#even though I have sooo many chapters to go through first

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

akdalfqkfqjafja this screenshot of Ratio with slitted eyes has me vibrating because of some stuff I have planned for the aventio snake hybrid au

[guiltyasdave]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

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[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! could i request for a kiyora jin fic?

── WICKED GAME

Synopsis: The first time you see him, Jin Kiyora spits blood at your feet. That is when you are sure you will love him.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Kiyora x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: alcohol/hangovers, reader is drunk and at a party in the first part, mentions of drug use and smoking but NOT by reader or kiyora, blood and violence, sooo much swearing at one point, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, kiyora is down to punch an mf at all times, he’s probably ooc (if it’s even possible for him to be ooc??), he is NOT bestie approved but like he’s actually a cutie i promise, open ending, implied to be a college au but there’s nothing scholarly or collegiate about it except for the party and the sports mentions, many liberties are taken with kiyora’s backstory and character alike

A/N: hiiii omg i’ve never written kiyora before!! i hope i kinda did him justice?? EEK LMAOAO okay also i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to go in a specific direction so i picked one at random and left it kinda (very) open ended so that way if you/anyone else likes it i can write a pt2 but if not it’s nbd!! it’s just that as you can see it’s already kinda long and i didn’t want to write a ton if people weren’t fucking w it yk 😭 ANYWAYS rambling aside i hope you enjoy!!

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

There is a man screaming at you. You know that he is screaming because his voice pierces the drunken haze settled over your mind, shame shooting through that spinning, floating sensation, and you know it is at you specifically because he is glaring and it’s not at your best friend or the other girl you came with, it’s at you and only you. He’s glaring and saying something over and over again, but all you can do is tilt your head at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says. “Get the fuck out. Why the fuck are you still here?”

More of his sentences than not are just that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s unnecessarily angry. You try to think — what did you do? Your best friend places one hand on your arm, and you’re pretty sure she’s telling you it’s not worth it, that you all should just go, but your drink is still half-full and you want to finish it before you leave.

“Why are you mad?” you mumble, fascinated by the pinkness of the alcohol, the way it contrasts against the white plastic of your cup.

His eyes are open and wild, and before you know it he is reaching out for you. Your best friend pulls you back just in time, and she shrieks for help as his fingers close around nothing, but the music is loud and the crowd is thick and there’s no way anyone will hear her.

You’re still confused. The man is still angry. You try to recall the conversation you’ve had with him up until this point — well, it wasn’t really much of a conversation to begin with. What had even happened? 

“He’s on something,” your best friend hisses in your ear as she ushers you through the crowd. “No way this is just a couple of beers talking. All you did was ask him if his watch was real, and he totally flipped out.”

Right, that does sound familiar. You giggle as she shoves you outside, because it’s altogether hilarious. The other girl is hanging onto your best friend’s other arm and whining about how you had to leave the party early, and your best friend’s face is pale, her hair sticking to her forehead, but you’re not thinking about any of that. At least, it’s not at the forefront of your mind; instead, you’re wondering why that man has followed the three of you.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave!” he says, and it’s all you can do to lurch backwards as he stops on the porch. He’s intimidating, you can see that better in the light, and even though you’re more lost than anything, you’re pretty sure you should be afraid, too.

“Is this even your house?” you say sleepily. “Won’t the cops shut down your party first?”

It’s not his party or his house. You know that because the person who threw it is the one who invited you and your friends, but for some reason, this man is dead-set on the fact that you are some kind of intruder.

“The only ones that’ll be getting in trouble if the cops come are you guys, for fucking trespassing,” he snaps. “You’re not invited here!”

“We are,” you say. “Wanna see?”

You’re about to pull out your phone, but your best friend slaps your hand and shakes her head. The man is flushed now, and slowly, you put the phone back in your pocket, pursing your lips and avoiding his gaze.

“I’m serious. Don’t make me say it again, you fucking—”

“Woah, dude. Didn’t know that was your new thing,” a new voice says. You don’t recognize the speaker, but you can tell that he’s pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes that shimmer in the flickering porch light. He’s sitting on the porch swing, his feet kicked up on the railing, and there’s an unlit cigarette in his hands. When he notices you staring at it, he shrugs and flicks it to the ground. “It’s not mine. Some girl asked if I wanted it and left before I could say no.”

“Kiyora,” the man sneers. His attention has been diverted entirely, and the newcomer — Kiyora — stands casually, lazily. He’s slouching, but you can tell despite his posture that he’s a slip of a person, with needle-like features and a scowl that somehow resembles a grin. 

“Sup,” he says. “You into bothering girls now?”

“Stay out of this,” the man says. “You weren’t invited, either.”

“Eh,” Kiyora says. “I don’t need an invitation.”

“I’m being serious,” he said. “You don’t get what a fucking bitch she is.”

Kiyora glances over at you, and it’s like he’s weighing his options. And although it would be just as easy for you to run — it’s what your best friend is urging you to do, it’s what you should do — you can’t help but wait. You can’t help but want to know what he’ll decide.

“Y/N,” your best friend pleads. “Come on, let’s just go while we can.”

“I want another drink,” the other girl says. “Just one more shot? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“No more shots tonight,” your best friend says. “Y/N, I’m being serious.”

That’s when Kiyora smiles slightly, and then he’s drawing his fist back and punching the man. Your best friend gasps, and even the other girl yelps, but you are enthralled by it. The man howls, and then he’s charging at Kiyora and they’re falling down the porch stairs and it’s a whirlwind of blows and shouts and cursing as they rip up the grass of the front yard with the fury of their spat.

It’s over almost as soon as it begins. The man’s collar is clenched in one of Kiyora’s fists, and his eyes are glimmering with tears at the way Kiyora looms over him, the other fist prepared to hit him again. The hollows of the man’s face are all blue and bruised, and he slaps lightly against Kiyora’s forearm in surrender. Kiyora gives him a measured look that’s somehow mocking, and then he lets him go. He stays on the ground, lying prone and motionless, and your best friend — she’s always been so empathetic, even though hardly anyone ever deserves it — tells the other girl to sit and wait before she rushes inside to alert the owner of the house.

“There we go,” Kiyora says, dusting himself off and springing to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he’s waking up from a long nap. “What a wimp. Can’t be talking that kind of shit if you don’t even have the skills to back it up.”

“You stood up for me,” you say. “Thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows, and then he makes a face. You realize he’s not escaped unscathed at the exact moment that he spits a mouthful of blood into the grass before you, his lower lip shiny and split, the same angry color as the crimson in the grass. You gaze at the way it dissolves into the dirt, and then you step over it, meaning to embrace him but mostly just collapsing into his arms. He catches you by reflex, not out of desire, and then he snorts.

“It’s not like I really did it for you, so don’t thank me,” he says. His nose is bleeding, too. You’re sure of it, because something warm dribbles onto your shirt, the stain blooming like rust against the lacy left strap. It’s a white top, thin and deep in the front, and it’s one of your favorites, but shockingly, you’re not angry that it’s been ruined.

“Why’d you do it, then?” you say.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he says. “I guess I just thought that your side was the right one to pick this time.”

To you, it sounds like the same thing, but it must’ve meant something different, because he sounds incredibly sure of himself. You hum in agreement, and then Kiyora nudges you off of him, motioning over to where the other girl — she’s your best friend’s new roommate, and you think her name might start with a C, but you can’t really recall — is sitting on the curb alone.

“Go sit with your friend,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, though you pause before you can join her. “Wait. Is your name Kiyora?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Y/N,” you say. “I’m Y/N.”

“’Kay,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Nice to meet you, Kiyora.”

He finds this funny, chuckling as you stumble over to the curb, sitting next to the girl, who’s texting someone with a big red x in their contact name. That probably means she shouldn’t be talking to them, but all you do is lean your head against her shoulder. You’re not the type to reprimand anyone, not when you’re like this. Maybe a few drinks or a few hours earlier, you would’ve said something, but at the moment, your mind is preoccupied with your newest fixation.

Your best friend comes out with the owner of the house, and then she makes a beeline for where you are sitting. Helping you to your feet, she drags you back in the direction of her apartment, plucking her roommate’s phone out of her hands and ignoring her arguments, instead turning to you.

“What the hell happened to your shirt?” she says. “Did that — did they hurt you too? Are you okay?”

“What?” you say. “No, I’m fine. Hey, listen. I want him.”

“Want who?” she says.

“Kiyora,” you say. 

“The dude who beat that other guy up?” she says. You nod. Her brows knit together, and she shakes her head. “You need to sober up.”

“I’ll still want him when I’m sober,” you say.

“Then you’re sick in the head,” she says. “But I guess that’s nothing new.”

The next morning, you wake up on your best friend’s couch. Your makeup is blurred and messy on your face, the remnants of your mascara forming dark shadows under your eyes, and your clothes are rumpled. You are close to throwing up, and your head is pounding, so you trudge over to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. 

In the mirror, things look even worse. Your once-white shirt has remnants of your drink splashed on the front, and the left strap is a flaky sanguine, the color bleeding into the place where your heart beats behind your breast. It’s frightening at first, but dimly, you remember that the blood is not your own. It nearly could’ve been, but it isn’t, because you were saved. Someone took your side, and he saved you, and it’s his blood that you’re covered in.

“Damn.” It’s your best friend’s other roommate, the one who didn’t go out with you three last night. You don’t remember her name, either, or maybe she just never introduced herself. “What kind of night did you have?”

“Not my best,” you admit with a yawn. 

“Yeah, no shit,” she says, going to the other sink and running her toothbrush under the water. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say, because anything more makes the knife in your head twist more and more. “Just need a shower. Some dude freaked out on us last night.”

“Is that what happened?” she says. “D’you need a doctor or something?”

“It’s not mine,” you say. “Some other guy fought him off for me. His nose bled all over my shoulder when I tried hugging him afterwards.”

“What a hero,” she says, running a washcloth along her face. “Was he cute?”

“Does that matter?” you say. She winks at you in the mirror.

“Obviously. If he’s good-looking, you should try to find him and thank him while you’re sober. If he’s not, then you can just let it go,” she says. 

“Yeah, he was cute,” you say after thinking about it for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I liked him. Last night, I mean.”

“Yeah?” she says. “Did you get a name or some other way to contact him?”

“Uh, his name is Kiyora, I think,” you say. 

“Kiyora?” she says. “What does he look like?”

“He’s not that tall,” you say. “Dark hair. Pretty eyes, though I can’t quite remember what color they were.”

“I can’t say I know him,” she says. “Maybe you can try social media, though.”

“I think that might be my best bet,” you agree, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground, stepping out of your pants and reaching into the cabinet for a spare towel. “Do you mind if I just shower in here?”

“No worries, I’m almost done,” she says, squeezing sunscreen out of a small tube and massaging it into her cheeks. “You know how to work the shower?”

“Yup. Spent more nights here than I’d like to admit,” you said. The girl laughs at this, patting you on the shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us. Better you’re here than with some random guy, though, right?” she says.

“Right,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Hope you can find him!” she says, and then she’s shutting the bathroom door behind her. You reach out and lock it before stripping fully, turning the faucet so that the water is as hot as you can bear and then sighing as it streams onto your face and body, rinsing off all of the proof of the previous night.

You kick your dirty clothes into a pile in the corner, wrapping a towel around your body and leaving the bathroom in a rush of steam. Your best friend is waiting in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a chipped mug, her hair in a messy bun and an untouched bowl of cereal in front of her. When she notices you, she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says. 

“Good morning,” you say, ducking into her bedroom and pulling on the clothes you’d left in her closet weeks ago for times like these. 

“How are you today?” she says.

“I’ve been better,” you say. “But I’m alive.” 

“Want breakfast?” she says.

“I might throw up if I eat,” you say.

“You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t. Just eat something light,” she says, gesturing in the direction of her pantry, as if to say take what you want.

You sit across from her, a random snack with bears on the packaging in one hand and your phone in the other. There’s a litany of unread text messages that you need to go through, so you squint your eyes against the glare of the screen and begin to read them.

Most of them are just people from the party asking you if you’re doing alright, since to their knowledge you left abruptly and without explanation. There’s one from your own roommate, asking you if you’ve watered the plants on the balcony in the past few days or not. You give one-or-two word answers to the majority, but there’s one message that catches your eye.

‘Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry about last night — apparently that guy brought a whole cocktail of drugs with him, and that’s why he went all crazy. I hope you’re okay, and that you don’t think badly of me now.’

There’s a crying emoji followed by a praying one. It’s the guy who invited you and your best friend to the party; ordinarily, you would’ve blocked him, but now you need his help, so, with a frown, you type out your response.

‘Honestly, it was pretty scary, but luckily that other guy was there, so nothing too awful happened. Speaking of which, do you know anything about him?’

There’s a pause that you can only imagine is him typing out his response, and then your darkening phone screen lights up with a notification.

‘Kiyora? He’s on the soccer team with a couple of my other friends. He’s not really close with any of them, but he’ll show up to our parties every now and again if they let him know where the address is. He’s kind of weird, but I guess it’s a good thing he happened to be there last night.’

‘Hm.’

‘His first name’s Jin, and apparently he’s addicted to grape candy — everyone makes fun of him for it. That’s about all I know.’

‘Thanks anyways.’

‘Anytime! Hope to see you at another party :)’

You consider blocking him now that you’ve gotten everything you can out of him, but there’s no point, so you just turn your phone off without responding, laying it face-down so you can ignore whoever else tries to reach out to you. Your best friend finally takes a bite of her cereal; you don’t know if she’s inspired by you or if she’s finally finished with her coffee. When you look over at her mug, you find it’s the latter.

“How much do you remember?” she asks you.

“Enough,” you say. “I’m going to find him.”

“Kiyora?” she says. When you nod, she can only pinch the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known.”

“What do you have against him? He helped us out,” you say.

“Besides the fact that he beat that guy’s face into a pulp?” she says.

“That guy would’ve done the same to me,” you say.

“Not if you had just left when I told you to,” she reminds you. You can’t rebut this, and she knows it, because she tries her level best to avoid sounding condescending in the ensuing statement. “That’s the kind of person that you’re supposed to avoid, you know.”

“We don’t know anything about him,” you say. “We can’t judge him based on one night, especially given the circumstances.”

“That’s true,” she says. She’s like that, always quicker to give allowances than you are. You’re sure she’ll forgive him before he even realizes he’s done anything to forgive. “So, what, you just want to see what kind of person he is and go from there?”

“Basically,” you say, even though the more you mull it over, the more you’re convinced that there’s not really much that’ll change your mind. She wipes at a droplet of milk that lingers on the corner of her mouth, and then she exhales heavily.

“Yeah, alright,” she says. “I don’t think anything I say is going to stop you, so why bother?”

“You know me so well,” you say. “Want anything from the convenience store? I need to get some aspirin. My head is killing me.”

“Mine, too,” she says with a groan. “Can you get a pack for me? I think we’re out.”

“Sure,” you say, slinging your purse over your shoulder and shoving your feet in a pair of slippers. You’re pretty sure you look horrible, all lumpy and formless in an outfit that’s about two sizes too large for you, but you can’t be bothered to change, and at least you’re clean, which is more than you could say an hour ago. Waving at your best friend, you leave her apartment, careful to shut the door slowly, so as not to wake up her final roommate, who is still sleeping soundly. You envy her a bit, but then again, if you had woken up any later, you’d have had to add grogginess to your list of complaints, so maybe it’s for the best.

The convenience store is fairly empty. There’s a cashier dozing off by the checkout station, and a television showing the security footage — you stop and wave at your reflection, as you always do — but other than that, you’re the only one in the building.

As you’re browsing through the medicine section, weighing the merits of buying the generic version or if you should just get the name-brand, there is the swooshing sound of the automatic doors sliding open. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you pick up two boxes of the generic kind and make your way to the cashier, but then you freeze, because the figure which has slipped into the candy section is one you wouldn’t normally pay attention to but has suddenly become one you are particularly concerned with.

“Kiyora!” you hiss, ducking into the candy aisle. To your delight, he spins around at once, and he looks much the same as you remembered him from the previous night, which means it really is him. A violet mark stands out angrily against the paleness of his cheek, and his lower lip is still a bit swollen, but he wears it well, like some kind of badge of honor. 

At first, he narrows his eyes at you, but then they light up with recognition, and he smiles imperceptibly. It’s barely there, barely enough to be qualified as a smile in the first place, yet you know that that’s what it is.

“Hey,” he says. “Hangover hitting you bad?”

He’s talking about the medicine in your hands. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Pretty much,” you say. “What about you?”

“I didn’t drink last night,” he says. “It’s bad for your body, and I’m supposed to maintain mine. Top athlete and all, you know how it is.”

This is accompanied by a subtle roll of his eyes, and you snicker at his impudence.

“Naturally,” you say. “But I was referring more to, ah…that.”

You don’t really know a more graceful way to refer to it, but he seems to pick up on what you’re talking about.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “He really was all bark and no bite. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Still, thank you again,” you say.

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t for you? Don’t say thanks. It’s embarrassing,” he says.

“On my part or yours?” you say.

“Both,” he says.

“Alright, sorry,” you say. “But wait. What do you mean, you’ve had worse?”

“I dabbled in boxing for a while,” he says.

“You played two affiliated sports at once?” you say. “That’s impressive.”

“Well, one of them wasn’t affiliated,” he says, stooping over and picking up a box of grape candy — of course, he was reputedly obsessed with it, so you shouldn’t have been surprised by his presence in the convenience store at all. “I guess a better name would be street fighting. My older brother got into it after he didn’t cut it as a soccer player, and he convinced me to try it out for a bit. It was good money.”

“That’s cool,” you say, somewhat at a loss for words, finding it all too easy to imagine him in that kind of situation.

“Lame as hell, actually,” he says. “I’m better at soccer, anyways.”

He says it so nonchalantly that you have to laugh. He’s taken aback, and he doesn’t laugh along with you, but he’s clearly not upset, because that same not-smile remains on his face.

“That’s good to hear,” you say. “I don’t know if my best friend would approve of me talking to an underground street fighter.”

“You can safely tell her I’m reformed,” he says. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“You remembered?” you say.

“I told you I didn’t drink last night. Why would I forget?” he says. 

“That’s true,” you say. “Yeah. Y/N.”

“Got any reason to be talking to me against your best friend’s wishes, Y/N?” he says, walking by your side towards the cashier. The way your name sounds coming from him is different. He says it like it’s the final piece to a game that he’s been wanting to play, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but if it’s the latter, then it’s too late. Somehow, he’s made it so that this game is one you want to play, too, or maybe it’s that you’re playing it already, have been playing it since before you even knew of its existence.

“I guess our ideas of what’s in my best interests just don’t align,” you say.

“Is that so? What does she believe to be in your best interests?” he says.

“Staying away from you,” you say.

“And you?” he says.

“The opposite,” you say, swiping your credit card and putting the twin boxes of medicine into the wide front pocket of your sweatshirt. He does the same, opening the box of grape candy and popping a piece into his mouth. You notice that he does not offer you one, but you weren’t hoping he would, so you’re not disappointed or anything. Just amused.

