the competitive side of things for the sake of his mental health, so that he can untangle himself from the toxically-obsessive mindset that he was in back when he was only focused on winning! Look at Kieran doing all this good self-reflection and self-care, it is so lovely to see. He doesn’t even seem to view this as any sign of him failing, either – he’s just comfortably acknowledging that he needs to do this for now for his own sake and there’s no shame in that.

Kieran seems pretty sure that he is going to want to get back into competing once he’s cleared his head a bit, but he’s already so much more casual and healthy about it! He says he’s going to shoot for the Champion title again, and even if you respond with a friendly taunt of “You still won’t beat me!”, he takes it so well. He’s genuinely okay now with the thought that he might never quite be good enough to beat you – he just wants to have fun trying. Look at how far he’s come!

In the meantime, while he sorts his head out, he just wants to spend time with his Pokémon (who mean a lot to him as far more than just sources of battling strength!) and his human friends (whom he has so many of now???) and figure out what he really wants to do with himself from here. Good for him!

Kieran’s still just a kid, and seeing him already learn how to grow from his mistakes and face up to his lingering issues and be just so emotionally healthy about things now is such a promising sign for wherever he’s going to end up in future. I love that the epilogue and these postgame clubroom scenes put so much effort into showing us this about Kieran now, reassuring us that he really is going to be okay. I truly could not be more proud of or happy for my boy.

[jabberwondia]

【the next step】 【part 2】 RIDDLE x READER, NSFW

Part 1 is here.

The proverbial "next time".

Riddle Rosehearts x Female Reader, 18+. Fluff, sexual intimacy (explicit), consensual.

Worrying about failing a test, botching that one high note at the recital, or stammering throughout the graduation speech are all examples of performance anxiety. The thought of failing and the looming overshadow it casts on the far-off dream of success – to a lot of people, it can be paralyzing. To counter it, you dwell on all the possibilities before that something can even come to pass, methodically going through worst-case scenarios in your head; at the time, they all seem more like prophecies.

Contrary to what his occasionally fiery mood swings might suggest, Riddle Rosehearts was a fairly confident and composed person, and never suffered from nerves before a test, recital or speech. The roots of his self-assurance were practice, diligence and rules. No test would ever be scary if you had revised hard enough, no note unreachable if practiced frequently enough, and no speech impossible if rehearsed enough. Rules provided a frame which allowed little flexibility, which meant more provable, safe results.

This, however, was different. There was no way to prepare for it. Any guides on the subject would generally say, ‘Let it flow’, and honestly that’s what he believed he had done -or at least tried to do- last time, when you were catching your breath, spread on top of his lap. He had purposefully, repeatedly, attempted to forget all about it – but every time his phone buzzed with one of your messages, he was sorely reminded of everything he did, and specially of what he didn’t do.

‘Would it be so bad if it were... planned?’ he pondered. But it’s not like those words would ever leave his mouth, and he truly did care about you, so he was not about to insult your integrity by suggesting something as unrefined as “Hey baby, let’s get it on”.

Sigh. It hardly seemed like the topic you could trust friends with, either. “What should I do?” he wanted to ask, but the fear of getting humiliated in return was too real. Or at least, it was inside Riddle’s head, as however certain he could be in social situations, one of his most recurring nightmares included screwing up an easy spell, getting laughed at, then yelled at by his mother, and, finally, falling through the void (in that order).

“Next time,” he had told Floyd. Why did he do that? Whatever the hell did that mean? Not unlike enlisting New Year resolutions and telling everyone you started working out – in a way, the contract behind your words binds you to turn them into action. Riddle really wish he hadn’t, and to be fair, Floyd hadn’t even asked about it since – but the thought alone was eating away at him.

Alone in his room, he had, at long last, drafted up the end-all, be-all of text-based conversation.

Riddle Rosehearts: “Hello! 🌹 What are you doing for the break? I’ll pass on going home this time, I think. We can expect an exceptionally hot summer this year, and I’m worried about the hedgehogs.”

And then, greatly contingent on your answer, but – hopefully – the next sentence would be:

“If you’re free sometime, would you like to stay the night?”

‘Stay the night’ was a much more suitable euphemism for what he wanted to say. It was short, and sweet, and left the possibility of nothing happening, which was important. The main problem with it is that it broke quite a few rules, but most notoriously: the rules that stated students from other schools were not allowed inside the dorms past curfew, and that non-alumni needed a special permission to enter in the first place. Well, uh, and also the fact that he was trying to bring a girl to sleepover to an all-boys school. After one law had been violated, the rest of transgressions just seemed like silly, collateral damage. This is why he was a stickler for codes and regulations – being unyielding did, in fact, protect the system from falling apart all at once.

The hedgehog excuse also worked well, and even his mother had believed it and granted him permission to stay all summer on campus.

The first text is an easy one to send. If, for any reason, Riddle feels like he needs to call the whole thing off, he can just invite you to a Tea Party, or suggest a date in the park. The break begins next weekend, and it’s a perfect time because the school will be mostly empty and free of prying eyes. And if you are too busy to catch up, spending a quiet summer caring for the hedgehogs doesn’t sound too bad either.

Y/N: “oh hey! 😊 poor darlings🦔 it’s good they have a very kind caretaker💓 yeah, I read somewhere we were reaching record temperatures. thankfully it’s not so bad inside our dorm. i’ll go home, but only from the second week onwards”

Which leaves a week in between to... to...

Riddle opens up his drafts once again. All he has to do is copy, paste and hope for the best. But as he’s proof-reading, it occurs to him that maybe “sleepover” is better than “stay the night” – which one sounds more casual? Ugh, his hands are starting to feel icy cold and unresponsive. The weight on his chest is getting bigger.

Y/N: “we should meet up before I leave! 😊 i can help take care of the hedgehogs if you need a hand?"

Oh my Queen. A second, continuous text from you was not in the original plan. So now what? Well, he could still brave through and –ahem– suggest his suggestion. Hell, if he was so paralyzed at a text, there’s no way he could actually sleep with you, even if you did come over.

Riddle does not want you to help take care of the hedgehogs. Or rather, that is so trivial right now, that he wishes you could forget about it, and words to be undone.

Riddle Rosehearts: “I couldn’t possibly ask that! Hedgehogs are nocturnal, so you’d have to come in pretty late.”

Riddle is quick to type and send, but then gasps when he realizes the meaning. It can be taken two ways: either that he wants you to come in late, ergo, wants to get in your pants and is cowardly suggesting it; or he does not want you anywhere near the dorm at night, which, eh, kind of resets all the progress made in this conversation.

Y/N: “oh, right 😊 the school has rules against that, lol”

It’s getting more and more impossible to recover from this, like a rowing boat trying to maneuver through a river of chocolate fudge.

The draft that is waiting in his copy clipboard now makes no sense. “If you’re free sometime, would you like to stay the night?” is no longer applicable to this flow of the conversation. But he needs to find a way around it, or else it’s back to square one.

Riddle takes a very, very deep breath. Face red, fingers trembling, he manages to write:

Riddle Rosehearts: “Actually, don’t worry about the hedgehogs. It takes time to build trust with them anyways. But on that note, would you like to stay over sometime? Feel free to say no.”

That last part sounds incredibly weak and lacking in courage. He erases it and types it again a couple of times until deciding in favor of leaving it as-is – the fact that you don’t feel pressured is, after all, of utmost importance to him.

And yeah, “stay over” sounds better than sleeping or staying the night, so let’s stick to that.

When the message pops on your side of the screen, your sight paces back and forth at least twenty times, doubting the verity of your own eyes or reading comprehension. After last time, and how nonchalantly it had ended, you thought for sure that Riddle had been distancing himself from you, and that you had crossed a boundary that was hard to backtrack from. That is exactly why, truth be told, you were relieved when he initiated casual conversation as if nothing had happened. The struggle was mixing all these pure, affectionate, innocent emotions he made you feel with the raw Eros of whatever last study session was, and it had left you more confused than ever.

But hey, you tell yourself. Nothing needs to happen. I can just sleep. We can cuddle, and that’s it.

It seems you are taking all too long to answer, because his chat box pops up again.

Riddle Rosehearts: “I want to see you.”

Riddle was really good in situations reigned by protocol. He was the best social dancer you’d ever seen, and the way he’d guided you while waltzing through an interscholastic dance had been dreamlike. He’d open doors for you and escort you to your school gates; he was always eager to send over a study guide or offer some academic advice. But “I want to see you” and “I miss you” were words rarely uttered.

Filled with a newfound courage, you text back:

Y/N: “i'd love to! is friday ok? 😊”

Getting into Heartslabyul is always a challenge. You’d need to either come over during the daytime and then purposefully miss curfew, or you’d have to find a way to sneak in just before the gates are closed for the night. As a housewarden from a rival school, your face is somewhat known within the Night Raven College students, and while it’s not exactly a secret that you’re dating the Heartslabyul sovereign, you’d rather if people did not know you were planning on staying the night, for the Seven’s sakes!

If this were an eventful holiday, like Halloween celebrations or a friendly Spelldrive tournament, inter-school visits were more easily forgivable. There were plenty of ways to score a guest pass and walk around freely. But an outsider going around the dorm at night, on a normal school day? Now, that is just fishy.

You devised a plan of which the success depended on how fast Riddle could find you and then rush to his room. And you know he hated running in the hallways.

Your Signature Spell, “Drink Me”, as tongue-in-cheek as it sounded, allowed you to change an object or person in size for a very small period of time. Theoretically, if this was used on yourself and your clothes, you could become hedgehog-sized in seconds. And then, all would Riddle need to do is transport you in his shirt pocket. Simple enough, right?

As you head through the motions of the plan, you realize how utterly embarrassing it is. First, you would need to decide on a set of coordinates where Riddle would find your miniaturized self. He needs to pick you up, basically engulfing you with both hands. You are then to fit inside his pocket, and this meant that his heartbeat would sound like thunderstorms in the summer sky (a by-product of you being so small). And because you’d turn back in 5 minutes, he needs to rush to his room and take you out of the pocket, lest you grow back to normal and rip his prized uniform shirt apart.

There could be some repercussions. Usually, your Signature Spell required of a catalyst – you would use homemade soda for the shrinking spell and cookies for the enlarging spell – so as to keep the side effects at bay, and make the desired transformation last longer (a maximum of an hour). Very rarely you’d cast them directly from your pen to the object in question, unless you wanted or needed consequences to be more immediate and short-lived. In this case, staying small for a whole hour was not exactly the most enticing of options, and gorging on enlarging cookies while the effects of the fizzy shrinking drink hadn’t yet subsided always resulted in nausea, an upset stomach and a fever (you know – you’ve tried before). So, the only viable option was cast and run: a plan problematic in and of itself, but the only chance you had to access the property unnoticed. Ah, if only Chen’ya could teach you how to disappear at will.

When you suggested all of this over the phone, Riddle was flabbergasted. It was hard to tell which is more mortifying – carrying you around like a portable magic pen, or having you enter the dorm life-size and risk a student seeing you enter his room at night.

Eventually, after much persuasion, he had agreed to meet you at the outskirts of the Heartslabyul forest, which was exactly five minutes away from his quarters.

It’s the first meeting since the, uh, lap-sitting incident, and you are both quite self-conscious still. You wave and smile at his approaching figure, but he hurriedly hushes, “Quick! Before anyone sees you.”

Pointing a shaky pen to your chest, you take a deep breath. “Here goes. Drink Me!”

If the feeling could be compared to anything, you’d say it kind of reminds you of a balloon deflating – air gushing out, spiraling as it swirls until it reaches the floor. A kaleidoscope in which the senses become filled all at once, as the world around you is so big, and you’re now so small. The only good part is that, because your height and weight also decrease in proportion, having a parasol ready allows you to float tenderly for the last couple of inches, and the fall is never too abrupt.

Riddle is now... huge. I mean, wow there, Y/N, witty observation. But he really is, and even the act of him crouching to get closer to you shakes the whole ground like an earthquake. He stares at you, two fingers pressed on his lips, pondering if he should lift you up by the collar... but no, no, that’s too ungracious.

So, he offers the palm of his hand. You know that even if you talked at this size, your tiny micro lungs are not enough to produce enough sound to reach him properly, so you keep quiet and climb up his thumb.

When Riddle brings you up to the height of his pocket, it’s like that one Twisneyland attraction that you rode together once, the scary one with the elevator which you had hated with every fiber of your heart as you held on to your boyfriend’s arm screaming – and he wasn’t too keen on thrill rides, either, but had tried to put on a brave face for your sake.

“Are you alright?” he beckons, in a normal tone for him, but it’s like a cacophony ripping apart at your miniature eardrums. You put your hands over your ears. “—sorry! So sorry,” he reduces his voice to a whisper.

Plopping yourself into the pocket, you fall all the way in, roughly reaching the middle while standing straight. You are way smaller than hedgehog size at this point, comparable to a miniature doll of only a few centimeters high. “Hang in there,” he says.

By the sudden swaying, like a seism about to tear the face of the Earth, you assume that Riddle has set course for his room. The countdown starts.

As luck would have it, everyone and their mother is out to get the Headwarden today. He gets stopped at least thrice, mostly about silly stuff such as the shipment for flamingo food or the rundown for the next unbirthday party. It’s impressive how many students are still in the dorm, really –don’t these people have anything else better to do?– their voices are so loud you can barely make out the conversations, instead just catching the keywords. You have both hands pressed against your ears, eyes closed, trying to avoid sensory overload. At least this goes to show there is no way you could have gotten into Heartslabyul unnoticed if you were your proper size.

After many unwanted interruptions, time was running out for the both of you. The de-transformation would start coming in little bursts, where you’d feel your body a little bigger each time. The transpired, stuffy white fabric of that pocket was sure starting to feel a little tight, and now you could almost peek over the hem on your tiptoes.

“Riddle!” is your hurried plead, but he’s going as fast as humanly possible, as fast as anyone can go while still avoiding attention.

When he’s at the doorstep, it feels the seams won’t hold any longer. To the best of your ability, you lift yourself using your arms, trying to squeeze up and out. He fumbles with the key, breath visibly agitated, until he remembers he can just use magic, and can finally, triumphantly, open the door and slam it shut.

“Y/N!” he beckons, in a panic, looking for you to jump on his palm again so he can plop you onto the ground.

“No time! Throw me on the bed!” you squeak, unsure of how much of your speech is currently intelligible. Riddle catches the gist of it, and grabs you by the first thing he can pinch, which is the hem of your skirt, as you’re now dangling outside his pocket, barely not small enough to fit back in.

And next thing you know, he is flinging you like a Spelldrive disk towards his bed; with a loud “poof”, you transform mid-air and land headfirst, full size, cartwheeling on his mattress. Your skirt is flung open, you’ve lost both shoes somewhere along the way, you’re all tangled in on yourself, but at least you are finally safe, and neither Riddle’s shirt nor reputation have been ruined.

Adjusting your sitting position, you first make sure all parts have grown back to size. After all, it’s not unheard of for the effect to last longer on some objects or body parts than others. A quick check assures you that you’re back to normal – all over, that is. You turn to Riddle, who is watching you from the edge of the bed, hand over his mouth, his expression between bemusement and bewilderment.

A stifled laugh that you can’t seem to contain breaks the silence, and it’s like springing open a can of worms, because the redhead giggles a little, too, and then the whole situation becomes too funny to hold it in. Soon he’s laughing tears out of his eyes, unable to speak in full sentences.

“You — you really became pocket size. Right here! You were right here!” He gasps for air between chuckles, pointing at his chest pocket. “I can’t believe... really can’t... ahaha!”

“Hehe, that was some adventure,” you agree. And it’s not like you’re not laughing yourself, but your turn to your boyfriend, and the sight of him fills your chest with a strange warmth, so much that it quiets your laughter. You’d rarely ever seen such a playful, childlike expression; he keeps cry-laughing uncontrollably, wiping his eyes and clutching at his stomach; a hint of relaxation in his ever-so-stiff posture.

His giggle fit starts settling down, and then it dawns on you.

“Oh, no, we need to go through this exact same process tomorrow!” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Tomorrow. He liked the sound of that. It made the fact that you’re staying over more official.

“We’ll think of something by then,” he states.

The rush to close the door and prop you out of the pocket as fast as possible meant that the room was still dim. Because you had landed on his bed, there you were sitting upright in its dead center; suddenly feeling a rush of pink on your cheeks, as the whole Drink Me situation had acted as a deterrent to the actual elephant in the room: the fact that you were here to sleep over and that you had both been so nervous up until that point.

Riddle’s bleary eyes flicker in the twilight, still a soft smile on his lips.

“That was nice,” you grin. “It’d been a while since I last saw you laugh.”

“Oh, come now. Am I really that serious all the time?”

You struggle to find the words. “It’s like... like you’re always worried about something. Not that I blame you—"

“Huh,” he retorts before you can continue. “Well, even I can find something that tickles my funny bone, every now and then.”

He’s now frowning and pouting and just... standing there, as if still hesitant to join you in bed. After all, Riddle was quick to notice that you had made no effort to stand up, and now is wondering what the next step is. It’s not like he had planned any activities for you to do that night – maybe watching a movie on your phones? ...playing card games? Or just go straight to sleep? In the end, he could decide on none and the Day Of came to happen before he could devise a plan, something he dreaded from the bottom of his heart. His whole life was set in rules, set in stone tablets, and now he had to somehow improvise.

“I’m not worried,” he says, pensive, then adds: “Not when I’m with you, at least.”

“Liar,” you accuse him, to which he looks rather offended, albeit playfully so. “By now, you’re probably thinking, ‘What’s comes next?’ — well, aren’t you?”

His expression gives him away immediately. For such a well-postured, well-mannered person, Riddle tends to be a bit transparent. “H-how did you –”

“—it’s because I’m thinking the same thing, too,” you admit. “This is hard, isn’t it?”

It’s not a question. In no unclear terms, last time you’d met had been the very first instance of feeling each other’s bodies, and along came the realization that you are dating and it’s perfectly okay for you to do so. And now you’re subconsciously running your fingers through his velvety red, quilted duvet; and Riddle is still paralyzed a few steps away from the bed. You are not the boldest person out there; and he seems to be bold for anything except for this.

“Agreed,” he muses. Again, he’s like on the outside looking in – it’s that anxious feeling that never goes away, back to the little boy and the cakes he’d never eat.

“This is so awkward to say out loud,” you muster up some courage. “But I’ll try.”

“—yes?”

“I don’t care what we do today. I get to be with you, and that’s enough.”

...oh. Riddle can feel his heart doing a summersault. Being filled to the brim with love like this is something he is not accustomed to. It’s like he’s back to your warm embrace and the rhythmic breathing of your clothed chest, like digging his fingers in your back again, and feeling you return the squeeze. Every single waking moment, and hell, even while sleeping, he goes back to that evening. But he struggles to return your words, hesitant and meditative, staring at the floor.

“Riddle?”

“—yes?”

“Are you okay?”

He’s not. He’s fed up with himself. Scared of this new situation to which he doesn’t have a manual for. Terrified of underperforming and disheartening you.

“Of course,” he lies through his teeth. You are still fully clothed, so all he can see are your knees and calves, from where the skirt of your uniform ends and the socks begin. It’s not remotely erotic at all, yet he’s burning all over. You notice his eyes traveling up and down, trying to take the sight of you in.

You can’t be sure, but deep inside, you intuited that if you both feel the same, then he wants it as much as you do. But then again, pressuring your boyfriend is something you would never, ever venture to do – like a hedgehog himself, he was always quick to spike up to prevent you from poking at his vulnerability. He’d get angry or annoyed or sulky, only to quickly apologize later. So, you are not brave enough to ask, but the least you can do is initiate the scene – like the character that utters the first lines in a play, setting the mood and the proceeds in motion.

Hands, your own, travel to the elastic on your socks, as you slide them off slowly, one by one. Your feet get adjusted to the soft duvet, now feeling it on your bare skin, and you can’t help but notice how utterly cold your toes are – might be from the air conditioning, might be from the nerves. Riddle gasps audibly and clutches at his chest.

You look up at him, as he’s still standing immobilized in his spot. Fine. You’ll venture one more step past the proverbial line of his defenses, then.

Not unlike his, your school uniform consists of a white shirt with a tie or ribbon, at the student’s free choice of whichever. The ribbon on your neck is striped light blue and white, with a small coat of arms applique that depicts a teacup floating in a bottle full of tears. With a quick tug, you undo it, then the first button of your collar, all while keeping eye contact with your boyfriend – it feels like the sound of your own heartbeat is going to deafen you at this point.

Riddle takes a step in your direction, fully flushed, although you can barely tell through the room submerged in the summer dusk. But he stops just by the edge of the bed, frozen again. His is quite the big mattress, and he will need to crawl to you if he wants to reach you. Close, yet so far.

You press your lips together, at the attempt to regain some moisture: your mouth feels dry and trembling all over. Even so, you use the last bit of courage to undo one more button – completely innocuous, as this barely only reveals your collarbone.

“Stop,” he beckons, scaring you for a second. Seeming so desperate, filled with regret. “Don’t.”

“Oh.” Maybe it had been too much? You dread having pushed the Heartslabyul warden too far. “I’m sorry—”

“—no.” He takes a deep breath. “I mean, let me do it.”

Riddle climbs into the bed, knee first. His hand is reaching for your face, slate grey eyes full of adoration, and in turn, you unbalance him by pulling at both his arms, so he stumbles on top of you. Bumping heads at the fall, now faces only an inch away.

“Riddle—”

“—shh. Quit staring.”

But you’re not really, as your eyelids are drooping over, lost in the moment. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s so like him to want to have the last word.

As usual, it’s a peck on the lips, albeit a bit longer and hungrier; he then kisses your cheek, and now the question is what comes next and how the familiar pattern will be broken. To your surprise, you feel two nibbles on your neck, just below your jaw at first and then close to your throat. One leg has snuck in between yours, pressing slightly, the weight of his bony hips digging into your thigh.

He’s always fixing other students’ uniforms, so maybe that’s where it comes from, but he has unexpected skill in unbuttoning your shirt all the way through. But he’s taking it slow and steady, because every single new flash of skin is just killing him on the inside, building up fire within.

Pushing up with one arm, he uses the other to take your hand and give it a kiss, then a tug as he prods you to turn around, softly undressing one sleeve, and reaching for the clasp of your brassiere. Is this too sudden? He’s filled with worry, but push comes to shove, and his instincts urge him to keep going. He needs both hands to do this, causing him to promptly level forward, his mouth caressing your naked shoulder plates. And with one quick snap, you’re out of your bra, though it still lingers lazily on top of your breasts, as you adjust on your back once more.