“Interesting,” he says. “What about me makes you sure that being around me is in your best interests?”

“I’m sure my chances of getting hurt will be a lot less, for one,” you say. 

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Maybe I won’t take your side one day. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you. Then what happens?”

“Hm,” you say. It’s such a bizarre thing to say to someone who you’ve only met one-and-a-half times — the meeting last night only counts for half, considering how out of your mind you were — but he does it with a straight face, like it’s a serious dilemma. “I don’t think you’d do that.”

“You don’t?” he says.

“Nah,” you say. “I’d never provoke you into fighting me.”

“How can you be sure of that?” he says. You tear open the aspirin’s cardboard packaging, swallowing the pill dry and praying it works quickly. It catches in your throat, so you swallow again in an attempt to dislodge it. Kiyora watches you, and once you are successful in the endeavor, he silently hands you a piece of grape candy.

“People tell me I’m easy to get along with,” you say. The candy is sour and sparkles in your mouth; you do your best to savor the taste, but it’s gone as soon as you’re aware of it, melting away into air on your tongue.

“That guy from last night didn’t seem to think so,” he points out.

“He was mad that I asked if his watch was real. Normal people wouldn’t care about that,” you say. “I doubt you would.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you say, though you don’t quite know what you’re agreeing to. He gives you another piece of candy, and then he actually smiles; the tip of his tongue is purple, too, just like that bruise of his. You wonder if yours will turn the same shade, and then you accept the candy regardless. It’s kind of delightful, the thought of matching with him in that secret way.

“You’re kind of funny, Y/N,” he says. 

“I do my best,” you say. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who thinks that,” he says.

“Then maybe the others are missing out,” you say. He glances at the ground, but you think he seems happy, not upset.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Anyways, I should probably get back,” you say, because you’ve reached the intersection where you have to turn right, and it seems he has every intention of going straight. “But I can see you again, right?”

He cocks his head at you, and then, magically, he produces a pen from the pocket of his sweatpants, which are of that infuriating depth that supposedly only men deserve. Scribbling something on the box of grape candy, he presses it in your hand.

“Later,” he says, because the light has changed and he has to cross the street now. You watch him go, and then you peer at the small box. His handwriting is cramped and spiky, but you can make it out without too much trouble.

The box is empty, devoid of anything sweet, but he’s given you a much greater treasure, so you hold it close to your heart as you scurry to your best friend’s apartment, trying to fight back the grin that threatens to split your face the entire way back.

“So, let me get this straight — he gave you his phone number?” your best friend says. She had showered in the time you spent at the convenience store, and now that she has an aspirin in her system and moisturizer on her face, she looks like an entirely different person, a brighter and more cheerful one who isn’t going to judge you for whatever you say next.

“Yes,” you say, incredibly focused on creating a new contact for Kiyora. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Depends on who you’re asking,” she says. 

“Me,” you say.

“Then yeah, I’d say so,” she says. “He’s obviously into you.”

“I hope so,” you say.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she says. “You know what this means, right? It’s time for us to do reconnaissance.”

You grin, because you know exactly what that means. She pulls out her tablet and opens it to a random social media site, and so begins your investigation into the enigma that is Jin Kiyora.

“What the fuck?” you say. The two of you have been working for longer than you’d like to admit, yet you’ve learned frighteningly little about him. He plays soccer, and he seems to be quite good at it, given the few blurry highlights you managed to dredge up from his high school days. He has two brothers, both of whom post a ton but never about him. He once made the news in his hometown for breaking the mayor’s son’s nose — your best friend clicks her tongue at that, but you are sure he had a reason for doing it, so you remain unfazed. Otherwise, though, there’s nothing. He’s inactive on social media, which makes you doubly glad that you ran into him earlier, and if he has friends, then none of them seem to want to make that information public.

“It’s like he doesn’t exist,” your best friend says. “Honestly, I kind of fuck with it.”

“That’s a change of tune,” you say. She hums, typing something into her tablet and then shaking her head when the search results come up empty.

“Well, you know. It’s always nice when a man isn’t active online. Although, then again, in this case it could be because he doesn’t want a digital footprint that incriminates him or something,” she says.

“He’s not a criminal,” you say. She taps her finger against the article about him breaking the mayor’s son’s nose, and you cringe. “Okay, but he wasn’t arrested for that, so I’m technically still right.”

“Uh, sure, but this is the second account we have of him getting in a fight. Who knows? Maybe it’s like a hobby for him,” she says. At that moment, you decide to omit the fact that it actually was a hobby for him until an indeterminate amount of time ago. 

“We don’t know why he did it,” you say. “Maybe the mayor’s kid was a bully. The guy last night definitely was. Come on, you can’t say you’re not at least a little grateful to him for stepping in and sticking up for us.”

He has insisted twice now that he didn’t do it for you, but you’ll take anything that endears him to your best friend, so you don’t mention that, either.

“That whole situation was terrifying,” she says, hugging herself tightly. “For one, it was scary that that guy flipped out on you, but it’s not like seeing Kiyora beat him up was particularly soothing.”

“You’re nicer than me by far,” you say, for probably the thousandth time. “I found it pretty gratifying to watch. I mean, he had no trouble threatening us; why shouldn’t he have had to back up his words with action? Obviously, he wasn’t expecting us to be able to fight back, so he ran his mouth to his heart’s content, but he had the misfortune of doing it in front of the wrong person, and he got what was coming for him. That’s his fault. So, in a sense, what Kiyora did was just a form of justice.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she says. “I still kinda feel bad for the other guy, considering he definitely wasn’t in his senses, and after all Kiyora did punch him first, but it was a tense atmosphere. Who knows how another person might’ve reacted? It’s wrong to judge when things were so precarious and prone to snapping at any second. Of course, what he did wasn’t perfect, but you can’t really expect perfection from anyone, can you?”

Again, she’s better than you. You don’t know if you will ever feel bad for the man from last night, or if you could ever forgive someone as quickly as she has forgiven Kiyora. But if you count all of the times she’s proven to be the gentler of you two, it’ll take you ages, so you just add this occasion to the list and internally celebrate your good fortune.

“I’m going to text him,” you say, showing her your phone screen.

“What are you going to say?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe hi, to start?”

“Make sure you add your name, since he doesn’t have your number,” she says.

“Oh, good idea,” you say, typing out your initial message and handing it to her so she can proofread it. She nods, and you hit send, a pit forming in your stomach as you wait for a text back.

‘Hi! This is Y/N from earlier!’

It’s almost immediate, his response, and you high-five your best friend when your phone vibrates, deciding to forget the whole play-it-cool advice that’s so predominant online and opening it immediately.

‘Hi Y/N.’

A second later, there’s another buzz, and another text. You laugh when you see it, because it’s very tongue-in-cheek and already, you can imagine the kind of expression that he’s wearing as he’s typing, although you hardly know him.

‘This is Kiyora btw.’

“He’s not afraid to joke around,” your best friend says, reading over your shoulder. “That’s a good sign. Imagine he was super dry and boring over text. You’d have to ghost him.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “What should I say now?”

Before she can respond, he’s sent another text. This earns a round of applause and a whoop from her, albeit a quiet one, since the roommate you went out with last night is somehow still asleep.

“Triple text!” she says. “This is great! Ah, I mean. It’s great if you still want him.”

“Of course I do,” I say, heat rising in my face as I realize what’s he’s just asked me.

‘So. Are you free next Saturday?’

The restaurant Kiyora tells you to meet him at is the opposite of fancy. You almost mistake it for a gas station, because it’s right next to one and located at random on the side of the road, but luckily you stop the car in time and manage to pull into the parking lot. You’re a little overdressed, but at least you’ll make a good impression, or so you hope, because the last few times you’ve seen him haven’t exactly shown off your greatest assets.

He’s already inside, though he hasn’t sat at a table yet and you’re ten minutes early. The place is almost empty save for him and a few employees, and the lights are a harsh, fluorescent white that throws his features into greater relief, but the effect’s a little angelic. A bell chimes to announce your entrance, and he glances over his shoulder, his furrowed brow relaxing when he sees that it’s you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say. A cheesy ballad from either the late 80s or the early 90s plays from the radio at the counter, and a ceiling fan whirs in the background, but it’s otherwise pretty quiet.

“It’s my uncle’s place,” he says, leading you to a table without waiting for the hostess — a girl of probably about sixteen or seventeen, who’s playing on her phone and doesn’t look up at either of you — to do anything. “Got him to close early for the night so it’s just us.”

“Oh, wow,” you say. “Thank you. That’s actually really sweet.”

He hands you a menu. “I don’t like being around that many people. It’s a little claustrophobic.”

“I get it,” you say. “I think every time I’ve ended up in a big crowd, it’s ended kinda badly for me, so it’s nice to not have to worry about that.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. For a moment, neither of you say anything, though probably for different reasons — he’s busy reading a menu, and you’re trying to think of a way to bring up his past grievances, especially the ones of the punching-a-mayor’s-son variety, without sounding like a stalker.

“What made you quit street fighting?” you say.

“Do you want appetizers?” he says, at exactly the same time. Then he pauses, your question registering. “Oh.”

“Appetizers are good,” you say.

“It was just too much,” he says. “I don’t know. I never liked it. I only stayed because I got paid well, but it became more trouble than it was worth.”

“What’s that mean?” you say. He’s obviously a bit uncomfortable with the line of questioning, squirming in his seat, but your best friend is right. That’s the kind of thing you should probably know about him before you let yourself get any deeper.

“The mayor’s jackass son started showing up, placing bets and all. He was a real dick,” he begins. You’re surprised that you’ve ended up at your end goal already; you were sure it’d take a bit more prodding until you reached the heart of the story, but it seems you’ve chanced upon it without even trying. He rolls his eyes and scoffs as he continues. “One time he asked if he could try fighting himself. Picked me as his opponent because I was the shortest and, therefore, the weakest. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you say, though not without a snicker, because from what you know of him, you doubt he could be considered the weakest in any company. “Then what?”

“Then I did the world a favor and broke his ugly fucking nose so he had an excuse to fix it, that’s what,” he says. “His dad wasn’t too happy.”

“That’s to be expected,” you say.

“Yup. After that, he told me I had to get my act together or there would be real disciplinary consequences, so I gave it up and focused everything I had on soccer instead,” he says. 

“I’m glad,” you say.

“Are you?” he says.

“You probably don’t get hurt quite as much playing soccer,” you say. “Even though it’s possible to get injured, it’s not as common.”

“True,” he says. “Most players are just faking it, anyways, so it’s definitely not common in the slightest.”

“Well, that’s all. I think it’s better that you don’t get hurt,” you say. “I don’t want you to. So stick with soccer.”

His lips form a thin, hard line, but there are dimples in his cheeks that make it obvious what he’s trying to suppress. Clearing his throat, he reopens his menu and points at one of the appetizers.

“Is this one alright with you?” he asks.

You’re looking at him when you answer, not the menu. Whatever it is, you’ll eat it, or if it’s really horrible, you’ll leave it for him. You’d rather spend that precious second admiring his features when he’s unaware of your gaze. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes flick up to meet your own, and then, impossibly, a pale pink blush dusts across his nose and cheeks.

“I’ll tell my uncle that that’s what we want, then,” he says, standing up and darting off towards the kitchens without another word. He walks with a kind of intrinsic rhythm, like he’s dancing, though there’s nothing about his gait otherwise that suggests any sort of musicality. It’s fascinating. He’s fascinating. 

You are certain, before he even returns, before you even eat, before you even part ways, that this will not be the last time you see him. At least you pray it won’t be, because you think you’re like a moth, and he’s like a flame, and there’s enough stories about moths and flames that you know how these things typically end, or at least you’re pretty sure you do. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters, because you’ve never been so utterly taken by anything the way you are with Jin Kiyora and his bruised face and his split knuckles and his grape-colored tongue.

There’s another thing you’re certain of now, or have been for a while: you don’t love him yet, of course you don’t, but you will. Inescapably, inevitably, you will.

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F! Reader - Part 8

a/n: heyy loves! if you’ve stuck around for all 8 parts, thank you SOOO much. writing this series and receiving so many kind comments and love has really made the past month and a half so enjoyable. i cant believe i’m concluding my first fic already!! it’s been so fun and i definitely want to write more. shoutout to my friend @avessss who encouraged me to start posting even though i was really nervous. i couldn’t have done it without her 💕 but anyways enjoy the last chapter! not sure when i will post next but until then… message me, give suggestions, etc!! love you all SOO much 💌

word count: 4.6k words

masterlist

playlist

warnings: MDNI 18+, afab reader, smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, making out, language, angst for like one second, FLUFF, mentions of alcohol, not proofread

“A pint, please. Thanks.” You smile at the bartender as you slide forward five pounds. You stand and wait patiently, leaning against the bar as he shuffles away to go fill up a tall glass of beer.

You hear your name being said from next to you. You turn to see a familiar girl with olive skin and long, silky black hair. Your brain takes a few seconds to compute who it is.

“Sasha! Hey,” You grin and she smiles brightly. “Hi. I didn’t know if it was you or not,” She chuckles and you stand there awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“How’s life?” She asks. “Uhh, good. Can’t complain.” You shrug as the bartender slides you the beer across the counter. You take a sip as she nods.

“Same here. Just a little terrified of the fact that we are going to be seniors in a year,” She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Me too, girl.” You nod in agreement.

“How was your summer?” Sasha asks. You let out a sigh unintentionally before fixing your facial expression.

“It was… good,” You nod slowly, almost trying to convince yourself. “I don’t know if you know but…There’s a rumor going around that you and Farleigh had somewhat of a summer fling,” She winces after she says this.

“Oh God,” You press a hand to your forehead and shake your head. “Who told you that?” You groan.

“I’m assuming it came from Felix. I’m not sure, but I just wanted to tell you…” She places a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “If you ever need to talk or anything like that, let me know.” She says, her English accent soft and elegant.

She seems almost too nice. You’ve never seen Sasha like this, so it’s hard to believe.

“Thank you.” You dip your head and take another sip of beer. “I know I was never the nicest to you and we were never close, but I’m here for you.” Her hand falls from your shoulder gently.

“I think I was honestly just threatened by you,” She continues. You jerk your head towards her quickly and furrow your eyebrows.

“What? Why?” You scoff as if it’s absurd. “I always had this… gut feeling that he was in love with you or something. He would talk about you nonstop, about how much you annoyed him and how much he ‘hated you.’ I knew better,” She shakes her head.

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry,” You feel bad, suddenly. Like you were the cause of their relationship problems.

“But that whole thing is over now,” You wave your hand dismissively. “He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” You both giggle at her words.

“He is. I can see why you broke up with him,” You nod, feeling no remorse for talking about Farleigh this way. It’s all true. But you also know Sasha had a lot to do with the shitty parts of their relationship.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” She grins and holds up her hand, giving a tiny wave. “Yeah. See you,” You watch her walk away before turning back to your drink, grabbing it and heading to find an empty table.

You sigh, leaning down and fishing your textbook out of your bag. You still have four chapters to read before tomorrow. The first term of your junior year is kicking your ass, even though it’s only October.

Sooner or later, you see Felix walking through the entrance of the pub. You immediately crane your neck to search for any signs of Farleigh, since he usually follows Felix around. But thankfully, he’s not anywhere to be found.

You turn your attention back to your textbook, and when you glance back up, Felix is sitting across from you.

“Hey.” He smiles and you notice the cigarette between his fingers. “Hi. How are you?” You reply, not exactly in the mood to talk to him right now.

“Oh, you know. Just drowning in work,” He sighs and leans back in his chair, throwing his head back slightly.

“You and me both,” You chuckle lightly and close your textbook, knowing you won’t get anything read so long as Felix is here. He leans forward again and takes a drag from his cigarette.

“So…” He starts, trailing off. You raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“Are you and Farleigh ever going to make up?” He asks suddenly. You cough, surprised by the abrupt question.

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t even try it, Felix.” You roll your eyes and he groans. “Please, we don’t even get to hang out much anymore because you’re avoiding him,” He whines.

“Then just… arrange a time to hang out with me when Farleigh isn’t there.” You grimace at the feeling of his name in your mouth. Felix facepalms. “C’mon. Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but…”

“It sounds like you think you know what happened.” You narrow your eyes and he seems confused. “What?” He tilts his head.

“Lola told me you’re spreading rumors. Like, that Farleigh and I had some fling over the summer,” You explain, and he glances down like he’s been caught, before looking back up with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“What, you thought no one would hear you two fucking at one in the morning? You guys were so loud, it’s like you wanted to be caught,” He chuckles and shakes his head. Your face burns beet red with embarrassment.

“I don’t judge you for it. I just didn’t expect it,” He says. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you go telling everyone about it,” You reply.

“I didn’t mean to. I told one person in confidence.” Felix says. “You know you can’t trust these people to keep things to themselves,” You shake your head in disappointment.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But I think Farleigh really wants to talk to you.” He says, his tone persuasive and you immediately cringe.

“I’m not talking to him. Nothing will come of it,” You finish off your beer and set the glass on the table decisively.

“I just don’t want our friendship to be messed up because of this.” He says, sounding a bit sad. You look back up to him and see him glancing down at his lap.

“We’re good. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” It comes off harsher than you meant it to, but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. “I can’t just forgive and forget, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah. Alright, then. Just consider talking to him. I’ll see you later, mate.” He drums his fingers on the table before standing up and walking to the bar. You sigh and decide to pack up your things after checking your watch and seeing the time. It’s getting late.

You stand up and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walk out of the pub and down the cobbled streets while looking around and just observing the several groups of students, chatting loudly or laughing. The chilly autumn breeze tosses around crimson and golden leaves.

You go over your plans for the remainder of tonight in your head. You’re going to get back to your dorm, take a shower, then get the rest of your work done. That is, if you don’t procrastinate like you usually do.

You enter your dorm building and then stop in your tracks when you see him standing there, at the bottom of the stairs. It’s like you have a full body reaction to him standing in front of you, sending a chill down your spine and making your stomach churn. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at you. You step forward, walking up the stairs and completely ignoring him. “Can we please talk?” Farleigh calls your name.

“No, we can’t.” You respond, your tone harsh and bitter. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs behind you and you increase your pace, trying to get to your door and unlock it before he can catch up to you. But it’s no use, he’s already standing there behind you.

“Please. Just let me talk to you,” He begs. You shake your head. “Farleigh, I already know how this is going to go. You don’t talk.” You can’t even stand to look at him, even addressing him is difficult after all these months of not speaking.

“I’m going to talk. I swear. Please,” He pleads. “Fine,” You groan with exasperation as you unlock your door, although you’re sort of curious as to what he’s going to say.

He closes the door behind him and you go to sit on the edge of your bed after setting your things down and kicking off your shoes, looking at him expectantly. “Okay, talk.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Farleigh says, and it surprisingly sounds sincere. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you all these years. And those things I said at Saltburn, I didn’t mean any of it.” His voice is quiet and he looks down at the ground as he speaks. You blink a few times and take a moment to respond.

“Why would you say those things if you never meant them?” You ask, your own voice timid as you remember all the harsh and cruel words he said to you that one night.

“Did you mean it when you said you hated me and you wished we never met?” He fires back. You bite the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze as regret washes over you. “...I never said–”

“Yes you did.” It’s silent and the tension in the air is palpable. It seems like you’re both waiting for who is going to speak next, but you aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to apologize when you’ve literally hated me since the day we first met,” You chuckle sarcastically and shake your head. He falls silent, and when you glance back up to him, he looks nervous, like something’s on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s not… exactly true.” He mutters. “I never hated you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. That night at Saltburn, when Felix introduced us to each other. I saw you and I just felt… Something just came over me. I’d never felt it before. I mean, I was so captivated by you. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was thinking about you every second. And I was scared. I was so scared. So I was mean to you.”

He lets out a breath after his confession and you stare at him in disbelief. You’re barely processing anything he’s saying. Is this real? You feel like you should pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“And Felix never kept his friends around for long, so I knew I couldn’t get attached to you. I thought you were just passing by and that I would never see you again. But when you came back the next summer, then the next, and then you got into Oxford, I knew I was fucked.

“I just kept pushing my feelings down and instead of dealing with them, I was just… a bitch. I was trying to push you away and I was hoping that would get rid of my feelings. But it didn’t. And I regret it so, so much. I wasted all this time and I was being so stupid. I was just scared of love. I was scared of loving you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. You swear you can see tears in his own eyes.

“What about Sasha?” You ask when you finally gather yourself. “Really? You don’t know why I dated Sasha?” He chuckles a bit like it should be obvious. You shake your head no.

“I just needed someone to distract me. I got with all those people to fill the void. I mean, Sasha and I’s relationship was purely based off of sex. And every single time, I pictured that it was you instead of Sasha. I would close my eyes and imagine it was you. I think that was the only way I was able to get off,” He laughs. Your eyes widen at his words and your stomach flips. So that was why he was always moaning like a bitch?

“So when we finally… I freaked out. It was getting too real, and so I pushed you away again. And I said some shitty things.” You blink and a few tears fall. You don’t even know how to describe how you’re feeling right now. So many emotions are building inside of you, and they’re so dense and heavy, you’re not sure how to comprehend them.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Farleigh seems to notice that you’re crying. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m a fucking idiot,”

Before you know it you’re off of your bed, crashing into him and sobbing against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in a tight embrace and enveloping you in his warmth. Your shoulders shake as you feel all the emotions pouring out of you. He holds you like he’s never going to let go. You don’t want him to let go. Ever.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers your name into your hair. “I’ll never do that to you again.” He continues muttering these things to you as you let him hold you, melting into the hug.

You look up at him and his brown eyes are illuminated with affection. Something about him is different. He’s softer, unlike his usual cold and teasing personality.

He gently moves some hair out of your face and kisses your forehead, causing you to blush and smile softly.

“Why did we waste so much time when we could have been together?” You ask timidly, more of a rhetorical question. He sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Cause we’re stupid,” He chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t matter now. We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” He grins down at you and you smile against his hand that cups your face. He leans down and you tilt your head up to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow and sensual, like you’re both trying to savor each other for as long as possible, like you’re making up for all those years of fabricated hatred. You can’t deny that you missed his lips and the way that he kisses, the way his tongue licks into your mouth. He pulls away after a minute.

“But I still feel like I need to make it up to you,” Farleigh’s expression changes and his voice lowers to that familiar deep and gravelly sound. You can see the lust in his eyes and you feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“What should I do for you, baby?” His hands snake down to your hips as he lowers himself slowly to the ground until he’s on his knees. Your heart races and you feel chills racing across your skin.

He looks up at you and you swear your knees almost give out from underneath you just at the sight. “Far..” You giggle shyly and feel your face burn red.

His fingers fiddle with the waistband of your skirt, almost teasing you and waiting until you ask him to take it off. But after a moment he’s pulling it down gently, and you step out of it gingerly and nudge it to the side with your foot.

He groans and his hands roam up and down your thighs. “You’re so perfect,” He mumbles as he hooks your lace panties under his fingers and pulls them down as well, almost hurriedly this time like he’s just that eager to eat you out until you’re sobbing for him.

Without any warning or time to prepare, his mouth is already on you, tasting you passionately with his tongue and moaning, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You moan breathlessly, your hand reaching down to tangle in his curly hair for something to ground you, and he seems to like this. He keeps letting out these small, needy whines like he’s the one getting devoured.

Every swirl and flick of his tongue has you whimpering like you’re in pain, your legs feeling unstable and weak. He sucks on your clit and you feel two of his fingers already inching their way inside, curling inside of you deliciously. It’s all too much and your breath has turned into short, high-pitched, desperate huffs.

“Please- Shit, Farleigh,” The third finger he inserts draws a long moan out of you. You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you, with no drawbacks or regret looming in the future. When you think about how he just confessed his love for you, it only brings you closer to the edge of your beautiful release.

He laps up your slick, his tongue getting dangerously close to your entrance. You gasp for air as his fingers leave, only to be replaced by his tongue. You whine at the new feeling of his tongue deep inside of you, his thumb circling your clit. You feel your climax approaching, threatening to make you crumble and beg for mercy.

A deep and guttural groan leaves him as he continues fucking you with his tongue. “Far, I’m close-“ Your hand twists in his hair and you roll your hips against his face absentmindedly, almost like you’re stuck in a trance.

His tongue slips out of you, his nose nudging against your clit. Then, you’re gone. You feel like you’re floating, like you’re the only two people in the world right now, all your thoughts disappearing as that divine ecstasy shoots through your veins and melts your muscles and your bones.

He stands back up and takes you into his strong arms, cradling you as he brings you over to your bed, with occasional kisses along the way. You both pull away to tear off your clothes. You hurriedly pull off your sweater and your bra and toss them aside, hearing them land somewhere on the floor. Farleigh takes his own shirt off and his jeans, revealing that beautiful body you’ve subconsciously been dreaming of.

“Lay down,” You tell him with some sort of newfound confidence. You’ve never been on top before, but right now you want to pay him back and give him all that you have to offer.

“Mmm,” He hums in response, laying down on your small, twin-sized bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, feeling slightly nervous as his hands rest on your hips. You keep your hands on his chest as you grind your hips down onto him, feeling the form of him through his boxers.

He’s rock hard, and it only encourages you to continue to grind against him, rolling your hips smoothly and slowly. He whimpers and grips your hips harder, biting his lip. “Fuck, baby,” He moans, his hips bucking up slightly to meet yours.

You can’t wait anymore. You reach down and maintain eye contact as you slowly pull down his boxers, shuffling them down his legs.

It’s definitely intimidating, but you’re determined to ride him. He looks up at you. “Is this okay?” He asks, his hands returning to your hips. You nod. “Yeah,” You reply before rising up on your knees and adjusting yourself before sinking down onto him.

You wince at the delicious pain as your teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip, his hands guiding you further down his length. A string of curses leave his lips once his whole cock is inside of you. He definitely missed this.

You place your hands on his chest again as you begin to drag your hips back and forth. He whimpers and whispers your name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck-“ His grasp on your hips tighten and you can already guess that you’ll have bruises.

You rock your hips back and forth, creating a better pace for the two of you as he thrusts up into you. That pained look crosses his face again as you make eye contact. You’re completely enthralled by the sight of each other, a sheen of sweat forming on both of your foreheads. Your head falls back once you finally find the perfect angle that brings you such satisfaction, your jaw going slack. “Baby,” He begs, breathing heavily.

You feel yourself growing tired from the fast rhythm, and you slow down, still circling your hips on top of him. He seems to sense that you’re growing fatigued, so he flips the two of you over, switching your places. You’re dizzy and caught off guard, but you focus on his eyes as he takes over, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes.

Farleigh reaches down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers together and holding on tightly. He lowers his head to pepper kisses across your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. He brushes some hair out of your face.

“I love you,” He mutters, his nose rubbing against yours. Your eyes widen at his words and your heart skips a beat. You squeeze his hand weakly and grin.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you so much,” You tell him, and he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck as he moans desperately, his thrusts faltering. Your other hand rests on the top of his head, stroking his curls. You both finish at the same time, whispering each other’s names and more confessions of love. It’s meaningful, beautiful, and sweet. Something you’ve craved but never experienced. That is, until now.

He collapses next to you and eventually pulls out of you, causing you to grunt just a bit. You lay there, your legs entangled with his and his arms around you protectively. He pulls the sheets over the two of you and continues to kiss you slowly with so much passion and affection.

Farleigh pulls away and swipes the tears off your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You take his hand in yours once again and press your forehead against his.

“I could get used to this,” You whisper with a cheeky grin. He laughs softly. “Really?” He responds sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

“Really.” You giggle quietly and he presses another kiss to your cheek. “I would consider spending the rest of my life with you,” He shrugs nonchalantly and you can’t seem to stop smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

“You’d consider it? Woah, thanks,” You say with fake awe, gasping. “I’ve been considering it for a while, actually,” He mutters, running his fingers through your hair. “Have you?” You whisper, suddenly feeling sleepy. Everytime he holds you like this, it puts you right to sleep. You feel so safe and loved in his arms.

“Mhm.” His other hand rests on the small of your back and you feel your eyelids growing heavy. “I love you, Farleigh,” You whisper. “I love you too.” He replies, and with that, you drift off to sleep, with no cares or worries in the world, now that you’ve finally solved your problems with Farleigh. You’re so glad you gave him a second chance.

The next morning you wake up to Farleigh pulling you closer to him, nuzzling his head in your chest and groaning. You yawn and glance over to your bedside table, checking the time on your alarm clock. 9:42 AM.

Shit. You forgot about your class. It started at 9:30. Oh well. You groan and let your head fall back onto the pillow, rubbing your forehead.You pat Farleigh’s head, his curls sticking out at awkward angles but still managing to look cute.

You shiver and reach down to pull the duvet over yourself. He stirs at your movement and eventually, his dark brown eyes open.

A grin immediately appears on his face as he looks at you, taking in your appearance. Thank God you hadn’t worn makeup the day before. You were in your natural state, besides the messy hair. He traces his finger along your jawline and you smile, tilting your head.

“Good morning,” He wraps you up in his arms again, desperate to be close to you. His voice is deep and raspy. You’ll never get tired of his morning voice.

“Morning,” You reply, snuggling up to him and breathing in his scent. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back soothingly.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about waking up next to you?” Farleigh asks. You giggle quietly. “Well, your wish came true,” You reply with a quick raise of your brows.

Suddenly, you remember what Lola said that one night at Saltburn as you think about you and Farleigh’s relationship over the years.

“Lola told me something a few months ago,” You start. “Mmm, and what was that?” He responds.

You inhale slowly. “She said that you were looking for me one morning and you came by our dorm, and you seemed very worried about me,” You smile at the thought, knowing what you know now.

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. I was always worried sick about you. Whether you got home after a night out, if you drank too much, if some guy took advantage of you…” He trails off and sighs.

“Really?!” You ask, gazing up at him in shock. “You’re so confusing,” You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head.

“Do you remember our first night at Oxford? The very first party we went to?” He asks. You nod. He fiddles with a strand of your hair.

“After our little… argument, I stayed away from you the rest of the night. But then it was getting late, and I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t know if you knew the way back to your dorm. When I went into the bathroom I found you passed out on the floor. Black out drunk.” He explains, his voice soft.

“Anyone could have found you, or taken advantage of you. So I picked you up and carried you back to your dorm and tucked you into your bed.” Your eyes widen as your brain registers his words. Lola never told you about that.

“And when we were talking that night on the steps outside at Saltburn when we couldn’t sleep, the first summer you were there, you fell asleep on my shoulder. So I carried you up to your room.”

It’s silent for a minute as you process this. Was it a common theme for Farleigh to carry you to your bed when you were passed out?

“I never knew you cared that much.” You whisper, reaching up to play with one of his curls. “I don’t think I knew, either.” He mumbles.

You kiss him, slowly and gently, smiling against his lips. He grins, breaking the kiss, before holding the back of your head and guiding you back to him.

And you really believe that in this moment, you could die happy. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. The hot August nights, the freezing December mornings, the summer days under cerulean skies. The good days and the bad days. You can’t even remember how it felt to hate Farleigh. Every single trace of dislike for him is gone, erased completely from your heart. All that’s left is a love too strong to comprehend.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld @florkt @i-love-ptv @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 45)

“Sooo Hal, what exactly do I do here?” N asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs as they walked through the halls.

“I’ll be giving you a shortrange frequency that you’ll monitor, our office takes reports from concerned citizens, and Khan, Dale and I take the ones most suited for our respective teams.”

“Crime here is usually pretty tame, petty theft, b and e’s, vandalism. Occasionally we’ll get more serious calls, domestic violence, occasional homicide, though that’s gotten rare thankfully, or an odd “crime of passion”. Hal continued, N listening intently, he understood most of that, but “crime of passion” seemed to escape him.

“Crime of passion?”

“Couples getting too frisky and damaging one or both of them. Usually young ones who dunno what their doing. Most of the time they just dunno how to disconnect and panic, not too big a deal.”

Except N was still lost, he knew what all those words meant separately, but together they made little sense in his processors. He blinked. He wanted to ask what he meant by “disconnect” but at the same time it felt like a private question, not one he should be asking to his boss on his first day of work. Maybe he’d ask Uzi, or Thad, whichever was less embarrassing.

“How’s your daughter doing by the way? Khan mentioned she was having mobility problems when she was first transferred.” Hal asked turning yet another corner to go down yet another hallway, it always surprised him how large the bunker actually was, even if over half the rooms seemed to be empty. A pang of guilt entered his core, how many of these empty rooms were his fault? Or V’s?

“She’s fine now, she was just a little stiff, now she’s clinging to Uzi like a little monkey.” N gave a soft laugh thinking about his family at home, he always missed the both of them even if he wasn’t gone for very long, he supposed that just came with having a job though.

“Ah, yeah, sometimes that happens… when my son was printed into his toddler body we had to take him to the medical wing and they had to do surgery on his neck for him to start moving.”

“I didn’t know you had a son, I’m sorry, I’m sure that scared you both.”

Hal seemed to slow down for a moment, like he just caught himself doing something he shouldn’t before sighing.

“I did have a son. He’s… agh, nevermind that, we’re here.”

He banged his fist on the steel door, sending the grating noise through the hall, they waited for a few moments, only for nothing to reply back.

“She probably has her damn hearing aid turned off again.” Hal grumbled, before knocking as hard as he could, enough to send a vibration through the floor that N could feel through his feet.

“I heard you the first time! Go away!” A croaky, static filled voice called back, sounding irate and just a little bit scared. Hal rolled his eyes.

“It’s Hal, Mrs. Hopkins, you called us in to check out a break in.” Hal put on a very practiced customer service smile, N felt a minuscule shiver go up his spine, being reminded slightly of J, before it dissipated, here, it actually made sense for someone to have that kind of forced smile, and it wasn’t being used exclusively to make him uncomfortable.

The door opened quickly, the drone responsible being so old her casing had started to yellow, her eyelights were white, behind a thick pair of glasses. And she leaned on a cane, she shook with just the effort it took to stand and she adjusted her glasses as she looked at them.

“Good morning Mrs. Hopkins, what seems to be the problem today?” The way Hal asked the question alluded to his multitude of visits, she didn’t immediately answer, instead looking up at N squinting.

“You’re a tall one. Are you new?” She asked, prodding him in the stomach with her cane, he grunted, still trying to keep his polite smile even as he glanced over at Hal for assistance.

“She can’t see very well” He whispered up into N’s audio receptors, covering his mouth with his hand. “Probably a good thing, don’t give yourself away.”

N nodded and smiled again, extending his hand to shake the old woman’s hand, having to crouch down slightly to do so as she was hunched over her cane. She took it, her casing was freezing and felt like sandpaper, N made a internal note to not live this long.

“Hello Mrs. Hopkins, I’m N, it’s nice to meet you ma’am.” He said, and the ancient drone looked at him again, before her face grew into a kindly smile.

“How polite! And such a handsome young man. I hope Hal here doesn’t ruin you.”

The man in question’s eye twitched, before the moment was gone and he cleared his throat, clearly wanting to be done with this as soon as possible.

“You called us in for a break in?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! I was woken up last night by some footsteps. Above me! Someone was clearly trying to steal my fortune!”

N looked around her apartment, the couch was antique, plush and covered in so many blankets and throw pillows that it was hard to see the color of the actual seating underneath, the coffee table was decorated with a lattice of lace, making using it as an actual coffee table near impossible. The same could be said for most the the apartment, nothing here screamed “valuable”.

“Right, okay.” Hal replied, tense but still playing nice, N decided to help him out, he may have been tired of dealing with this lady, but N wanted to make a good impression, to both his superior and this lady.

“Where did you hear the footsteps Mrs. Hopkins? I could go and check for any signs of forced entry.”

“In my bedroom of course, how else would I hear it?” She answered, and N nodded, turning to Hal who seemed to be asking what he was doing, N gave him a smile before leaning over to whisper at him.

“Even if nothing happened, she believes something did, let me just check out her bedroom and the vents, then we can tell her that nothing was there.”

Hal nodded, seemingly agreeing with this plan, he sighed, before adjusting his posture.

“Well we take every report seriously, may we investigate?”

“Be my guest, and if you find the little hoodlum, tell them to get lost!”

Both officers made their way to the bedroom, which at first glance, had nothing amiss. Aside from the abundance of rather creepy porcelain dolls, all staring at them from various angles, N felt unease, and also the need to voice it.

“Whyyyyyy….” He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Hal to hear it and he snorted in response, giving him an amused smile.

“I’d be paranoid too with all these eyes on me while I slept.” Hal whispered back, sighing and scanning the room, running his hand over one of the only clear spaces on the large wardrobe that held the vast majority of the dolls.

“Seems clear to me, any difference on your end son?”

N scanned the room in both infrared and thermal, but neither showed anything out of the ordinary, but even still his eyes locked to large vent in the corner of the ceiling, he didn’t know why something felt off with it, but it was giving him some weird vibes.

“Lemme check the ventilation, she did say she heard it above her.”

Hal nodded, looked into the doorway to ensure Mrs. Hopkins hadn’t entered the room and have a thumbs up to N, who let loose his wings and zipped up the shaft after carefully removing the grate in his way.

He had always hated climbing through the vents, not only was it dusty and he’d have to spend an hour cleaning out his olfactory and audio receptors later, but it was a tight squeeze, even without his wings, his shoulders scraped the sides of the ventilation shaft uncomfortably.

It was almost impossible for a normal drone to get up in here unless they had a ladder or also had the ability to fly, so he doubted he’d find anything accept a colony of robo-roaches.

When he got further in however, that feeling of unease watched over him again, like something or someone was aware of his presence and he was disturbing them, but rationality still won out, the chances of somebody being in these vents were astronomically low.