Riddle realizes – he can almost peek – y-you’re half-naked, writhing beneath him, and –

“—hey,” you call softly, smiling with a tint of self-consciousness as you reach a hand for his cheek. “C-can I...?”

Can I take your clothes off, too? – is what you mean to say, but the words can’t seem to leave your mouth. Curses. Leaving the question unasked, you tug at his striped necktie, and his fingers follow yours, together undoing his shirt buttons all the way to his waist. He’s using a white, paper-thin t-shirt underneath, so you can make the shape of his nipples through it. More lightly clothed than ever, the sudden rush of shame gets the best out of you, and your gut reaction is to pull him into a full embrace, arms clasped around his neck.

Riddle stops for a moment, melting into your hold. You cannot see eye to eye right now, but you can clearly hear each other’s heartbeat. After a moment of hesitation, he kisses you again. It’s sloppy and uncharacteristic of him, but he wants to eat you whole and has no way of hiding it. Uncertain, his hand travels down your neck, feeling your collarbone, and hovering for a few instants where your bra is – unbound, it is no more than a decoration on top of your chest, and he pushes it aside.

“Ah,” he exclaims, almost unwillingly. Your breasts are oscillating up and down with your breathing, your lips are swollen and dyed a madder red, and you just look so beautiful.

“Now you quit staring,” you snap back.

“Hah,” he laughs raspingly. “Who do you think you’re talking to? You’ve got some nerve.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt, glad that he’s finally back to his normal self, setting aside all the anxiety and worry. Well, mostly. Of course, some worries are still in the way, but they continue melting as the heat rises – it’s impossible not to give into the moment and fondle your breasts. You let out a little yelp.

“Ah – does it hurt?” he frowns, worried, unable to gauge your reaction. Sure, he made a point to read a few erotic novels in an attempt to prepare for what should be expected for this situation –ugh, perish the thought of anyone finding those hidden at the bottom of his drawer– but truth be told, he still had no idea how rough or how gentle he should be.

“No,” you assured. “It feels good.”

“Show me where.”

At his request, you guide his hand with yours, back to your chest; and strengthen your grip, instructing him to squeeze ever so slightly. His leg, or rather, his knee presses against you, separating your legs further apart, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body. The goddamned skirt is still in the way, but you can’t muster up enough lucidity to concentrate and remove it, moaning and twitching below him.

Riddle must have read your mind, because he shifts his hands to the zipper on your skirt instead, and his mouth starts moving down and away from your neck. Your first reflex –completely involuntary, mind you– is to cross your arms and cover up your breasts, as if it made any difference at this point. His eyes move up to yours, worried again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” –well, now you’re making less sense than the Queen’s Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat poem– “It’s just... ah...”

He understands. Neither of you want it to end, and yet moving forward is just as scary. Before this, when you first started dating, he used to be able to listen to his inside voice when he kissed you. Or rather, he was forced to listen to it, by his own brain – like a switch you can’t turn off, he’d count the number of kisses and always follow the same pattern. His head was constantly yapping at him, keeping track of time so as to not be late for the 5 PM tea, or telling him to compulsively fix your uniform. But since he had climbed on top of you ten minutes earlier, he has not heard his inner voice, not even once. He could not keep count of how many kisses and nibbles he’d placed all over your collarbone, shoulders, inner elbows and wrists; softly motioning you to let go and uncross your arms. And the sheer fact of losing control was terrifying, yet it felt so good.

That being said, when faced with your bare chest, and the zipper on your skirt lowered but still not removed, Riddle feels a flash of clarity and stops dead on his tracks. There she is, the girl he loves, half-dressed, gorgeous, breasts perking up, but there is one thing that doesn’t quite feel right.

“Come here.” He props you up, helping you sit. He moves the hair off your face and pats your head. “I’ll– I’ll take off the rest of my clothes, too.”

It’s not as embarrassing if it’s the two of you, is his reasoning. And it was important for him that this wasn’t one-sided.

“—you wha– you will?” Not at your brightest nor most eloquent, you’re taken aback by his sudden assertiveness, again crossing your arms in front of your chest. He’s halfway through the zipper of his black school pants when he stops to look at you, face fully flushed.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he mumbles guiltily, his delivery harshly contrasting with his words. “You know I hate that.” Feigning authority and playful anger, part of him is trying to be a tease, yet still unsure how.

A giggle escapes your lips. “Shame you’re not wearing the dorm uniform today.”

“—ah.” He notices in that same moment. Had he been so nervous he completely mixed up his clothes today? As the last layers were coming off and he was sitting there in his underwear, he realized it didn’t matter.

“Wait, what is it about the dorm uniform?”

“Heh. Just – the heels,” you blurt out. “They’re kind of... –ah, I’m not gonna say it.”

The idle talk is not important. All you can focus on is how his porcelain skin contrasts with the crimson quilting, and he’s blushing head to toe, like a white rose poorly stained with red paint. Actually, you meant to say the heels turned you on (come on, admit it, just a little?), but halfway through the sentence you noticed you could not be any more aroused, and then he fell on top of you again, and your head emptied completely of thoughts. His hand now presses between your legs, and you wonder where your skirt went – it had been on you just a second before, right?

“Riddle,” you gasp, knowing the fabric of your underwear is betraying you and giving away how wet you are. You have no doubt he can feel it too. And he wishes you wouldn’t call his name, not like that – do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? His fingers are caressing you softly, and it truly feels like you might burst even though you’re just getting started. His face is close to yours, jaw shivering in a cold sweat, even though it feels like there must be a hundred degrees in the darkness of the room. And while he’s helping your orgasm build up, thumb toying with you gently, he can’t help but wonder if your skin feels just as good to the direct touch as it feels through your panties, and how is it that even the parts of you he never knew are all so perfect. It seems slightly unfair, he muses, that you could be this flawless without even trying – but then you wince a little, possibly lost in pleasure, and Riddle starts worrying again.

“Are you okay?” his words feel moist close to your ear.

“Hm-mm.”

“Relax your arms.”

And the second you do, he moves back down again, slobbering kisses all over your neck and chest. While seemingly rawer and more animal than ever, he’s still attentively measuring your reactions, and finds you gasp the loudest when he sucks on your breasts. So, he teases them for a while, circling slowly with his tongue, then softly and toothlessly pinching the stiff center with his lips; he repeats from left breast to right, slowly, deliberately, back and forth, with a sort of rhythmic cadence. Focus, Riddle reminds himself, as his own erection is throbbing painfully. But he’s determined to devote to you first and foremost.

“May I–”

“Yes. Please,” you beg, not even sure what you are agreeing to, but realizing it might as well not matter anymore.

Struggling to open your eyes, you force yourself into keeping alert just so you can take in the view of your raggedly breathing boyfriend, peeking up from the curves between your breasts, hand on the inside of your underwear and soaking his slender fingers inside, applying even pressure. He is amused at the sight of how effortlessly they go in and out, assisted by your moisture, so much so that he forgets about your breasts for a moment. Your voice brings his attention back, however.

“I – I can’t...”

“It’s okay. Don’t hold it in”, he reassures, but maybe he is also talking to himself, as Riddle is always the type to exceed in self-restraint. You are melting, becoming undone with a touch of his hand and he cannot get enough of how it feels – to hear you panting and moaning, to know he will soon be able to press inside you and fill you with his length. It’s an unfamiliar, weird, wonderful thing – not quite like he had imagined, but perfect all the same. Your chest is responsive to his every kiss, and now his fingers have gotten faster and heavier. He can feel you close and is living for it.

“Riddle, I –”

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps breathily, finally able to be honest with himself. “Don’t hold back. It’s all right.”

“Riddle. Riddle? I’m – I ––”

“––Y/N,” he chuckles, and his touch becomes even more merciless. Your hard nipples cannot possibly take any more kisses. “You’re so adorable.”

It’s not like you need any more stimulation, but as he says this, his mouth is full of one breast and hand cupping the other, and you can clearly see it all, from his heavy-lidded slate grey eyes to his dark red eyelashes, all focused on you as he’s making your sex squeak with wet sounds, pushing down just underneath your navel as his fingers throb and sting inside you.

“Please. Don’t stop.”

He won’t. He’s not the type to tease you like that. Your toes are curling in a frenzy as your legs swing inevitably open, and pretty soon you’re incoherently giving into the thrusting of his hand, and his lips have not left your breasts for one second.

You can’t hold it in. You would have if you could have – the sensation was just too amazing, and you were trying to grasp at straws –literally, if by straws you mean sinking your nails into his shoulders– trying to prolong your orgasm to no avail. You are coming all over, spasming and stirring and gasping his name, and Riddle is a bit scared at first – did he – did he do that? – but it seems you are content, and you settle down huffing beneath him. He takes out his fingers, but his hand stays put, pushing on you softly, as you are still whimpering with the aftershocks that come and go after the peak.

Riddle knows what is supposed to come after that, but the thought alone makes his stomach do cartwheels. Now, how to initiate? He doesn’t have time to think, as you grab him by the wrist, taking his hand out of your underwear and giving it a tug, motioning him to come closer. In your current clouded state, it’s hard of you to completely gain enough strength to pin him down as you originally had wanted to, so you settle to have him sit beside you as you roll over so that your upper body meets his crotch.

“Y/N?” he yelps, suddenly self-aware of how flush his length is against the fabric of his boxers, throbbing to come out, and your face is now caressing it softly with only one layer to separate you.

“Ah. Sorry. Too fast?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Actually,” he pushes his underwear down. “Please. Can you –”

He needn’t ask. The sensation of him in your mouth compelled such novelty – it was weird to get used to, but at the same time felt like the natural next step to take. Tip reddened and throbbing, teased by your lips as your hands would steady his thighs. Funny how something so intense – suckling at him, gasping for jagged breaths, as the bitter taste of his precum numbs your other senses – would come apparent to you so matter-of-factly, unrehearsed yet perfectly calculated. Riddle stifles moans until he can’t anymore, pouring from his lips, buckling into you with hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

He’s no longer thinking straight, and that’s fine. If he were, he’d still be stuck in the preparation phase, staring mindlessly at the welt of your socks, unable to move. But since he’s no longer counting the kisses he’s given you tonight, he’ll make a point of also not counting how many times he’ll thrust into you, as he topples you over when the wetness of your mouth just won’t quite scratch that itch, and hurriedly reaches over the counter for a condom. It’s not like the guilt is completely done, but this – this is everything right now, and as you are huffing and puffing away below him, eager to receive him, he understands that a bit of chaos is needed every once in a while.

A lot of first times are awkward. This might be no exception. But he enters you with such ease, you wonder how this new feeling can be so recognizable, as the pressure builds between your legs and his hipbones dig into you once again, and he restrains your hands with his, raising your arms, soft eyes filled with lust.

“So tight...” Riddle whispers, but it’s more like sounds are escaping him, uncontrolled, “Y/N... y-you’re...”

His speech is barely intelligible, though you can sometimes make out words – ‘beautiful’, ‘good’, ‘wet’ – and a few poorly-pronounced phrases like “does it hurt?” –– it doesn’t, and as you’re pinned beneath him with a clear view into his quivering rosy lips and half-lidded gaze, you know he’s getting closer as he gets harder. He‘s trying to get his mouth full of your taste as if it were forbidden – like it all boiled down to this one evening, and this chance was all he had. And if it were for him, he would have made it last forever – but his body is not so used to this kind of endurance, so after a few minutes Riddle finally gives in, collapsing into your shoulder, quietly whimpering your name, in a moment of weakness that is greater than he’d like to admit. Riding his orgasm, fingers entwined with yours and digging at your knuckles in a tight grip, his voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it before, and you understand its over once he quiets down.

The silence lasts for a few moments. Or, more appropriately put, a slight wave of sheepish embarrassment, as he’s promptly rolled over to your left and you’re both lying face up and wheezing up a storm as if you’d just ran some kind of marathon. But then Riddle slightly tugs at your hand.

“Everything alright?”

“I think so. You?”

“It’s been... quite the novelty,” he says flatly, but then smiles a little at his choice of words. “Do couples do this all the time? ...it seems exhausting.”

“So that’s it? That was your quota for a whole lifetime? Fine then.”

“––No!” he hastily turns sharp on his side, facing you, only to find that you’re unable to hold your laughter. “–Oh. Not funny, Y/N.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

“– I would very much like it if we did it again. Uh... tomorrow, or – or some other time.”

You smile. “I would like that, too.”

“Should we settle on a schedule?”

“––what? No!” but a sudden tinge of guilt overcomes you, as you quickly realize he might need it. “U–uh, I mean, if – if that makes it easier for you–––”

“––just kidding,” a soft smirk escapes him, like a stifled giggle that says ‘gotcha’.

“Oh, look at you cracking jokes now,” you accuse him with a pout. “That’s a first.”

“Guess that makes two firsts in one day.”

As you both let out a complicit giggle, reaching out for the sheets and then for each other’s hands, no longer worried about the next one step or million steps to come, you find yourselves drifting off to sleep in a loose embrace.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Five-Point Star: The Aftermath (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Bodyguard/Assassin!Chan x Mercenary/Assassin!F.Reader Themes: Smut | bit of Fluff | Angst  Word Count: ~17k | AO3 Synopsis: After months of hindering a mercenary’s attempts to get to the person Chris was hired to protect, after months of many fights, injuries, and plotting, he had expected for the resolution to be much more satisfactory than this. [This is the second and hopefully final part to Five-Point Star]. Warnings: pet names · cold weapons · firearms · questionable morals · graphic depictions of violence · mentions of cheating [not involving the main characters] · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut) · open-ish ending.

Author’s Note: here’s the promised second part to FPS! i just couldn’t bring myself to leave these two the way i did in part 1… like, part 1 can totally stand as its own thing, but i HAD to have some closure. i’ve been working on this one for quite some time, so here it is! i hope you enjoy it💜 especial thanks to @notastraykid & @channieskies for beta-reading this one💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!)

Smut Warnings: fingering [F.Rec] · oral [F.&M.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv] · no thoughts, head empty sex [aka having sex in questionable locations].

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

After months of hindering a mercenary’s attempts to get to the person Chris was hired to protect, after months of many fights, injuries, and plotting, he had expected for the resolution to be much more satisfactory than this.

Well, he wasn’t sure if this was a resolution, if the problem had been eradicated or not… He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Seungmin, along with Chris and his team, had nicknamed that mercenary the Wraith, since it was hard to predict when they would strike, and it was pretty much impossible to find traces of their identity no matter how hard they tried. 

Whenever Chris managed to once again frustrate the Wraith’s attempts at–presumably–harming Seungmin, there simply weren’t any signs that they’d been there in the first place at all. Well, save for any injuries Chris sustained during their encounter.

He had no doubt as to what drove the Wraith to do what they did–or at least he thought he didn’t have any. This hadn’t been the first time someone had been hired to do something to Seungmin. After all, being the child of one of the most powerful families in the city certainly put a target on his back. However, this had been by far the most difficult enemy Chris and his team had to deal with.

It was frustrating, really. The Wraith seemed to always be one step ahead of them no matter how hard they tried to keep the young Kim’s schedule and plans a secret. It wasn’t until they discovered that the phone of Seungmin’s personal tailor–Hyunjin–had been wiretapped, that they were finally able to get the upper hand.

Chris had conjured this plan to get the Wraith to believe Seungmin would be attending an event in one of the oldest theatres in the city. There, Chris would be waiting for them. 

He’d admit he was cocky. He’d asked his team to not come with him, he’d told them he had to do this alone, giving them a bullshit excuse.

‘If we’re all there, Seungmin won’t be as protected as he should be, so I’m gonna be there on my own while you guys make sure he’s safe’, that was exactly what he’d told them back then, but, in reality, Chris just wanted to do this on his own because his own pride was hurt.

Chris was decent at his job. Sometimes–admittedly most times–he even believed he was good at it. But in the deep recesses of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel like the Wraith was better than him. It was more than obvious. If they hadn’t been, he would’ve been able to kill them on their very first encounter. 

Regardless, he’d gone to the theatre on his own, where he waited for the Wraith to make their expected appearance. He figured that playing the piano would elevate his plan. He hoped it’d give his opponent the impression that nothing was out of place, that this was a normal concert, and they had nothing to be suspicious of.

Funny thing, how after so many months of pushing and pulling, it was almost like Chris could already tell when the Wraith was close. So the moment they’d stepped into the hall, he’d immediately stopped his piece and shot on sight. 

It all became a blur of flying knives and missed shots, until there was no other option but to physically fight. 

The Wraith was better than Chris, and he came face to face with this fact the moment his back had hit the floor and a knife had been pressed to his neck. He’d been, once again, defeated. He was blinded by rage, by frustration…

How could this person be better than him? No one had been until this point. Sure, he’d sustained many injuries throughout his career as Seungmin’s personal bodyguard, and he’d certainly been close to dying many times, but the Wraith had managed to beat him every single time they met. It irked him beyond belief.

Chris liked to cover his face when he was on duty, at least when he was out in public. He didn’t want people to know his face, he liked to be able to go to the grocery store or meet his girlfriend without having to worry about someone recognising him and trying to kill him, so he wore his mask diligently.

But, of course, his opponent had to remove it.

Of course they wanted to see his face, it made sense to him. But the fact that it made sense didn’t diminish the blow to his pride, though.

‘…Chris?’

No one had ever spoken his first name out loud while he’d been on duty outside of the Kims’ estate. Not even his team members, they knew not to expose him like that. He liked to keep his civilian side and his professional side separated, so he figured he’d give some use to both of his given names. 

Which was why, hearing it in that context, from the Wraith, made his blood freeze in his veins. He was beyond confused, borderline panicking, but even then, the voice sounded… familiar.

Chris realised then he’d never heard the Wraith speak. And as he looked into their eyes, even the shape of their eyebrows–the only discernible feature on their face under the hood and kerchief they wore to keep the rest concealed–recognition started to settle in his brain.

But there was no way. It couldn’t have been… 

His opponent was stunned, as was he. But that didn’t stop him from slowly reaching for that kerchief covering half of their face so he could pull it down.

Nothing would’ve prepared Chris for what he’d find under that piece of fabric. 

Chris always loved to see his girlfriend whenever he could. It was honestly a miracle that he was able to have a relationship in the first place, but she’d just made it so easy from day one, so he always tried to make time and space for her in his life. Seeing her always brought him this immense sense of comfort and familiarity that just couldn’t be matched.

However, this was a setting in which he would’ve never expected to see her face. This didn’t feel comforting at all.

Your name came out of his mouth in a breathless whisper, almost as if he needed to say it outloud for his brain to truly process that it was you on top of him, pressing a knife to his throat. His head started to spin right then and there.

Had you… had you known all this time? Had you been using him? There was no way. Something in the back of his mind told him it was just impossible. He’d been careful…

The few times he actually wanted to reveal his profession to you, something always seemed to prevent him from doing so, and he always took it as a sign that it wasn’t the right time. But maybe you’d known who he was this whole time…

‘I had no idea…’

The look on your face, coupled with the way your voice trembled, made him believe you. And maybe, he wanted to believe you. There was no way the love you’d shown him all these months could be faked, not when it’d felt so genuine…

How fucking twisted… What were the odds of you being both his girlfriend and one of the most annoying mercenaries he’d had to deal with?

God, these past handful of months… He’d been dealing with you.

He’d been trying to kill you.

He’d aimed and shot and hit you with the intent of killing you.

Chris wanted to vomit. He was disgusted with himself, confused, he wanted to cry. This was all so absurd and cruel… It’d been a long time since he’d felt this way, but at that moment, he genuinely just wanted to die.

He was used to killing and hurting people. He was never fazed by any of it at this point, but he’d done it because he wanted to protect the people he cared about. You being on the receiving end of this treatment was just completely wrong. You were one of the people he cared about. He’d never wanted anything other than to protect your safety and wellbeing. 

Chris was a firm believer that men who mistreated their loved ones were just scum, that they deserved to die. He’d often killed men like these and felt absolutely no remorse about it.

But now he was one of those men.

How could he go on after this? After knowing what he’d done to you? He couldn’t… He didn’t want to.

At that moment, he firmly believed he deserved to die. He’d hurt you, not only that, but Seungmin’s life was way more important than his own, so if you absolutely had him as your target, he’d just have to continue fighting against you.

And, again, he didn’t want to…

So he asked you to kill him.

However, you refused.

The fact that you wouldn’t take his life puzzled him. How could you not want him dead? After all that had transpired, why wouldn’t you? 

Chris had always known he wasn’t a good man. At least, not in the eyes of some. But, he’d made it his mission to be a good man to you, for you… And, most times, when he was with you, he truly felt like he was. 

This changed it all. His own perception of himself had just been shattered to pieces. Who was he now? Who were you?

‘Baby…’ Chris honestly almost started sobbing when you called him that. It was his preferred pet name, he’d told you many times before how much he liked it, how it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside… Right at that moment, it didn’t make him feel that way. It felt like one of your knives had just stabbed his heart. ‘I’m sorry… I don’t think I’ll make it to our vacation this weekend’.

Oh, that stung.

Your vacation this weekend… He’d planned it all out. A relaxing getaway to the coastside, perfect for enjoying each other’s company… He’d even wanted to seriously tell you everything about this side of his life, and if you’d been fine with it, he wanted to ask you to move in with him.

Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen now.

Chris was too stunned to move from his place on the floor. Too stunned to move and do anything to stop you from leaving. He was torn, confused, he was here to kill the Wraith, and not only did he not achieve that, he’d also found out that the person he’d been trying to kill was one of the people he loved most in this world.

The rage he felt coursing through him was uncontainable. So much so, the moment he did manage to stand up from that floor, he started thrashing the stage.

Every piano had been turned to nothing but a pile of useless pieces of wood and ivory. He’d emptied his guns by shooting at the seats and walls. He did all that as tears wouldn’t stop running down his cheeks.

How fucking pathetic.

He was pathetic.

Even when he had composed himself enough to return to the Kims’ estate, Chris still felt like he was nothing but the worst man on the planet, like he was useless as a bodyguard, like he was useless as his loved ones’ protector, and like he’d become the universe’s punching bag…

“Based on that look on your face, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you didn’t get the target?” Felix’s voice greeted him as soon as he entered Seungmin’s home, further aggravating those feelings inside of him.

“No, I didn’t”, was the only thing he said to the younger man as he walked past him and made his way straight to his assigned room. 

Chris was in no condition to speak of the matter. He needed to sort his thoughts out. He knew he had to tell his team about what happened, he had to tell them who you were. He had more than enough information about you to finally stop you from getting any closer, he had enough information to end you.

As he entered his room and started taking his gloves off, as he looked at the tiny plastic gnome figurine he kept on this room’s bedside table, Chris wasn’t really sure he’d be able to do any of that.

The sound of choked coughs filled the previously quiet space.

Chris sat up abruptly on the bed, coughing violently since he, once again, had choked on his spit in his sleep.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the bottle of water he kept next to the bed. When the coughing had lessened, he chugged half the bottle in one gulp. 

‘You should really go to the doctor’s, baby…’

Your voice resonated in his mind, an echo of the mix of memories from the numerous times you’d woken him up before he started coughing. He remembered the gentle murmur like it’d been whispered to him yesterday. He could practically feel the soft caresses of your fingertips on his back.

It made him feel like his throat was closing for real.

After placing the bottle back on the bedside table, he plopped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Chris couldn’t help but remember you. It seemed like it was all he did these days. 

His brain was certainly his worst enemy, especially at times like these, when he wasn’t on active duty, when he was just trying to get a few hours of sleep in his assigned room. Within the solitude of these four walls, it was easy for his brain to attack him, to send him in a spiral of memories that did nothing but make his heart ache and his eyes sting…

“Aaahhh… The food was absolutely delicious”, you rubbed your belly as you walked, with a big smile on your face. “I feel like I’m about to burst… But seriously, though, you should’ve at least let me pay for my food”.

Chris looked at you, amused at how you slightly swayed side to side with each step. He, too, felt like he was about to burst. The meal had been good, it’d been amazing, but… the company had certainly been much better.

When was the last time he felt like this? This… calm? Calm, but somehow still a bit giddy. He genuinely couldn’t recall…

“Nonsense”, he waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the thought. “I invited you for dinner, didn’t I? ‘Least I could do was pay”.

You turned to look at him, pouting, and it was honestly… adorable.

You were adorable, he’d known this since the very first day he met you, but every time he saw you after that, you somehow managed to step it up a notch. And he truly couldn’t cope.

Chris could hardly believe he was here tonight, having a date, and with a person he genuinely liked at that. It’d been a long time since he’d done anything remotely close to going on a date, but a few nights ago, after spending another evening talking to you at one of his friend’s gatherings, he found himself asking you out before he could stop himself.

It was unplanned, uncalculated, which was so unlike him… He always tried to plan ahead. Considering the profession he was in, he had to carefully choose who he associated himself with. Chris hardly ever mingled with civilians, but when he did, it was usually with this particular friend group from his childhood, who you seemed to also be acquainted with through a friend of yours.

The first time he spoke with you, he thought he was making a fool of himself, but as the night progressed, something started to linger between you two… Call it tension, or chemistry, but he was certainly intrigued.

Every time he went to his friend’s house to socialise, you were there. And every time, his always ended up with him sitting next to you, talking well into the wee hours of the night, about the silly shows you watched, or anything you felt like talking about, really.

Chris genuinely enjoyed talking to you, which he figured was exactly the reason why he’d asked you out on a date. He was honestly tired of seeing you only in the confines of his friend’s fence, it just wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

“C’mon, no pouts”, Chris chuckled, taking your hand. You seemed to be a bit surprised at the action, and, being honest, he was surprised at the action. But he’d already done it, so he wouldn’t back down. Thankfully, even if it had surprised you, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you intertwined your fingers with his, effectively agitating the butterflies in his stomach. “Let’s take a walk, hm?”

With leisure steps, you walked until you found yourselves at the pier. There were people here, but it wasn’t overly crowded, which Chris was grateful for.

Just before you both made it to the railing so you could look at the sea, you exclaimed an excited ‘Oh!’, and bent down to pick up something from the ground.

“Look!” You showed Chris what you found, and he couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his lips. “It’s just a little guy!”

Chris chuckled at your outburst. He giggled. You’d just made him giggle… When was the last time he giggled like this? “It really is!”

“D’you wanna give him a home?” You wiggled the figurine in front of him. “I heard these can be tokens of good luck”.

Chris immediately extended his palm, and you carefully placed the plastic toy in his hand. A gnome, around half the size of his finger. For having been found on the ground, it didn’t look in bad shape, it was honestly cute, so he put it in his pocket, and placed his hand over his heart after.

“Promise I’ll take good care of him”, Chris smiled at you. “I do need some luck”.

You chuckled at that, before you tugged him along so you could finally make it to the railing. With your elbows propped on it, you both spent a good while there, just talking, joking, and enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the breakwater.

It was… nice. Relaxing, even. 

He didn’t really know how he found himself standing so close to you, moving a few strands of hair away from your face and caressing your cheek with his knuckles. Most shockingly to him, was how you let him do these things. You looked comfortable, like you were genuinely enjoying spending time with him.

“If I tried to kiss you… would you let me?” The words escaped from somewhere deep within him. A question that he’d had in the back of his mind every time he looked at your lips, every time he saw you smile or laugh. He’d never thought he’d say it out loud, but here he was, saying them to you directly.

“Yes”, there wasn’t a single gram of hesitation in your voice, although he was sure he could hear a hint of surprise. It was almost like, just as his question, your answer had come out of your mouth before you could stop to think about it.

Your lips were so soft… you tasted like the balm you’d applied a few minutes ago, and the minty gum you’d been chewing earlier. Your cheeks, too, were soft under his palms when he held them between his hands.

Chris was certain you were soft all over. You looked soft, and maybe that was why his hands had found their way to your hips, where he could mindlessly knead the flesh over your jeans while his mouth was too busy getting acquainted with yours.

He pulled away from the kiss briefly, only to be met with a shy smile on your face before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in again. He couldn’t stop the delighted laugh that bubbled within him, nor the way he dived in fully into your kiss.

Maybe that gnome was lucky. Maybe it was thanks to that gnome that he’d somehow managed to come back to his flat accompanied for once. At least the one time he did want to come back with someone…

Chris could barely remember the last time another person was here with him. It must’ve been with one of his siblings, for sure. He had no doubts that he’d never brought anyone he was remotely attracted to in here, but he figured tonight was a night of trying new things.

Like pretending he could be just some guy… that he could be normal.

He hadn’t truly processed what was going on until you were both on his bed, dressed in nothing but your underwear. Propped on his elbows, he just looked at you.

You were wearing a black set, with a repeating pattern of red hearts on both pieces. It was… cute. In his humble–and absolutely correct–opinion, it fit you amazingly, you looked gorgeous under him like this, looking up at him like you genuinely wanted him. Like you saw him.

Which… made him feel nervous. 

Anyone else would’ve told him it was a silly thing to feel in this context. Chris had had plenty of sex in his life, but right here, right now, he wasn’t sure if this was anything like the sex he used to have. It didn’t feel like it, for sure. Mostly because he was feeling things. It wasn’t a chore or a commitment, there was genuine desire spreading within him, and it was a bit scary…

“What’s wrong?” you mumbled, cupping his cheeks.

Chris swallowed, suddenly aware that he’d zoned out for a moment there, long enough for the need reflecting in your eyes to start mixing with concern. Should he tell you what was going through his mind? If he did, would you mind…?

Tonight was indeed a night of firsts, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to open up fully. It was enough of a miracle that he’d let you into his flat, that he himself had willingly brought you here after a date.

“I…” Chris figured there were things he shouldn’t talk about just yet, but he really, really liked you, so saying something that was true, without revealing any details of his past, felt right. And he did just that. “I haven’t really… It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, okay? I guess I’m just… a bit out of my element”.

“Oh…” Your eyes widened in surprise, and your hands moved away from his face to rest on his shoulders instead.

Fuck… He fucked up. He probably shouldn’t have said that. Why did he have to be honest? He should’ve pretended, like he always did…

“Yeah, sorry to be a disappointment”, he chuckled, although it didn’t sound very humorous, not even to his ears.

“What? No, no”, you squeezed his shoulders, and your gaze immediately softened. “I’m just surprised! I just wasn’t expecting someone like you to just… y’know, not be having sex”.

That made him chuckle, genuinely this time. “What do you mean? I can’t even believe you’re here. I’ve got no idea how we managed to get to this point, honestly”.

“You’re very charming”, bringing your hands to his face again, you smiled at him. “If it makes you feel any better, I also haven’t… really done this in a while. I don’t usually go on dates at all… but I guess you’ve really made an impression on me. Clearly”.

That did make Chris feel slightly better.

“We don’t really have to do anything, y’know?” You said it very seriously, with no hesitation. “It’s fine by me, really. Although, I’d appreciate some cuddles anyway, if that’s okay with you”.

It was such a simple thing.

He didn’t have to do anything.

He could say no if he wanted to, and, somehow, he knew you’d respect that. Or, at the very least, he wanted to believe you would respect that. You hadn’t shown him any differently so far.

“Oh, we’re definitely cuddling…” Chris dived in, finding your neck with ease to attach his lips to your skin. “Later, though…”

“Later?” You chuckled, burying one of your hands in his hair, and placing the other on his lower back. 

“Mm…” With a trail of kisses, Chris made his way down your neck, your chest, finally using his hands to further push your breasts together so he could bury his face between them. “I really want you”.

And he really, really did. Probably more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time.

“I want you, too”, you replied simply, honestly.

It was one of the things Chris had liked about you since the very first moment he spoke with you. Your honesty, your transparency… you never really seemed to care about keeping pretences, always went straight to the point and voiced your thoughts.

Chris was a taker. He took lives, took money, took territories… he took things from people as he saw fit. Whether it was the right thing to do or not he didn’t care. 

But that wasn’t his inherent nature, and he’d always been painfully aware of this. For a long time, he’d been trained to take things, he was good at it, but, deep down, he was a giver.

To the people that were close to him, to the people that really knew him, he yearned to give all he could offer. 

That night, he really wanted to give you everything. So he did.

It was all so vulnerable, but so exhilarating at the same time. To not feel judged, nor belittled, to be open with his wants and needs, to be consumed by fire and passion… It was something he wasn’t used to, but the more time passed with you two in his bedroom, the more he realised just how much he liked it, how much he liked you…

With the first orgasm he managed to coax out of you, he realised just how much he wanted this to be a thing, he felt that you were just so compatible. Physically, emotionally, and, with a bit of luck, romantically, too.

Even after a couple of hours, when he was already giving you those cuddles he’d promised, when he asked you to stay the night, basking in the post-orgasm buzz, he believed wholeheartedly that this could work.

‘You’ll call me back, right?’ Chris couldn’t help himself when he asked you that the morning after your date.

It was crazy. There was no real space in his life for a relationship, not when he had to hide his profession from you. What would you think of him once you knew that the majority of the time he was a cold-blooded assassin, and not the dorky guy you met through a friend of a friend?

He would’ve liked to be like you. Honest and straightforward, but maybe it was for the best to not mention this just yet. It was only just one date, just one night of quite possibly the most fulfilling sex he’d ever had, but he already knew that this was something he wanted. He wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible, he wanted you.

‘Would you like that?’ You’d asked amusedly, before you kissed him, standing right on the entrance of his flat.

‘I would’. 

You’d smiled at him. After pressing one final kiss on his cheek, you mumbled against his skin. ‘Maybe I will, then…’

And you did.

In recent years, Chris had never felt as happy as he did when he was with you. He wholeheartedly believed that his relationship with you was one of the best things to ever happen to him.

At least, until that night in the theatre.

Reminiscing the past was hard these days, especially after the first month without hearing from you. He’d gone through so many different emotions. He felt angry, sad, and sometimes even betrayed…

He’d always believed you to be a transparent person, and maybe you were, but, just like himself, you clearly wanted to keep this part of yourself in the dark. He supposed he couldn’t blame you, but it still bothered him. 

Why didn’t you tell him before? 

If you’d told him, you would’ve probably never been in this situation. The Wraith’s attacks started well after you’d gotten together, so, if he’d known who you were, and you’d known who he was, he was convinced none of this would’ve happened at all.

Chris would’ve liked to tell you all this, to shout and get all these thoughts and feelings off his chest. But every time he picked up the phone to call you, he chickened out.

At first, he told himself that it was to keep things less complicated. In reality, he just couldn’t stand the thought of the call not going through…

So he didn’t do anything.

He was too tired, and maybe too much of a coward to face this.

Maybe one day, he’d grow the balls to do it. Maybe one day he’d get some sort of closure, but that day clearly wouldn’t be any time soon.

Chris often spent his nights on patrol around the Kims’ estate. He couldn’t really bring himself to sleep at night, so he was usually working well into the morning, until they changed guard.

Although, no one really dared come here. Since he became one of Seungmin’s personal bodyguards years ago, there’d been only two instances in which someone tried to infiltrate his home. 

Both times, the person had ended up dead, of course. That was the Five-Point Stars’ sole purpose, to keep the young heir safe. Chris was genuinely proud of his team, they always carried out their task without hesitation, and he was convinced their skills were unmatched.

Tonight, though, something didn’t feel quite right. There was this feeling of dread inexplicably pooling in Chris’ stomach, and it was making it really hard to focus on doing his job.

It was close to midnight when the feeling started intensifying, so Chris moved from his post outside Seungmin’s wing of the estate, leaving Jeongin on his own to guard the space. If anything went down, the younger man would be more than capable of taking care of it, Chris was very confident in this, so he felt no reservations when he started patrolling the outer areas.

After a while of just walking, he just couldn’t ignore his gut feeling any further.

There was someone sneaking around in the Kims’ estate, Chris could feel their every move, but he couldn’t see them, and that made that feeling of uneasiness grow inside him. Not because he was scared, by any means, but because it all felt just how it did whenever he had to deal with the Wraith… whenever he had to deal with you.

Chris hadn’t heard from you in three months, not from the you that was his girlfriend–…ex-girlfriend?–nor the you that was the Wraith. He supposed, ultimately, you were both, just like he was both Chris and Chan, but it was still just so surreal to him…

Three months and his head still couldn’t wrap around the idea that you were both the person he loved, and the one he despised. Anyone that dared come anywhere near Seungmin with ill-intent was an enemy to him, but the more he pondered on the fact that you were doing that, the less he could see you as an enemy… And that, maybe, just maybe, did scare him.

You’d become his weakness, to the point where if he were to see you now, in this estate, trying to kill Seungmin, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry out his one and only task. He’d spent these last few months begging to the stars above his head that you wouldn’t try to get to Seungmin again, because he genuinely didn’t know if he’d be able to stop you.

As Chris followed his gut instinct, trying to chase that phantom of a presence that seemed to glide through the corridors, he started to come to terms with the fact that the possibilities of the intruder being you were just way too high, it was all too familiar… 

And he hated it.

He hated it all…

He caught a shadow moving in his peripheral vision, and not even thinking twice about it, he chased it–as quietly and stealthily as his skills let him.

Before he knew it, he had raised his gun and pressed it against the back of the person’s head, right against their hood. They raised both of their hands to signal they didn’t have any weapons at hand, and even if the movement should’ve eased his mind, it didn’t. It only confirmed his worst fear.

Knowing what he knew now, he could just recognise the fingers poking through the gloves’ holes, and the overall frame.

There you stood, after three months of nothing, dressed just how you had been the last time he saw you. Chris tried his best to ignore the lump that seemed to be growing in his throat, the desperate need to both scream and cry and hug you and push you away. 

Instead, he just pressed the muzzle of his gun a bit harder against your skull, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “What’re you doing here?”

Your shoulders seemed to relax the tiniest bit as you heard the sound of his voice, which, in other circumstances, Chris would’ve deemed a very foolish reaction on your part. But, being honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if you already knew it’d be incredibly hard for him to harm you.

“Looking for you”.

Cursed be his heart for jumping in his ribcage, it was almost embarrassing how quickly and easily the sound of your voice was able to kick-start it into a messy, erratic pace. Chris couldn’t let that show, though. He needed to bluff, and he needed to do it well. 

“Bullshit”, he swallowed, trying to get rid of that knot in his throat. It just made it worse. “What are you truly here for?”

Your shoulders rose and fell with your deep breath, and slowly, so very slowly, you started to move, to turn around so you could finally be face to face with him. You kept your hands up in the air, to show him you weren’t going to attack, but he just couldn’t let his guard down. Not any more than it already was.

As usual, the lower part of your face was covered by a black kerchief, and the hood of your outfit almost fell over your eyes. The sight was almost revolting, if he thought about it too deeply… His gun raised, pressed against your forehead, ready to be shot at any second. It was something out of his worst nightmares, of those that showed him himself hurting the people he loved.

“I’m telling you the truth, I’ve been looking for you. I’ve come to warn you”.

“Warn me?” The statement was so unexpected Chris couldn’t even hide the surprise in his voice, but he recovered quickly, trying to mask his emotions with a condescending scoff. “What could you possibly need to warn me about?”

“They’re coming for you”, you said simply, your eyes unwavering as they stared deeply into his.

“They being?”

“The Guild”, your fingers moved, but you weren’t doing anything particularly malicious, you simply used your thumb to crack each knuckle, a gesture he knew you did only when you were nervous.

You must’ve known he knew this detail about you. He’d tried to stop you from cracking your knuckles many times in the past, whenever you were watching a scary movie that made you anxious, or whenever you had to order at a new restaurant. Back then, he would always take your hand in his, and drag his thumb on the back of it to help ease those nerves.

Chris couldn’t do that now.

To display such weakness in front of him messed with his head. Were you doing it out of real nervousness, or were you doing it as a tactic to distract him…? 

Regardless, he knew of the Guild. He’d heard of them before. Essentially a hub of guns-for-hire, with an extensive catalogue of many different mercenaries, who specialised in different activities. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was who you really worked for, that it’d been through them that you were hired to get to Seungmin.

“Someone has been hired to do what I couldn’t do. I heard them talking and I just… I felt like I needed to warn you”.

“You could’ve just called, why come all the way here for that?�� Chris’ arm was getting tired from holding up the gun, but he just couldn’t lower it.

“I tried”, you sighed. “I tried, but you wouldn’t pick up, so I came here…”

Chris’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You called? There was no way… He would’ve seen it. Hell, he would’ve picked up. Unless… “When did you call?”

“Around thirty minutes ago”.

That’d explain why he wouldn’t have heard it. He never carried his personal mobile phone with him when he was on duty–or at least he tried not to. He used to do it a couple of times a week, on the days that he missed you, that he wanted to know anything that had been going on in your day–what you ate, what you were doing, what you were watching, anything that could make him feel close to you… He hadn’t done that in three months.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Chris was doing an excellent job at keeping the scowl on his face and the annoyed tone in his voice, probably because he was feeling exactly like that. Annoyed. “You tried to hurt Seungmin and now you care about what happens to him? Hard to believe”.

“I don’t fucking care about Seungmin”, your eyebrows knitted together, and in a movement way too fast for someone that had a gun pointed to their forehead, you pulled your kerchief down, revealing your face fully to him.

It was almost pathetic how his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“I’ve got no ill feelings towards the kid, truly, but I also don’t really care about him. The people talking… They said they were going for Seungmin’s guard dog first, in hopes of debilitating his security system, so I… I just…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. When you opened them again, the glint of vulnerability shining in your gaze made his heart ache.

“I know it’s crazy, fuck… I didn’t think this through. They’re planning on striking sometime this week, and I just felt like I needed to come and tell you, so you could be prepared”.

Chris swallowed thickly. His hand trembled the tiniest bit, he wasn’t sure if you could feel his gun tremble against your skin, too. “If any of this is true, how could I even know you’re not here to distract me from doing my job? That this isn’t one of your schemes?”

“You can’t know”, you said, matter-of-factly. “There’s no way for you to confirm what I’m saying is true. All you can do is trust me and my word. I dropped the job after our encounter in the theatre. I just can’t do it when I’m this emotionally involved”.

When I’m this emotionally involved…

When I’m…

I’m…

I am…

I am…

I am…

Present tense.

You said that in present tense, like you were… like you were still emotionally involved.

Chris was weak. He was weak for you. Three months with no contact couldn’t change that, the fact that you had tried to kill him couldn’t change that, and the fact that he had tried to kill you also didn’t seem to be able to change that.

He was weak, and he couldn’t hide it.

With a sigh, he lowered his gun, and your frame immediately relaxed as soon as the weapon wasn’t pointed in your direction. “How infuriating…”

“What? Me? Or the people coming for your boss?” There was the tiniest bit of a humorous tone in your voice, and it just made him sigh again.

“Both”, he took his communicator from his belt, and clicked the communication button to speak with his colleague. “SpearB, do you copy? Over”.

There were a few seconds of silence, until the communicator crackled and Changbin’s voice resonated from the device. “I hear you, Channie. Over”.

You arched an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest, mouthing a ‘Channie?’ at him, which Chris decided to ignore completely. 

“Check in with Yongbok and make sure the perimeter is secure. Something doesn’t feel quite right, so we need to keep a close eye on each and every entrance. Over”.

The device crackled again. “You think it’s the Wraith? Over”.

Chris looked at you, and you looked right back at him. Your body was tense once again, and a spark of doubt flashed in your eyes. Licking his lips, he clicked the button on the device once more. “No. No, I don’t think it’s the Wraith. Just do what I said, and let me know if you find anything out of order. Over”.

‘Roger that. Over!’ was the last thing Chris heard from Changbin. He returned the communicator to its holster on his belt, all without taking his eyes from you.

There was a moment of silence, a moment that seemed to be stretching far too long for his liking, so he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “So… You’ve delivered your message. What now?”

You attempted to pop your knuckles again, the action obviously gave no results, since you’d done this already earlier, but Chris knew that wouldn’t stop you. It never did, your nervous habits always shone through.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a door opened somewhere in the area, and the sound of Changbin’s whistling filled his ears. Your eyes widened, just like Chris’ did as you stared at one another.

This was dangerous. If anyone saw you, you were at risk of being tortured for information, or straight up killed because of your numerous attempts to hurt Seungmin.

Chris wasn’t thinking, he just had to act, and he had to do it fast. Taking your hand, he quickly pulled you further down the corridor, where he could push you against the wall, right behind a column to hopefully hide you both from his teammate. 

You opened your mouth again to say something, and Chris simply placed a hand over your mouth to stop you, bringing his index finger to his lips to signal you to not make any noise. 

As the sound of steps drew closer, Chris mindlessly pressed you further against the wall, hopefully minimising the chances of Changbin seeing you.