Then, the vent opened up a little, allowing him to crouch instead of crawl, to his left was a slowly rotating fan, his front the vents continued forward, but to his right, there was indeed something out of the ordinary. Caught on one of the seams of the welded metal was a ripped piece of red cloth, stained with multiple layers of oil, the freshest layer though, smelled of iron, and seemed to create a glaze of crimson on top of the multiple layers of dried oil. Blood.

He plucked it from its resting place, dread mixing in with confusion, the oil made some sense, maybe whoever had been here had been injured and using this scrap as a bandage, but the blood made less sense. The only time he’d seen blood recently was when that weird fleshy thing under Doll’s bed bled when he poked it, well, and Uzi’s… head… injury.

He looked back down at the red strip, before he remembered what Doll usually wore, that red cheerleading outfit.

His dread grew, becoming a cold weight around his core, Doll was here? In the bunker? Sneaking around the vents doing who knows what and clearly some type of organic based on this blood. What did he do? V was here, she wouldn’t be expecting Doll if she just dropped down from the ceiling one night and tried to off her. And what about Uzi? She was home alone most of the day, taking care of Tera. Oh Robo-God, Tera, she’d be completely defenseless if the Russian decided to come after her as well.

You must go home, your family is in danger!

He wanted to, his worry sinking it's claws deep into him, but he couldn't just leave, Hal was still waiting for him, and he was on the job.

Who cares? Their safety is more important!

The voice was loud and demanding, far more then it had ever been before, it caused ringing in his ears, but still he had to control himself.

Then he got an idea.

He simply called his girlfriend, he was a phone. And even though his hands were shaking and the urge to go home was strong, the voice ceased, seemingly content with his choice.

“N? Why are you calling me through my system? Are you okay?” At the sound of her voice his worry lessened and his core soared, she was okay, Doll hadn't already come for them.

“I-I found a scrap of cloth in the vents. It's Doll's. S-she's somewhere in the vents, please warn V.”

There was silence on the other end, enough of it that he could hear his daughters light giggling through the other side.

“I fucking hate it here!”

Next ->

[doufudanshi]

for anyone who criticizes jyl for bringing soup to yiling instead of like, money—

we should first ask: could jyl actually have given wwx money? she must have something, you say. the jins are rich! she could even give him some of her betrothal gifts.

but realistically jyl probably didn't have much money at all! let's think this through. not only did she not marry jzx yet at the time of her yiling visit, but (based on many, many imperial palace tv shows lol) all her worth would be in betrothal gifts of jewelry, fine clothing, or other misc items, which is 1) heavy and difficult to transport without notice, but that doesn't actually matter bc it's ultimately 2) disrespectful to sell and worse to have the gifter find out when they come by for tea and you begin chatting about the event in two days and they say oh where's that one-of-a-kind jade bracelet I gave you wouldn't it match the also one-of-a-kind silk garment that lady jin gave you sooo well oh you will look so lovely in it won't you wear it.

or worse, have it recognized in some random pawn shop on the street by someone who has never really liked you and WILL get you in deep shit for it.

does jyl have any money from the jiang side? well, jc has been busy at work rebuilding lotus pier and the clan since before wwx's defection, and even if he's not borrowing a shitton of money from the jins (which he almost certainly is), he definitely has the opposite of surplus funds. he's also busy organizing and buying gifts for the wedding too, making him go more in the red because you know the jins aren't going to want cheap-ass things even if you don't have money.

let's say jyl did get a significant bride price (aka given money money)—not only does that go to her family (jc), but it is given during the ceremony (which, again, hasn't happened yet). and, realistically, jc probably will have to use it to offset the costs of the above.

beyond that, let's just take this scene from a storytelling perspective. sometimes it is simply about the emotional resonance. the vibes. let's say jyl did have some funds to give wwx. but imagine if jyl was like here a-xian take all this money 😐 ok sure useful for some period. but is that the gift that wwx would want during the first time he's gotten to see her in months, and likely the last time he will see her in a long, long time (possibly years)? would that be impactful for the story?

meanwhile, the soup she brings represents her love. we hear in the extra, from wwx's own words, the care she put into selecting the ingredients, making sure the lotus root is fresh and perfectly ripe. it also takes hours for her to even make iirc. wwx derives so much comfort from it—that's why it comes up again and again. it is one of his first memories of feeling safe in lotus pier, of home. it provides wwx some semblance of normalcy. he hasn't had any this entire time, and is likely something he aches for whenever he's homesick or sad or questioning his choices. it is simply, given the circumstances, incredibly thoughtful. (and how meaningful was it to see wn treat it with such respect? seeing that is literally the moment in the chapter when wwx realizes—ah. the wens are people I cherish as well.)

and regarding jyl coming in her wedding dress—it is not for herself. it is for wwx. we saw how devastated wwx was just to even hear that jyl was getting married because he had to hear it from someone who wasn't jc or jyl. and to immediately then realize he cannot go? even more heartbreaking. and jyl, who clearly knows wwx extremely well, would know, without having to ask, how upset wwx would be to miss such a huge occasion in their lives that was previously a given. this is what she can do to offset that, even just a little. because jyl came in her dress, wwx gets to experience a piece of her wedding even though he cannot physically be there. not to be a 2000s mastercard ad, but there really are some things that money can't buy.

idk there's also some fist-shaking at the class discrepancy in the scene. and I get it. it sucks! her dress is certainly lavish, and the wens are farming on a corpse mountain and have only just started making a bit of money. yes, it's fine to think that if you were in the character's shoes, maybe you would've found it to be in poor taste—but the story isn't about you. it is about these characters, and what this scene means to them. and I'm of the camp that if there is no indication that wwx is upset by any of this, and in fact moved by it, there really isn't reason for the reader to be righteously indignant about these things on a character's behalf. that's just not the focus or the point of the scene.

plus, jyl is sharp. she is likely more aware of the discrepancy than most people think. she has also been shown in the text to not just be another sheltered, spoiled noble (re jzx soup incident). but if what you want is guilt from jyl—I personally think that guilt is performative, and accomplishes nothing. her guilt would've only made wwx unhappy. instead, here is an action that is meaningful and brings joy to wwx. to share her joy with him is not selfishness, nor is it some lack of awareness of their situation. if in this moment, she shows off her dress, if she revels in her joy, her happiness, it is for wwx, and wwx is incredibly moved by it.

and let's face it—wwx, of all people, would want to see jyl in a wedding dress that cost more than rebuilding lotus pier from the ground up. he wouldn't want anything less.

[riofann]

5. tempestuous

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Trigger warning: Violence, Arson

Tuesday December 31, 2019

The bar is alive, it's expected it is New Years Eve after all. There's sooo many people it makes it difficult to maneuver with drinks and food in hand, it felt like the entire city was convened at your bar even though you knew it wasn’t true.  Thank goodness for your staff being willing to pick up extra shifts all hands-on deck  was the moto tonight and they were going to get compensated for it. You had triple the amount of people helping. You gave a limited menu today as well, no way were you having your team  frying up and grilling all types of food. Finger food: fries, sliders, sandwiches, dips, chips, mixed nuts, you name it things that wouldn’t matter if they fell on the floor or were lost due to the commotion. 

At first you didn’t see him because you were so busy running around delivering food, picking up glasses arguing with drunk customers. You felt like someone was watching you and that's when you paused to scan the bar, and your eyes met. He lifts his glass to you before turning his attention to the TV ahead. 

Why was he here? Shouldn’t he be with Marcus or Nick and family? You didn’t have time to worry about him because your bartender was arguing with a customer.

“I ASKTH FOR ANOTHER FUCKING SHOTH OF JAGERBOMBS AND THIS DHICKH WON’T GIVE THEM TO MEE!” he screams slurring his speech

You smile and nod clasping your hands “That is because you are at your limit you are slurring your words you can’t stand straight so we are closing your tab” “I AM A LHOYAL CUSTOMEH YOU BITCH! YOU GIVE ME MY FUCKING SHOT NOW!” You make a face and smirk before picking up your walkie talkie “Sean I need you at the bar rear entrance” In less than 1 minute Sean arrives

“What’s up boss?”

“We have closed this gentleman’s tab because of his current state, I want him out of the bar please” “Oh come on you don’t have to do that listen he is our friend we will watch him we know he gets testy when drunk” his friend defends You give a half sympathetic smile “You’re friend called me a bitch at my own bar he’s not welcome anymore” “Come on listen we will leave a good tip” You shake your head “Nooo, I’m sorry but that won’t do, you can go with him if you would like” The group remained silent “I am happy to close out your tabs and let you enjoy the rest of new years but I don’t tolerate disrespect to my staff or myself so what’s it going to be?” “Fucking bitch men” you hear from behind “Excuse me?!” You lean forward over the bar “I didn’t hear you speak up” you talk directly to the one you know said it   “It’s nothing name on the tab Taylor” another friend speaks seemingly embarrassed by the situation at hand You beam at him “Perfect lets close you out so you can enjoy the rest of your evening!” You turn to Sean “Don’t leave until they are gone” “Yes ma’am” 

You turn to find Rio gone, you needed to speak to him. You urgently leave the bar running onto the parking lot to see if you can spot his car. You don’t. You make it back to the bar defeated. 

The time reaches when the countdown begins, you have the staff pass out champagne flutes to everyone 3 minutes prior to the count down. You on the barstool by bar along with the rest of your bartenders, your staff surrounds you. You even have the kitchen staff join in. 

“10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!” The crowd erupts in celebration as Auld Lang Syne blasts through the speakers! You take a few shots with your staff before the party continues. Time moves by faster now and you and your staff are focused on getting people home safely and making sure nothing nefarious is taking place. 

“Have a good night, remember we aren’t open till Friday” “Oh so you guys get some days off?”  A customer comments “YES FINALLY” one of the waiters comments laughing along with the customers

“She got y’all working on tight schedule” one customer comments “Nah we love her” they hug you 

“Yea yea yea” you joke around with them. When the last customer is gone you all work together to clean up all the bar so that the only thing that needed to be done was opening back up on Friday and get into the swing of the new year.

“Thanks guys, drive safe please! If you’re gonna party please be safe!” 

“We will” “Sean Gracie (bar managers)  thank you so much your hard work I’ll see you guys Friday be safe okay” “Will do Y/N” 

Sunday January 5, 2020

You wake up groggy from the night before you had picked up drinking as a coping mechanism to nurse your stress. Slowly you make your way to your kitchen. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty” You hear his voice which makes you drop your mug with a scream. He snickers behind you. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask him 

“Well seeing that you made a scene last week” He speaks to you going to his warehouses and demanding to talk to him 

You turn to face him “I have to talk to you” 

He smiles “what could be so important?” “Where have you been?” He smiles at you “I’m a busy man I’ve been working” Your phone rings and you look down at it 

“How’d you get in?” You had upped your security recently, for sure you thought if someone was breaking in you would be alerted

“Gonna pick that up?” It was Alejandro calling you

“I need to talk to you” “I’m here, better hurry up before your man shows up” 

You roll your eyes “He’s not my boyfriend” 

Your phone rings again “I think you should pick up” “I have to talk to you” “I’m listening” Before you can say anything there’s a knock on your door that makes you jump again. “I’ll get it” he smirks before standing up to open the door 

One of Alejandro’s goons barges in with gun in hand pointing it at Rio 

With hands up Rio says “I’m leaving, I’m leaving” Your phone rings again you watch as Rio walks out before picking it up 

Saturday January 25, 2020 

“Hey boss” you hear Gracie call to you while knocking the door “Rio and Mick are back!” she beams “Ohhh.... that’s great!” you force a smile

“Wanna take the food out to them?” You shake your head “just pass my hellos” “Oh okay, Rio asked for you” 

“Tell him I’m busy” “Okay” 

You resume the task on hand 20 so minutes later there’s another knock 

“Hey, he said he really wants to talk to you” You sigh “okay” you feel your hands shake but put your best poker face on and leave the office

“Hey” He smiles at you as Mick shimmy’s he’s way out of the booth. You don’t protest like you usually did

“We got interrupted last time what did you want to talk to me about?” 

You shake your head “Nothing, no longer relevant” He snorts “Oh your man got you on a tight leash” “He is not my man” you speak defeated He hums taking a bite of his food “You good?” You nod vigorously “Yea! Just working” “Y/N” You feel your phone vibrating  “I have to go” “You just got here” You take a deep sigh and mutter out “He threatened to kill Marcus, thought you should know” You glance at your phone Alejandro was calling 

Rio laughs throwing his head back “I’m not worried about that” and you knew if anyone had security it was his family no one could get close without one of his men running interference “Yea see not important, figured I just panicked for nothing initially” He glances at you “nah.… that aint what you wanted to tell me” “It’s all I got excuse me” You don’t give Mick the option, instead you practically push him out of the booth before you very quickly find your way on the other side of the restaurant. 

(A/N: when I wrote this I envisioned pushing Mick out the booth and it made me laugh, because the man doesn’t say much so you know he huffing and puffing while you got hands pushing him out)

Wednesday February 5, 2020

You proceed opening the delivery boxes to find a burner phone with the words “call me” written on the paper. You stare at the box and the cell phone before placing it to the side gently as if it was a bomb. It adds to your paranoia. It could be Rio or Alejandro or someone else and you weren’t willing to take the risk.

Monday February 17, 2020 

“What’chu doing here lady I already told you we don’t know a Rio!” the very scary looking man comments as you attempt to make your way into the warehouse “They know where everything is stashed” The man scoffs “They are gonna hit all of them at the same time” “Lady you must be on that shit huh? I don’t know what’chu talkin’ bout!”

“Just warn Rio” with that you leave 

Friday March 13, 2020

“Hey mama” You hear as soon as you walk into your office at 9:00am that morning “Why ain't you....” you slap your hand on his mouth to shut him up 

Your phone rings “Hello” “Buenos dias Carino? Who’s at the bar now?” “No one” you turn to look at Rio and put the phone on speaker

"Sounded like a man, is Cristobal there?" "No!" you clear your throat to sound more convincing "No he is not here, seeing how you chased him out of town"

He chuckles arrogantly "Eso perro didn’t stand a chance just checking, I’ll keep in touch"

"Listen before you go I need to be able to do payroll so i need money for my workers"

He chuckles "si si si carino, yea you will" you don't believe him

You hung up with your hand still on Rio’s mouth, “sorry” you mouth removing it. “I can’t talk” you mouth to him pointing out your headphones 

He nods understanding your situation, you slowly remove your hand from his mouth hoping you two would remain silent and communicate via pen and paper

"What do you want?" You write on the note pad

He looks down at the paper then up at you, there's a pause you can't tell what he is thinking

You motion with your hands opening them up and mouth "what?" to him

He throws his head back laughing “Nah I'm not doing this, you might not be able to talk but, I can though, so what you wanna talk to me about?” Your mouth hangs open, your phone rings and it's Alejandro again “Why?” You ask with tears in your eyes He stands up and looks at you “I told you to pick wisely, see you around yea?” He smirks leaning close to your ear  “hola Alejandro, mi amigo” 

You look down at your ringing phone 

Thursday April 1, 2020

You wake up body sore groaning internally wishing for 2 mores hours of sleep or 1 more at least. You were starting to look and feel like a shell of the person you used to be. You sit up on your bed and notice Rio sitting on the corner chair bloody and bruised. Gun aimed at you with a deep scowl. The instant fear makes you freeze in place, making sure your eyes didn’t deceive you. Damnit what is going on with your new system? It’s supposed to be alerting you. Why was Rio the only one slipping by it?

You both sit staring at each other it feels like hours have passed by when he decides to speak. You have a death grip on your gun although if you move you know he would know and shoot you instead.

He adjusts sitting up straight “How’d you know?” he asks. You swallow not wanting to reveal the secret. “Better start talkin’” he warns aiming the gun at your head

“I heard them”

“Heard them say what?” “They were gonna attack your family, a planned attack all at once” you whisper

Your phone rings, its Alejandro, you had a specific notification to know it was him

He nods “Gonna pick that up?” You shake your head 

“They knew everything” 

“I know” you confirm

He mugs you “You told them!” You shake your head “It wasn't me Rio” “They knew where my safe houses were, they attacked Marcus, my kid, my son Y/N!” He pauses to gather himself

“Is he okay?” you ask

He nods slowly “He will be” 

Your phone rings again

“Gonna pick that up?” 

You shake your head “I’m good as dead anyway so no” 

“How?” “You have a mole” you comment

“You!” he accuses 

You shake your head “I didn’t know everything, someone high up, someone close to you. You gotta go it takes them 5 minutes to show up” you advise

He stands up and limps away out the door 

Wednesday April 15, 2020

After the attack on Rio things had been extremely tense. It felt like the city was a war zone the amount of shootings/mutilation of bodies increased exponentially. For some you were sure they had Rio/Alejandro attached for the others you couldn’t tell if it was just a bi-product of the issues happening or a random act of violence.

Your head is throbbing, no literally it feels like it has it’s own heart beat. You go to touch it but your hands are tied.

“Rapido cabron!” you hear

There's splashing and sloshing sound around you, droplets of the liquid was getting on you and try to look around 

“CHINGA TU MADRE!” you hear before intense pain, and you’re blacked out again 

“Y/N! Y/N!” 

You groan 

“Get her in the ambulance now!”

“Y/N, Y/N, It's Jasmine can you open your eyes?” 

You try to cover your eyes but your arms don’t move again “the light is bright”  you close them again as you fade in and out of consciousness 

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback do you like it do you hate it?, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

Taglist (are you guys getting notified? Can't tell):

@katymae12344, @yinmaggiorebass , @flirtyjen, @wnbweasley, @meadows5, @ffenthusiastt, @rio-reid-whoreee, @belezaya, @meera10

[ottiliere]

read the first chapter of the grief complex a few days ago and i can't stop thinking about it. i love how much characterization was packed into just the first chapter-- yr usage of colors is also sooo unbelievably gorgeous. i really like cam and lynn both, i'm very interested to see more of them (i have listened to both their playlists several times and i must say.. excellent song choices. pinback!!!) does lynn make any friends at raves? what does he do for work?

Thank you! I keep seeing iterations of the "can't stop thinking about it" kind and it's so exciting that this has resonated with some people so much. The playlists were all dane, though! I only suggested two of the songs that wound up on Cam's playlist (Eels + Guided by Voices). You didn't ask, but those playlists are diegetic. Cam's was a present (he's not really the music type...) and Lynn's was self made.

Lynn considered many professions before going to college. He was talked out of most of them by both his therapist and father. These include:

Nursing: Lynn is too temperamentally sensitive for it; poor outcomes would drastically affect him in a way he'd take with him outside the workplace, and besides that... belligerent patients would hurt his feelings too much! Nursing also requires too much quick-thinking + an ability to adapt to/perform in high-stress situations. Lynn is not smart, nor is he the type of guy you should depend on in case of an emergency; he doubts himself too much. Patients would have loved him, though. He is very sweet.