He held his breath, waiting patiently as he looked at the shadows his friend’s body casted against the nearby wall. 

When it seemed like the steps were becoming more and more distant, Chris looked back at you, and only then did he realise just how close you both were. Your bodice was rigid against his chest, and the handles of your knives poked his abdomen. Noses almost brushed against each other, the hand he’d placed on the wall was itching to hold your waist, and as he looked into your eyes, as he saw galaxies and a plethora of feelings swimming in them, he was almost winded by how warm you felt. 

Chris could barely hear Changbin’s footsteps over his heart beating this fast and loud in his ears.

Fuck, he was a weak man. 

A weak man who was still hopelessly in love. 

It took a couple of minutes for Changbin to finally leave the area completely, his exit was signalled by the sound of a door opening and closing. Just to be safe, though, he kept quiet for a while longer, he kept pressing you against the wall and his hand firmly on your mouth.

Just to be safe… No other ulterior motives at all…

After a few moments, he finally removed his hand away from your mouth, slowly, so very slowly moving it to rest against the wall instead, right next to your waist as well. You mindlessly licked your lips as soon as his hand was off your face, and Chris couldn’t help but focus on the movement. 

Oh, your lips… how he missed them… He missed the way they moved with every word you said, how you would mindlessly chew on them when you were focused, how they felt like against his own, against any and every part of his body… 

“Why are you here?” Chris’ voice was barely a whisper. He didn’t intend for the words to come out unsteady, nor for his hands to start trembling slightly against the wall, but it was hard for his body not to react this way when he’d spent all these weeks just steeping in his own misery. 

You took a deep breath, your chest rose and fell against his own, and right then, with the barely there illumination of the bulbs on the roof, he could see your eyes start to shine with the tears that welled in them. 

“Because I care about you”, you said it so easily, like you weren’t just reaching inside his ribcage and squeezing his weak little heart with such a simple statement. “I know it’s stupid. That it’s insane, considering everything that’s happened. But I really can’t help it. Every day, all I can think about is how you’d be. If you’re eating well, if you’re getting enough sleep… And I hate it”.

You were trying really hard not to let the tears fall, it was obvious to Chris, yet your voice didn’t waver, not a little bit.

“I hate that I worry about you knowing what I’ve done to you. I hate that I can’t stop caring. When I heard them talking tonight about how they wanted to hurt you I just… I couldn’t think straight, I had to do something”, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall.

Chris couldn’t say anything. He just couldn’t. He wanted to tell you that he couldn’t stop caring, either. That he felt guilty, yes, but he still cared. That he’d always care, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

When you opened your eyes again, those tears you were trying so hard to hold back started to silently fall, and he wanted to cry himself. “Warning you… it’s not much, and it’s probably more a selfish act than anything else, but I had to do it. I had to… had to see you. Because I miss you, Chris, fuck… I miss you so much it hurts more than any blow Chan has ever landed on me”.

Chris was doomed. He was weak, and in love, and he was absolutely doomed.

His brain shut down completely. He knew it the moment he felt his lips on yours, the moment your fingers tangled in his hair and the quietest moan escaped your mouth. 

The kiss was messy and desperate, he couldn’t seem to be able to be any closer to you, and yet he still tried. He held your waist tightly, like you would vanish if he didn’t. He pressed you further against the wall, dizzy with the violent stir of his feelings, with the feel of your tongue against his own and your yearning kiss.

At that moment, the fact that he was Chan, bodyguard of Kim Seungmin, didn’t matter. The fact that you were the Wraith, an assassin that had been hired to harm the person he was supposed to protect, didn’t matter, either. All that mattered was that he was Chris, that you were you, and that he’d missed you and that he needed you.

When he pulled back from the kiss, panting slightly, the sight of you, all flustered, breathless, of your blown pupils, was enough for his walls to crumble. That look in your eyes was unmistakable to him, it set his insides alight and sent his mind into overdrive.

“Come with me”, without hesitation, Chris took your hand and tugged you along the corridor.

He vaguely recalled taking his communicator and calling Jeongin to ask him to continue covering for him as there was something he needed to attend to, just like he vaguely recalled the younger man telling him he had it covered. The only thing he could register for sure was the tight hold of your hand in his, and the moan that came out of your lips when he pushed you into one of the supply closets and kissed you again.

Chris blindly reached for the lightswitch before he pushed you against the closest wall. One of your legs wrapped around his hip to pull him closer to you, and he immediately took a hold of your thigh to keep you securely in place.

“Have you… been with anyone after…” You started to ask, your words broken between desperate presses of lips and tugs of teeth.

How absurd. As if he could have. As if he would’ve ever even wanted that in the first place… Regardless, even with the hazy state of his mind, he knew exactly why you were asking, so he shook his head. “Have you?”

You shook your head as well, further pulling on his hair so your lips wouldn’t detach from his. Although there was a part of him that kind of expected you to not have been with anyone, it still made him feel relieved. It made him feel… hopeful.

What a dangerous emotion to feel.

Letting go of your thigh so he could free his hands, your leg fell to the floor while Chris unbuttoned his gloves. “Are you still on birth control?”

“Yes”, your reply came immediately, eagerly, and his mind just fogged up further.

“Good”, he pulled his gloves off and dropped them somewhere on the floor.

With a tight hold on your hips, he flipped you around and pulled your hips back a bit towards him, so your ass could be flush with his crotch. Chris kept kissing your cheek, your neck, any bit of exposed skin he could, just as you ground your backside against his growing erection, while he frantically fumbled with your belt buckle and the buttons of your trousers.

“How many fucking buttons does this thing have?” Chris mumbled against your skin, quickly popping open what seemed like hundreds of studs. “How impractical…”

“Looks better than a zipper–Oh!” 

Chris pushed your bottoms down as soon as he’d popped open the very last button, just enough to expose the delectable flesh of your ass to his hungry eyes. He wanted to smack the luscious fat so badly, but even in his desperate state, he knew it was a really, really bad idea, so he settled for holding one of your buttocks tightly with one hand, while he brought the other close to your face.

“Open up, bun”, your lips parted as soon as he’d asked you to, and he quickly pushed two fingers inside your mouth.

A moan muffled against his digits when you sucked on them, and Chris could almost start feeling his head spin with arousal. God, your mouth… He’d always known it’d be the death of him one day…

“That’s it, baby. Make sure you get them drenched”, after letting go of your buttock, he hastily unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his trousers, and pushed the zipper down so he could reach inside his underwear and finally free himself.��

The air was cool against his heated flesh, especially at the tip where pre-cum had started to leak. He pumped himself a couple of times, it was nowhere near as satisfactory as he knew your cunt would be, but it was certainly a pleasant warm-up.

As soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth, he brought them to your centre, where he made sure to coat his fingers in your essence to spread it all around your opening before he finally stuffed those two digits into you. You bit your lip to muffle the noises threatening to escape your throat, leaning your forehead against the wall as Chris tried his best to prep you in such an unfortunate setting.

“Tell me if it hurts. Hm? You know you can tell me, right?” Chris whispered in your ear, and you immediately nodded in response.

“Just… Fuck, just get inside, baby, please”, how could he stall any further when you sounded so eager and desperate for him, in the same way that he was for you? When you called him ‘baby’?

So he pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the loss of contact. It didn’t last long, though, because he stepped closer almost immediately after. He spat on his hand, and smeared his saliva all over his length before he lined himself with your entrance.

As he started to push in, he brought his free hand to your front, finding your clit with expert ease, rubbing slow circles on it to hopefully aid his intrusion. There was a whine, a quiet one, and Chris hushed you, kissing your cheek. 

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing well, so well. Remember to tell me if it’s too much…” He mumbled. It was almost funny how quickly he got into his role, he was so used to treating you like this, to checking in on you, that not even the place you were in, or the outfits you were wearing could stop him from doing it. All he got from you was a nod, a sigh that vaguely sounded like his name, and a push of your hips. “Impatient, bun? Hungry for my cock, are you, baby?”

You nodded, pushing back as much as you could to get him all the way in, making him hiss. “I am. I fucking am. Need you to fuck me, and I need it now, Christopher”. 

“Fuck…” It was an awkward angle, but he needed to kiss you. There was hardly anything he enjoyed more than kissing you while he was balls deep inside your warmth. Every push of his tongue, every bite on his lips, everything made it so your walls continuously clamped around him, all of it combined made him delirious, and even more so when he finally started to move.

Chris was trying his best to go slow, his mind was hazy with lust and need and want, but he still wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you. You, however, weren’t making it easy. You pushed back to sharply meet his calculated thrusts, and all he could do was match your pace, until the only noise in the room were the contained groans and moans and the obnoxious clattering of metal as both of your belt buckles swayed with your movements.

His fingers sped up, and very quickly, the obscene sounds produced when your bodies met joined the messy symphony playing all around you. Your grip on his hair was tight, the way your moans were catching in your throat was getting him impatient, he wanted to hear you properly, he wasn’t used to you holding back, and the sudden increased speed of his motions felt like it was his subconscious desperately trying to pull all those delicious sounds out of you.

He was talking. He knew he was talking, but he could barely hear what he was mumbling to you, all he knew was that, whatever it was, it had you whining quietly, meeting his thrusts harder, mumbling things back to him. 

Chris wanted to feel more of you, as much as he could, so he pulled his vest up, and took the hem between his teeth. He couldn’t talk like this, but he figured it was a small price to pay so he could feel your bottom freely bounce off his skin. Returning his hand to your hip, he held your soft flesh tightly, relishing the way the flesh dipped under his grip.

“C–Chris… Gonna–gonna come…” Your fingers flexed against the wall in what looked like a futile attempt to get a hold of something, to keep yourself grounded.

He wanted to tell you to come. Hell, he needed you to come around his cock right now or he would die, he was sure. But he couldn’t speak with the stupid fabric in his mouth, so he simply fucked you harder, faster, diligently rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs in that way he’d learnt to do throughout your numerous intimate encounters since the very beginning of your relationship.

Your relationship…

Were you two still in a relationship?

In all honesty, right then, with your presence consuming him, he hoped you were. 

The sight of you biting your fist to keep your moans contained, coupled with the feel of your warmth fluttering around his length as a result of your orgasm, made him lightheaded. His pace didn’t relent, though. He fucked you through it, just how he knew you liked it, while you did your best to weakly keep meeting his movements.

His lower abdomen tightened, he could feel his own climax nearing increasingly fast, and God, if he wanted that feeling to wash over him right the fuck now… 

He finally let go of the hem of his vest so he could speak. “Where–Shit… Where do you want it, pretty?”

At this point he would come anywhere, in you, on you, out of you… But he needed to do what you wanted, and what you wanted became painfully clear to him when you hastily removed one of your gloves, pushed him away from you a bit, and dropped to your knees.

Oh, how he’d missed the feel of your hand on him, and the squelching sounds it made when you jerked him off while he was still covered in your juices. You held him with that perfect pressure that you’d learnt to use all those months ago, looking up at him with dark eyes and your moist lips slightly parted as you still tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you, fuck–!” Chris threw his head back the moment you took him in your mouth, getting in as much of him as you could while gently squeezing his balls.

You hummed around his length, trying to get his attention, so Chris opened his eyes again, finding that look in your eyes that always got him close, the one that begged him to move. So he did, placing a hand on your head and shallowly thrusting into your mouth to complement your own movement.

“Fuck, bun… Gonna blow, shit–”

It was his turn now to bite his fist to contain his desperate noises. Three months of tension seemed to evaporate from his body when he found his release. He could only feel the tingles of pleasure shooting to every one of his limbs as your lips dragged around his cock, as you hummed and moaned in your own bliss.

His legs felt like they were going to give out, his arms felt like jelly, and his brain was void of anything other than you and your devious mouth. For a second, Chris wondered if you were going to try to overstimulate him, but you didn’t. You simply got your mouth off of him to lick the remnants of his cum that beaded at the tip.

Before he could even think about it, he was already helping you to your feet. Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you. Slowly, deeply, getting the combined taste of him and you from your lips and your tongue.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, and Chris wrapped his around your neck as he waddled forward to press you against the wall again. Partially because he enjoyed the feeling of it, partially because he felt like his legs were really going to give out, and the wall certainly provided much needed support.

As his kiss slowed into simple pecks of his lips on yours–and yours on his–the haze that seemed to have clouded every single one of his senses started to clear up.

In what was quite possibly the worst case of post-nut clarity he’d ever experienced, it started to dawn on him just how stupid and reckless this was. He shouldn’t have brought you in here, the longer you stayed within this estate the more at risk you both were.

You seemed to be coming to the same realisation, because the gentle pecks of your lips on his stopped, and you pulled back to look him in the eyes, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. Your arms unravelled from around his waist, only for your hands to rest on it. “Chris…”

He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I know…”

Stupid. You wanted to tell him this was stupid, he didn’t need you to say it to know.

Pressing lingering kisses on your cheek, he pulled up your trousers, and started fastening the trillion buttons, just as you did the same to him. You gently buckled his belt, and it was now your turn to start pressing kisses on his cheek, just as he finished with your belt-buckle.

His heart felt as if it was both swelling with love and being harshly squeezed with agony. 

What was this? What did this mean for you two now? He couldn’t undo the past, what he’d done, what you’d done… It was going to have repercussions, ones he didn’t even want to think about right now.

When he took a step back from your space to finish fixing his clothes, he watched you as you did the same.

“Need to get you out of here”, Chris mumbled, trying to fix the mess his hair had become from your continuous pulling and his own sweat–all that time straightening it this morning for nothing… “You’ve been here for way too long”.

“I can get out. That’s no problem”, you sounded confident in your statement, and, honestly, based on what he’d seen the Wraith do, he wouldn’t really be surprised if it truly was no problem for you to sneak in and out… Good for you, but bad for their security system, he figured…

There was a moment of deafening silence, a moment of you looking into his eyes and Chris looking into yours. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he sighed.

“We need to talk about this. But not now, not here in these… circumstances”.

“I agree”, you replied simply, picking up your glove from the floor and grimacing when you put it on your still sticky hand.

Chris reached for his own gloves he’d haphazardly dropped on the floor earlier, and tucked them in his back pocket before he opened the door and looked out the corridor to make sure no one was there.

Coast clear, so he turned back to look at you. “If… If you want, I’m free tomorrow evening. You could… drop by. After eight, preferably”.

You took a deep breath. It took you a moment to do anything, but when you did, you moved into his space, placing a hand on his chest and the other on the nape of his neck. You leaned in, and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“After eight”, you confirmed, and it was honestly pathetic how fast his heart started to beat when he heard those two words.

After offering him one last, small smile, you finally removed yourself from his space. Pulling the kerchief back over the lower part of your face, you went through the door and eventually disappeared somewhere by the end of the corridor.

This was completely crazy, insane, and the fact that you were still pretty much considered an enemy in his circle should’ve filled him with anxiety. He’d just had sex with you, after knowing who you were and what you’d tried to do…

And yet, oddly enough, he could only feel relaxed. Like he had finally breached the surface after swimming underwater for too long.

Seven forty-five in the evening.

Chris had arrived home two hours ago and had done nothing but try to get his flat to look presentable.

When was the last time he slept here? Probably a few weeks ago… It was hard to be in his flat when everything reminded him of you. After all, he’d mostly stayed here when you did.

He honestly hadn’t spent as much time in this flat as he did after he started a relationship with you. He’d been living here for around three months before he went on that date with you. He used to only come here to sleep on his days off, and even those days he tried to spend them out of the flat as much as possible.

After he met you, though, every day off he had he either invited you over, or went to your place. Week by week, the place started filling up with your stuff as well as his. Things you left behind, things you brought on purpose, things he himself placed there, like that one picture you’d asked a stranger to take of you two by the lake in the park… The place was filled with your presence, and being here, on his own, only reminded him of that night in the theatre, of the fact that you weren’t here and what he’d done to you.

Thankfully, the place wasn’t too bad, it was mostly just dusty. Chris didn’t bother hiding anything of yours that was still on display. There was no point in that when his feelings were more than obvious after what happened last night.

So, fifteen minutes before the agreed time, his flat was clean, his hair was damp from the shower he’d just gotten out of, and food had been ordered. He was starving, and, since you had a tendency to not eat dinner because you got too overwhelmed sometimes, he figured ordering for you as well wouldn’t be too risky of a move. Worst case scenario, he’d just have extra left-overs tomorrow…

Seven fifty-two.

Chris looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. His hair was already starting to curl, there was a bit of a flush on his skin still from the hot shower, and he was second-guessing his outfit choice.

A cropped top he’d cut himself out of an old, oversized band t-shirt he’d thrifted, and shorts… Was it too casual? He hadn’t really thought much about what to wear, he had grabbed these on auto-pilot. Whenever you came over, it was usually just to relax and spend some time together, so it was a no-brainer for him to wear these two garments.

That was before, though… What if you came to his door looking like a goddess, all dressed up and he was like this? Would it matter? Would you mind? Three months ago, you wouldn’t have, but three months ago you were still together. Maybe things would be different now…

Seven fifty-eight.

What if you didn’t come? You did say ‘After eight’ before you left the Kim estate yesterday, but what if you changed your mind? It was a complicated situation, after all. Maybe too complicated. Why did he even invite you over? It would’ve probably been best to just meet at a café or a neutral place, why did he even suggest his home for this?

And, most importantly, what did he want from this encounter? Chris hadn’t even thought about it, and, honestly, he kind of didn’t want to think about it. He’d asked you yesterday to come here because he figured talking about whatever the fuck was going on would be the only way to get answers, to get this heavy feeling in his chest to go away, but he hadn’t thought ahead.

You were a mercenary that had tried to hurt Seungmin numerous times, he was risking everything by keeping quiet about your identity, by asking you to come here even knowing who you were. So why? Why would he do this?

The doorbell startled him.

Slightly panicked, he ruffled his hair and looked at himself in the mirror–admittedly, he’d been standing there the whole time, but he wasn’t really looking at anything…

It was too late now for an outfit change, too late to back down from this insanity he himself had started. So, he bolted to the door, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he looked through the peephole.

Once Chris opened the door, and came face to face with you, dressed in your comfy clothes, still pretty much looking like a goddess regardless of your outfit, he remembered the reason why he was risking it all. 

Because you made his heart rate spike. You made him feel again. After years of having seemingly nothing but a hole where his heart should’ve been, you had managed to defrost his insides with your warmth. 

“Hey…” You fiddled with the straps of the backpack you always brought along with you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other right where you stood.

“Hey”, Chris wasn’t really sure what to say, he just looked at you for a moment, and you looked right back at him.

Silence enveloped you two. You wouldn’t move, save for your fiddling, just like he wouldn’t, he remained frozen on the spot with the doorknob in his hand. Normally, he would’ve kissed you to greet you, but… should he do that? Was it appropriate? You did fuck last night, but that was a heat of the moment thing… Maybe you wouldn’t want him to kiss you at all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the delivery guy popped up right behind you, startling the both of you. So Chris just asked you to come in, and quickly got his card from his wallet that he had discarded by the kitchen counter earlier to pay for the food.

“Have you eaten? I ordered some for you just in case…” Chris asked as soon as the guy was gone, just as he placed the food on the counter.

“No, I haven’t”, you replied simply, finally putting your backpack down on one of the chairs. “What’d you order?”

“Cantonese…” Chris didn’t look at you as he took the containers out of the bag, nor did he acknowledge the quiet ‘Oh…’ that came out of your mouth in response. “Wanna eat on the coffee table?”

“Of course”, you said it like it was an obvious thing, and, honestly, it kind of was. Whenever you both met for dinner, especially when it involved your favourite food, you’d always eat at the coffee table, why would it be any different this time? Not like three months had passed since you last spoke or anything…

While Chris brought the containers with food to the table, you got a couple of plates, two glasses, and the necessary cutlery. By the time you were at the table yourself, he had already gone to the fridge and taken the pineapple juice you both liked.

It was all so… normal. Normal, but like things had been placed slightly to the left. The motions were the same, the same routine you had as a couple, but there was something odd lingering between you two, and Chris figured it made sense, all things considered.

When he finally sat down next to you on the floor, with his back against the sofa, you were already serving the food. Chris busied himself pouring the juice, and in no time, you both had started eating. 

It was silent for a while. Well, save for the murmurs coming from the television after you had switched it on for some background noise. Reality was seemingly looming over your heads, or, at least, that was how it felt to Chris. Yet, none of you said anything, you both just ate your food.

It almost felt like an eternity, honestly–even though it’d been probably just shy of ten minutes since you sat down to eat. But, eventually, you took a deep breath, swallowed the food in your mouth, and finally spoke, reaching for your glass of juice.

“I’m sorry this is so awkward… I just don’t know what to say”, you took a sip of your drink, finally looking at him.

Immediately, Chris’ shoulders slumped, and he placed his plate on the table before he turned his body towards you. With an arm on the sofa, he propped his head on his hand while he looked at you. “Me neither, honestly”.

You took a deep breath, chewing your food slowly, deep in thought.

“I’m… I’m gonna be fully honest. I’m tired of secrets. Sick of ‘em. And I feel like you deserve better than that”, you placed your plate on the coffee table as well, and took a napkin to wipe your hands. “I’ll just… I’ll start from the beginning, okay?” 

Chris swallowed, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“It started with my dad…” You wouldn’t look at Chris, you just placed your arms on your bent knees and fixed your gaze on the table. “He joined the Guild when he was a teenager. It was tradition in his family, you see? His mum had been a member for years, so she taught him everything she knew. Eventually, he made a name for himself, and he actually managed to get quite high in the ranks… But then he met my mum”.

You took a deep breath, leaning your head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “He fell deeply in love with her. To the point where he realised he wanted to have a peaceful life, so he retired and did just that. Certified himself as a PE teacher, of all things, and then they had me”.

“Problem was… my mum isn’t exactly a good woman. She wasn’t good to him, or me. When I was still a child, she took everything my dad had and left us both, ran away with some guy she’d met… She’s still with him, last I heard. Good for her, I guess”, you chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of humour. “After she left, my dad just… he went through a deep, deep depression, lost his job, we could barely make ends meet… That was when he decided to return to the Guild, and, of course, like his mum had done to him, he brought me along…”.

You spoke a lot from then on. How you were taught to fight, how your father passed on to you his stealth technique, which was your signature trait to this day, how many people you’d had to kill, kidnap, or extort. You kept a tally, apparently, which in Chris’ experience wasn’t an uncommon thing to do. He himself kept records of his own milestones, as gruesome as that might sound to some people. It always helped put things into perspective, in a way.