Programming/SWE: while comparably more knowledgeable in computers than his peers at the time, lynn has always been very poor with language/grammar and would not do well in a job that requires writing, even if it was conceptually understood as "writing with (a lot of) math." he has been in remedial reading classes from when he finally got an IEP in elementary school through college graduation.

Joining the Clergy: lynn is not incredibly religious, but he did briefly consider being a priest. this was more of a passing thought for him. it seemed like it would be nice, helping people like that. his faith has fluctuated and changed throughout his life, largely depending on who he's spending the most time around, but he's always been fond of the social aspect of religion.

Lynn makes tons of friends at raves! He's very social online, especially for his era, and he has a little long-distance friend group that he often links up with at raves. He's also been known to DJ on occasion...he's quite good at it.

By day, though, he is a junior accountant at a local oil company. A little less "cool", possibly morally debatable, but his bills are paid and his apartment is quite nice.

[elcpsstuff]

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 20)

even when I don’t, I almost do. Because I love you.

—

A/N: You guys i’m actually sobbing while writing this! The last part is here and i’m honestly feeling so many emotions right now. From the first chapter to now seeing how every character as grown just makes my heart absolutely melt ahh. This is the last part but when season 3 comes out who knows, there might be a sequel;) (no promises) !! I love you all sooo much and please enjoy this really long chapter <3

—

There’s not many ways to categorize Susannah. She’s not just a mother figure to me. She’s the beach house on sunny days and all weather accompanied and when I do a lot of things I think about her.

I’ll never forget the day my parents died. I might have been young but it’s one of the first things I remember. John and Laurel running to the house with Steven and Belly in the car, and a confused 6 year old waiting for her parents to get home. Come home to me.

Apparently, therapy sessions are the way to fix someone who was categorized as broken like me. I got taken to countless different therapists but what was I supposed to say? Like ‘yeah i’m pretty sad about my parents dying but i’ll get over it.’

The first summer that went by without my parents, I went to the beach house. I had gone two times before that but this time was truly my first visit. To me it was.

I don’t remember much, but I do remember Susannah. According to her (and laurel) I cried for hours in my room, assuming it was about my parents. Everybody left me alone until my whales became too loud and Susannah couldn’t help but step in.

She walked into my room, not forgetting to shut the door and sat on the edge of my bed. “Yn? Sweetie?”

“Y- yeah?” I covered my tears in hopes that I would just look groggy from a nap but I obviously failed, miserably.

“What’s going on?” She cooed at me while brushing some strands of hair out my face.

“I miss them.. my.. my—”

“I know you do. I’m sorry it had to be this way yn..” I still remembered her voice to this day, in that room. It was so soothing sometimes I requested her to come in and talk to me before bed.

“Can I tell you something yn?”

I nodded weakly, “mhm..”

She held me in her arms while whispering a soft melody in my ear before saying; “This beach house is as much yours as mine. Okay? Your here and apart of us now. Of me.”

I smiled at the thought before falling deep asleep.

I was always close with Susannah after that, as much as I could be. Sometimes summer wasn’t enough.

Now, i’m sobbing all my makeup off into the sheets Susannah picked out for this house. Conrad really was right when he said it— she’s everywhere and everything in this house. Picked out ever wall color and every single piece of furniture.

I used to love to look at the things Susannah did for this house, it reminded me of her. Now- I can’t even look at the walls without crying. Because soon she’ll only be a memory.

Belly’s cries in my ear were more heartbreaking than I could have imagined. Me, Belly, and Laurel were all stuck together on the bed like peas in a pod. Laurel crying was something I never thought I would see and now I wished I hadn’t.

“I just feel so stupid. This whole summer has been about me and Susannah had been dying of cancer.”

I almost wanted to tell Belly not to, not to say it. She had no right. But she did, because she really really was dying. That was the reality of the matter. I can only imagine Jeremiah and Conrad if we’re crying this bad. It breaks my heart.

“That’s how she wanted it though,” Laurel whispers, “One last perfect summer in cousins.”

One last perfect summer. Was this the end? It hit me then, maybe it was the end. Conrad would be going off to college in the fall and me, Jeremiah, and Steven were all going into our senior years. Even Belly was growing. She wasn’t far off from college either.

“It’s just not fair,” I add in, sobbing through my words. “Why does she have to go? It’s.. it’s..”. Horrible. Not fair. So many things that I want to say but my choked cries hold me back.

The door creaks open and a very sad looking Steven creeps into the room. His eyes are draped and tears stained his face. Shakily, he said, “She’s not gonna get better is she?”

When Laurel shakes her had no, my cries come faster as well as Belly’s. Steven runs to the other side of the bed and climbs in next to Laurel, tears dripping on her red dress. He was like a little kid, the way he got into bed and held onto Laurel for dear life, like every child held their mother.

It was just us 3, crying and crying and repeated murmurs of ‘it’s not fair’ and an occasional I love you.

—

Laurel cooking only meant one thing, we were fucked.

It’s no secret Susannah’s cooking has always been a fan favorite of ours, and not Laurel’s.

We all gathered around the table and for the first time this summer we felt like family. True and honest family. Me and Belly had changed from our dresses because Susannah didn’t want us to be uncomfortable, but the boys were still in their tuxes.

Everyone’s eyes were littered with dry tears and everybody was also blood shot red in the eyes. I’d never seen Conrad look so tired and broken, it almost makes me feel horrible for crying so hard.

He still looked good though, really good.

“Okay, guys.” Susannah clears her throat before gently pushing out of her seat, getting our attention.

“I.. I think,” Susannah’s eyes wonder to Jeremiah and Conrad before she speaks. Her face is glowing with a smile only Susannah has. It’s for her boys. Conrad and Jeremiah.

Jeremiah was her sunshine boy, the kind’ve boy that still hugged their mother even though they were probably too old for it. He was good to her. Not that Conrad wasn’t, not at all. It was just different. Conrad affection was deep and hidden but Susannah could pull it out of him. He would do anything for her, absolutely anything even if he hated it.

“I think i’m gonna do the trial.” Conrad and Jeremiah’s face lit up in smiles that I had missed dearly and mine wasn’t too far behind. It might have been a long shot, but it was hope. Hope that things could be okay. It’s no secret things would never be the same again, but if we could be okay, that was good enough for me. For all of us.

“It’s gonna work, mom.” Jeremiah says with pleading eyes and my heart can’t help but melt at the sight. He always had so much hope that things would work out, and as much as I wanted to believe him, I knew it all to well. I didn’t wanna think about it, though. Because loosing Susannah would be like loosing my parents all over again, but worse. I know Susannah, more than I ever knew them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Susannah grabs Laurel’s hand and squeezes it tight, “You all ate here. It’s the best thing I could ever ask for.”

And with that, we ate.

For the first time since the news came out, laughter filled this table. It filled our lungs and our hearts and I never missed Jeremiah and Stevens jokes. Conrad even threw one in occasionally.

This was good. We were gonna be okay.

Dinner came and went and it was late by the time we finished, but I was up like a hawk. At 11 o’click the house started winding down and yawns were heard.

I walked into the kitchen to grab my phone, only to see Jeremiah sitting at the counter. I knew I needed to talk to him. It was a long time coming.

“Hey..” I say quietly, but it was loud enough for him to hear me.

He smiles lightheartedly, “Hey.” I did not want to know if he was angry at me still because it would hurt too much. Jeremiah was amazing at holding grudges, which shouldn’t be a compliment but it sure does drive the other person crazy.

“So,” I tap my fingers across the counter in a state of worry, “Are.. we good?”

A sigh comes from his mouth, and I only can hope he’s not up to fight, because I sure as hell aren’t. “Did you know about Susannah’s cancer? Did Conrad tell you?” Those were the last words I expected to come out his mouth.

He was there, when I asked what was going on. How could he assume I knew? Was he that angry about me and Conrad that he would accuse me of hiding it?

“How could you even think that?” There’s no disgust in my voice, just pure sadness. He was bitter, bitter that he didn’t know. Don’t let him get to you.

“You and Conrad kept a lot of secrets, what’s one more?” Unlike me, his voice is laced with disgust and after the night I had tonight, I would be the last to deal with it.

“Right. Glad to know where you stand.” I spin on my heel but before I can reach the door a shriek comes out of Jeremiah’s mouth.

“I liked you, you know.”

I turn around and look at the boy in front of me with a puzzled face. He liked me? Are you serious?

Where was he when I wanted his attention? I remember the nights I would long for Jeremiah, when I believed Conrad didn’t want me. I might have longed for Jeremiah to try and forget about Conrad, but I still longed for him.

“Don’t do that. You like Belly.”

He shakes his head and my heart begins to accelerate.

“I know you used to like me too.” What was he saying? Assuming? This was crazy. Just fucking crazy and my brain can’t handle any more of this. “I know it was one summer. Conrad and you weren’t talking as much because he was busy with football camp. You got crazy jealous of me talking to Belly. I- I never believed I had a chance with you yn, so I never showed that I cared. But I did.”

It’s true. The summer Conrad was going into Sophomore year his dad had him on a constant grind for football. Make no mistake, I missed him like hell but I did gather some sort of feeling for Jeremiah during that time. It lingered, but as soon as Conrad came it was gone.

None of us were perfect. If Belly had some sort of attraction for both of the boys, would it be so crazy to believe I once did too? Not too long ago?

But it’s always been clear as day, who I loved. Love.

I always believed love would be gray with anyone else but Conrad. He made it golden. Shades of gray hidden in the sunset that would only come out for me, along with my feelings for him.

What was I supposed to say? He wasn’t wrong. I did like him a little bit, even at the beginning of this summer. But it was only because I hid my truth about Conrad. I needed to get away from him and shamefully, Jeremiah was right there.

“If I wouldn’t known- I would’ve maybe—”

“Jeremiah, stop.”

His eyes widen and this is the last thing I want. To cause this poor boy any more drama than what’s been produced. His face turns from hopeful and pleading to knowing. All fucking knowing.

“You love him, don’t you?”

My heart beat slows, and I look Jeremiah dead in the eye, making sure he knows the truth. I want him to know so we can get over this because I need Jeremiah, my buddy. Not a lover.

“I think I almost do.” Is all I can manage to say.

Jeremiah says nothing but only nods in response. It’s quiet for a moment before I begin to tread away, only to be stopped again.

“Just tell me this, if I would’ve confessed, would it had changed anything?”

No. It wouldn’t have.

“It’s been a long day, Jeremiah.” I don’t hear a response as I tread up the stairs.

—

My feet tread on the wooden floors, creaking noises coming every now and then. It was late. Half past 12 and like most nights lately, sleep couldn’t consume me like it used to be able to.

Luckily, I wasn’t alone.

Outside my door, I peered through another to see Susannah sat on her bed. She looked sad, so unlike Susannah. Something compelled me to walk in there.

Susannah was sitting on her bed staring up at the ceiling. It was almost weird— seeing her look so solemn. Like she had come to peace with it.

She smiled at me when I walked in and motioned for me to take the spot next to her on the bed. I did.

“Cant sleep?” She whispers.

I shake my head rapidly, because I can’t. I cant sleep knowing a women like Susannah is being put through this. She’s so pure, so pure in a world of evil.

“I don’t mean to bother you.”

“You could never bother me, special girl.” I already feel the tears coming on my face, and one stray tear dripped. I wiped it quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Susannah.” I sit next to her quickly. Her face turns sad and droopy which was the last thing I intended considering this day already didn’t go as planned. I needed to change the mood. “How.. how is Conrad? Is he okay?”

An all knowing smile reaches Susannah’s face, and I already know what’s coming next. “He’s doing okay. I hated him seeing him cry. I always do.”

That was the truth. I hated seeing Conrad cry too. It had only happened a couple of times, and It would always take me 15 minutes or so to recover from it. The way his eyes cried for help and were bloodshot red, almost like he was begging for someone to save him. I had wanted that for years. To save him and to be engulfed in his arms.

“I hate it too.” I whisper and a choked sob comes out of my mouth. Susannah, being Susannah notices right away. Always putting others above herself.

“He’s loved you since he was 10, you know.” Now it was her turn to speak through a yelp and cry. I broke at the sight. Tears were streaming down both of our faces but I was too delirious to care. “He came up to me, called you so pretty at a young age. You’ve always been his weakness, you know that.”

I shrug, “Things got really complicated Susannah, too quick and too fast.”

“Don’t let him push you away. He loves you. He’s in love with you.” Those words spilled all over me like a warm shower. Lathering me in love and affection, all by the man Conrad Fisher.

Susannah holds my arm, rubbing my thumb gently, “Do.. do you love him too?”

I don’t even wait, I just nod. Nod and nod until my head feels like it’s hurting because I do. I really do. He’s everything to me. It’s not often you find your lover and best friend in one.

He really is my everything. My Conrad.

“Yes.”

Susannah pulls me in and now i’m sobbing against her chest. Who cares if the house hears? This women is dying in front of me and i’ll i’ve done this whole summer is be consumed in my own drama. Belly was right, even if we didn’t know it we were selfish.

“I’m so sorry, I was so— selfish.”

I feel Susannah move her head against me. “No, no. This is how I wanted it. I wanted it to be about you girls. And the guys. I wanted all the petty fights and talk about boys because that’s what summer is to you guys. A time to just be.”

She was right. Summer was intertwined with everything good in my life. Conrad, Susannah, Jeremiah, and the rest of my family. From running on the beach at 7 and playing with the football and attempting to crash the boys plans with Belly at night. It was all so good. So right.

Susannah pulls me out of her chest and tucks a hair behind my ear, “Yn. I know this hasn’t always been easy. But your here now, okay? One day, when I’m gone—" I go to fight her but she shakes her head, silencing me. “When i’m gone, it’s up to you and Belly to keep the magic going. If anyone can, it’s you two.”

I hoped and prayed. I really did.

“Your my special girl, yn.”

We hugged for what felt like hours, crying and holding each other. Around 1am, I crept into bed, sobs occasionally catching my lips every now and then. My heavy eyes slowly found it’s way into some sort of sleep.

—

The tide was low in the morning.

I wouldn’t exactly call it sleep, what I got. More like an hour or so of being in this dream state. Where susannah was okay and wasn’t dying and that we would be coming to cousins like normal. Every summer.

He was there. In his suit still looking like a work of art. Straight out of a Taylor Swift love song (wildest dreams, to be exact. I would always rant to Frankie about how that’s his song.)

His hair was sloppy in the wind and his shirt was all wrinkled. That’s the thing about Conrad though. Even in the worst of times, he still looks beautiful. His blue irises don’t shine the same blue that Jeremiah’s does.

Conrad is dark. Dark dark dark and some more. Jeremiah’s blue ocean eyes hold some sense of purity to them. I could even get lost in them. They’re so bright with purpose. When I looked into Conrad’s eyes, the blue was different. So confusing and at times I feel like one day it’ll devour me.

He was a deep guy, Conrad. Something Jeremiah would never be, even if he tried his hardest to mold that personality of his. I could sit for hours and talk about the meaning of life with Conrad and he would sit and stare, maybe adding in his thoughts. Jeremiah would go on his phone within minutes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, that Jeremiah didn’t do that. He wasn’t Conrad, he shouldn’t have to be. But even If I tried to tell him that it would be too late, the complex already set so horribly in. No matter what anyone does it’ll be ingrained in him. I just hoped it wouldn’t consume him.

I plopped down next to him, digging my feet into the sand from how nervous I was. I didn’t know what he was gonna say to me.

There was a small gap between us, one that was definable but not to an extent. Conrad played with his fingers and for a moment it was just pure silence.

I liked the waves. They were calming.

“I can’t believe she said yes.” Conrad words are vibrant, more than they had been this entire summer. His face twisted into a smile and my heart melted at the sight.

I awkwardly look down towards the sand and make a little heart in it. “I mean- it’s all thanks to you. You changed her mind, Conrad.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, it was Jere. Not me.”

I gulp down the words that itch to come out of my throat, so many things I want to say. Where do I start? I’ve been in love with you since I was 10 years old. It’s only been you? Even when my heart tried to make me believe it was Jeremiah or possibly Josh, it was always you. How do I tell him that after everything?”

The silence became noticeable because he twisted his lips like he always does when he feels guilty or is out of words to say, to fill the void.

“I’m sorry for being so shitty, this entire summer.”

“I mean.. you were going through this all alone. I- it couldn’t have been easy..” I try and reason for him because I do feel horrible. It doesn’t excuse anything, but it makes it all just sorta make sense.

“Doesn’t make it right. Not for you, at least.”

His tone conveys something much more intimate than either of us are ready to take on right now. I get up off the sand, Conrad following my actions suit.

“Conrad… you- you really need someone right now and I just.. can’t be the person you fall on. Not after everything.” By everything, the love i’ve held for this boy. All the years and lies and the time we even had sex, it’s all too much. He’s either in or out, I can’t climb over and pull him half way. That’s on him.

“I need you.”

I shake my head again, “No. No more needing.” Want. I want him to want me. He reads my mind before tucking a strand behind my face.

“I want you. You know that.”

“How?” I whisper.

“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12. I- I don’t know when it happened, but one day it just came to me. I can’t shake it since. Maybe it was always there.”

Conrad fucking Fisher, pouring his heart out was not to go unnoticed. Rare were the times he showed emotion, and for anyone to take it to granted was crazy.

“And you think I haven’t?” My whisper is almost like a cry. Hadn’t it been so obvious? I loved this boy with every fiber in my body. My heart called to him. He was better than Noah from the notebook and better than Rhett. He was Conrad.

“I know you have. But I do too, I really do.”

Conrad’s fingers graze my cheek and I look up into his impossibly blue eyes. He flinches a little before moving in closer to me. My eyes linger to his lips and his does the same.

When our lips touch, I could’ve cried from the feeling. It was much different than any other time. It wasn’t needy or so heart gripping I didn’t think I would survive it, it was calm.

His hands cupped my face and we pull away for a brief moment. I don’t miss the smile he gives me before pulling me in for another one. I wrap my arms around his waist and he’s really making all the moves. Eventually I find myself playing with the backs of his hairs.

When we pull away, he still holds me, almost afraid to let go. A small laugh escapes my lips.

“What?” He says so softly yet amused.

“Nothing, I just…” Everything.

“I can’t believe your really here.”

—

Leaving cousins was always the worst. The packing, looking at the house once last time before returning for 9 months. This time as different though.

Fall comes round always too quick for my liking, almost like the seasons trying to rid out memories of summer. But summer was intertwined in all of our memories like a cord. Nothing would sever that.

Steven was an early acceptance into Princeton. After all of his hard work, Steven accomplished his 4 year old dream of walking down the school halls shouting that he got into Princeton.

Belly was doing good. Her grades were always subpar like mine which was something we always bonded about. Always lifting each other up when Steven drowns us with his smart antics.

And me? I’m currently sat in my car parked in the parking lot for Brown.

Conrad told me he’d meet me by these benches that he sent me a picture of, so I guess I would have to gauge off of that.

Once I got out of the car, I grabbed my bag of necessities while closing the door and locking the car. I smiled to myself and for a moment I was lost. Just fucking lost.