“Seungmin… He was just another target. I wasn’t even going to kill him. I try not to kill when I can. It’s too messy… But, I must admit, at some point I was trying to kill Chan”, you finally turned to look at him, and the pained look in your eyes must’ve been a perfect match to his own. “In all honesty, I’m glad I failed. You’re really good at what you do, you know? If you hadn’t been, I would’ve succeeded, and being honest, I don’t think I would’ve been able to continue going on with my life if I had killed the man I love”.

The man I love…

There you were again, using present tense. Was it stupid of him to feel hopeful about that?

Maybe it was.

Before Chris could say anything, though, you looked away again, straightening your head to reach for your plate of food. “What I told you last night… Dropping the job, in the eyes of the Guild, is a sign of weakness. We are supposed to carry out our tasks or die trying. The fact that it took me so long to do what I was hired to do, and the fact that I essentially gave up, it’s all enough for them to consider me a burden, so I’ll have to either prove my worth again, or they’ll just get rid of me”.

You said it so nonchalantly, like you had accepted this as your fate. And Chris honestly hated it.

“How long do you have to prove it?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I could either be given a super hard task soon, or they could’ve already decided I’m no longer worth their time and just try to kill me. I need to be wary now. You’ve got no idea all the trouble I had to go through just to make sure no one was following me when I was coming here”.

As the guard of Kim Seungmin, as Chan, there was a small spark of pride at the fact that he had managed to stop anyone from doing harm to Seungmin. But, as your boyfriend–ex-boyfriend…?–as Chris, there was also guilt pooling in his gut at the fact that you were now being targeted by your own people because of him.

How fucking convoluted this all was…

You remained silent after that, just slowly putting food into your mouth, chewing leisurely. Chris knew you were waiting for him to speak. You had bared your past to him, and it was now his turn to do the same. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to speak, he wanted to do it, he’d wanted to do it for months, way before the theatre situation, way before the Wraith came into his life, back when it was just you and him. But, even though the fact that he’d tried to kill you didn’t seem to have fully pushed you away from him, he was sure that what he was going to reveal to you now could potentially do so. As odd as that might sound…

Chris figured it was now or never. Everything was already complicated, the future of you two was already murky enough, so he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly only to finally open them again when he started to speak.

“You remember I told you… about my brother and sister, right?” 

You nodded, focusing your entire attention on him.

Chris hadn’t disclosed much of his family or career to you, but he had told you about his siblings. Not in detail, but you were important enough to him that he wanted you to know, especially when sometimes he’d get texts or calls from either of them and he didn’t want you to get the wrong impression when you saw their contact names with hearts and random emojis next to them.

“We didn’t really… have much. Our father abandoned us right after my brother was born. He left my mum on her own to raise three children, one that wasn’t even a month old, while she was still recovering from her difficult pregnancy…” The memory always made him angry, his father embodied everything he ever hated in this world, and whenever Chris thought of him, he had to make the conscious effort to not give into this need of looking for him and give him the beating of his life, preferably kill him if he could… 

Chris shook his head, trying to once again ignore the thought altogether. “Anyway, mum worked really hard to keep us three fed and to give us proper education. She really did her best, and even if we didn’t have much we were at least somewhat pushing through. But…”

It was always hard to talk about these things. Chris hardly ever allowed himself to think of this period of his life. He much preferred to remember his mother as the loving, hardworking woman he knew her to be, but he wanted to tell you this, he needed you to know the whole context, so he kept talking.

“She was sick. We didn’t really know, one day she was seemingly fine and the next she was in a hospital bed, telling me it would all be fine…” It wasn’t fine, clearly. His mother had always been overly optimistic, and even back then he knew this was just her holding onto the foolish hope that she’d make it.

She didn’t.

The very next day, she had passed away, and Chris and his siblings had been entrusted to their uncle.

“It was all so sudden… Very quickly, we realised our uncle just wasn’t a good man. I put myself as the shield between him and my siblings, but even that wasn’t enough. I had to find a way for us to leave, I couldn’t just let my brother and sister live with this guy, it wasn’t safe”, Chris tapped his fingers on his thigh, looking at the only picture of him and his younger siblings he had placed on one of the shelves close to the television.

After a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts, he took a deep breath and started talking again. “I was sixteen, what can a sixteen year old boy do? It was so frustrating, and I was incredibly desperate, so I…” Fuck, this was much harder than he expected it to be, but he swallowed regardless, pushing away the little voice in the back of his mind that urged him to shut up. “Back then, all I had was my charm and my body, you know? So I used just that”.

There were a lot of cruel, disgusting people in this world. People that didn’t even stop to ask how old he was, people who could clearly tell how old he was but weren’t put off by it–on the contrary, those were usually turned on by that fact.

For many years, Chris sold himself to other people. He became whoever they wanted him to become for a few hours, and eventually got himself enough regulars to financially support his siblings and himself. He managed to keep the three of them well fed and studying. 

Only problem was, the psychological toll such a profession took on him was almost immeasurable. It was hard to remain empathetic towards other people when he’d had to constantly experience physical and emotional abuse, when he had to do things he just didn’t want to do every single night. But he had to. For the sake of his siblings and himself, he just had to.

You didn’t seem at all surprised by what Chris was telling you, but he could see the look of disgust on your face. Knowing you, his logical mind told him it had all to do with his clients, with the situation, not with himself. But, there was a small part of him–a very self-destructive part of him–that was sure you’d be disgusted at him. After all, you’d been physically involved with someone who was nothing but a whore for a good chunk of his life, with no knowledge of the fact.

Chris swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry after telling you all this, so he reached for his glass of juice and drank some to quench that nervous thirst. All while you looked at him, clearly deep in your thoughts.

“Mmm… So that’s why you’d been so insistent on me getting that STD test when we were talking about dropping condoms… Why you were so sure you were clean yourself”, you said simply, just as he was placing his glass back on the table. “Not gonna lie, I found it odd back then, considering most guys don’t really think about that stuff, they just want to get it wet”.

“Yep. I always made sure to be careful and keep that in check. I couldn’t afford to catch something dangerous. Who would take care of my brother and sister then?”

You hummed in understanding, but you didn’t really say anything else, and suddenly looking at your face was too much…

“Honestly, I almost never had unprotected sex with any of my clients, but whenever I did, I was super insistent on this, and old habits die hard, I suppose…” Chris picked at some loose threads of the rug under the coffee table, and he swallowed, avoiding your eyes before he braced himself for what he was about to say. “I’m… By the time I met you, I was no longer an escort, obviously. But you… That night with you after our first date was the first time I was able to actually enjoy sex in a long, long time. It was all just so… intimate. The fact that sex could feel like that… I don’t know, it absolutely blew my mind”.

Chris went silent after that. His fidgeting increased considerably, and very quickly, he realised he was nervous. Even before the whole theatre situation, he’d always been more scared to tell you about this part of his past than his current job. He’d always considered telling you about the Kims, about what he did, but whenever he thought about telling you what he used to do for a living, his mind would always convince him you’d just see him differently, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford.

Maybe it was silly of him, considering killing people for a living was probably way more morally incorrect than having sex for money, but unlike the former, the latter was something he never truly found pride in. On the contrary, he was ashamed of it.

All of a sudden, Chris felt your hand on his knee, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement of your thumb against his skin. It wasn’t until you muttered a soft ‘Hey…’ that he finally pulled his eyes away to look at you instead.

“I hope you know I don’t… I don’t think any differently of you because of your past. You did what you had to do to survive, and that’s completely respectable”, you squeezed his knee a bit, almost reassuringly, and for a moment, Chris feared he was going to cry. “Even knowing what you do now… I get it. I truly do. I’m totally no one to judge, all things considered”.

Once again, you’d shown him why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. And, once again, he couldn’t help but feel that the world was just so unfair.

Out of all people in this whole wide world, why did it have to be you under the kerchief that night…

Chris took a deep breath, looking away from your face to your hand on his knee. Warm, familiar… Your touch seemed to shoot straight to his heart. Without thinking much about it, he placed his hand on top of yours, and held it firmly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

He wanted to tell you more. He didn’t just want to leave it at that, he wanted you to know everything, he needed you to know. So, after a few moments of silence, he started talking again.

“How I transitioned from what I did to working with the Kims was a very circumstantial thing… Turns out one of my clients had business with them. Problem was, he was trying to scam them, which, in retrospect, was very stupid on his part”, he had found himself tangled in this guy’s mess, he was setting Chris up to take the blame, and as soon as he realised that, he immediately ratted the guy out to the Kims.

In doing so, they had offered him not only protection, but also a different career path. 

“They found me a mentor, trained me, all while I was still pretending to be this guy’s fucktoy. And, eventually, when the Kims got what they wanted from him, I got to kill him”, even as he said it, Chris knew a normal person would’ve felt some remorse when telling this story. But he didn’t.

Very quickly after that, he realised that killing, torturing people, deceiving them, were much more dignified ways of using his body and his skills, which was exactly what he told you.

“To me, it feels like the Kims gave me my individuality back. I do what I do because I like it, because I am grateful for what the Kims did for me, and because I feel proud of it, as twisted as that might sound…” Somehow, Chris knew you would understand the feeling, considering what you did for a living yourself. “I’m able to provide for my brother and sister by doing something I can find pride in. I love my team, they’re like family to me as well, but I suppose all these things I learnt throughout the years ended up making me a bit… cold”.

“Oh, I know all about that…” You mumbled, with a small smile on your lips.

Chris chuckled at that, maybe a bit incredulously.

He looked at your face in silence for a moment. There was no judgement in your eyes, and the soft caresses of your thumb on his hand had his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Seriously, though…” Chris said after a while. “When you appeared in my life, I was reminded of how it was like to feel normal. I feel like I’m a bit more human”.

“It’s a very mutual feeling, you know?”

Chris remained silent, looking at you, until your words registered fully, and he offered you a nod. Somehow, what you said had heat pooling on his cheeks, and he looked away from your face to stare at your joined hands.

“I was even… Before it all went down, I was genuinely considering retirement”, taking a deep breath, you brought your free hand to hold his hand between your palms. “I should’ve told you what I did for a living. Maybe this whole thing could’ve been avoided if I had, but I was afraid you’d just… leave”.

“I wouldn’t have”, Chris replied before he could think twice about it, but with the words out there, he realised he meant them. How could he leave? You were just like him, after all.

“I know that now”, your hands were so warm, so familiar… 

“Come here…” Wrapping an arm around your waist, and taking a hold of your thigh, Chris guided your body to move, until you settled on his lap. 

Your hands immediately found his face, just as his arms wrapped around your waist. You looked him in the eyes, in a way that made him feel exposed, like you were reaching deep within his mind and soul. He realised then that he wanted to be exposed. He didn’t want any more secrets or half-truths, you were already his weak spot, so might as well let you fully in. 

“You’re so handsome”, you said all of a sudden, with a bright smile on your lips, and Chris immediately chuckled, looking away and shaking his head. “Don’t laugh! You are”. 

“You want me to blush? ‘Cause it’s working, baby”, Chris tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. With the same motion, he found your earlobe, and he caressed the skin while his other arm was firmly around your waist. 

“Maybe I do want that. It’s my only ulterior motive”, you chuckled, tracing patterns on his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Mmm… Is that so?” Chris supposed this was your way of confirming to him that you, in fact, didn’t have any ulterior motive. He also supposed he could do nothing else but believe you, to trust you.

“Mm”, you leaned in, leaving a tender kiss on his forehead before you pulled back to look him in the eyes again. “It is”.

The warmth of your palms, the soft drag of your thumbs on Chris’ skin, your weight on his lap… All combined had Chris closing his eyes, it had him leaning into your touch, and even questioning if this was a real thing that was happening, if you were truly there. You were. Logically, he knew you were, but it was hard for his brain to catch up with the fact after spending so long doing nothing but yearning for you.

There was a sigh, a sound of relief that further anchored Chris to reality when it came out of your mouth. 

“You, too, make me feel alive. These past couple of months… I’ve just missed you so, so much, Christopher”, your voice was so quiet, it was steady, but Chris could’ve sworn he felt your hold tremble on his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes, just took a deep breath and brought one of his hands to lay on top of one of yours on his face. “I know it’s… weird. All of this. It’s weird and complicated and there’s a lot we’d have to work on, but I… I don’t want to lose you. I can’t”.

Chris could feel your words reach deep within him. They might’ve sparked some doubts, maybe even a bit of anxiety at the prospect of facing the results of both of your actions, but… they also warmed him up from the inside out. 

He figured that, if there had ever been anything worth protecting, what you both had was one of those things, no matter how difficult it could be. And right then, when he finally opened his eyes and looked at your face, he wholeheartedly believed it was possible.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Chris nodded. With a hand on the back of your head, he pulled you closer to him, close so he could press his lips to yours, and the soft whimper that escaped your mouth was enough to make him want to cry right then and there.

Your hands left his face so you could wrap your arms around his neck. With his arms around your waist, he pulled you further into his lap, chest against chest sharing one breath. Your words kept resonating in his ears ‘missed you so, so much…’ Added to the feel of your tongue against his own, to your hand playing with his hair, he was sure his heart was about to burst.

You kissed for a while. Slowly savouring the feel of one another, almost like you both wanted to catch up on all those kisses missed in the past three months. Quiet moans slipped between your lips, his hands roamed your back, confirming that this was, in fact, very real. Even more so when your hips started to roll, grinding against him when his hands settled to squeeze your backside and your thighs.

“Missed you, too”, Chris breathlessly mumbled against your lips, taking a tight hold of your hips to guide your movement. You just nodded and kept kissing him, more frantically this time, and all he could do was match your pace, in hopes to convey just how much he had truly missed you.

His mind fogged up. There was nothing but you, and you, and you… He didn’t want for there to be anything else. Before he knew it, articles of clothing started to be removed and dropped on the sofa behind him, until skin was touching skin and even the minimal distance between your bodies felt like it was just too much. 

Chris needed you closer, as close as you possibly could be, and in his haze, he’d found himself kissing down your body while you laid on his rug. Slowly, he left kisses on your cheek, your neck, between your breasts–where he took a brief pause just so he could be smothered by them for a bit before he continued his path…

With your legs over his shoulders, with his mouth at the apex of your thighs, Chris couldn’t help but groan at the familiar, undeniable taste of you. Oh, how he’d missed this, too… Your hand gripping his hair, and his own roaming the softest areas of your body while he got to drink you up, was absolutely how he’d been dreaming to be, especially when you started making the prettiest noises, those that made his chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

He supposed it was more than fair. You’d gotten your taste of him last night, and it was now his turn.

Your words of encouragement, your sighs of his name, and the quiet sounds coming out of your mouth made his head spin. How had he even survived all these weeks without this? Without you? 

As he fixated on gently sucking on that sensitive nub between your legs, as your thighs started to shake a bit around his head, Chris just felt lucky. As unfortunate as this whole thing had been, he had to cherish this second chance. There was a lot to talk about, a lot more truths to tell to each other, but all that could wait. Until later or tomorrow or the day after… It could all wait.

Right now, all that mattered was to feel. 

For him to feel you, for you to feel him, and for both to just satiate the burning need for each other.

Getting you to come with just his mouth and his fingers was certainly one of his favourite things in this world. Hearing you gasp and moan his name made him lightheaded, filled him to the brim with arousal and love… Especially so when your legs trapped him right there, when he got to pin you down by the hips so you couldn’t pull away from him while he continued to drink up your essence.

Your body slumped a bit when Chris finally found his way up your body. As soon as he was within reach, you simply pulled him down to you with a firm grip on his hair, sealing your mouths in a slow kiss, uncaring of your taste on his tongue, his lips, or even his chin when you started to leave kisses all over his face.

Chris gave you time to catch your breath. However, when he told you he was doing just that, in that teasing tone that he knew would just rile you up, you just chuckled and told him it was difficult to do so when his lips so deliciously gave attention to your neck.

“What? Want me to stop?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as well, leaving lingering kisses on your skin.

“As if”, was all you mumbled back when you hugged him close and buried your hand in his hair to keep him right there.

After a couple of minutes where Chris just got to place his lips on every centimetre of skin they could find, you pulled him by his hair in that enticing way you always did, and brought him close to you once again, muttering his absolute favourite combination of words you could ever say.

“Fuck me”.

Gladly. 

Chris was hard, leaking pre-cum, needy in ways that only you had ever made him feel. There was not an ounce of restraint in his body tonight, no wish to tease or delay the inevitable. There’d be time for that in the future. Or so he hoped.

So when he finally pushed himself into your sopping warmth, when he started that slow, but precise pace of his hips that he knew you enjoyed so much, he was dead set on diving fully into it, into you. Just like he’d done countless times prior to that night in the theatre.

“I love you”, Chris mumbled in your ear, and even before he said it, he had already started to feel his eyes water.

“I love you”, you mumbled back, further digging your nails on his back, tightening the hold of your legs around his torso. “With my whole heart”.

Your words coming out as a shaky whisper were enough to shatter the remaining protective layer around his heart. He could feel himself tremble, and even though he saw the tears running down your cheeks when he kissed you again, he hadn’t really needed to do it to know they were there. Just like he was sure you hadn’t needed to see his to know, too.

Chris had almost forgotten how it was like to sleep with you–in the literal sense of the word.

Your warmth, the way you clung to him sometimes in the middle of the night, how you’d wake him up when he was about to choke on his spit… It was all so, so familiar, it was comforting, and last night, even if you both had gone to sleep late after a couple more mind-numbing orgasms, after finishing your food, and after even more cuddles and deep emotional talks, this had probably been the best he’d slept in weeks.

Which was why, when he turned to drape an arm around your waist because he just needed to pull you closer to him, he almost got whiplash from the feeling of the cold sheets under his hand.

Chris’ eyes snapped open to find your side of the bed empty. Why was it so cold? Had you just left? When did you leave? Had you woken up today filled with regret? Had you decided that trying to work things out was actually too complicated and not worth your time?

Chris’ heart was beating fast in his chest, and just before he flung himself from the bed in a panic to see if the things you brought last night were still in the flat, he heard a sound. It was quiet, but he definitely heard it, and that feeling of panic was quickly changing to one of dangerous hope.

He didn’t even bother putting clothes on, just stood up and walked all the way to his bedroom’s door. As soon as it was opened, he could hear things more clearly. 

Music.

Very low, but it was certainly playing somewhere down the hall.

He could hear the sound of a spatula against metal, as well as the crackling of oil, and the unmistakable hum of the airfryer.

“Morning, sleepy bear”, you said as he stepped into the kitchen, not even turning to look at him. Chris had light steps, but he supposed it made sense that you of all people were more than capable of hearing him walking closer. “M’making some eggs and bacon”.

Chris couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips. He walked into your space, and wrapped his arms around your waist to hug you from behind. “So, the only things that were in the fridge”.

“Basically. You should really go grocery shopping. How are you gonna have energy for work if you don’t eat proper meals, hm? Who’s gonna protect Seungmin then?” There was a hint of a smile in your voice, and it only made Chris’ own smile widen.

It was odd to hear you talk about his job, especially so… neutrally. Resting his chin on your shoulder, Chris watched you carefully and methodically cook the eggs, and he couldn’t help but tighten his hold around your waist.

There was a moment of silence as you placed the two perfectly fried eggs on a plate, next to the already cooked ones. The airfryer timer went off, you switched off the stove, but you remained standing there in Chris’ hug.

One of your hands came to his arms, and you started to softly caress his skin. “Baby… I don’t wanna get you into trouble, you know?”

Chris knew. Being with you would definitely get him into trouble if the Kims found out who you were. He was aware of this, there was no way he wouldn’t be. “I know, love”.

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t… don’t really know what to do. How to fix that. I can’t let them hurt you because of me”.

Taking a deep breath, Chris let go of your waist to take a hold of your shoulders instead. With a gentle grip, he coaxed you to turn around so he could cup your cheeks in his hands. “We’ll figure something out. About the Kims, about the Guild… We’ll just… figure it out”.

You swallowed, but a small smile found its way to your lips. “Why do I get the feeling that this is gonna be some ‘you and me against the world’ bullshit?”

“Because it is”, Chris chuckled, squishing your cheeks, making your lips jut out into a pout. “It’s you and me, bun. We might need to improvise a bit, walk around the truth, but I have hope that we can find a solution to this”.

He pecked your lips briefly, and his hold on your cheeks relented.

You immediately looped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you just as his hands found the small of your back. “I suppose we can put our two scheming brain cells together to think of something. I must say… doesn’t seem that difficult of a task when you’re here with me”.

Chris agreed completely. As long as he had you there, with him, it didn’t seem a difficult thing to achieve. Either getting the Guild to trust you again, or for you to defect, or even getting him to come clean to at least Seungmin, or keep you a secret, or for both of you to disappear completely, maybe leave the country and get new identities… It didn’t matter what course of action you both decided to take. 

As long as you got to be together, happy, and in love, it just didn’t matter.

Even when he leaned in to press a kiss on your lips, when he hugged you close, Chris held onto that possibly foolish hope that everything would be okay. That you both would, in fact, figure it all out.

tagging (people from my taglist + people that asked to be tagged in this part 2 specifically):

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© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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General Masterlist

[night-raven-tattler]

A second opinion - Resorting the Night Raven College students into different dorms

Summary: Based on their personal headcanons and this post made by @thoselethalarts, Mx Tattly took it upon themselves to sort the NRC students into dorms different than their own - just for fun! She'd appreciate your feedback and opinions, as he is no Magic Mirror, so feel free to add your imput!

Characters: First year notable students (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek)

Other parts of the series: Second year notable students, Third year notable students

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A good fit for Heartslabyul's strict environment would be Sebek!

He is a boy with a very strong code of conduct that he follows religiously. Sebek is very strict with himself and follows his personal rules and daily routine with no exception. He puts a lot of value in the importance of rules and authority figures to maintain peace and order, since it's the only thing he knows: as a hopefully royal guard to be, Sebek believes in his liege first and in himself second. And, as a guard, he is very protective.

Sebek believes his way of thinking is the correct one and has no shame in trying to instill his views on others. He considers that he is doing what's right for his liege and the world, and no one can convince him otherwise. He'd make a good card soldier, maybe a spade suit or a heart suit.

『••✎••』

Deuce would make a good candidate for Savanaclaw.

He has an ironclad willpower and determination in spades (pun intended), which are his main driving forces in life. He is determined to become a honor student and to right all the wrongs he's ever done, a resolution he clings to harder and harder with every day.