I can’t believe you’re really here.

Those words clung with me like the dust hangs to my shirt. That day is forever ingrained in my memory. I’ll never forget that moment, no matter what happens. It was almost like a promise, that this was really the beginning.

I began to walk through the crowd of people, searching aimlessly. I would spot him out in a heartbeat, but there were a shit ton of people.

That’s when I saw him, in this cute little stripped polo top, looks down at his phone. I’m guessing it was to text me but the excitement that fills my body is blocking off all of my conscious.

When he looks up, the biggest fucking smile covers his face. I start walking towards him and drop my bags, running into his arms.

“You’re here.” He mumbles into my shoulder. He was feeling me, I understand why. I had to touch his hairs to make sure he’s real too. But he his.

“Yeah, i’m here.”

Conrad takes my bag like the gentlemen he is, and the whole walk to his room he’s staring at me. I meet his eyes occasionally but look away for the most part.

Once we get to his room, I can’t help but notice how neat his side is compared to his roommates, Trusky. He wasn’t here, but It was obvious to tell who’s sides who.

“I was thinking we could maybe go for lunch or something?” Conrad places my bag down and then kicks his foot lightly against the wood of his desk. He looked like a little kid asking for a cookie.

“Whatever you want.” I say with a innocence to my voice.

Conrad smirks and I shut the door behind us. When I turn around, Conrad wraps his arms around me and spins me around lightly. I can’t help the giggle that emerges.

Conrad throws me on the bed right before laying down next to me. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” The glimmer in both of our eyes is something I would carry with me. The hope, the want. I knew this was our start, just the very first page. A sea of blue was conjuring in his eyes, and I was about to be sucked into it.

Instead of going to lunch, me and Conrad lost track of time and talked and kissed and did some more talking. It was refreshing.

“How’s Belly?” Conrad asks me.

I shrug, “She’s good. I mean, we’re good. I think her and Jere have been talking a lot.” Conrad raises his eyebrows and licks his lips. “You know what? I swore I heard them talking when I came over to the house last weekend.”

I smirk, “I think she’s happy.”

“He is too.”

The second me and Conrad got together, I told him about what Jeremiah said to me. He had told me not to worry and that Jeremiah was just being emotional.

But seeing Jeremiah so happy, it makes me happy. Belly, too. I think it warms us all a bit that we can all just, be.

“I talked to your mom the other day.”

A radiant smile, only that he shares for Susannah peaks through cracks of Conrad’s mouth. “Ah, really? What’d she say?”

“Said shes doing good. Also said your a fucking goofball.”

“Fuck you!” Conrad smacks my forehead lightly, always making sure not to legitimately hurt me. I loved that about him. “Hey, I have an idea.”

“What?”

I can’t believe this man.

When Conrad said he knew a place, I didn’t really know what he was talking about. I just went with the flow.

Only Conrad fucking Fisher would take me stargazing. That part of my heart was left for him. Only for him. He places a blanket on the grass and motions me to sit down with him.

It was a deserted little place, 20 minutes away from the campus. It was cozy.

I lay down next to Conrad and a small breeze hits me, making me shiver. Conrad wraps his arms around me almost instinctively, placing a kiss on top of my forehead.

“This is nice.” I breathe out.

“mhm.” Conrad hums and every now and then he places kisses on my cheeks and lips. I don’t stop him.

“I love you.” He mumbles in between kisses and eventually the kisses become more needy, more wanting. I felt the deja vu running through my veins.

Conrad slips a hand under my shirt and I pull away quickly. His face turns a crimson shade of red that even I can see in the night, “Fuck— I’m sorry—”

“No, no.” I place my hands on his shoulder. “I just uh—you’re the only.. my um.”

“Oh.” Conrad nods his head in understanding.

“I just, promise me it won’t be like last time?” Even though i knew this was clearly different, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forget that night. It’s ingrained in my head, everything. Every move, motion, the way his hands curved my body, everything.

“I promise.” I smile and my hands slip under his shirt, slowly taking it off. His body was good, really good. Conrad always was beautiful but in the night was when I found him most enchanting. The way his jaw was extra defined and how his hair fell down.

Conrad is slow to pull my top off, and he stares at me in the thick of the night. “You’re beautiful.”

“Your stuttering, Fisher, have you lost you’re touch?”

“Oh your in for it now.” Conrad leans down and kisses me neck, inching down to my collar bone and a soft moan escapes my lips.

This was beautiful, he was beautiful.

My childhood best-friend, my Conrad.

I’d love him forever, every single part of him. I’ve laughed, Cried, hell, i’ve done so many things for him. But this is the beginning, I know it is.

I lean down to look at the infinity necklace hanging off of my chest, which Conrad has traced circles around. It’s true, I would go endlessly around those curves for him.

I hit myself thinking about how badly i wanted to forget him, but this summer only made me remember him.

Conrad Fisher.

—

THATS IT YALLLL!! I’m crying rn this story means so much to meeee :)) I can’t say it’s fully over because who knows what the future holds (thanks for the quote belly) But i love you all so much and I hope to have more projects soon! Also love that cheesy ass ending 🫶🏻

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8 @imaspecialpersonwhoneedshelp @awatt31 @user0440822 @jackierose902109 @chocolatefartstrawberry @whoisjellyellie @apollo3475 @watercolorskyy

(tag list never works ugh)

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Mockingjay, Ch. 20-21)

(there's so much chapter 21 about the old peeta resurfacing and it feels like a reward for suffering through what this book has made me suffer through so far)

i take bogg's telling katniss to kill peeta as him just saying "do whatever you have to do to get the job done"

katniss being like um surely he doesn't think i can just kill peeta? like surely not. and then her literally being like i'm just gonna do the first two things he said and ignore the third

finnick putting on and adjusting peeta's mask while he's unconscious. the fact that katniss notes this. i cry

peeta realising he's killed mitchell hurts a lot. the capitol really turned him into something he's not. and he's fighting it so hard still

the compassion the other members of the star squad show peeta is actually very heart-warming, they're so understanding. finnick looking after him. holmes automatically going to carry an unconscious peeta so they can start moving again without being asked to. finnick reassuring him; actually everything finnick does. them refusing to leave him behind even though he is an actual threat to them

katniss thinking of the hanging tree while contemplating peeta's request that they kill him. the fact that she realises it might even be the more compassionate thing to do at this stage to give him nightlock. but the same way he says he can't let her take it at the end of the book, she can't do it here

"i feel the arena all around me... once again i'm battling not only for my own survival but peeta's as well"

i personally don't think katniss could have ever killed him. there's just no chance. when his survival is so intricately linked to her own. they're a package deal. and they fight so hard to keep each other alive.

peeta holding out the can of lamb stew to katniss. so mad we didn't get so many important moments from this book in the movies. they did a terrible job of showing the moments where peeta was coming back to himself. all his comments to the others, this moment

"the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting and the aroma of my favourite capitol dish in the chilly air. so some part of it must still be in his head too. how happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave."

OUR cave. like it was their first little home. first little intimate space just for them.

the fact that she paints this time in their cave as romantic and sentimental and picturesque. she's romanticising tf out of it. like she was in a death arena but in that moment, she was happy and close to him and that mattered so much to her

her hope at him returning to himself dripping off the page. that he remembers this.

(an aside: katniss being snarky about snow's puffy lips and saying his prep team need to be lighter with his blush is sooo funny)

in my catching fire summaries, i noted that katniss's desire to save peeta is actually a very selfish one. she's saving him for herself. because she wants him so badly to live. she wants him to be able to live more than herself. and the thought of him living while she doesn't is a personally comforting/happy thought for her. yes he deserves to live and he's a wonderful person but she's doing a lot of the saving of him for herself. because she NEEDS him to live. so her line here is interesting: "if it's true, it would be kindest to kill peeta here and now. but for better or worse, i am not motivated by kindness." - i think this is her essentially confirming what i believe or have gathered so far from what she tells us. saving peeta is not her showing him some great kindness. it's for her. she can't let him die for her own personal need and reasons. (and this isn't me criticising her, i don't think her reasons for saving him are selfish in a bad immoral way. just that she is a teenage girl in love with a boy and she desperately can't let him go)

she does the whole 'am i saving him because i care for him or because i don't want snow to win' but like it's been clear why she's been saving him thus far and continues to

"why can't i just let him go?" because you love and need him sweetheart. and you literally would not be able to live without him

and it's funny that despite all the emotion behind her reasoning, she comes out bluntly and says: so are you coming yourself or do we have to knock you out

"i slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl"

ugh. the key that keeps him restrained is now with katniss. her taking control of that part. the fact that it clicks with the pearl, reminding her of her boy with the bread who gave her this pearl that she's inseparable from. reminding her of exactly why she can't let him go, let him die.

peeta's comment to pollux when no one else can think of anything to say!! why didn't they include these things in the movies? auihfuaedhfufkeadh

the fact that his words are able to make castor laugh and pollux smile. he is so charming, so good-hearted, so good with people. and it's coming back. the boy with the bread is there, behind all that fog. he's there.

and again, katniss's hope at realising this. her glancing back at him. i can feel her emotions even though she's not always forthcoming with them

her wishing she could read his mind and go inside it to help him. settling on making sure he's eaten. taking away the lid so he can't hurt himself.

him saying mockingjays need wings to survive kinda feels like flirting/charm idk

"slowly, as i would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. he freezes at my touch, but doesn't recoil. so i continue to gently smooth back his hair. it's the first time i have voluntarily touched him since the last arena" - never forget what the movies took from us!!

them smoothing/playing with/brushing back each other's hair has been a constant since the first book. an intimate thing, a comforting thing. and here, after all that's gone on, katniss knows what might help him sleep and she takes the risk of touching him. it could've gone so badly. but she still did it, for him. and for her.

him whispering "you're still trying to protect me. real or not real"... i want to hug him so bad. but he feels it. he feels her wanting to still protect him and he needs the confirmation.

protecting each other is what they do guysss

he has horrible circles under his eyes from not being able to sleep but, as katniss smooths his hair back, he falls asleep after a minute. do you understand how important this is?????

[probably-writing-x]

Summer Heat - Chapter One

Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Cursing, some (ish) sexual references, mentions of losing a parent

Author's Note: Omgggg I’m so excited to start this series !! I already have sooo many ideas for it. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter I want to hear alll of your opinions !! Much much much love to all of you, angels x

Rafe had grown up getting everything he wanted. As much as he was reluctant to admit it at times, he knew he had always been fed from the silver spoon. He could have half of the island wrapped around his little finger if he really wanted to. Everybody knew it. From his friends that were more like followers, to his girls that were more like groupies, to his family that were more like business partners. All of it was more and more a part of the personality that made the infamous Rafe Cameron.

You, having grown up in The Cut, were one of the many people that worked for him and his family. You'd taken the job working on the boat, you and John B both working together. It was mundane but it covered your share of the bills and kept your older sister off of your back. Since your father had passed away a few years ago, it was really just you and her left. That's how you'd become such good friends with John B - you'd been through the same shitty few years on the shitty side of the island you called home. And there was something comforting about going through it with someone that knew how it all felt. Working together was just another part of that - a way to make a crap life a little less bad.

Though, it was safe to say dealing with Rafe's input was one of the worst parts of your job - he was always on your case about every part of the work. He would pick you up on the slightest things, tell his father if you were even a few minutes late, made sure to give you enough jobs to last the day. It hadn't taken you long to start arguing back with him, defending yourself when he expected you to stay silent. And, though people might think he was the most hot headed a person could get, it seemed he had met his match in you.

"Oi!" John B shouts from the other side of the deck, "Are you going to help or what?"

You roll your eyes at him and stand up from where you'd been enjoying the sun from the deck. It was a scorching day on the island, the sun beating down relentlessly - even worse on the dock of the yacht that seemed to be allergic to any type of shade;

"Ward's not meant to be home for another hour, which means we have at least half an hour before we even need to start."

"Right, but if you grow up and do it now, we can slack off later," He points out, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The two of you were like siblings to each other - him the mature and logical one that liked to keep the peace, and you the unhinged argumentative one that seemed set on disturbing the peace.

"Touché," You walk over to where he's stood over the pile of used scuba gear, a hose in one hand to start cleaning it all with freshwater.

You pick up the other hose and spray it a couple of times to test it out. Watching it splash down the deck and trail towards the drainage, not paying attention to it bounce off in the other direction to spray over John B.

"Do you mind?" He raises his eyebrows at you, shaking off the water from his arm.

"I'm sorry I almost drowned you," You roll your eyes at him, spraying the hose another time in his direction.

"Really? You want to start that?" John B laughs, dropping the buoyancy jacket from his hands to turn his attention to you.

He sprays in your direction and it splashes down the front of your crop top, forcing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh you are dead!" You return, splashing him back so that it soaks his hair down to his head.

He goes at you again and soaks your outfit completely, water dripping down your shoulders and down your arms.

John B laughs and shakes his hair out, raising his hands in defeat, "Okay okay stop, I'm done."

He pulls a hand over his face and your hands down either side of your hair to slick it away from your face, welcoming the cool it brings you against the blazing heat.

"Good to see we pay you for some quality work here!" An all too infamous voice calls out from the other end of the boat.

You look up to see Rafe coming towards you, his skin sun-kissed in the heat. He crosses over the ramp from the wooden dock and onto the deck, long strides drawing him closer to you. There's a white linen shirt hanging on either side of his torso, exposing the dips of his abs and the way they seem more prominent with his tan. No. Ignore it. This is Rafe, it didn't matter what body came with that.

"We?" You scoff, "I'm not so sure you're responsible in the slightest for paying us. But go ahead, run along and tell Daddy if you need to."

He clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything for just a second, "I could get you fired with a click of my fingers, so watch your tone."

John B looks at you with warning in his eyes when he can tell you're on the verge of snapping back at Rafe. You struggled to hide your feelings at the best of times, but it seemed all the more impossible when it came to this boy.

You'd known of him when you were little, the two of you meeting when your father used to work the restaurant at the club. As a little boy, Rafe was a lot more tolerable than he was now - though you were sure that he didn't remember you. Your first memory of him was when you were sat waiting for your Dad's shift to end, you no older than six. You'd fallen and cut your knee and Rafe had found you, much taller than you even when he was a kid, and he'd stolen an ice cream from the buffet bar to give to you. He'd told you to stop crying because his Dad had told him that big kids didn't cry, but he knew from his sister Sarah that ice cream could cure a lot of things. He looked at your knee, the blood spilling down your leg, and he held a napkin over it whilst you ate the ice-cream he'd given you. When your Dad came to find you, he'd pulled you away and told you to not hang around with those 'Kook Kids' again. You'd looked over your shoulder as you left and watched as Rafe was getting told off by his own father, likely for disappearing, or perhaps for thieving from the buffet. He'd looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that didn't seem to dispel.

That same sadness, though mixed with a few other things, still seemed to remain all these years later.

"You can both leave, I've got some business to take care of," Rafe states simply, "Finish this up tomorrow."

John B grabs his hat and his bag from the side and nods, "You got it," He disappears around the side of the deck, glancing back at you with that sort of look in his eyes that tells you get the fuck out of there while you've got the chance.

"You know you shouldn't leave this stuff without cleaning it," You point out, "The salt can damage your gear. That's why we have to clean it."

"Then we can buy new stuff," His words are a cold contrast against the blistering summer heat.

You roll your eyes, certain in that moment that you and Rafe could not be any more different if you tried, "Easy life isn't it, Rafe Cameron?"

"Easier if you weren't here."

You're silent, a strange tension between the two of you that never seemed to disperse.

"Your top is dripping over the deck," He comments matter-of-factly.

He seems to look at you with a darkness in his eyes, though different from the way he seemed when he was angry. It wasn't an anger when he was with you - it was more like fury, a burning inside of him that seemed to echo in the tension in his muscles.

You cock a brow at him and lift one of your arms to pull your crop top over your head, quickly and in one motion, exposing the thin cover of the bikini top you wore underneath, "Yeah, you're right, wouldn't want water on the boat would we?"

"Was that necessary?" He cocks a brow at you, his eyes drifting south towards your chest, the way the droplets of water curled around the curves of your breasts.

"Keep your dick in your pants, Cameron."

~~~

"You know your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't argue with him all the time," John B points out, sat on the dock next to the Chalet, his legs dangling over the edge, a beer can in his hands

"And what's the fun in that?" You tilt your head up from where you lay sprawled out over the wooden surface, one hand coming up to your face to block your eyes from the sun.

"The woman raises a good point," JJ comments, matching your pose as he was sprawled out over the small space of their boat.

"Plus," You lean up onto your elbows, "He thinks he can walk all over us just because his father's got money, I'm sick of it."

"His father having money is the reason that we can get a bit too," John B points out, standing up and going over to the cooler of beers that was already dwindling in supplies, "So please keep your mouth shut so that I can keep my job."

You push yourself up to stand and step through the barrier of the dock to stand on the side of the water, your hands reaching behind your back to hold the fence and steady yourself, "I can't make any promises."

You stretch your arms above your head and dive into the water, kicking below the surface to submerge yourself in the relief of the cold water. When you break the surface, you turn around to see the boys watching you from the deck.

JJ smirks at you, nudging John B knowingly before he says, "Damn, that was hot."

~~~

You're back at the Cameron's house the following day, pulling up in front of the mansion in your beat up car that seemed a stark contrast to the world around you. The car had belonged to your father, and had been passed down to you when your sister refused to drive it. It was littered with scratches and had a dent on one side, and the passenger side window didn't ever close, and it only took cassette tapes despite this being the 21st Century.

As you pull up today, Rafe is parked in front of your spot. The hood of his car is open and he's bent over, studying the inner workings like it were a foreign language. When he hears your door slam, a little too abruptly, he is quick to comment.

"You're late."

"Did you miss me that much?" You cock a brow, walking around the side of his car so you can see under the hood too, "What's wrong with this?"

He looks up at you for a second, his eyes squinting a little against the smoke that was just starting to bellow up from the vehicle, "I don't-" He stops himself, "It's fine, just go to the boat."

You look over, walking around to the front of the car so that you stood next to him, your shoulder bumping his arm as you tap at the source of his problem, "Your fuel cap is busted, radiator cap should solve it."

Rafe pulls away from the car to stand up straight, like a reminder of just how much he towered over you, "Are you kidding?"

"I probably have a spare in my trunk," You comment, standing up too so that you can face him, the tips of your shoes almost brushing with his.

"I don't need your help, (Y/N)."

You smirk and make sure your eyes are in direct contact with his as you state, "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't offering."