Deuce is gutsy, and when push comes to shoves he is ready to fight back. He has a strong sense of loyalty, and he is willing to do anything for the ones he considers part of his "gang". He is a dedicated friend and family member and believes in payback, especially when he has been wronged in some way.

『••✎••』

Another good candidate for the Savanaclaw student spot is Epel!

His initial wish to be sorted in Savanaclaw was not random. Epel has the (in)famous Savanaclaw willpower and determination. Epel knows what he wants -he wants to be a strong mage who can help Harveston thrive- and his pride for his community is unwavering. He knows how hard he needs to fight and he is willing to work himself to the bone when needed.

Epel also is somewhat of an idealist, and he has big dreams for himself. From being a great mage to someone his whole hometown will be proud of, Epel strives to be this amazing, reliable figure worth of respect and who doesn't deserve belittling. He won't back down from any fight, even if he has to throw the first punch, and he gets back up even after losing.

『••✎••』

Ace would fit well in Scarabia.

He is a clever and cunning boy, who knows when to be straightfoward and when to be sneaky. From facing his own housewarden to pretending to ask Leona a smart question in order to not be used a bait, Ace is intelligent and can read situations very well, skills he uses to his advantage. He is also not above playing roles and feigning innocence if the end goal appeals to him.

Ace is resourceful, playful and knows what to say in a moment of need, making him very adaptable to any situation. Despite still getting into trouble, he insists it is part of his calculated risk. He is good at math, but sometimes you gotta make sacrifices (re: get put on cleaning duty) for a good outcome (re: a nap at the back of the class).

『••✎••』

Pomefiore is a dorm whose values Jack would resonate with.

Jack is a boy who strives to improve himself in every area he can. Academics, sports, even with his hobbies, he always strives to become smarter, faster, wiser, better. Self improvement is his main driving force, and he loves knowing that he is improving, since he knows very well just how hard he is working to achieve his best self.

Generally speaking, Jack is very self aware and knows what his skills and strong points are. He is self assured, meticulous and last but not least, aware of his potential, which he cultivates every day without fail.

『••✎••』

Another good pick for Pomefiore would be Ortho!

Ortho is, above all else, very proud of his own skills and achievements. He is the only humanoid with the ability to learn and feel, that's quite an achievement! Yet he is not satisfied, as he knows technology (him included) will always have space for improvement. From making and maintaining his gears to joining clubs to extend his knowledge on human reactions, Ortho wants to become even better, and he is an unstoppable force.

Being a Shroud, Ortho comes with his own eccenticities, like calling everyone by their full names and considering using powerful lasers as a solution for most of his problems. Maybe it's because he's an android, but Ortho can get quite reckless and engage in risky behavior.

『••✎••』

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-10-08

(Previous post - current page 666)

Just caught the tweet announcing an Update as soon it went up! From the look of the log it seems we're moving on, unless there was an addition to p666 which I doubt since they would have warned people to update their cache in the tweet or what have you. So it's time to finally move on from this page, I'm clicking that Next button!

I get the feeling from the log moving onward that this situation isn't going to be resolved in the next page, and we're either going to cut back later... or cut back to Vriska emerging from the Plot Point from John and the others' perspective, because we know she only has one thing left to do. (Other than the question of exactly how she's leaving there, which I assumed would be something special rather than the Plot Point simply "running out of time".)

(==>)

Yep, the resolution with Vriska is coming later.

ROSE: This is an impressive shield. ROSE: I don't think I've ever seen you make one this size before. JADE: ive been practicing! JADE: if i stay focused i should be able to keep it up for quite a while.

Oh heck I didn't notice, that's a cool-ass green Spacey shield with a Space symbol on it! That ought to be a tough nut to crack with any weaponry! (Is she protecting the ship, or the rebel forces maybe? The bubble doesn't seem to be wrapped around the meteor.)

ROSE: Honestly, if it gets to be too much of a hassle, we should be fine as long as the kids stay inside. ROSE: This ship was specifically designed to take a battering. JADE: from artillery maybe JADE: but who knows what kind of other nasty weapons jane has tucked away in her diabolical business pantsuit! JADE: its not like she tells jake everything JADE: or almost anything, really JADE: when it comes to the kids id rather be safe than sorry ROSE: Sure.

Ohh, of course they're shielding the ship, especially the part containing the children. A good chance they won't just stay inside though, especially given this caveat being announced-- though whether they can or can't get through Jade's shield is a different story, unless they break out some new powers or the ship's possible transportalizers.

JADE: by the way JADE: i saw kanaya leave earlier ROSE: She's meeting Karkat on the field. JADE: without you? ROSE: Yes. ROSE: She made it pretty clear that it wouldn't be wise for me to join her. JADE: oh... ROSE: Mhm. ROSE: Some barb about the danger of me "Being Maimed Quite Viciously" on account of all humans looking the same once the bloodshed begins. ROSE: Then she shot me a peace sign and walked away. JADE: ugh, im sorry rose :(

Yeah, Kanaya's off working out some SERIOUS stress most likely. And Rose was very awful pulling that Sapphire future vision excuse to avoid contending with the emotions of the present, to "stop trying" with her. Hopefully someone or something lights some sense under her ass, maybe something to do with the children and them going off to do something dangerous simply because Rose hadn't bothered with the trouble of discussing more of the live situation with them... I dunno. She clearly needs something jarred loose about her attitude, if what Jade said earlier didn't explicitly do it. Maybe Jade can help more right now?

JADE: this should never have happened JADE: between yiffys capture and rescue and finding dave... JADE: like that... JADE: i just feel like my life flashed before my eyes and it made me a little crazy! JADE: after being unconscious for a bit things feel way clearer now ROSE: Nothing beats a rump to the skull for mental clarity.

Oh my god, Tavros actually knocked her out cold when he fell from the ceiling?! (And I'm reminded again that she was carrying the stuffed corpse or arm of someone, presumably Dave but we can't be 100% sure.) I wonder if this is trying to make excuses for some of her Candy-timeline behavior... though out of all of them, she has the least to excuse, really? I feel like both versions of her were remarkably in character and didn't do nearly as much weird potentially-Muse-guided stuff like Roxy and others at that initial funeral for Dirk back in the epilogues.

JADE: the mistakes we made are so obvious to me now JADE: embarrassingly obvious! JADE: we should never have talked to john in front of kanaya, for one thing JADE: they required way different approaches ROSE: Oh, so that was the problem? JADE: one of them at least

Bolding Rose for dryly pointing out that this is VERY MUCH a backslide into the wrong approach to this entire situation that Jade's having, focusing on the actions required to approach or defuse each person as if fulfilling video game objectives, trying to make everyone happy instead of trying to come clean and trusting the others to do as they will. She's trying to control (Witch) the situation too much, which was her issue in the Candy timeline in the first place.

JADE: i definitely wasnt expecting you to say all THAT either JADE: but i know she hit a sore spot so its understandable why you lost your temper JADE: its my fault for panicking ROSE: Interesting. ROSE: I didn't even realize I was mad. JADE: i mean JADE: it brought me back to the last time i mentioned your mom and you flipped that table ROSE: I was eighteen. JADE: you didnt talk to me for a month! ROSE: Eighteen years old. JADE: yeah and i havent tried to talk to you about it since!

Oh damn, those are some gigantic fucking unresolved Mom issues she has in this version of events that it sounds like she should have seen a psychologist or dozen about! D:

JADE: look all im saying is JADE: i understand why things went downhill the way they did and im not going to get caught off guard again JADE: this whole situation is my fault and even though it just keeps getting more frustrating and shitty im going to do right by you JADE: were going to figure this out ROSE: Are you sure it's prudent to keep this amateur marriage counselor performance up? JADE: rose... JADE: youre taking this seriously JADE: right? ROSE: I don't know what you mean by that.

Jade is still thinking she has to be in control and responsible for everything... and Rose is so afraid of tackling everything that she's practically dissociated from her own marriage. Her distorted Seer of Light vision or not, that's not going to help-- again, Steven Universe taught us that with Sapphire in Keystone Motel.

(==>)

COOL-ASS shot of Jade and her adorable pawprint gloves-- goofy shot of Rose with her short hair practically invisible. :D

JADE: i think you do but bleh whatever as long as we don't have a repeat of last time we can still position you as the good guy JADE: or at least less of a bad guy JADE: though playing stupid and cajoling her into slapping me around for catharsis wont work anymore JADE: well have to think of something else... ROSE: Jade, I've been compliant with these clumsy machinations partially because they weren't all that consequential at the time, but you need to cut your losses. ROSE: It's time to start looking beyond the end of your own nose, and accept that these methods aren't going to work. ROSE: This is not a situation you can win. JADE: im not trying to "win" anything!

Yes she is, this is exactly what I was talking about! Jade treating this like a problem to be solved instead of confronted, much like she did with trying to be in a relationship with Dave and Karkat at once in this timeline, instead of allowing others agency to help determine the endpoint of the situation. Because if she's too controlling, those methods themselves are going to dismantle her efforts, which at least Rose recognizes even if SHE'S wrong about other things.

JADE: im trying to be an adult and not run away from this ROSE: Look, I know better than anyone the satisfaction of gaming people's reactions and getting into their heads. JADE: (oh my god are you even listening to me) ROSE: But it's a losing game. ROSE: You're going to push too hard, or misconstrue something critical, or cross another line. ROSE: And you'll regret it. ROSE: That's not conjecture, it's a guarantee.

She IS right. But she's also being defeatist to avoid opening up and admitting fault, and ESPECIALLY to avoid confronting any uncomfortable emotions or problems she's still stopped trying to confront both without and within herself. That Mom stuff especially from the sound of it. Maybe unpacking that at some point soon will help shake Rose loose a bit.

JADE: youre so frustrating to talk to these days! JADE: "ohhhh bluh bluh blah i can see the fruitlessness of all our clumsy insignificant thrashing in fates cosmic current" JADE: dont forget im more than a little versed in future sight myself ok JADE: i dont care how credible it seems, you cant depend on that information!

An allusion to her long, long childhood stint inverted to Seer of Time and guiding everyone with Skaia's clouds before she was knocked violently loose from the habit out onto a true path of active agency!

ROSE: I know it's hard to hear, but you need to take a second to think about what I'm saying. ROSE: Don't you feel the least bit relieved? ROSE: You've spent so many years wrangling this dirty little secret. JADE: that "dirty little secret" is my fucking daughter ROSE: Well, now she's not a secret anymore. ROSE: You don't have to shoulder the burden of keeping her tucked away from everyone in the entire world for fear of the consequences, because the consequences have happened. ROSE: You're free to invest all that energy elsewhere. ROSE: Maybe work on yourself a little bit. ROSE: We could even unpack the hamster guy. JADE: oh we are not talking about the fucking hamster guy JADE: i don't want to talk about any of it really!

It's kind of fascinating how they've constructed a conversation where not only are BOTH parties acting so wrong, they're also completely right in naming each other's faults. Jade, the problem *IS* that you don't want to talk about it.

JADE: ever again! JADE: thinking back to that whole conversation makes my skin crawl!!! JADE: "abloo hoo hoo, my life is a monkey paw, everything i want hurts me in the end" ROSE: It was a little pathetic. JADE: I KNOW!

Jade has been hiding her vulnerability from the ENTIRE WORLD to the point where she essentially wanted to stop existing, except vicariously through her daughter, and she thinks now that it's been uncorked a little she can just go RIGHT BACK to never dealing with her problems ever again. NOPE! Doesn't work that way, Jade!

JADE: it had nothing to do with what we were trying to DO JADE: it just derailed everything... JADE: and worst of all, yiffy heard it! JADE: ugh!!!! ROSE: You can't keep trying to control the narrative forever, Jade.

Hah!!! (Bolded for emphasis.) Controlling the narrative, controlling her friends, controlling reality because reality IS "the narrative" here (and Space is the story's pages).

Geez I've had a lot to say and I'm only partway through the second page of this upd8.

ROSE: If Kanaya wants to hate me, or punish me, she has every right to. ROSE: She asked for the truth. JADE: oh come off it!!! JADE: the truth is whatever people WANT to believe JADE: you can either try forcing them to understand your side JADE: leave it completely in their hands and take no responsibility JADE: or you work with their wants and perspectives JADE: and make some informed compromises ROSE: Over the state of reality? JADE: rose i am begging you can you please cut it out with all the cryptic cosmic crap and come back down to earth???

Rose is absolutely WAY too defeatist here, and Jade is still trying to take too much control. FORCING them to understand your side? It's impossible for people to perfectly understand each other-- and mutual understanding takes time and being open about yourself. Jade had to be forcibly pried open into revealing what vulnerabilities she actually had here and she thinks it's pathetic and regrettable, instead of the biggest step towards salvaging this situation that anyone has taken so far, which it was!!! Taking responsibility means taking responsibility for your own flaws; at least Jade is right here that Rose is basically taking NO RESPONSIBILITY AT ALL for her side of the relationship, consigning it all to fate so she doesn't have to work on herself. Neither of them want to confront what's wrong inside their own hearts and their own insecurities. (When really they should be opening up about themselves and getting closer to my Kanaya/Rose/Jade OT3 ship. /s )

ROSE: Things aren't like they used to be, Jade. ROSE: There are no right or wrong routes, anymore. ROSE: Just a tangle of meandering side-paths. JADE: so what, that gives you a free pass to self-destruct? JADE: the best choice was to "double down and say a bunch of horrible insane shit to your wife" ?

Rose still feels deep down that because this isn't a "relevant" timeline anymore, that nothing here matters, just like Vriska used to. Maybe if they pull off the Plot Point plan and forcibly drag this timeline closer to relevance, something will kick off in Rose's mind that tells her, GUESS WHAT, THE STAGE LIGHTS ARE ON, you can't just say that this entire timeline doesn't matter anymore? Hmm.

ROSE: Jade, over the course of 15 years, when have any of your efforts done a grain of good? ROSE: For yourself or Dave? JADE: woooooooow i know what youre doing ok? JADE: go ahead push every button i have i dont give a fuck JADE: youre the one that has everything to lose here JADE: and no matter what awful things you say it wont change the fact im worried about you ROSE: Don't be. ROSE: I've done fairly well for myself this past decade and a half. ROSE: I've been happy. JADE: thats whats scaring me! JADE: youre not prepared for how bad it can get JADE: you have no idea at all!!!!!!!!!!! ROSE: If you say so.

Having felt like she failed with Dave, and then had him go off and die on her rather than stay with her, Jade is TERRIFIED that Rose is going to ruin the amazing thing she's had with Kanaya out of apathy and fear. Maybe if Kanaya turns out to be in serious danger from something she didn't foresee, and Rose actually has to confront being genuinely scared of losing her for good, it can dislodge Rose from feeling like she'd be happy letting everything keep falling apart around her? That she absolutely HAS TO FIGHT to keep this relationship, that a relationship requires "trying", and that you can't waste time not trying at all thinking you have everything locked down tight and nothing to lose, because as Jade recently learned you can lose EVERYTHING in a moment.

JADE: ... between you and dave and john i dont know whos worse JADE: is it really that hard for any of you to care? JADE: if you dont get your head on straight and begin trying shell leave you JADE: all youve had together and everything you could have had JADE: gone! JADE: and since youre so cool with talking about your mom now JADE: you shouldve learned that lesson from her a long time ago! ROSE: Excuse me-

OUCH. Bringing up all the regrets from the moments after Rose realized she'd lost her mother, lost ANY CHANCE to make amends with her before Jack killed her... the moments which Jade was there for over pesterchum talking to her during, right before she flew into a Grimdark rage.

JADE: look it takes a lot of concentration to hold this perimeter JADE: i think itd be best if you looked after the kids ROSE: ... JADE: inside. ROSE: Fine.

Why is the next command "Rose: Ramble"? Is she going to start talking to herself? Probably, set up by Jade's "(oh my god are you even listening to me)" line. Pulling a Dave Strider and talking to herself since she can't hold a conversation with Jade here.

(Rose: Ramble)

Yeah that's a dark, hopeless, kind of dissociated look on her face.

Oh she's rambling INTERNALLY, there's a lot of black text on this page. XD

You saunter on out of there. You could say so much more, but it’s fine. Jade has no idea what she’s talking about. There’s not a thing to worry about here. You came out the womb playing defense, you’re not about to drop the ball now.

Opening up for self-examination, being vulnerable like they BOTH need to let themselves be to move forward, is the polar opposite of "playing defense". I wonder if she's dunking on herself, here.

If you hadn’t, maybe you’d be more concerned with the torrent of bullshit you’re dealing with. You really are getting it from all ends here, between Jade’s guilt-ridden busybodying and the glint of rage and pain in your wife’s eyes and the sudden, inexplicable tragedy of your brother’s demise.

Ohhh fuck. Dave's death is hitting her too. I'm not sure why I forgot it would. No wonder she's been shutting down instead of confronting anything.

All that on top of the twist of your gut every time you see your mother in Roxy’s face or hear her in Roxy’s voice. Really, you should be losing your shit. Instead, your emotions are in order and your shit is on lockdown exactly where you tucked it away, smooth operator that you are. God, you need a fucking drink.

Gosh, that's sad. And yeah, she totally IS dunking on herself. She knows on some level that something's seriously wrong with her, and she's just avoiding it, conceding defeat even though she knows she's undoubtedly part of the problem. A part of the problem she's partially given up on fixing.

Submission -- to fate, to the oblivion of drink, to everyone else's will -- is Void, simultaneously the essential duality of and a weakpoint of her nature as a Light player.

Instead of folding, you try to curb the craving by focusing on the inside of your hand and slowly moving that energy to your fingertips. Jade is right, of course, but only on a base, intuitive level that is otherwise lacking in specifics and easily misinterpreted and manipulated. For there to be inarguable truth there has to not only be an authority, but one that cares enough to reinforce their intentions absolutely, and you can’t imagine any such authority caring all that much about this laughable mess.

I'm not sure if I completely agree on inarguable truth being contingent on an authority existing (I mean I suppose so in terms of the limits of both-scientific-and-historical observation in our universe, relying on human and imperfect accounts, and also it's DEFINITELY true when talking about A STORY and being able to read the author's interpretation of something or if there was one at all as opposed to the Death Of The Author that Andrew has been foreshadowing since most of the way through Homestuck is what he believes to be a better outcome for the work), but I suppose she doesn't realize that Calliope is the one who authored this timeline-- the living, non-ascended Calliope back in the Meat side. And she absolutely cared-- and we, the readers, do too!

If there’s no truth, then why even bother looking for your best option? Just leave the hierarchy of choices in ashes, the Mayor would be so proud. And then horribly disappointed, realizing this doesn't mean democratic power to the people. It means total fucking black out.

She's really, REALLY hung up on this being a non-canon timeline isn't she? Not only that-- but an AUTHORLESS timeline. She sees this whole timeline as Void (a black out, devoid of meaning and importance) and she can't see how she should actually be caring about it; she's just as doubtful about the validity of non-canon works of Homestuck, that the fanfics that we come up with because we care about these characters could be anywhere as interesting or worth caring about as canon, much in line with Dirk Strider's viewpoint that nothing could possibly matter if it doesn't have a Higher Purpose to the main, author-stamped story. Luckily enough HS^2's entire thematic structure is built to eventually prove her wrong, to teach her and Dirk and all the rest of us that Homestuck and its characters are worthwhile even wrested from the author's grip!

It’s only through quite rigorous contemplation of this metaphysical miasma (to the detriment, some might say, of your attention to the present moment) that you’ve managed to glean much of anything at all, a wonder in and of itself. Trying to decode these countless twisting paths has taken years of practice, but like all your favorite games the tedium enhances the satisfaction of playing. A small pastime, like a crossword, to privately enjoy outside the scope of any intrusive third persons. Currently, for example, you know that Vriska’s up to something important within the meteor. Exceedingly important, actually, far more important than anything here has had any right to be in a long, long time. It’s a point of almost disturbing clarity in the otherwise nebulous and ill-defined milieu of your prognosticative purview. You’re not quite sure what it actually is, though.

Interesting look into her non-ultimate Seer of Light talents, and the current limits they possess based on the combination of her abilities' limits in this Candyverse and her own beliefs and perspective. Why IS what Vriska's doing so important?

It doesn’t really matter, in the long run. Important or not, Vriska’s going to fail. Jane’s going to fail, too; really, just about everyone is going to fail to do something that really matters. In an unsuccessful effort to stave off that failure, and perhaps to atone for it on some level, Calliope will sacrifice herself, fruitlessly. You’re not exempt from the firing squad, either. In the imminent battle, you are going to be shot in the head, the bullet burying deep into your moral grey matter and jamming up the works of your conditional immortality, leaving you confined to a hospital bed. You had to pull all kinds of ridiculous, eyebrow-raising Chaos Theory shit to figure that one out. The rat-tail was worth it, your daughter’s anguish aside.

I'm not sure what she means by "the rat-tail" (does one of the people she knows have that hairdo?? Meenah? what does that have to do with her daughter? if anyone knows what she's alluding to by saying "the rat-tail was worth it" let me know in the replies), but I'm starting to see why she's been acting so hopeless. She doesn't mind Kanaya getting serious distance from her because she thinks she's going to get locked into a coma soon and she doesn't want Kanaya to mourn her as badly. That's pretty fucking depressing. I wonder which parts of this whole prediction are wrong, and why?

Calliope, this Calliope, sacrificing herself I can absolutely see (she's done observing within her fanfic, in a sense, and while not in a serious relationship with anyone she might decide to step out of the way and relinquish her Ring of Life for the sake of saving someone else)-- but fruitlessly how? And if Vriska is going to "fail", then why is what she's doing so damned important, hm? Fail at what, and gain what else in the process, to still invoke such importance? That's not something Rose has addressed or been willing to see. (EDIT: To clarify a bit here, not only is she blind to the purpose Vriska will accomplish-- it's definitely possible that Vriska leaves the plot point WITHOUT resolving her psychological issues, "fail" to, but even then she'll be only one step away from becoming her Ultimate Self at a pivotal moment and she'll already know what that last step IS inside herself, holding on to the Point's importance to finally do the most important step at a later time after getting out. That's just one of many ways to spin things, and she's blind to the true purpose of the Point regardless, or what "failure" truly constitutes in this situation.) Will Rose really enter a coma, and if she does, is her fatalism keeping her from seeing that some unexpected ray of hope is probably going to free her from said coma?

Kanaya may not see it this way at first, but your lobotomy sleepytime will be a well-earned, golden opportunity for her. A chance to experience life unshackled from the ol’ ball and chain. Even if it requires you to foist some compelling motivation for her to embrace it. She can’t waste her independence waiting on you again. You refuse to accept that outcome. What’s the point of a world where anything is possible if the love of your life won’t explore her full potential?

Yeah fuck that!!! I figured this was where Rose was leading, seeing herself as a net negative and refusing to believe that she's WORTH Kanaya, an insecurity she holds so tightly to that she's unwilling to fight for her own happiness. Thinking Kanaya's true potential lays in places that won't circle right back to you eventually. (Rose might be hinting at Kanaya unlocking some of her latent power, quite possibly-- considering the Sylph of Space as a healer, breaking through to that potential might even be enough to save her from the coma she's mentioning.)

It might even be gratifying for her romantically, though you haven’t peered too deeply down those corridors out of respect for her hypothetical privacy (surely not because they’d make you want to rip off your own face to perceive; that’d be hypocritical). Whatever. It’ll be good for her to stretch her legs, and it’s not like you’ll be awake to miss her.

Interesting... now THIS is a huge, huge blindspot for Rose. Since she's refusing to look down the paths of possibility where Kanaya feels for anyone other than her, what if this is one of the biggest reasons she's missing the path of possibility which eventually saves her and reunites them? (No, I'm not just saying that for the sake of Kanaya/Rose/Jade OT3... not entirely, anyway. >_>")

Or everything will collapse and everybody will disappear. It’ll certainly happen eventually. Maybe in an hour, maybe a day, a couple weeks, millenia from now. Who’s to say? Those specifics are beyond you now.

Everyone's seriously underestimating the Candy timeline. Everyone except Roxy and Calliope, the Rogue of Void and the Muse of Space, working together across the canon-to-non-canon barrier... the perfect pair of heroes to set events into motion that will make everything outside of canon real.

It’s this thought that unwinds you, untwisting your knickers. It’s hard to take things too seriously when you know that the details don’t matter and the ending never changes. It’s out of your hands. There’s nothing left to lose.

When Did You Stop Trying

She's practically LETTING herself get shot just so she doesn't have to see the rest of a story she doesn't think matters! Hopefully she'll be rather ridiculously surprised to find her timeline mattering after all-- to everyone both inside and outside their story. Hopefully we don't have to watch her agonize TOO long waiting for her to figure that shit out, even if the possibility of a certain duration of coma ends up making that wait longer than we'd like. At least in that case, we'll get to see the flabbergasted look on her face when she's brought out of her condition and realizes that everything suddenly matters again!

(==>)

A preview of what she sees ahead. Damn.

You’re nobody now. Just a shadow. Dirk was right to leave. He would have hated this existence. Ah, well.

I'd hoped both this Rose and Rosebot wouldn't make the exact same mistake, because hopefully we get to see them both convinced out of it... but possibly it could be circumstantially simultaneous? That'd be pretty appropriate given one of them is Ultimate Rose.

All tension has left your body, at this point. You don’t retreat to the heart of the ship; you have somewhere to be, so you set off, moving not towards a definitive point on the horizon but in cadence with a song that dances on the periphery of your awareness. You heard its first few tentative notes years ago. A subtle ‘ding’ when your ecto-father died. A little ‘dong’ when your wife handed you your daughter. A clear ‘ting’ when an old friend asked you for her first and only favor. Over time, and especially within the past few days, these scattered sounds have woven together into a compelling melody.

This sounds sort of like a mix of what meat!Calliope wrote into the Candy timeline, and intervention of other authors like Dirk excising himself to strengthen his meat!timeline importance? But mostly that Calliope, the story written in part by that distant author who wouldn't leave you to such a fate as you're expecting.

It helps you drown out the noise of war and focus, taking you back to times when there was destiny and indignation and righteous fury. A colorful cat-squid princess, advising a young girl to “play the rain.” She wanted so much, always needing to be seen, desperate to fight for some shred of validation. Only to never appreciate what was already in front of her. Thankfully, you aren’t her anymore. You don’t owe her anything either. You are unbound to that person completely. Defunct. As above, so below.

I wonder if that statement, behaving like this is Hell (to go with Vriska's purgatorial little trip in the Point), is also a reference to her making the same mistakes on both sides of the Candy/Meat divide? And I wonder if Rosebot truly believes, deep down, that she's the unlucky one in Hell too. Probably not yet, or at least not consciously, especially with Dirk artificially suppressing her doubts. (Also, playing the rain brought up again because at least ONE of these Roses is going to have to pull it off before HS^2 ends!!! It's one of the biggest unfulfilled threads that people wanted to see filled in Homestuck before it ended, and its subsequent continuation-- and goes hand in hand with all of Rose's unresolved psychological issues too somehow most likely, unless it's going to be done to show us that it wasn't indeed the biggest point after all?)

Also, just noting on the side the comparison of the woven thread of the narrative and fate to a musical score, one where the different authors, participants, are contributing parts of the music and different instruments, like the Fraymotifs that blended their aspects to write reality like a song.

Also also, it occurs to me that if Rose is going to enter a coma, she's quite possibly already going to have left a VERY INFURIATING farewell note for Kanaya that shows she saw her coma coming all along, and inadvertently clues Kanaya into the stupid game Rose had been playing by distancing herself so cruelly.

(==>)

A troll soldier looks down from something.

(==>)

Oh, they're bumping face first into a (much taller than them? and very pissed) Kanaya aren't they.

(==>)

Ooh, aglow, too. I wonder if this is a younger recruit or if Kanaya is just tall and huge now; she didn't seem like she compared much taller than Rose and Jade, though most people have always seen Kanaya as tall. This seems like the sort of thing I'd like to see artist commentary on when it comes out. (I've been trying to chew on the artist commentary first back-to-front from where HS^2 first became Beyond Canon, but I'm very slow at it due to some energy issues lately, so even Part 1 of that will be some time coming.)

(==>)

Literally haloed in light! If you weren't so preoccupied with your imminent demise, Rose, you could take some time to appreciate how amazing your wife is and believing in how much she loves you instead of thinking yourself less worthy than SHE thinks of you and casting her off.

(Commanders: Congregate.)

Ooh she mad.

Nothing too important in this page's dialogue, other than Kanaya acknowledging that Rose and Jade won't be involved in directly attacking and that she'd rather that be the case regardless, from an emotional standpoint. She definitely still wants Rose out of the line of fire, even if she's mad at her. (And Jade pulling defensive duty around the children might lose you a big offensive card but it isn't TOO bad, hopefully.)

(==>)

KARKAT: FUCK ‘EM.

Hah! Totally moirails. (Also look at that BLOOD imagery behind the grasping of hands, in all colors of the hemospectrum. That's not subtle Aspect imagery at all! I love unsubtle Aspect imagery! :D )

(==>)

MEENAH: shell yes motherblubber MEENAH: wayward wenches betta step the fuck back MEENAH: its a troll thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang

you're ruining the mood meenah

(Jane: Push the big red button. Blast it all to high heaven.)

Yeah Jake's gonna have dismantled that moon superweapon WELL before it fires.

You do not push the button because that would be incredibly stupid. The battle hasn't even started yet. Instead you take advantage of the momentary quiet to breathe. To think about life. About situations you could have handled differently. Feelings you could have... considered better. People you could have saved.

Does she? Does she really? Really now? ¬_¬"

(==>)

OH GOD IT'S A GIANT CAKE LASER THAT'S HILARIOUS

Your father never did voice any kind of opinion on your parenting style. In hindsight, he was probably avoiding the subject altogether. Or didn’t think much about it, focusing his pride on your exploits instead. He did raise a businesswoman, after all. At any point you could have asked for his advice. Now you can't. 15 years. Utterly botched.

Yeah, she definitely screwed the heck up on the parenting front, I suppose that *IS* something she's seriously reckoning with now that Jake has pulled back the curtain. It's too late for her to consider backing down, but she's at least going to feel some regrets and let that eat deservedly away at her before her final moments in this timeline.

Oh pfff, I hadn't even looked at the title of the next link (I'm guessing the answer is YES OF COURSE)

(Jane: Consider, is it too late?)

Of course not.

Really?

You remind yourself, you are incredibly young for a god. It’s natural for your growing pains to be this calamitous. All of the struggle and regret will feed into a brighter future. Newfound order will ensure stability, leading to a period of progress this planet has never seen before. There is so much living left. So many opportunities. This will not be your last chance. You’ll do better with the next one.

This is pretty in line with the way megalomaniacal way Jane behaved back when she was controlled by the Condesce, envisioning an empire with Jake at her side bearing her children forever. Candy is essentially an entire timeline where she followed through on her ambitions without constraint.

Speaking of constraint-- (Gee I thought he was totally going to take the Third Option and fly up to destroy the laser, this can't be over this quickly with a gun to the head--)

(Jane: Look behind you.)

Oh dear, so it definitely IS assassination, then. You must really hate how bad she's been for the children, Jake, to really go through with this as personally as BGD suggested. I was thinking about turning points like this for Hope players (in other media actually, a certain Hope player in Murder Drones actually) and moments of Rage being negative or positive turning points in equal measure, points where their belief in the breadth of possibility is pushed into a corner and it's time for them to narrow everything down to ONE CHANCE, to do or die, to a gun to someone's head or a blade to someone's neck and a willingness to cut a possibility off forever when it REALLY COUNTS to come in balance with their role (in ways depicted in Murder Drones with, hint hint, exactly one of their eyes showing a murder-mode X and the other eye open, as if on the tipping point before that Hope is cut off). How for a Hope player to be effective and balanced, they HAVE to know when they can't just sit on their heels and need to take action even if it means cutting off all the other paths they WISHED were true but can't be, acknowledging reality.

But seriously, if he was fast enough he could have just flown to space and blown up the Cake Laser. I guess this is more effective.

JANE: Jake? JAKE: Hi. Sweetheart. JANE: What are you doing here? Is everything ok? JAKE: It's all gravy train, don't worry! I was only thinking to myself and... JAKE: realized how sorry i'd be if i didn't come wish you good luck. JANE: How thoughtful! JAKE: Mm hm! JAKE: Come here.

Is that really going to work? Maybe with Jane deluding herself this much right now. I feel life if Jake actually pulls this off it'll end the battle far too quickly; maybe he'll shoot her and her Maid of Life powers will bring her back to retaliate the moment he turns his back on the body?

(==>)

Oh dear, he's going in EXTREMELY personal for this isn't he. A point blank shot through the heart in honor of Dirk maybe?

JANE: Well! That felt very lucky. JANE: Hoo, hoo! JAKE: I was hoping so ha ha! JANE: Thank you. ;B JANE: Wow you sure are holding me very tight, I assure you we don't have that kind of time sir! JANE: *eyebrow wiggle* JAKE: So right! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. JAKE: Oh Jane. JAKE: Before I let go, I wanted to say first. It's been a hard life and all but, JAKE: I'm really happy I got to see you. JANE: Me too J! JAKE: And... I'm going to miss you. JANE: Aw! JANE: Wait, what?

Looks like she didn't see it coming, even if I don't think it's gonna stick. Just exhausting whatever extra life she's built up in reserve, I'd bet.

[click]

(==>)

OW, to the head! No wonder there was a blood/violence warning in the tweet announcing this upd8.

(==>)

Oh god that's horrifying it didn't finish her off

this dialogue is horrifying why do you have to traumatize Jake more like this he's promising it'll stop oh that's awful okay serious fucking trigger warnings ouch

(==>)

OH GOD and she healed herself and knocked his aim off course. This is why you always double tap. D:

She's gonna be PISSED. (I didn't need the vivid mental imagery of bullets stuck in heads a third time counting Rose AND this anyway, brain damage is a bit of a trigger for me.) Hopefully Jake at least gets away, or destroys the launch button, or with his assassination attempt failed NOW goes to fly off and destroy the cake laser directly on the moon.

(==>)

Alright that's pretty cool! Not good obviously, but inevitable.

JAKE: W-w-w-w-w-w-wha? JANE: As I was saying- JANE: Jake.

Counter-attack incoming.

(==>)

JANE: IF YOU HAVE ONE SHOT

(==>)

OH THAT'S SOME HYPER VIOLENT PISTOL WHIPPING OUCH. EVEN IN BEYOND CANON THEY AREN'T HOLDING BACK A BIT ON THE MATURE GODDAMN RATING even when it isn't a psychological deep dive owowow

JANE: YOU BETTER JANE: MAKE IT JANE: *FUCKING* JANE: COOOOOUUUUUUUUNT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wonder how he's going to get away? He deserves to after this, and also he's possibly the only one who knows about the space laser and isn't coming out of this without at least one big solid heroic accomplishment that sticks under his belt. The space laser seems pretty much designed for him to intervene.

(==>)

You stop your onslaught, knowing the next couple blows will finish the job. A just death. How romantic.

Pfff-- I guess even if she killed him, it wouldn't announce that the death had been Heroic over his head.

Oh wait, I just realized--! Jake has TWO GUNS. Both the prior shots ought only to have been from one, unless he switched to single shot pistols for some arcane reason.

Between the adrenaline and taste of blood in your mouth, the decision is clear to you. You will not fail yourself. You will claim the spoils of this war and oversee a thriving planet. Cultivating an ever bettering stock of humanity. Your future. On and on. Forever. Alone.

Yeah sure you will.

Wait, what does that next link even mean? --Oh, it's Spades Slick and the co-opted Felt gang members she captured isn't it?? :D I've been waiting for her to unleash them!

(Jane: Release the Brig Boys.)

Wait what the fuck

As if!!!!! Maybe some time in the trenches with the Brig Boys will do him some good.

Oh my GOD she's seriously letting him go?! I'm not sure if that's not even more messed up in the head of her than killing him! She's seriously got a screw loose. She's really afraid of being alone and sure he'll come back to her side, isn't she, even if she needs a leash to force him? (And plot-speaking this just gives him a chance to fly up and bust the Moon Laser.)

Why are they Brig Boys, doesn't that mean prisoners? I mean I guess she probably paranoidly imprisoned some of the clone soldiers, but...

(==>)

Oof, Jake splats to the ground.

Death would be a kindness, after all. You gave Jake a shot to stay by your side and make something of himself, but in the end he proved himself just another deserter. You should have seen it coming; you learned 15 years ago that people will slip right through your fingers if you let them.

well what's your plan then

It’s fine. You won’t let go again. Jake is your means to an end. When you scramble his frontal lobe, you’ll make sure it doesn’t heal right. It won’t be much of a change, anyway.

JESUS CHRIST WOMAN

If I didn't know better I'd accuse someone who worked on this slate of updates to have known about my trigger about the idea of brain damage and personally stacked this one up against me! Good thing I worked out a lot of my fears in therapy so much before this, sheesh. Beyond Canon might know when to STOP punching and crack a joke but when they punch they don't pull those punches, ouch.

(Jane: Commence battle.)

Good thing Jake's already sitting up. You'd better not wallow in that discouragement from the failed assassination attempt, GO AFTER THE MOON LASER. (Though, Rose did warn us that from her biased point of view "just about everyone is going to fail to do something that really matters".)

(Jake: Look out into distance.)

JAKE: TAVROS!

Aw damn, is he going to fly in to help and leave the moon laser problem to someone else? At least he's the one parent of Tavros's focused on something he should of the two.

(==>)

That's a letter from Rose and a pack of trail mix. Rose, now that we know you're lining up future events so things turn out a certain neutral-victory sort of way, I can't help but wonder what the fuck you're planning with the kids. (And how they're going to potentially far surpass your limited expectations.)

On the plus side this means that as soon as we've reckoned with that letter WE FINALLY GET BACK TO THESE KIDS AND POTENTIALLY HAVING SOME FUCKING DIALOGUE THAT INCLUDES YIFFY OR IS ABOUT AND AROUND HER AT LEAST, I'VE BEEN WAITING SO EXCITED TO GET BACK TO THEM AFTER THAT JADE HEART-OUTPOUR THAT YIFFY OVERHEARD AND IS LIKELY STILL MIFFED ABOUT! :DDD Gosh I've been waiting for Yiffy and the other kids to interact more.

I'm extra busy with family stuff for a couple weeks so I probably won't post anything extra between now and the next update, but as usual I'll be right there when it arrives. Until next time!

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Fourteen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: First bit is a lil messy! BUT it's just a way of moving through time whilst letting you know what's going on. Apologising anyway, tried to make it as simple as possible! Idk how I’m really feeling about this series atm ngl, hopefully I’ll find some more inspiration soon x

> Just a reminder! We left the last update with Mouse and her mum talking about Matty:) You can look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Mirror

14:04, 26 Dec 2023

For Christmas Denise Welch reunites with..

LOOSE Women star Denise Welch had a fun-filled Christmas this year with her two sons and...

*picture: family gathering featuring Matty Healy in red beanie*

comments:

@/user1  Glasses and beanie combo>>> @/user2 He was wearing that yesterday too @/user3 I wish my family was chill enough to take a xmas pic😭

[HOMESCREEN] 11:12

Facetime now Matty:)!! Incoming Call

Messages 4m Finnleyyy So will I be seeing my best mate this nye??

Instagram 11m Trumanblack mentioned you in a private story

TWITTER: ‘75 updates @/75updateacc Matty spotted out in Manchester!  *picture: long trench and red beanie*

Ugh! @/user1 Matty on new years! *with old friends // red beanie tucked into a jacket pocket* > Loveme @/user2 The beanie is spotted again.. >> Saidhello @/user3 @/user2 Been all over his ig stories too 👀 friends? @/user4 I'm sort of obsessed w it and the fact it's stirring up so many questions💀 ppl, @/user5 it's so nice to see him actually happy!! lemmebepartoftheband @/user6 WAITING ON THE NEXT ALBUMMMM

Instagram

Trumanblack Story today

The Sun

23:47, 31 Dec 2023

MATTY HEALY SPOTTED OUT FOR NEW YEARS CELEBRATIONS AFTER 'SUPPOSED' SOBRIETY

The 1975 frontman was seen out in London this evening with friends and other members of the band celebrating a...

*picture: Matty Healy all dressed up and sporting a red beanie*

comments:

@/user1  shit like this ruins people @/user2 That hat again! Was it a Christmas present? @/user3 another celeb trying at sobriety, another bullshit article @/user4 Where in London even was this?

TWITTER: ‘75 updates @/75updateacc Band's interview with Variety today, click here for the video! Will be updating later on today:) *boys all pictured: George/shades, Matty/beanie&longtee, Ross/hairdown, Adam/leatherjacket*

[HOMESCREEN] 13:52

Messages 3m Matty:)!! Just wrapping up now, should be able to call in 10 x

Youtube 9m Recommended: The 1975 - Talks of tour? | VM Radio Uk

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TWITTER: Partoftheband @/user1 Talks of tour??? Are they trying to kill me? Gotabf @/user2 The beanie!! It's back!! Milk @/user3 You reckon he's washed it? People! @/user4 He wears so much designer shit, why's he wearing a hat that looks like it was knitted by my nan??

--

With January, came sleet and heavy rain. Forcing us all indoors and making quick regrets over arduous New Year’s resolutions.

I had half a dozen interviews lined up in the first month alone, which was a promising start to the year but also incredibly nerve wracking. I’d spent the majority of the wavering days between Christmas and the 31st fretting over each and every detail, beyond thankful that my mum had stuck around a little longer after the festivities to help keep Teddy preoccupied.

Adi, thankfully, was stuck in the exact same boat, which meant that we could both bear the burden together. Leading to a whole lot of time being spent on the phone, making plans, or down at the studio, where Teddy could roam free. We were moving up in the world, as Matty now liked to claim, and so that meant more of our time being taken up by mundane tasks such as asking Hozier’s PA what kind of drink he preferred and avoiding a couple of Podcaster's sudden opinions on us.

Still, we were forever grateful.

Though it wasn’t just the radio show getting shafted with a shit ton of toil either, it appeared that work had Finn headed off to the States for a few gallery openings, and Matty pulled in all sorts of directions whilst the band sorted out their upcoming album.

I hadn’t heard a word of it, although the singer kept on endlessly chattering away about how much he loved the songs they were now producing, suddenly leased with a newfound life. Which always left me feeling happy, even if I did have to wait alongside the rest of the world to listen in. It was nice knowing that he was enjoying it all once more. Seeing as, music made Matty and Matty made music. And all that.

So anyway, what I’d been getting at there was that the last few weeks had been all too trying. Enough so that Matty and I had hardly seen hide nor hair of each other, and our Facetime calls had been fair and few. Which was something that didn’t just sadden me, but Teddy too it seemed, who’d come to quite like the musician and all of his odd quirks.

That fact in itself had almost sent me running, in truth.

And maybe that was silly of me, but Teddy was my everything and it killed me to see him upset over someone he barely even knew. But then again, I supposed he did know Matty in a way. Whenever Matty called, Teddy was there to tell the man about his day, whenever Matty texted he never failed to ask after Teds, whenever he sent pictures and videos of the studio and whatever else he was doing they were usually for Teddy to see. 

I didn’t think Teddy had ever attached himself to a person so quickly. Which really did surprise me. Though oddly enough, what surprised me much more was the fact that Matty had just soldiered on and stuck with it, instead of running for the hills the first chance he’d gotten, like I’d expected. 

Which was perhaps a bit of an unfair assumption on my part, but it was something I didn’t feel too guilty over- I’d made that clear to Matty the very first day the two of them had met after all.

Saying that though, I was left to eat my words as I watched that same man galavant his way around a London Zoo with a four year old plopped atop his shoulders. Doing so without complaint, and thoroughly enjoying it too.

“There! There, Matty! You see?” I heard Teddy call out in loud excitement as I trailed my way on after them, his little fingers holding onto the red beanie Matty now often favoured. Something I relentlessly teased him about but which left me feeling all warm every time I saw it.

“Oh yeah! I do now. Wow monster, how’d you even spot him over there?” Matty replied, feigning obvious awe and grinning madly when Teddy leaned over the top of his head to poke his face into view.

“I eat carrots.”

I snorted at the simple answer Teddy gave and Matty, forever charmed by my toddler’s antics, nodded around a low chuckle of his own. “I’ll make sure to buy a couple on my way home then.”

Stepping closer, I found it strange to be in a zoo so lifeless. Which probably sounded even more peculiar, but then again, it hadn’t been my idea to go ahead and rent the entire place out just so that we could have a nose around at all the wildlife without Matty getting mobbed. What a diva, hey?

“I still can’t believe you did all this.” I murmured to him once Matty had set Teddy back down on the ground, leaving my son to run on over towards one of the caged fences, calling out to the languid lions that laid beyond it.