With that, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the house, diverting towards the gate that would lead you down towards the dock. You couldn't quite make out the feeling in your chest - a little bit of pride at your tiny victory, and a little bit of the typical quickening of your heart beat that only Rafe seemed to be able to cause.

~~~

Rafe gives up on his car not long after, storming back into the house as if the anger was practically radiating off of him.

“I need Dad’s keys, have you seen them?” He calls over to Sarah, who’s laying across one of the couches with a book in one hand, the other arm tucked under her head.

“Why would I know where they are?” She retorts, setting her book down and stretching her arms back above her head.

“Can you help me look for them?” Rafe snaps, “I’ve got somewhere to be and my car’s busted.”

“Find them yourself,” She scoffs, “Or get John B or (Y/N) to help you with your car.”

Rafe stops his search for the keys and looks at her flatly, “Are you kidding?”

“Why do you hate them so much?” His sister shakes her head, “They’re not that bad and you act like (Y/N) is the worst person on the planet.”

“She’s not-“

As if on cue, you walk through from the garden, sliding open one of the large glass panel doors. There were beads of sweat around your neck from being in the sun, the material of your halter neck top rising a little over your torso. Rafe finds himself trailing his eyes over you before he has a chance to stop himself.

“Perfect!” Sarah smiles at you, “(Y/N), if you’re not too busy can you help my pain-in-the-ass brother to fix his car so he can stop stressing out?”

You look from her and onto her brother, the way his chest is rising and falling like even the sight of you irritated him beyond normal, “I don’t think he wants my help. I’m just here to get the key to the locker, we’ve got stuff to put away.”

Rafe looks at you directly, as if he hopes his gaze will eventually pierce through your confidence and give him the upper hand, “I’ll get you the key, if you get me that cap.”

It’s impossible to hide the smirk over your lips, “Hard bargain, Rafe Cameron.”

“Just do it,” He rolls his eyes, storming out of the room just as quickly as he’s entered.

Sarah glances up at you and shakes her head, “I’m sure you make him worse than normal.”

You laugh and nod your head a little, “Yeah, probably, but someone’s got to do it.”

You leave then and go out to your car, where Rafe is already waiting. He’s leant back against the side of it, his elbows leaning back on either side of the roof and his ankles crossed as if you had kept him waiting for a short version of forever.

”Do you mind? You’ll ruin the paint,” You bat his arm away and it evokes a deep laugh from him, one of mocking more so than amusement.

“On this thing? I think the paint is the least of your concerns,” He comments, glancing down at the scratches that wound around the side of the doors.

“Do you want to fix your car or not?”

He’s quiet then.

“This was my Dad’s car,” You mention, grabbing what you needed from the trunk before closing it, “And until it stops driving, I see no reason to get rid of it.”

“Your Dad,” Rafe studies your face, “Yeah, I remember him, he used to work at the club, right?”

As you walk past him, you find yourself having to swallow the lump in your throat before you can think of responding properly, “Yeah.”

“How did he-“

“Can you stop?” You snap at him, twisting off the old cap and fixing the new one in place over the fuel pump.

“Can I stop what?”

You stand up from the hood of his car and slam it shut, “Pretending like you give a shit. I don’t need your pity.”

It’s like something switches off in Rafe then, a light going out before your eyes had even adjusted to it being there, he straightens up his shoulders, lets out a cold blooded laugh through his lips, “Oh I don’t pity you, you Pogues are all just as bad as each other. Criminals, nothing more.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, this criminal has to get back to working on your boat,” You step forward and swipe the locker key from his hand, “I’ll try my best to not steal anything whilst I’m there.”

He watches you walk away, tastes the sarcastic air left in the wake of your words, breathes in the lingering scent of your unwavering confidence. And he can’t bring himself to look away from you. But, for just a brief moment, Rafe realises that he doesn’t want to.

[immortalwandererxoxo]

It's me, can't you see?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Dark urge

Summary/Setting: “You thought they knew and saw you for who you were. The nights around the campfire, the jokes and stories you shared, the rounds of constant checking in on them, it was all for nothing. The hate in their eyes was apparent and set for who could honestly trust a bhaalspawn, and perhaps this was for the best. You thought I’d be free of these urges, these feelings, this life. I’m done; I’ve had enough of all this; how nice your last sight on this plane would be, those jewel-red piercing eyes."

Rating/Warnings: Basically for everyone just get ready to cry your little heart out lol

Word Count: 1,903

A/N: Sooo this is the first fic I've written in a while, so please be gentle with me. Honestly, I just kept thinking about this kind of scenario constantly running through my head. I'll be posting this here and on AO3 if you prefer to read it there as well! Currently, I am writing the second chapter on this. At first, I was going to only do one shot but the ideas just kept growing lol

-----

It was your birthright; that is what the funny-looking butler has said to you. A gift was to be bestowed upon you, but only if you killed the selunite cleric Isobel… the last hope for last light inn.

Your first encounter with her was tense; even being near her brought on a violent pounding within your skull as if it were to spilt any second; you tried to push past it to focus on the vital information that Isobel was explaining in regards to Moontower, it fell on deaf ears, the roaring in your ears started to get louder, your vision began to darken at the edges, no you thought not now! Your finger began to twitch as if in anticipation of unleashing the same horror that claimed the poor bard Alfira.

You needed to remove yourself now. You quickly mumbled about needing a moment to yourself before sprinting out Isobel room and down the stairs and making your way to the furthest edge of the light barrier to try and gather yourself.

“Breathe, just breathe, please just stop; you silently pleased with just you and your horrid twisted mind. You squeezed your eyes tight, though it seemed to not really matter. In fact, it just made the images appear faster in your mind. Oh, the beautiful ways you could rearrange the limbs of Isobel body, bones snapping, eyes all but gone and left with gaping holes of nothing and filled with nothing, darkness, and hopelessness. The delicious fear of condemning these pathetic souls that cling to life only for it to be snuffed out in an instant just if blowing out a candle. It would be so easy.

The sound of footfalls told you that the others had finished up with the Cleric and had most likely come to see why their leader had run out on them.

“Wretched thing, pull yourself together,” You whispered quickly, trying to dissipate the vile thoughts still wracking your mind and readying yourself to answer the many questions probably going to be hurled upon you.

“Oh darling, was that cleric prattling on too much for you to bear? Even Shadowheart had to restrain herself before tearing into her about her love and how much better her dark lady was ha! Astarion says with a

“Ah, my love, are you alright? Darling your hands!

This is what breaks you out of your dazed self. You open your hands to reveal puncture wounds you had inflicted upon yourself. You didn’t even notice your hands had formed into closed fists, forcing yourself to restrain yourself to the point small droplets of your blood had begun to pool a bit in your palm.

“Yes… I.. I’m alright. I just needed fresh air; this shadow curse must do a number on me. You could feel Astarion eyes boring into you. He must have known you were lying, but he didn’t press further, and you were thankful for that. You were not in the right head space to tell him what you had just expressed, nor did you really feel the others would care when you had more pressing issues to address. You must focus on the task at hand and find the nightsong. Your pain could be dealt with later.

“Let’s head back to camp with the others. Gale said he is trying out a new recipe, and it don’t worry; he even managed to find the good kind of wine just for Astarion.

————————————————————————————————————--------------------------------------------------------------

As Gale started passing out the new stew, he managed to salvage together from the stocked-up ingredients you collected throughout your journey; Shadowheart began to explain the current mission and what you had missed. But your heart and mind weren’t all there, considering what happened previously. When would you be rid of these violent urges, these sick thoughts that clouded your mind?

With dinner complete, you did your normal rounds around the camp, checking in on everyone; you were a bit apprehensive in speaking with Astarion, concerned that he would ask you what had happened since you never really did address why you ran out, but no he didn’t even bring it up, you would have thought you would be relived, but a sharp chord struck you within your heart; did he really not care you had thought your relationship with he was making progress or perhaps that was you fooling yourself into thinking someone could love such a creature as yourself.

Making your way to your bedroll and staring up at the pitch-black sky you knew you would not be getting any sleep; the thoughts in your head of today’s events were ever buzzing about.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts you didn’t hear the pattering of talons upon the dirt coming closer to you.

“You called for me, Milady?”

You sat up hastily. Gods, what did he want you to do now, or what exactly were his intentions of coming to you in the middle of your camp?

“What is it now? If this is about killing the cleric, you can forget it. I already gave you my answer; I refuse to be part of such a massacre, you said with a hushed whisper.”

“Your father was most displeased with this kind of outcome, Milady, dear Master; I want only the best for you; you always did need a little push of encouragement with those urges you get; allow me to give you a hand in this, please,” he pleased.

“I don’t need any push or anything from this so-called father I have never met before!”

You wanted him to leave before anyone could overhear you two, and you would have to explain another thing to the group.

“Now, don’t be this way; your father does love you, miss, how he doted on you so tenderly when you were but a babe, and because of this, he is allowing yet another chance for you to redeem such an egregious display you have made of yourself.

Your hands begin to feel clammy and freezing; the building anxiety takes hold of your body and starts to stir. What is that will do? More importantly, is this something that harms others?

You catch the glint of silver with little red specks encircling something within his clawed hand. It looks to be a coin?

“Here is the deal, master: if this coin falls upon heads, your favorite person will be brutalized! This normally would have been your punishment and a token to your father and would allow this minor transgression with the cleric to be overlooked. If it lands upon tails… no, you know what, master? I shall let you find out personally what awaits you; this will be my little push to steer you in the correct direction for you to grab your inheritance.

A flash of anger flared up within you. “No, what is the second choice tell me now!” Panic filled you as if the first choice was not bad enough; something worse awaited you, leaving you in the dark.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Milady. Be patient here; I’ll toss this coin, and we shall see what fate has in store for you.”

With the flick of his finger, the coin spun in the air. The fear and anxiety that you felt waiting on this damn coin to fall, you tried to make a plan of some sort on how to deal with the said potential of having to kill either Astarion, your lover, or dear friend Shadowheart.

“Oh, master! You are Truly cursed with the most delicious tragedy.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart sped up. Gods, what side did the coin land on? Were you fated to kill your sweet love?

“Now, Milady, stay still. I don’t want to miss.” Scelerita’s hands began to glow red, even his eyes;

Beneath your feet, a red glow, a red circle outlined with what seemed to be blood drops arranged in a perfect circular motion on the outermost circle were some ancient ruins, ones that looked familiar, but you had no time to possibly read them before you felt the excruciating pain of your bones breaking in multiple places, your joints snapping, stretching, your skin being pulled into various directions to cover long new limbs you seemed to be growing, Gods it HURT,

Two additional arms shoot out from your sides. Each hand is morphed into sharp, long, talon-like claws. You feel the sharp spikes and horns poke and prick your entire body, from your head, arms, and legs to the tip of your now-said tail. Great long horns jut out from your now spikey head, and you feel something dripping. It seems to be slick blood from your former form. It’s a miracle you think to yourself that you are not dead from blood loss or, at the very least, shock from the horror show that you are becoming.

But honestly, the worst part of this horrid transformation is the one relating directly to your mouth: two large tusk-like horns protrude out from your would-be former jaw that now splits into somehow four splits of skin that are all surrounded and arranged by pointed and thorny teeth that could shred something or someone within seconds.

“Oh, my Master, you truly are a sight to behold; how I missed this form of yours so dearly! Such a strapping young behemoth.”

You attempt to scream for help from your companions; however, it quickly becomes apparent that you cannot speak within this grotesque form. What were you to do now that you were transformed into a monster?

“Master, this will surely be something you can finally make your father proud of! I can see in your eyes that you are waiting for an explanation of what you are meant to do with this new, beautiful form; allow me to get this started. "

Your now small demon butler has waved his hand and conjured up an illusion of self-disguise into a near-perfect replicate of Gale?! He then opens his mouth, and much to your horror, what he screams out next in a voice. That sounds exactly like him.

“What is that monstrosity?! Everyone! Wake up! There is an abominable monster readying to attack the camp, and they have our leader!” screams the illusion-like Gale.

Your heart begins to plummet into the pit of your stomach, and you quickly understand what this sick lesson is meant to teach you. Your father expects nothing to stand in his way. It does not matter if they are the ones that can help you reach the Baldur’s gate. If they are holding you back from your “gift,” then they must be dealt with, and what a perfectly twisted way for them to be under the guise that this monster has taken their precious leader and must kill it.

You can only watch in horror as you look out to see the flames in camp start lighting up and the yelling and harsh footfalls quickly approaching your location. In the distance, you hear Karlach’s battle cry and the others gathering their weapons.

You swiftly turn your head to see your butler’s face, only for him to give you a sick and cruel smile on your friend’s face. “Have fun, milady, your father, and I wish to see some excellent results from the child of Bhaal.”

And then he is gone, leaving only behind thick smoke and the damn coin laying tails side up.

[slickchickchocolatier]

Hey! Its my first time sending an ask hehe~ I just wanted to say that you’re such an amazing writer and your series are just sooooo good!!! 😍😍😍 I started getting into your account when I came across the smau for MRE and HHP and I gotta say, you got me hooked so bad onto Heethan that I end up loving all your Hee-leads so far! I’m so invested in HHP, SE7EN, DT and now TO! I’m honestly so excited to read a new chapter everytime you post hahaha! 🤭🤭

The main reason I wanted to send you this is cuz I’ve been having super stressful and bad days these past few days and its mainly cuz its my final year in college, final semester and final week actually 😅 and there’s just like sooo many final preparations needed to be done for my big final year project (having my big presentation today! soooo nervous) and its just been too much and too overwhelming for me and I didn’t wanna bother anyone with my anxiousness so I’ve been keeping it all to myself and having slight panic attacks and just started having random breakdowns as I complete my assignments. Reading your series, whether its new chapters or just rereading older ones have given me comfort, like I really felt alone but its like Heethan, Heelel and the Heebros have become my comfort characters. It’s just been so overwhelming for me and I didn’t wanna bother my family with it, I only have one other friend that I trust with my whole life but rarely see her, we’re all busy and I just felt like I’m falling behind in everything. Even though the Hee-leads might be like crazy obsessed with the reader, its like I really needed them in my life just to have someone to drop everything just to hold and comfort me anytime life becomes too much for me. I’m actually crying while writing this to you hahaha… it just feels like everyone around me is moving so fast and I’m stuck at the back picking myself up just because I feel so overwhelmed and anxious easily. Turning 20 this year is another thing that has me feeling afraid of adulthood, my mum is pressuring me into getting a job immediately once I graduate but I just feel like I’m not ready, or I’m just not ready to give up my teenage freedom and socialise professionally. Being such an introvert and shy and always thinking I’m just dumb and cant do work without help has been holding me back from wanting to grow and enjoy this new chapter in life.

So sorry for this long ass rant but i just really needed to let you know how much your stories, your Hee-leads have been keeping me going. Excited for the next chapters of your series! Hope you’re having a great day❣️

Omg so....I LOVE THIS.....this is so heartwarming and thank you for sharing it with me. Also, thank you for discovering my blog so you can write this to me, bc as you may have figured, receiving asks are just....its so nice. its a nice and wonderful surprise to hear from readers interesting in my work, wanting to know more about the characters and so forth. I am just beyond touched that heethan, heelel, and heebrows have made their way into your heart and to provide you comfort. in fact, reading your message had reminded me of a piece that i had started to draft (it was originally supposed to be a part of one of the HHP chapters but i never went through with it) but i still had it in my folders so after i finished reading your message, I decided to go back and actually finish it and format it specifically for you as y/n. I hope you like it. <3

Heeseung's Message.....

MDNI18+ content below the line.

Warnings: mentions of losing loved ones, fears and worries about the future, smut, car smut, unprotected smut, some....just some sadness....its a very heartwarming and touching piece.

"What's wrong baby?"

Noting how silent you were in the car, right after he picked you up, Heeseung rubbed your thigh, gently shifting your skirt upwards as he softly slid his hand up and down, enveloping you with warmth and comfort. "Something on your mind pretty baby?"

Placing your hand on his, you grabbed hold semi-tightly, keeping your gaze out at the window. You were hesitant at first, noting that Heeseung had a busy schedule of his own, was on his way of finishing his last year in college, aiding his professors, and of course, there was you....picking you up from classes, dropping you off every morning, taking you wherever you needed to go. You appreciated it but the man had completely devoted his time to everything else, you felt it selfish to bring any matters up to him....feeling that whatever time he did have left within the evening, he should at least have it for himself.

"It's nothing." You sighed out.

Glancing over to you, he furrowed his brows and quickly shifted the wheel, stirring the car over to a nearby parking lot on one of the campus buildings.

"What are you....?" raising up in your seat, you looked around before turning your gaze over to Heeseung, who steered the wheel with one hand and in a smooth motion, parked the car. Unbuckling his seatbelt, his gaze meets with yours before he reaches up and places his hand behind your head, softly grabbing onto your hair as he leans in and rests his forehead against yours.

"Whats wrong? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? I wanna know. Tell me, y/n."

His eyes were wide and his expression was fierce with rage, however, before he further ventured off into a spiraling path of unhinged presumptions, you reached up and latched your fingers onto his collar, placing a dainty kiss on his lips. "Its not that....I promise nothing like that happened."

Raising his brows and tilting his head, he releases the gentle grip he had on your hair, and replaced it with a soft, petting motion. "Then why are you being so quiet? You seem upset, what is it?"

Looking down at the console for just a second, you raise your sights once more to meet his and began talking.

".....Are you ever scared about the future, Heeseung?"

His face was taken slightly aback as he raised both brows and looked at you with an intent look.

"Is that what this is about? Are you feeling overwhelmed about moving?"

Shaking your head, you looked down once more as you shyly clarified. "Nooo.....its not just that....its more..."

"Like what baby?"

"Like....after the moving.....finishing college, being in an unfamiliar country, not knowing anybody, making new friends, meeting your family, being apart from mine, learning a new language, finding a job after college, and what if I have to do more college? Or ...." pausing, you caught yourself drifting in verbal thought.

"Or....?" He draws out as he bids you to finish your statement.

"Or........what if....what if something happens and we........you know.....what if we just...."

Squinting his eyes slightly, his expression looked a little irked as he rolled his tongue in his mouth. "That's never going to happen y/n. You know that."

"Yeah but....."

"But what?" Slightly annoyed, he closed his eyes for a second, tilted his chin down, and lifted his lids to expose a rather stern and rather angry look. Yet the moment he saw that your eyes began to glisten, shining like diamonds as the tears started to build up, you looked down once more, unable to look him square in the eye as you felt the first tear break free and drip down on the leather padding of the console.

Watching as you faintly sobbed, he nearly felt his heart break into two. He gasped out a faint breath as he reached over with his other hand and cupped your face, no longer expressing a look of annoyance.

"Hey......why? What's making you think that way? Am I not showing you enough love? You know whatever it is you want, all you have to do is tell me and I'll make it happen."

"Its not that i just........there's just some things we can't predict about the future Heeseung......what if some day......what if you stop loving me......or worse.....what if something happens and I no longer have you? What if....just.......you never know.....is it wrong for me to hope for the best, but expect the worse? Because...you know that life can be so unfair some times....and I....I....I'm scared because....I dont even know....what I'm scared of sometimes. I wake up every single morning not even knowing how to live life because there's so many things that I think about....so many things that are thrown at me all at once and I just.....I feel like sometimes......I might fail......I feel like sometimes.....I will let you down.......I feel like its not the world, its me.........its me that's broken, not you or anyone else."

You gasped out tears and soft cries as you spoke straight from the heart. For the first time, Heeseung had sincerely considered if going to Korea was the best option, at least just for a second before he reminded himself of the future that he had waiting for him.....a future that would allow him to continue to keep you....safe....and with him.

Shifting his sights around on the floor bed of the car, his thumbs stroke your cheeks, wiping away the continuous flow of tears that were now coming down harder than before. Gulping down a hard swallow, he turns back to face you.

"Baby.........look at me....please look at me."

Looking up into his gaze, your eyes red, swollen, with eyelashes drenched and your face stained with wet trails of all your fears leaving their mark. With a soft smile, he calmly speaks.

"You're right.....that is tough. There's a lot that we can't control in the future....its precarious, and we're literally just pawns on the board of this silly game called life, where God and the universe are taking turns making each move. It can be cruel, unfair, and tormenting. Its something that we can either overcome with great strife and hard work."

"But what happens if we work so hard and it.....it just doesnt work out? What if everything just falls apart Heeseung?"

"We wont know unless it happens y/n......the thing about the future, as much as we want it here in the present, so we can see and view what it has in store for us, thats....just not the way it works. That's not the way we work....we're not designed to know those things. We didn't become strong because we cheated, we became strong and survived because we, as humans, learned....the hard way."

Looking into his eyes, your vision started to become blurry all over as the next set of tears built up. Smiling as he continued to wipe your tears away, he continues.

"Y/n....for thousands of years, people have fallen, lost, and suffered at the creativity of the universe. Yet we never gave up......people had an urge to survive. Which is why at times, even when the entire world was on fire, times where a soldier never comes home, a woman loses her child, or when a doctor just doesnt have a cure.....we keep moving....we get back up and learn how to walk again. I can't sit here and tell you that I know that everything is going to be great.....I dont know. But what I do know.....is this...."

Shifting his hands down to your waist, he lifts you with his core strength as his abdominal muscles flexed under his shirt. Bringing you over onto his lap, he sat you down in a princess style as he cradled you against his chest.

"No matter what happens....I'm going to be there. I'm going to be there and I'm going to help you, just like you're going to help me. I'll never let anything happen to you....and.....you never have to worry about me not loving you .....noooooooo pretty baby......that's never going to happen, not loving you would be the worst offense against Heaven and humanity. As far as if anything were to happen to me...."

The moment Heeseung touched on that part of the subject, you sobbed uncontrollably against his neck.

"Heeeeeey, come on now. Nothing's even happen, why are you acting like that's a for sure thing?" he chuckles out as he kisses your forehead. "Listen..." Taking your hand in his, he continues.

"I'm not going anywhere......I'm not. I know this because I know what is living for me......you. I will never abandon you. Even if something did happen, you know i'm always going to be with you. You know how?"

Shaking your head, he brushes your hair away from your face.

"Moments like this baby. Every time we talk, touch, feel each other, love, eat, sleep, kiss, and when I fuck your brains out...." gripping onto your waist tightly, he presses his forehead against your own once more. "All the things we do, they never leave. So.......if there is ever a time where I am not physically here......you're always going to remember how i feel..." gliding his hand from your waist, he reaches down and gently trails it upwards under your skirt, his fingers reaching into your panties.

"You're going to remember my touch..." kissing your neck, he latches his mouth onto your soft spot under your ear, and rings the tip of his tongue around in slow circular motions.

"You're going to remember my scent...." with his free hand, he reaches behind your head and gently pushes your face inward, causing your nose to become burrowed in his thatch of dark long, shaggy hair, inhaling the scent of his cool-mint cologne and his shampoo.

"You'll also remember what I taste like...." placing a soft peck on the spot he was sucking on, he tilts his head up slightly and brings your head down to kiss him.

"And best of all......pretty baby.......you're going to remember what it feels like when I fuck you......when I love you." Shifting your body to face forward, your back completely spooned by his chest and groin as you both remained seated in the drivers side, he spreads your legs open by pushing our inner thighs apart. You were so caught up with the sensual four play, you hadn't realized that he tore off your panties. Unbuttoning your blouse, exposing your breasts, he shifts you up as he levels his length to align with your slit, before proceeding to enter inside you. Feeling full of his flesh, you moaned out as the overwhelming sense of pleasure hits you........taking you away from the abysmal depths of your fears and worries.

Steadying you in a reverse cowgirl position, filing you, his cock melts inside you as he begins thrusting slow and steady, picking up the pace as your walls become more moist.

"You feel me pretty baby?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yeah? You gonna remember me forever?"

"Y-yes...yes! He-Heeseung!"

"You gonna remember what this feels like?"

"Yes!"

"What does it feel like baby? Tell me."

"F-f......fe-feels......ssss......goood......soo....soo.goood....ugh!"

"Harder or faster baby?"

"ugh! both! please both!"

Thrusting repeatedly, your body falls limp as he holds you upright, with one arm wrapped around your waist, and his other hand shifting a grip between your neck and your exposed breast, he muffles your moans and screams with his mouth as he swallows every single bit of your precious tones.

"Gonna cum for me?"

"Y-ye.....yes!...yes.......ugh! He-Heeseung!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum because you're a good girl?"

"Mmm!mmmmmm....mmmhmmm!....ugh!"

"You my good girl?"

"Y....yes!!"

"Yeah you are.......now fucking cum on me. Let me feel it."

Adding more depth to each thrust, you gasped out your screams of pleasure as he rams his cock deep inside, separating new found walls and extracting the moisture out of your body. Reaching orgasm and releasing all over his member, your thighs shake relentlessly.

"Good girl.....my turn."

Cupping your lower tummy, he pushes in and feels his thick length as it slides in and out, he found it amusing how your sensitive body could take him like this, especially feeling it inside you as he was doing right now. Jacking his member deep inside you at a rapid and hard momentum, he finally reaches his moment and with one last punctured thrust, he bucks his hips upward as he shoves you down, mashing your bodies together as he releases inside and fills your body up.

Pulling your head back as he latches his mouth on your neck yet again, suckling as your body bounces rigorously from the tenacity of his performance.

Feeling the pleasure of his tainted love, you somehow were to understand his message clearly, all due to Heeseung extracting you from your fears......which he had done before, back when Samuel sent you his email......back when you and Heeseung came together for the first time.....the start of your guys story. Just as he did back then, he helped you to understand, that the reality of what life gives, is never necessarily the ending to your story. The more he kept pumping into you, the more you were reminded of that clarity. Yea sure, you still felt scared, but knowing that if at first you dont succeed....reach happiness.....or if things just dont work out, you can and should always, try-try again. A lesson you were always reminded of, all thanks to Heethan.

Authors note: Lol, sooooooo...yeah this original draft did have some smut....and i was going to take it out but it was too crucial for me to do so. I hope you dont mind that. But, this chapter was originally drafted, back a few months ago. I had this thought in my head, since I have only taken a few college courses, and am about to start back up on it, I was feeling so dreadful and felt too nervous about doing well. I want to succeed in reaching my educational goals....but what also kind of bugged me was....will i still find time to write? I love writing, truly do. Mainly because it brings other people joy and brings out their most inner feelings. I had so much on my mind that time that i had began drafting this, but as i was writing it, i left it unfinished bc honestly, when i drafted heethan's message.....literally its like his voice was telling me what to write....i felt better. like it was a nice little reminder....realistic...very rational....and honest...but still positive and holds truth. there's a lot of things we can't control, but we should never give up. Its okay to be scared and to worry, that's natural, and that is exactly why people such as myself are here, writing these chapters and stories for you all because i know that there is such a thing called 'life' and sometimes....we just need a break from it to refresh ourselves. I know you have alot on your plate, but dont worry because everything will be more than fine. We have to pace ourselves, work hard, but also rest, and play from time to time. Eat and drink well, and finish strong. finish college, work with your mother and teach her to work with you, if you dont get the job you really want, no big deal. no matter what job you get, if its one you dont want, nothing lasts forever. just think that whatever you do now, it is only making you more marketable for the dream goal you have. I hope you continue strong because while you do have alot on your plate, you've been slaying....you've been killing it! and that's a major accomplishment in itself, last of year of college? woohoo! finish strong!

So now i should apologize for responding with the longest post ever lol. but i really hope this makes you feel better. Reading your message had reminded me of this piece and i am so glad you sent it to me because....looking at it now...and actually finishing it......this was something that was meant to be published and shared. bc it holds an important message for all of us. <3

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[peachesofteal]

I've just read the latest addition for Dead Disco and first:

SECOND: I am thinking about Darling and her job. It is mentioned that, before Chapter 1, she has a job, but I imagine that after her weekish long of unjustified absence she was fired. And idk if it's me imagining things but I could almost feel the way she would say through gritted teeth I love my job BUT THEN what if once she's out she realizes she didn't like her job at all anymore? Is the lack of structure something that's affecting her? Would she feel unproductive if she's not working, or even worse, would she feel even more like a burden? What if she states her wish of coming back to the workforce? How would Johnny and Simon react? Would they encourage her to go back into a new job or would they just say fuck it!! we're taking care of you? Or what if Darling discovered she wants to do something more creative for a living? Or pursue something else that she wouldn't be expecting?

GRAHHH so many questions! I'm sorry if these are too many things at once BUT THIS FIC HAS ME FERAL. I looooove poly relationships xReader fics and yours scratches that itch in my brain, is sooo good and beautiful and I'm rooting for then and their happy ending 🥺

ALSO can't stop thinking abt that blurb from Chapter 5 where babies are mentioned HSJAJS 🙏

Thank you so much for writing this, hope you're having a great day!!!

— uwuboowoo but from my main blog:)

Hi omg I love your thoughts so much! Your comments on AO3 are some of my favorites! I love discussing with you, so let's talk:

The last snippet was in the past, but in the present time (flat shopping and such) Darling still has this job, even though she actually dreams of quitting and just doing what she loves instead, which is painting. It's mentioned that she had an art room, in her last flat, but it was really just like a very small guest room that she turned into her office, that quickly became overrun with her art supplies.

The guys would definitely encourage her to quit if she wanted but, realistically, it's not like any of them are made of money. Simon and Johnny don't have overflowing wads of cash. This isn't the sugar daddy AU.

Even though it's Darling's dream to quit and paint, I don't think she would. Or at least, not for a long time. She knows herself well enough to know that she needs structure, especially when the guys are away. It's hard enough to get out of bed somedays, you know? So having somewhere to be, something that pushes her to function is healthy for her.

Thanks for reading and chatting as always! I'm so happy you're enjoying it! 🩵🩵🩵

[snailmail444]

Foaming at the mouth over the recent DTTW update. Snail. Hon. Bestie. Sebastian and Irie getting locked in the closet and almost being found out was SO good (Sam definitely suspects them there's no way he doesn't), and I love how transparent Sam and Abby are even though they think they're being so sneaky lmfao

And Sebastian being kind of civil with Alex had me fucking shouting!!!! I love it!! Never mind his very awkward attempts at aftercare, he's trying so hard n I love it!! His growth is awesome to read through, him and Irie are taking up all of my brain space right now bro.

ALSO using the abandoned community center as the haunted house was fucking brilliant, I've never considered that but it's so good!

I am so ready. I love this fic so much. I love these characters.

Also while I'm on the topic, I have to commend you for how you write all of these relationships. I know I told you forever ago that your work with Aspen and Sebastian was what got me into writing for this fandom in the first place, but I have to point out how cool it is that you've explored so many different character aspects for Sebastian simply by switching his relationship dynamic with both of your OCs.

Where he was nervous and cute and so pathetically head over heels and SWEET with Aspen, his relationship with Irie and the way they butt heads is just as interesting to read. How are you so good at writing four-dimensional characters that actually feel like people, it's genuinely so impressive.

I feel like it reflects real relationships so well, because depending on where or under what circumstances you meet a person, your entire perspective and opinion of them is liable to change, you know? If Sebastian hadn't known Aspen and already been so attached to her, it could've changed their whole relationship, right? AND THE SAME CAN BE SAID FOR IRIE.

Ugh. It's so good. I love your fics, I love your characters, your brain is beautiful. Much love, moot, I can't wait to see where you take all of this. <3333

(also just gotta let you know that your casual fic with Alex is going to kill me. I am so excited and cannot wait to see where that goes, and obviously I hope you take your time and never pressure yourself for our sakes, but bestie. I am going. To. Die.)

The way that. That I. That I’m. AWAAAGH. Me opening tumblr and finding a whole DISSERTATION from my beloved moot when I had a really stressful day really made it sooo much better. So thank you. I fucking love you. I want to print this out and eat it that’s how much I love this.

I LOOOOVE writing character dynamics and digging my fingers into the inner workings of how people act. One of the most interesting things for me is to ask myself how a person might deal with an issue and why. Just putting guys in situations. Nothing gives me a better case of the teehee’s than writing a character making a bad decision on purpose.

Me when I make them reap AND sow: 🤭

Seriously again so so so much love back at you moot you have no fucking IDEA. Genuinely. And trust me, the casual Alex piece?? I’m WORKIN I told myself I had to finish DTTW 19 first lol but chapter three? She’s in Progress hehehe.

Love you so so much xoxo 💞💞💞

[sukirichi]

oh god suki I just finished catching up to the new chapters last night then I saw that dtd 13 is outtttt and OH MY GOD YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT I READ IT IMMEDIATELY! When that chapter started how rin was suspicious of us then the moment it was cleared out, he acted as if he did nothing wrong (as always) all throughout the marriage as he showed us the beach house I was like—noooooo he’s just pulling you in! he’s conditioning you again! 😭 the audacity to tell us that he imagined his children playing in the backyard, how fully sure are we that it was our children and not iris? considering he was two timing us with her when he bought the house? even if he said he wanted his daughter to acquire his wife’s beauty, what about the son?! does he want to resemble him or maybe he imagined his little one to be academically smart like his mistress? thoughts that would make me cry until the afterlife.

and oh! saying kiyoomi has a spot on the house is just🤌 take that rin! can’t wait to see his reaction when he finds out that we had dedicated an area for kiyoomi without his knowledge—I just know he would lose his shit. And kiyoomi, the most gentleman and affectionate towards us (albeit his thoughts say otherwise), always on the lookout for our safety and their moments?? the itachiyama trip? the reveal that we had met him first and was our last dance during our debutant?? you meant we could have a loving and peaceful marriage with him, before the heartbreak, before rin swayed us, before the homebody prince suddenly got tied down with iris? why did he even agree to a marriage with her? what is he trying to protect?

and with iris, the moment he wants to stop the relationship with rin because she doesn’t want to be labeled as whore, I’m like?? girl.. you could’ve avoided all of this if you stopped fucking around with rin the moment he started courting another woman, even if he promised iris he would divorce the wife. AND WHEN SHE WAS OVERTLY QUIET DURING THE BEACH HOUSE INVITE? THAT SHE DOESN’T LOOK GOOD AND WAS STILL IN SICKLY STATE WHEN SHE GAVE US THOSE PASTRIES? I didn’t spent HOURS during internship to doubt my clinical judgement just to say she wasn’t pregnant! call it woman’s instinct, but as y/n said, i just know it. and why is she acting like that? is it because her nightmare of being branded as the palace’s slut is becoming true with the incoming offspring? or was there some kind of plan with her defector mother from their homeland that would hinder their usurping the throne? orrrr was it with a man other than rin? please, she can’t possibly stoop THAT low, right??? all in all, I hope the plan for downfall iris will push through knowing kuroo has already gathered sufficient evidence and is just waiting for the go signal.

and there’s so many more! tooru being on good graces with maiko, ushijima acting as the first prince and a responsible husband to camilla as expected of him, kita having time to spend with airi away from judging eyes (my lovies 💕), tobio being sweet as always (one of my lovies too 💕), keishi?? (is he even here 😭) osamu? just put him in any kitchen and he will behave like a child engrossed with his toys. atsumu? he’s sooo messy istg. SAing an actress out of jealousy from his brother is so?? he’s no better than rin.

ooh I missed you, your works, and reading your works suki!!!! I first read dtd during your hiatus (I was busy, even now too so I’m sorry for the long ask 😔) and honestly not expecting you to come back so I was glad you decided to write again. also, this being my first ask for dtd?? please, I said to myself that I would read the series only when it is completed but here I am! can’t help it though, the story is just that good and frankly, I need answers. and as always, take care of yourself because you deserve it!! 💕💕

-🍳

my dear egg anon, how I missed you!! omg you’re asking the real questions right there because he wants our daughter to be like us but what about the son??? is our boy going to turn out like him? because if that’s the case we’re making sure its going to be ENVIRONMENT and not genes at all (this is one of the personality theory concepts, sorry if its confusing lmaoo) and oh gosh now i’m picturing that image that what if our daughter in some ways resembled iris and somewhere in the future rintaro does a double take and goes like “…that’s strange. you reminded me of someone for a little bit.” NO SIR NOPE

and yes of course our beloved kiyoomi is going to have a spot in that house <3 he has a spot in our heart, and he’ll have an even more special place in the beach house <33 rintaro WOULD lose his shit if he found out though skskks he’d be like “I bought this house for you, why are you giving away a corner to my brother? the brother i hate the most might i remind you,” but uhm we don’t really care about that. it’s kiyoomi ON TOP. and yes!! it could’ve been kiyoomi all along! that’s like the added spice to their dynamics because kiyoomi has known us for yearsss and it’s even been implied that he’s also aware what the significance of being a debutante’s last dance means. picture a young omi taking the last dance and subtly thinking, “I wonder if I’m going to marry you someday,” but then oomf.

for the whole iris kiyoomi marriage though, it was arranged by the queen herself! all histories of the royal weddings will be briefly explained in chapter 16!!

YES IRIS SLANDER HERE WE GO. agshjklaa fr though iris cares too much about her reputation but still does things to ruin her own life anyway. but also, not that i’m defending her, but iris has tried multiple times to stop things from getting too far with rintaro. it’s like, one kiss leads to another, and she knew she had to stop and maybe just endure the loneliness of not having kiyoomi but rintaro was very persisitent, and it’s hard to say no to him when she’s physically and sexually attracted to him as well. also !! i didn’t know you were working in clinics, that’s so cool, i hope your internships are going well baby!! also nooo I’m so sorry to say that iris has only ever slept with one person her whole life and that’s rintaro </3

KEIJI IS HERE YES AGAHJKS I just didn’t write him much because it’s already so hard to keep up with everyone’s roles trying to be integrated here in the fic, and I was trying not to make the series too politic-y if that makes sense. Also I kind of want to make Keiji a little absent here so he can shine in his own one-shot spinoff when the series ends!! ALSO YES the twins are so agahjskla

and aww I missed you too!! you’re one of my OG anons pre-hiatus so you have no idea how happy I was when I saw that you were reading DTD and sent me an ask again <3 and no worries about it love, I understand we’re all busy so just take your time reading DTD, the story isn’t going anywhere hehe. and again, thank you so much for all the support and patience, I really couldn’t have gone this far without you guys and just know you have my whole heart <33 please take care of yourself too egg anon, love you lots, MWAHHH 💫🌷