“It’s sick.” 

That had been Matty’s only defence since having arrived and me figuring this all out, it was as endearing as it was bewildering. 

“It’s mental is what it is, you idiot.”

He glanced over at me, hands tucked up in his pockets, a smug grin now painted on his face. I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to be charmed by him and his inane antics. 

“Admit it, you’re loving this. Not having to worry about losing the kid and actually being able to get a look in at this lot.” Matty argued, and if he were anyone else he’d be swaying back and forth in utter delight- Wilmslow’s very own Willy Wonka- but all he did was simply look back at Teddy with a prideful grin, who was now currently trying to lure a lioness in closer.

Thing is, he wasn’t wrong. And Matty was enough of a git to know it too.

I didn’t grant him a reply though and instead wandered over to drag my son away from the ever nearing lion. “Did you see, mama? She likes me!”

I had to grin and bite back my sudden hysteria, although Matty snorted from his place now back beside us. “I did see, lovely! How about we go look at the snakes though now, hey?” And with that, Teddy was eager to part from us (and thankfully the lion) , sprinting ahead in the direction of a lizard sign that stood not too far away, leaving Matty and I to trail behind.

“Where all the animals are locked behind glass, yeah?” Matty piped up after and I narrowed my eyes at him in return, refraining from giving him a right good shove.

“Shut it.”

He merely cackled and looped an arm around my shoulders.

–

“They should just get back together. I mean- the money alone!”

I chuckled quietly to myself, moving about the tiny kitchenette at the studio and rolling my eyes at the man propped up between a Guinness World Records book we had and the sugar tin.

“I’m not saying that they shouldn’t! I’m just saying that they won’t.” I argued back, still rifling my way through a drawer in search of a sharp enough knife. “Those are two completely different things.”

“So what?” Matty scoffed, his displeasure with the whole debate managing to seep its way through the phone. “Fucking pair of pillocks, can’t even imagine how the world would react, the industry alone!”

I smiled, all too familiar with the daily rants of one Matthew Healy. This particular tirade of his had been spurred on by a comment I’d made on today’s show, it seemed he’d been listening in.

“Oo, is there a brew going for me?”

I glanced behind me just in time to spot Adi making her way into the studio, a large duffle bag for tomorrow's shoot thrown over her left shoulder. 

“Who else?” I quipped back, grinning victoriously when I finally found the trusty blade I’d brought over from mine so many years ago now that laid between a wooden spoon and a jar opener.

“What are you even doing?” She asked me next, having already tossed the bag down onto the sofa and made her way over. She waved when she spotted Matty’s familiar face upon opening the fridge, used to his presence cropping up here and there by now, “Alright, Healy? Thought you had big meetings today.”

“We do. I’m currently hiding out in a bin.”

Adi paused to blink at the absurd reply and then shrugged, not seeing the point in questioning it any further. “And you?” She prompted me, plucking a pint of milk from the fridge and slamming it closed.

“So full of questions today, high inquisitor.” I sang, already moving to slice into the whole watermelon I’d brought on my way in, having right fancied it when I’d passed by the fruit & veg stall up on the high street. “And what do you think, Ads? Exactly what it looks like.”

“Yeah, but why?”

I just shook my head in answer and Adi seemed to take that for what it was, a blatant dismissal. Matty though, ever so sweet, must’ve felt a bit bad because I heard him pipe up again, “She’s gone and brought a whole watermelon. Paid five quid for the thing, you believe that?”

“Five quid! Did he ask if he could spit in your face too?” Adi all but exclaimed, eyes as wide as saucers as she looked over at me.

“Yes, five quid.” I stressed, having already heard enough of it from Matty, who didn’t have a leg to stand on here. “Now leave off, or I won't share.” I wielded the knife between the pair of them jokingly and Adi relented easily enough, already moving to skim a piece I’d just cut from off the counter. I cast a shrewd glance towards my phone, “And besides you can’t talk, Mr. Millionaire.”

Matty snorted.

“Is it really that much?” Adi wondered out loud, sweeping over to get a better glimpse at my screen and the man hidden within it.

I rolled my eyes and smirked, already figuring that she’d try her luck with just that thought alone. 

“Piss off, Wells.” Matty laughed, amused by the ever so sweet smile Adi had suddenly conjured up for him and the way she was now batting her lashes, “How the fuck did we go from watermelon to my networth anyway?”

“Extortion.”

“Nepotism.”

I stopped slicing to taste test a chunk of watermelon and heard Matty heave a heavy sigh.

Adi, though, just moved to ask, “Did you threaten the fruit & veg man then?”

“Fucking should’ve.” I muttered, but couldn't quite bring myself to regret the wasted fiver then, not when the fruit was almost heavenly.

“Can you stop eating? I’m in a crisis you know, and fucking starving.” I heard Matty complain, his voice practically petulant.

“Actually, you’re in a bin.” I corrected, taking another chunk, “So don’t be a drama queen. If you’re hungry, order a Deliveroo or fuck off home.”

Matty was almost pouting when I slid on over to join Adi by the phone, a plate overwhelmed with watermelon now towering between us. His frown deepened. “You’re proper evil, you know that?”

I simply grinned, “You love it.”

Only Adi noticed the faint hue that bloomed across the singer’s cheeks then. Seeing as I was already rambling away once again, talking about the weekend get-together we’d planned now we all had some time to spare.

“You’re still coming, right?” I then asked Adi, who was now smirking for some reason. I raised a brow.

She merely hummed around her next slice and dipped her head at me, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, babe.”

Matty’s eyes narrowed at that but I deemed it better to ignore whatever the two of them had going on, I found life to be much simpler that way.

–

It was almost gone nine and still no sign of her. 

She had texted almost half an hour ago now, saying she was headed out, but Matty still kept his phone in hand, spinning it this way and that, just in case she tried messaging again.

“You’re driving me mad with that, man.” George suddenly announced, drawing Matty’s attention back to the table at the overcrowded club they’d picked out. “Stop it.” He added, swatting at Matty’s forearm when he’d barely acknowledged him the first time round.

Matty’s brow pinched but he let the mobile go with a clatter to the tabletop, “Happy?”

George exaggerated his smile in the same sense Matty just had whilst he clasped his hands in mock prayer before him, “Incredibly.” Then he relaxed back in his chair once more, face softening as Matty’s eyes shot out across the floor for the umpteenth time, “God, you’re really fucking strung up on this one.”

“Eh?” Matty immediately asked him, his head spinning back around to spare a glance at his mate.

“Just,” George began with a slow shrug, his chin dipped against his chest now in the way that he’d leaned back making his eyes appear all the more solemn. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so invested, is all.”

“Invested, fuck’s that meant to mean?”

Goerge just huffed. “I don’t know, Matty. Just, you’re not usually the type to get so caught up on a girl you’re chasing.”

“I’m not chasing her. We’re mates.” Matty hastily defended and could feel the way his face had instantly scrunched up with the force of it.

He was gifted a short snort in return, “Yeah man, sure, and I can fly a shitting plane.” At Matty’s ever darkening expression, George sighed once more and moved to prop himself up on his knees, “Look yeah? I didn’t mean nothing by it, only curious. It’s weird seeing you all moody and pent up about somebody. Been a while.”

It had been a while since he’d last seen someone properly, but that didn’t suddenly mean that he and Mouse currently had anything going on. He’d been too focused on staying clean, working on the album, and trying to forget the last year and a half had ever happened. And Mouse… well, she had a kid and didn’t seem the type to take to anyone so easily. They were mates. Just, mates.

Matty must’ve been quiet a little too long though because when George spoke again his voice had softened, as had his face. It almost looked pitiful now, enough that Matty wanted to force him away from his line of sight. But he didn’t, only glanced back out towards the floor.

“Matty, mate. I really didn’t mean to piss you off, you know that. I’m just saying it how I see it.” Matty rolled his eyes but George only continued to talk, “It’s obvious that you like her, man. Whether it’s just as friends or something more. But do me a favour and just have a long think about it, yeah? She’s nice and all, but I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Matty bit back the scoff that lodged itself in his throat, “If anything, G, it’d be me hurting her. Wouldn’t be that unexpected though, would it?”

George’s hand came to grasp his shoulder at that and with a firm but gentle grip he forced Matty to better face him, he leaned in so his voice would carry over the music, his forehead now furrowed. “You’re not a bad person, man. Not everyone’s expecting you to fuck up all the time.”

Didn’t that feel like a fucking lie.

The hand pressed further and George shook Matty a tad, wanting him to comprehend his words. Take them in. “You’re doing good, mate. Really good. And we’re proud, alright? We are. All I’m saying is, have a think about what you want. Make sure you’re happier for it, make sure… that you can deal with everything that comes along with it. Understand?”

Matty’s mouth felt a little dry as he stared up into George’s eyes, seeing the genuine care held within them. Almost immediately Matty felt his walls crumble down around him and he struggled to find the right words to respond with. They were proud. So instead, he just nodded and George’s hand clapped the back of his neck with a winning grin.

“Good. Now, go get her, yeah?”

Matty frowned at the words but before he could think to question it the table was moving to welcome in a couple of newcomers and he turned in his seat to meet the eyes of a smiling Squeaks.

“Hey you.”

“You made it!”

She grinned back at him, beamed actually, and Matty felt his eyes flicker down to her lips for a second, then down further to the lovely little dress she’d decided on. He hastily stood up to greet her, wrapping her up in a hug- something that had come more and more naturally to them in the last few weeks- and rocked slightly. “Get all dressed up for me, did you?”

Mouse pulled away with a laugh, her head thrown back a tad before her glistening eyes set themselves back on him, she squeezed his arm, “You wish.”

He did wish. But he didn’t voice that passing thought out loud, filing it away to stress about later, and instead shuffled nearer to whisper, “You do look gorgeous though.”

The skin by her ear prickled with goosebumps and Matty pulled away before he could get too caught up in what that might have meant. He graced her with a slow smile, “Drinks?”

She let go of a breath, then smiled brightly back at him with a dip of her chin, “Drinks.”

–

“I haven't heard a word of it!” I said, pushing my drink down onto the table. I was currently on my fifth of the night, but the guys were forever getting new rounds in and so I knew it wouldn’t take me long before I was handed another. 

“You said you didn’t like our stuff!” Matty immediately answered back, his voice a tad bit higher now.

I gaped at the claim, “I did not!”

“Yes, you fuckin’ did!”

The rest of the table was watching on in ever growing amusement, Ross’s eyes were dancing back and forth between Matty and I, whilst Adi wore a grin that could probably help power Blackpool Tower. 

“I said I loved your earlier work. I didn’t say I hated the newer stuff!” I rebuked, desperately trying to think back to that first show I’d mentioned Matty in. Had I really said that?

Matty went to speak but Hann cut in before he could, “You two are mental. All I asked was whether she’d heard anything we’d been working on.”

George snorted, managing to drag his eyes away from his fiance to smirk at the pair of us. “Remember she claimed the band looked spent.”

Matty jumped to point in George’s direction, pleased, whilst my eyes widened, “I wouldn’t!”

“You did, love.” George laughed, looking more amused than hurt which was the only thing keeping me from being physically sick. “It’s alright, no harm done.”

I fish-mouthed, but even with that having been said, Matty was still grinning victoriously. “Fucking told you.”

Wrinkling my nose, I turned to neck the rest of my drink. “Yeah, well. I do love your songs, alright?”

Matty’s brows upturned, as if he was about to deny the claim and accuse me of lying, but Adi cut in, “No it’s true, she's been listening to your shit nonstop since you two met. Like it’s grating at this point.”

“Harsh.” Ross dragged out and Adi gave him a coy smile when she went to pat his chest, “You try listening to his gob on repeat and then we’ll talk, yeah?” She retorted easily, dipping her head towards Matty, whose face scrunched up unhappily.

“Careful, Wells. Starting to sound like you might not like me.”

Adi flashed him a toothy smile, “Who claimed I ever did?”

I was quick to reach out and grab Matty’s wrist when he frowned, ready to open his mouth once more. The motion seemed to grab most, if not all, of his attention because he wavered in his stance before letting himself be pulled over.

“He’s fragile, Ads.” I chuckled to her, hand cradling the back of Matty’s head when he leaned in to press his face against my shoulder. “All the big rockstars have delicate egos.”

Adi snorted and I watched as she let Ross drape an arm over her shoulders, her hand finding his.

“Not fucking fragile.” Matty said, but the heat of it was lost in the mumble against my skin, I laughed.

“Sure, babe.” I murmured fondly, smiling when I felt the curve of his grin against my neck. I started to run my hand through his hair almost unconsciously, letting the alcohol dim the anxious worries that would typically cloud my mind. “You’re a real man.”

“A real fuckin’ man.”

I rolled my eyes with a shake of my head that must've disrupted Matty’s newfound peace because he pulled away slightly, hands falling to rest on my hips, keeping us close.

“You’re proper nice, you know?” He mumbled in contradiction to our previous argument, his head falling forward to press his forehead to mine. His eyes appeared so much darker in this light, the little space between us had me holding my breath. “So nice.”

Instantly I was reminded of one of the first conversations I’d had with Adi about Matty, he’d been nice then too. “Thanks.” I chuckled before swallowing, eyes trailing between his before I voiced the thought. “You’re nice too.”

He smiled, one of those lazy ones where his eyelids drooped and the skin around his mouth wrinkled. His stare dropped ever so slightly and my mouth parted on instinct.

Matty licked at his lower lip, teeth grazing it ever so slightly. “I’m glad I met you.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, squeezing in on itself so tightly that I thought it might just give out, before it finally let go. “I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before.”

Matty tilted his head at me causing the tip of his nose to brush against mine, I struggled to remember to keep breathing. “I’m glad I met you, Squeaks.” He repeated with an air of finality, either unaware or uncaring for the reaction it drew from me as he raised a hand to drag his thumb across my jaw.

I looked up into his eyes, unblinking. Aware that I’d never felt quite like anything this before.

“I’m glad I met you too.”

–

Metro News

Feb 2024 06:21

SETTLING DOWN? | ‘75 SINGER CAUGHT IN CLUB WITH SINGLE MUM

Last night it seems our local heartthrob was back out on the town again after a few weeks of silence, only this time he wasn't alone! Read more...

[HOMESCREEN] 07:59

Facetime now Finnleyyy Incoming Call

Messages 7m Adi x Babe wake up, shits going down over on twitter!! Also (very much related) did you shag Healy last night???

Twitter 11m You now have 378 notifications

TWITTER: ‘75 updates @/75updateacc The Band spotted out in London last night with the MouseOnAMic girls! *picture: a story from Adelinewells instagram//blurred group photo*

backofmyvan @/user1 Is this real?? *picture: blurred Matty and Mouse in a dark club* Funnyface @/user2 Is that the radio host? she has a kid?? Saidhello! @/user3 I woke up to chaos. On another note, how are my matty girlies doing today?

[swallowerofdharma]

Hi! Your posts are really insightful so i was wondering about your views on the nature of doumeki’s love? It seems unconventionally strong and unwavering but also controlling and desperate like a double edged sword so can it compliment yashiro’s need for the kind of love that helps him overcome the part of his trauma that stems from the absence of his mother’s love? I am hopeful but also apprehensive narratively speaking

Hello Anon, I share your feelings about being hopeful and apprehensive about the possible resolutions of the situation between D and Y. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how unlikely it would be that everything will be tied up nicely. There are in my opinion certain things that will remain unsolved, if the narrative keeps adhering to the reality of living life. I believe that feelings will be addressed and confirmed from both sides and D and Y will make a mutual commitment that hopefully surpasses the dimension of sexual partnership and force them to reveal their thoughts and fears to each other. After all I believe a main theme of the story is that love is a transformative force, but not a solution for anyone’s problems, those just don’t go magically away.

About Doumeki, I underlined a few times already that he fell in love while his life had been radically altered and he had not much else: he gave himself to love without any fear of losing himself in it since he already was in the position of having to reimagine a new life for himself. He was ready to follow Y regardless of where that choice would take him. Isn’t D the most relatable character of the two for most readers? Falling in love for the first time, and in a moment when he desperately needed a new direction, any caution went out of the window and he was ready to give himself up in every way possible, as long as he could have and keep the object of his affection near. That is a scary thing about love isn’t it? It changes our perception so much that it is hard to keep our judgment. When D is on his knees in front of Y, a gun pointed at his head, he says words that don’t have any other logic except that of an enamouredness that had transformed into blind and desperate devotion. At that moment, D seems completely broken over Yashiro’s rejection, with only his conviction to sustain him, because Y had become the sole focus and reason for living. That is an extremely dangerous position to be, that deadly nature of love that won’t listen to reason that is an extreme literature had exploited greatly. Juliet thought that Romeo was dead and the only course of action that grief and love suggested to her was dying too. If in love we find the greatest affirmation of life, then when we feel that we are losing it we are closer to death than ever. But the playwright is representing the extraordinary, an extreme of passion that cannot be taken as a model that can be seamlessly copied from in a reenactment of the “authentic” forces of love. This scary potential for love to make someone forget themselves in Saezuru is shown in the negative - D being carried by his feelings and forcing them and himself on Y, and later forfeiting his life for Y - and in the potential for the positive - Y confronting his convictions and fears.

chapter 33, confront these words with those Doumeki said in chapter 41

Love brought about an imbalance and disruption so great that the temporary separation was necessary: for D a chance to rebuild his autonomy and confidence in himself, but with that came a form of resentment, nurtured further by his misunderstanding of the nature of the relationship between Y and Inami. Why not him? So the bigger problem in my opinion has always been the fact that D has no real understanding of Yashiro’s situation, he doesn’t know much about his past, about his family’s dynamics or the relationship with Misumi, and he never quite realized how little power Y had over his circumstances, because Y is extremely good at making people believe that he had more agency and made his own choices in life, he built his understanding of himself on the idea of as a strong and willful person who was able to handle everything life gave him and transform his painful experiences into a more bearable and enjoyable and affirming image. Being confronted with the crude reality isn’t easy. D doesn’t know what he contributed to show Y: a worse set of memories than the ones Y had been carefully selected and manufactured during the years. And it doesn’t necessarily mean that D is at fault for what he doesn’t know, but he does make several mistakes in judgment and ultimately the habit of blurring the boundaries in the relationship first established by Y is exploited by D to a greater degree than what could still be treated as non particularly armful.

The fact is that even if Y was able to verbalize the dissonance he felt to D, he is aware that D might as well not be able to fully comprehend, and he has been proven correct in this regard previously. This is not only shown as destruction of trust, in Saezuru, I think that it is clear that Y thought that D is better off not having to bear any of Yashiro’s suffering, even if he will be hurt by the rejection of his feelings, Y thought that it would be better for him in the end instead of having to see or accept the parts that Y has yet to share of himself, an enormous amount of grief and insecurity, of baggage that Y wished to keep buried. Let’s be real here, love will always be a door opened to fear and grief for Y, because of memories he can’t erase. And he will need someone who would not waver to build a completely new habit of trusting another with his most vulnerable feelings. Even now, with D coming in between him and his self-destructive relationship with Inami (self-destructive and yet weirdly affirming to a part of himself that Y finds difficult to let go of), with D trying to reach Y again, without making his feelings overwhelmingly known this time, even now Y keeps thinking of Doumeki’s life as better without himself in it, with Izumi, with the Sakura group since Tsunakawa seems interested enough in keeping D around. Love once again left Y more aware than ever of his wretched existence, it had happened before, with Kageyama being the first person to make Y aware of his loneliness and uniqueness, and it hurt. And he doesn’t feel like he has anything valuable to offer to someone like D, especially if sex is involved, since sex to Y has always meant devaluation of himself and desiring a gentle touch from a man a sign of his wicked nature.

I think that Doumeki’s love has wavered during the years, it would be quite worrying if it hadn’t. Yoneda showed us that D was so affected by the discovering that Y went to meet Inami after D had thought he had given him the sexual release he needed (why else would Y need Inami? here we see the limit of D’s comprehension of the complexities of the situation Y is in as long as he is involved in the yakuza) that he took a step back and volunteered Kamiya to keep an eye on Y instead. Feelings were still there for D, and he was affected by meeting Y face to face once again at Kido’s restaurant, but not to the point of being unable to keep his distance, as he was able to do for four years. Love waits with a surprisingly strong persistence. Just by being a yakuza he had kept his connection to the life he wanted near Y. He wanted Y to choose him instead, when he saw that Inami had a relationship with him, when D was instead forbidden to keep one. That want stems from his incomprehension of a reality where someone like Inami has access to Yashiro. Inami is for both Y and D the ghost of their fathers that haunts their choices.

When I talked about D’s jealousy, my criticism was directed towards the actions that he took fueled by that emotion, in addition to some words he said and the ones he didn’t say. He wants to be on equal terms with Y, so he won’t clarify the nature of his relationship with Izumi unless Y admits to wanting him. If Y won’t break things up with Inami, D will forcefully take the place and function that he thinks Inami has in Yashiro’s life, not realizing that he is leaving Y with the feelings of being treated as a sexual object once again, of his agency being undermined repeatedly. Those aren’t equal terms any longer.

In my past analyses I wrote about the meaning of Doumeki’s first name and about the position of Saezuru as a story not written in compliance with the terms of the romance genre as we commonly see in the English-language market. Saezuru shows the contradictions between eros and love, doesn’t present them as synonyms, even when they coexist. Eros and love are treated as immense potentials for both affirmation and destruction of one’s self. Eros contains positive and negative qualities, the potential for love and for the opposite of it, being it cruelty or fear, it can bring us closer to life or drove us to our death, it promises happiness and can bring unmeasurable pain, being ruled by generosity or prevarication. Saezuru is a story that doesn’t treat us readers as babies or offer any simplification in showing the good and the bad in people or within the role of eros (hear! hear! sex isn’t inherently dirty either nor love is the secret ingredient that protect us from exploitation). Without darkness we can’t appreciate light, so we need to understand that everything is potentially good or bad, even love, we can only try to find a balance and an understanding so that we don’t hurt others in affirming ourselves nor we have to renounce ourselves to become dependent and subjected to someone’s else. That is why in Saezuru the answer could not have been a codependent relationship with everything else buried under the rug.

Anon, I don’t really know if I have managed to answer your question. The topic is tremendously difficult and Doumeki has closed himself up so we can only infer things. But I have blabbered quite a bit. I hope that some of it makes sense and thank you for reaching out to me and giving me an excuse to talk about this manga during this long period of hiatus.